#imagine all the angst anon

[arttsuka]

Some past fiddlestan? (Like Ford just went through the portal. He gone now. Past. Yk?)

The mystery misery yaoi

[fcthots]

thinking about childhood best friends to lovers jason. who spent hours in the school library with you, laughing and whispering over textbooks. who took you to prom, because you didn’t have a date and definitely not because he was in love with you. who let you drive his car when you got your license. who refused to let you take the bus as soon as he could drive.

jason, who only applied to colleges you also applied to, so that he wouldn’t have to go to school without you. who convinced bruce to let him have an apartment off-campus, so you could stay with him. who made sure he was in all the same classes as you. who made sure you were never out alone after dark. who helped you study for all of your exams. who took care of you when the flu was going around campus.

jason, who never lets you move out. who reads to you when you get home from a long day at work, your head in his lap. who washes your makeup off for you when you’re too tired. who cooks for you every night and makes sure you have coffee ready when you get up every morning.

jason, who finally asks you out over breakfast one morning. who takes you on dates every friday night. who never misses an anniversary or birthday, who takes you out every valentine’s day. who never shuts up about how lucky he is to have you to anyone who will listen.

- 🍓 (apologies for how long this is, i’m sick and have been thinking extensively)

NO ANON BC I HAVE BEEN DAYDREAMING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY

but I've been angsting it.

Because you pick colleges together, but he never gets to go. He lets you drive in his $200,000 car that you were always scared of scratching, but he would reassure you and say he'd fix any damage. That same car was left unused for years. He takes you to prom and you keep the flowers, but you end up leaving the dead flowers at his grave. You would look at two-bedroom apartments together and now you're moving into a single bedroom apartment in the building you always wanted to live in together. He used to write you notes in class which would almost get you caught. Now you wished you saved those notes. The books he used to read to you, you now can't hear quotes from, lest you start crying. He used to help you study for everything and now you swear you don't know how to study alone.

Jason was with you practically every second of every day. What are you supposed to do without him. It's not that there's just a hole in your life. The center of your universe is gone.

[plutoenjoyer]

Hii, how do you think the members would react when they realize that a friend of their crush also has a crush on her? I hope you understood me 😣

hi anon!!! thank you so much for being my first request<3 so sorry this took so long 😭 i hope you still enjoy though its so so late !!!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

xdh — finding out about a friend's crush on you (+ confessing)

genre: fluff as always, light angst (i love to see a man in emotional turmoil)

tags: drabble, ot6, female reader, jealousy/light possessiveness?, pining, starting as friends, friends to lovers, reader is shorter than them, confessions

warnings: none

note: reader is some sort of employee or person that works in their building or around the area for added context ... they see you often even if not directly working with them basically (vaguely gestures). and the friend is kiiiind of rude anyway so he doesnt deserve your time in the first place

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

gunil — tries to be respectful, succeeds. (and then fails)

perhaps he's very comfortable in his role as "the responsible one" as the eldest of the group. he tries to embody a role-model for his bandmates when he can, there's a very caring and deeply responsible part of him that naturally comes out. he is not known for being selfish. that being said, when he finds out one of your friends has a crush on you there is a deep urge in him to find you immediately and just confess all the feelings he's kept buried in him for months. it bothers him like mad, because he knows that he shouldn't get in the way of anything or anyone you might be vying for. what if you felt the same way about that friend? what if he made it difficult for you to choose him after confessing? what if he ruined his friendship with you when you didn't feel the same way? there were just so many uncertainties and not enough safety for his comfort, so he chose to suffer in silence, as he was used to doing.

there was a familiarity in being alone with his thoughts that he wasn't sure if he could find the courage to leave behind just yet.

he sits with this feeling for days. he tries to convince himself that he's simply content to see you at all, and wants to be happy for your happiness, though it is so clear to his bandmates that he's not his usual self lately.

it's not until he sees you with said friend that he can't help himself anymore. he hated that you were laughing with him, but he hated his lack of conviction more. he makes up his mind to tell you as soon as he gets the chance because the fear of rejection meant so much less to him than watching you get taken from him right before his eyes without doing anything about it.

and you—you're none the wiser about it all until gunil confronts you that night as you're heading home. the intense look on his face is something you've never seen before, passionate and desperate underneath the warm ambient light of the dimly lit room. it illuminates his face in a way that strikes through your heart. you always found him to be attractive, but tried not to let your feelings unfurl further since you knew that there was not a chance he'd feel the same way, not with all the projects and people he manages on a day to day basis. he was just too busy for romance. but right now in this moment, the way that his eyes are narrowed with a seriousness that you haven't seen from him before sends a shiver up your spine. and not just towards anyone, towards you.

he steps closer to you. you're basically backed up against the wall, your heart beating out of your chest. he's so close you finally get a good look at how his dark eyes are trying to find something in yours—answers. you can't help yourself from putting your hands on his chest and bicep to steady yourself.

"i... i have something to tell you." he speaks so lowly and so desperately it mixes in with the sound of his sharp breaths.

you can barely hear him because all you can focus on is the gentle curvature of his beautiful lips. he notices this, because with his hand he pulls your chin up in order to angle your face to meet his eyes, forcing you to see what sort of distress you've put him through.

for the first time in a long time he's wanted something, no, someone for himself, and you're about to find out what.

jungsu — tries to be respectful, fails immediately

jungsu is the sweetest guy ever. he's always looking out for others and wants the best for him. after finding out about your friend's crush on you, though, something takes over him. you wonder why he's suddenly being so much more attentive and sweet, way more than normal. comedically and somewhat pathetically (in a sopping wet dog with glassy eyes kinda way) offering to carry your things, buying you sweets, praising you—it was even a little much at times. you were starting to get a little annoyed, not because you didn't like it but because you were wondering why the hell he started acting like this out of nowhere.

it's not until you're out shopping with him that you start to connect the dots. you run into the friend-in-question and he sparks up a conversation with you, both of you completely unaware of the growing panic and jealousy growing in jungsu's mind.

to your surprise, the usually soft-spoken and patient guy interjects whatever you two were talking about and grabs your hand, hastily pulling you away into some other random store. at first you're worried that you did something to offend him, but then you notice the embarrassed pout on his face as you two slow down near some unassuming accessory store. he's chewing the inside of his cheek, wondering what possessed him to be so rude (he knows exactly why, he just couldn't stand watching you two get along and got swept up in his emotions). the people already in the store make some shifty glances at you two, some of the aunties even shaking their heads, going 'gosh, another lovers quarrel', but it doesn't reach your ears by how hard you're trying to figure him out right now. he has no explanation for himself, simply looking aimlessly at the assortment of necklaces on the racks and refusing to meet your eye. he doesn't let go of your hand.

"i-i'm sorry, i just ..." he's struggling so hard to find the words. he really should just come out and say it but that would mean confirming his feelings for you right here and now, and there was no way you'd accept considering what reckless thing he did just now. "you ... i just didn't want ..."

a beat of silence, and then a resounding 'oh' pops into your head as you finally realize that it was actually your friend that was the problem for him. you smile at his shaking visage. how cute.

what happens next is in your hands, the same ones that are fit so perfectly in his warm, nervous palms. you're glad the group of aunties left before you could do this.

the air feels electrifying. you pull him closer and stand on your tippy toes and he's watching you do this so adorably but it doesn't compute in his head until he finally feels the plush feeling of your lips against his, and suddenly he feels right again. this is what he's been waiting for this whole time.

gaon — gets clingy

jiseok has always been physically clingy. he shows his love and affection by quite literally hanging onto you, through hugs or wrapping his arm around yours. it is very casual and very natural for him to do that with people he loves. emotionally, however, he's a bit more withdrawn than expected. he likes his alone time. he likes you more. but, he is so painfully unaware of it. so when he finds out that your friend has a crush on you, the petty side of him that simmers at the surface of his mind really comes through without him doing it intentionally. it becomes an increasingly common occurrence for you to receive a text from him that goes along the lines of "are you busy friday? :)", or "there's a new movie i wanna see, can we hang soon?" because he thinks you'll genuinely enjoy what he had planned for you, and not because of any other reason.

this, of course, is his way of getting you away from that guy who's trying to get with you. honestly, he thinks he's boring and won't treat you right. there's really no one in your circle that he deems worthy for you.

you're more than happy to spend time with him. but it starts to get to a point where you're wondering 'what are we' when he starts to get a little more clingy, more so than his usual friendly self. his hands linger a little longer on yours, his eyes seem to follow your every move and he's smiling at you in a way that holds so much adoration that your heart starts beating faster.

when you text him that you can't hang because you feel bad you keep blowing off the friend-in-question, who had asked for your time today already, he sulks like crazy. he knows he shouldn't be so childish about it but it sucks because you're his best friend and you're wasting your time on him and he's going to confess to you and then you're gonna start dating each other and then you'll get married and go away forev—oh. oh man.

he quickly grabs his jacket and runs to your place before you can even think about leaving for your outing.

you see him show up to your front door and almost collapse to his knees, leaning an arm on the frame of your front door. "what the hell— jiseok?! are you okay?" and he's heaving so hard he can barely speak, "yeahi'mfineILOVE. YOU. ohgodmyribs. DON'T. GOTOHIM. i just. foundoutiloveyou. stay. right here". you can barely believe what he's saying, not only because he's huffing and puffing, but because you really had no idea he felt the same about you. the silence worries him because he looks up to see your confusion, or worse, hesitance, and through his labored breath and takes your hand in his. on one knee as if asking for your hand in marriage, "stay with me. please," and you can't help but laugh when it finally all clicks. this is such a dramatically jiseok way to profess feelings to someone. you're definitely gonna bring this up again.

but for now, with a bright smile, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, "come in. let's get you some water."

o.de — kicks himself into action

finding out is a wake-up call to him. he kicks himself for getting complacent. it's not that he didn't think other guys would be into you or anything, just that he didn't think it would happen so soon. he put off his feelings for you constantly because he feared ruining things between you two, but now that there was another guy in your radar it meant that he had to be on high alert. he immediately starts thinking about the best way to confess to you, and fast because who knows if this guy is going to sweep you off your feet out of nowhere.

he's trying to plan something grand and a little cheesy because he thinks, no, knows that you deserve to be appreciated. he would yell his love for you from the rooftops if he could. he's thinking about it so much that you stop hearing from him for a couple days. his absence lingers in the air around you and you start to wonder why it feels so heavy without him around, because wasn't he just a friend?

you get your hopes up when your phone pings with a text—but it's not from seungmin. there's a dull ache in your heart when you see it's from the friend-in-question. you're disappointed but don't want to take it out on him, so you say yes to dinner. you go with him, and clearly he's trying to make a move on you by spoiling you with a nice meal and compliments, but you just can't get your mind off of seungmin and what he's doing right now. you end the date, which was more just like him talking at you, by rejecting him. you're wondering if he was just friends with you to try and get a chance with you, and it hurt a little.

then, it happens. your phone buzzes as you're about to leave the restaurant. it's seungmin. as soon as you pick up he sounds out of breath and desperate. "where are you right now?!" and you answer honestly, about the date and how it ended, and how you missed talking to him. "stay right there, i'm coming."

he picks you up from the restaurant, having drove there in a hurry. there's roses and chocolate on the dashboard as if he were going on a date himself and you know immediately who it's for by the look on his face and the slight sheen of sweat like he'd been worried sick about something.

there's not even a moment that passes while in the car before you both can't help yourselves anymore, having the first real taste of what you two felt for each other, sealed with a kiss.

junhan — withdraws himself

junhan has always been quiet, but you were starting to love getting to have late night conversations with him about life itself, your place in the the universe and who's your favorite character in dungeon meshi. he seemed to open up when he was around you and you loved getting to pick apart his mind. you felt that you both were able to keep up each other's intellectual abilities, and it was refreshing.

so when he suddenly reverts back to the shy personality he had when you first met him, you know something's wrong. you're trying to figure out how to confront him about it without making him curl back into his shell even more.

in his mind, on the other hand, he's doing you a favor. after finding out that your friend has a crush on you, the one that is so much more extroverted and good at holding up conversations, he thinks its best that he takes a step back so he wouldn't be taking up space in your life that could be reserved for your friend. he throws himself into work even more so than before, using it as an excuse to avoid you so it doesn't hurt as much when you inevitably start dating that stupid guy. but that doesn't mean he stops watching and analyzing, watching to see if that guy really, truly was good enough for you.

and of course, he wasn't. call it intuition or just plain logic, junhan noticed how he very often seemed to talk over you. it bothered him to know that there's a possibility that you'd be happier with your friend, but it bothered him more to think about you unhappy with him, because at least junhan would actually notice if you were.

that wouldn't do at all. while junhan is very rational he absolutely does not mess around when it comes to you. the friend-in-question is busy chatting away while you're forced to listen to him. you think he's a nice guy, but he was the type of person who was more used to talking at someone rather than to them. you never really felt heard when speaking to him, unlike with junhan who took every word you said into account, making sure you knew your thoughts mattered to him.

junhan, with tingling fingertips and an audacity that could only be stirred up by the thought of losing you, calmly walks up to you two. you wouldn't have guessed it took all his courage to ask "can we get drinks tonight?" and you're over the moon at the mere suggestion, "is that even a question?! of course, i haven't seen you around in ages!". your eyes light up with excitement, unable to stop yourself from excitedly rambling about how you really wanted to talk about some new manga that dropped during his absence. junhan smiles at you, half because he knows this feels right, like you both were meant to be together in this moment, and half because he loves the way that guy's stupid grin drops when he sees how happy you are to see him.

"so it's a date?" junhan says with a radiant smile, almost as if the guy standing next to you didn't exist. he was enjoying taunting this guy a little too much, he thinks to himself. your jaw drops a little at this unexpected confidence, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want it to be. and so you shoot a quick, very obviously awkward glance at the so called 'friend', thinking about who you knew would treat you right, and turn back to say:

"it's a date."

jooyeon — makes it everyone's problem

when jooyeon finds out about your friend's crush on you he cannot stop from complaining about him to his bandmates. jiseok rolls his eyes hearing the groans from jooyeon, going for the millionth time this week that "he's just not right for her" and "he's not even good looking" and "she's way out of his league!" to lying in bed upside down with his head hanging off the edge groaning into his palms, "but what if she likes him though?! do you think she does?! is that why she hasn't been around lately? aghhhh, girls are so confusing. this sucks. wanna play league?" in which jiseok replies with a sigh, "dude, you could just text her and figure it out for yourself right now." and leaves before his head explodes from how much of a baby joo gets when he's frustrated about something.

when he's finally alone, jooyeon gets to sit alone with his thoughts. just pure and utter him, not the shining jooyeon on stage with his bass, and the thought of you, beautiful and kind, and how much he misses the sound of your pretty laugh. you're constantly on his mind. sometimes he finds himself idly smiling about some dumb text you sent him or the one time where you tried singing along to his strumming and it wasn't good but you gave it your all. it was just so you. you're his friend, yes, but he didn't realize how he felt something so much more for you until the idea of you not being around him anymore became a very real possibility.

the thought of you not being in his life wasn't even in the question for him. it breaks his heart to think of such a thing happening, that he wouldn't be the one making you happy but some other, boring, loser of a guy ... but he doesn't let the others know that part. deep down he's more insecure than he lets on. whatever exasperated complaining he lets out barely scratches the surface of the sort of emotional vortex swirling in him at this very moment thinking about you dating someone else.

when he sees you he makes it so unbelievably obvious, everyone around you two is betting on the moment that you finally realize. you're wrapping up your lunch together when he brings it up. "stoooop hanging out with him, he's boring and he only plays fps games, i mean come on," he's basically begging you like a kid.

you snort at him, "and you know almost every pokemon. he's not doing anything wrong, we all have things we really like." you're saying this to defend your point but in reality you also thought it was annoying that that was all he talked about with you and didn't seem to care about what you liked at all.

"yeah, well." jooyeon grumbles, pitifully tucking his head into the crook of his arm, leaning onto the table. he doesn't make eye contact with you, just pouting cutely. "heard he likes you, too... he's not special." the last part is almost unintelligible from the way he buries his head further into his arm as he says it.

that piques your interest. "oh? what was that? after the first part?" you know exactly what you heard but you just can't help yourself from teasing him.

"'ts nothing."

"joo." he refuses to meet your eyes but you see the tips of his ears reddening.

"i gotta get back to practice."

"joooooyeon. lee jooyeon. jooyeon of xdinary heroes. did i hear correctly? 'he's not special?'"

he's already walking off.

"joo, you know i'm going to the same place as you!" you shout after him. quickly, you shove your things into your bag and catch up to his rather hasty speed. you're giggling because you can read him like a book. that cute little pout on his face is all you need to see before you go to grab his hand mid step. he jolts a bit, not expecting your touch, before he eases into it and finally looks you in the eye.

"you ..."

shifting your hand so your fingers interlock, you smile at him, looking him in the eyes with earnest, "i like you, too."

in a few moments he's trying to stay cool and ends up failing miserably by how the corners of his mouth refuse to stay still. he can't help himself from breaking into a grin at those words. he would get to it later, be able to grandly profess his love to you like how he had imagined it going in his head, but for now he was content with this. simple and happy with your hand enveloped in his larger one.

it's by no means a scene out of a drama, but it was perfectly enough for the two of you.

(later that night jooyeon is so completely over the moon about being chosen. it feeds his ego BAD. you have to take him down a peg by telling him how he hasn't really properly confessed to you yet, and you are very entertained by how he stutters and struggles to say it to you directly after such a grand display of confidence. oh, joo ...)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

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thank you for reading! <3

[lokischocolatefountain]

Hiii if you’re still taking requests, could we have more angsty, jealous Javier? You write his character so good, i love all of it!!! Your married series was absolutely fantastic <3

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. The women he’s with have multiple partners beside him- they’re informants, sex workers, and a lot of times both. He’s no juvenile and doesn’t expect them to not do their job because he can’t share. Besides, there’s a clear transaction with these women- sex in exchange for dollar bills, intelligence in exchange for a visa.

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. At least he doesn’t think he is until he’s with her (the professor he ends up marrying). The relationship starts out casual. She’s a beautiful woman who frequents the restaurant he frequents. They do the decent mating dance of flirtation and buying each other coffee before he takes her back to her place and fucks her thoughts out of her head.

He makes it clear to her that he isn’t looking for something serious. He hasn’t told her the exact nature of her job, but she knows. She has seen the gun on him. She has seen him on a raid, tactical vest on and hand enclosed around his gun. She kicks him out, but only after giving him a kiss and telling him she’d like to do this again. They were on the same page. Until they weren’t.

He’s bad at drawing boundaries. He kissed prostitutes on the forehead, asked them about their young kids and ailing parents, let them drone on about their hopes and dreams. Sure it was important to cultivate a relationship with his informants so that when things got dangerous, they would continue to… inform. But he enjoyed it. He liked knowing the women he slept with, liked asking questions and answering their questions. It was the only human thing left in his life full of violence.

He cannot draw boundaries with her at all. He eats from her refrigerator, drinks her liquor and lies down on her lap and lets her read English literature to him. He picks her up from work sometimes and drops her back the morning after. He fixes her faulty plumbing without even being asked. He finds her carrying heavy bags of groceries and offers to drive her to her place. He takes her grocery shopping and restocks her fridge. He tells himself it’s because he eats so much of her food. Just repaying her.

He’s picking her up from work one night. It boils his blood to learn that he isn’t the only one waiting in the parking area for her. There’s another guy, a professor like her, and he walks with her to his car. He should’ve driven away as soon as he noticed her with another man. But he doesn’t. He stares hard enough to burn a hole in the dress she wore when he first slept with her. It was flattering on her figure, highlighting her best assets— her entire goddamn body. Clearly she wore this dress when she was hoping to get laid. He drives away before she could notice him. He finds someone else that night. Plenty of fish in the sea, right? Except he screams her name when he’s balls deep in Helena.

She’s at their restaurant the next morning, having breakfast and drinking coffee like she didn’t go fuck someone else just last night. He sits at his old table instead of joining her like he always did. She looks a little hurt by it, but quickly fixes her expression to smile at him. Good. Be hurt. He is aware he’s being irrational. And a pig. She was free to sleep with all of Bogotá if she wished. God knows he did. She wasn’t doing anything wrong just like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But he’s angry at her anyway.

Work takes him to Medellin for days and when he returns, he finds himself at her doorsteps. He feels right at home in her arms, in her pussy, and he doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to get up and leave even though everything in him is begging him to leave before it was too late. He struggles between the rational part of him that knows it’s best to leave and the irrational one that wants to pull her to his chest and fall asleep breathing her in. She makes the decision for him.

She’d asked in the nicest possible way to fuck right off. Well, not really. But she might as well have kicked him out. She asks for clarification “what are we doing, Javi?” There is it, he thinks. He was always clear about his intentions with women, but he’s had a few of them believe that they could “fix” him. Whatever the hell that meant. And he had to break their heart, tell them it was just sex like they’d originally agreed. But she surprises him.

She calls him out on his shit, tells him he’s giving her mixed signals with taking her grocery shopping and meeting her up at work. She tells him he can’t have it both ways. “I have a date with a colleague this Sunday. It’ll be weird if I’m with him, thinking about how sweet it was of you to take my car for an oil change. That’s not umm…it’s not fuckbuddy stuff.” It’s boyfriend stuff.

Her drawing the boundaries for him should’ve helped. But god it doesn’t. All he wants to do that week is walk into her university campus and punch that fucker who was taking his girl out on a date. It was stupid, dangerous and reprehensible. But fucking hell, he couldn’t do shit while thinking about her with another man. Would she let the guy fuck her in his car like she let him? Would she cry his name? Would she accidentally let a low Javi slip out of her pretty lips out of habit?

He stops visiting the restaurant. He doesn’t need breakfast anyway. He fucks other women, fucks his own fist, but none of them come close to the euphoria of being inside her, of kissing her and drinking her moans in just as he made her cum on his cock. Nobody comes close. It’s for the best. He cannot afford emotional entanglements. It was for her good that she pulled away when she did. This was no life for anyone and attaching herself to him would mean having to endure his shit.

He can’t stop thinking about her. He freezes in the middle of the fucking street with his gun pulled on some guy because he thinks he saw her in the distance. It’s not her, he knows that. She was in Bogotá and he was in Medellin. It’s not her. But he sees her in everything. He finds himself reading fiction, for fuck’s sake. He finds her panties stuffed into the cushions of his couch and smells it to get himself off. It was creepy as shit, but it’s the hardest he’s come since he stopped seeing her.

He drives by their restaurant and catches a glimpse of her having breakfast with that guy. At their restaurant, at their table. He’s filled with rage towards her new man, at her. How could she just take this guy to their restaurant and have breakfast at their table? Like he didn’t even fucking exist. How long had this been going on? Was it well before he saw them in the parking lot that evening? Did she bring him here whenever Javi was away in Medellin?

He brings another girl to his leather couch that night and tries not to think about how she could be at home right now, fucking her colleague in the same bed she fucked him. Did she ask him about his interests? Run her fingers through his hair? Touch his arms and tell him how strong he was? He wants to laugh at himself. Of course she didn’t do that last one. The fucker she was with had noodle arms. They wouldn’t satisfy her. He wouldn’t satisfy her. Javi knew her body in and out, knew all the right buttons to push, had her wrapped around his little finger and his cock.

Two months and he’s strong in his resolve. He still think about her, still keeps her panties tucked under his pillow like a low grade pervert, still thinks of beating the shit out of her new guy. Hell, she was probably in love with him by now. Probably a nice guy who didn’t sleep around and actually came home on time.

It’s the oddest thing that breaks him. Surveillance pictures from Escobar’s family vacation. The piece of shit has a whole wife. Keeps his mother and cousin close. Even that fucking monster had family. Doesn’t he deserve to at least take the girl he can’t get out of his head to a nice dinner? Loneliness creeps into his days and nights. No matter how many informants he beds, there’s a growing void in his chest.

Rather than drive home that night, he drives to hers. He wakes her up at an odd hour and all he can think of is whether she was in bed with the new guy when he rang the doorbell. She looked both surprised and annoyed to find him at her door. He couldn’t blame her for either of those things— he did drop off the face of the Earth and it was way past a decent hour to drop by someone’s place. He wants to hold her face in his hand and press a kiss to her lips. But he didn’t have permission for that anymore. So he just says “Dinner?”

Series Masterlist

[just-nc-tea]

ellooo i was the one who nominated u for the awards i wish truth untold was put out before its so beautiful 😭😭 i cried a little at the ending ngl its an amazing story usually i dont like fake dating tropes BUT THIS ONE (chef's kiss) neways,,, next time ill send an ask ill call myself 🍩so u know its me hehehe have a nice day <3

Hello dear 🍩-anon!!

Ahh thank you again!! I don’t really think I‘ll get any nominations but yours but I feel very very honored that you even did that! There are so many great writers on here that have shown over and over again that they should get an award for their writing! I don’t really know what exactly the award is but I sure hope they are super proud of it!

I also think „do you think I am fragile“ is the better option to nominate since over all it got received and read by a ALOT of people (over 1000 people which is so crazy and I am So Thankful and still super surprised over???)

anyway! I do love writing and I have a lot of intrinsic motivation to do so, so even if just one person was to read my fic and left a comment or two I would be delighted!

Dude when I read over the ending again yesterday I was like. Aw man. Poor Jake. My Pookie don’t cry. And then i remembered it’s my fault that he was crying lmao

I am very glad that you liked my version of the fake dating trope and enjoyed reading a literal novella. I am going to print the whole series as small books cause I love that I wrote a booklenght fic & it’s over 250 pages long??? So yeah thank you for reading and liking my 250 page long fanfic! Lots of Love Patty ♡ We are talking about this fic --⟢ the truth untold

[revasserium]

Hello, hello! I would like to request a drabble with Leona Kingscholar and the prompt, "after a gunshot wound" + fem! reader, please. Make the ending happy, please. I can't stand sad endings.😥 Thanks!

reqs are open :) @savanaclaw1996

after a gunshot wound (mafia!au for my 31 days of aus)

leona; 2,147 words; angst w/ a happy ending bc... u just said that the end had to be happy, right? lol; also cw for blood and guns

clean hands.

no one would mistake him for a murderer, not by the soft of his hands, the tenderness of palms, but as he tears off his ruined gloves with his teeth, the blood still warm and dripping even as it coagulates against his skin, he wonders what the world might think if only they knew the truth — that being a prince to a dying empire also means courting death.

and he has never been one to fuss over keeping his own hands clean.

unlikely savoir.

if you were to ask him why he saved you, why you of all people, leona doesn’t think he’d be able to find an answer. because the answer — the true answer — is far too pedantic: that his body moved before his mind could catch up. that before he really knew what he was doing, he was already at your side.

“this… isn’t how things are supposed to go —” you cough, feeling the pain ricochet through your whole body from the base of your spine, the side of your waist wrapped in layers and layers of bandages.

“yeah, i know,” he says, one leg propped on the other, his hair twisted in a hasty braid, tossed over his far shoulder. he’s cleaning a gun — one of his favorites, an old smith and wesson 29 — wiping down the sides and the handle with a meticulousness that people would never usually associate him with.

“daddy always said —”

“— that if you needed more than six shots to kill someone… you’d probably end up dead first,” leona finishes, a smirk quirking his lips as his hands pause over the glinting metallic barrel. “i remember… he taught me too.”

you sigh and lay back on the pristine white sheets, staring up at the hospital’s linoleum ceiling.

“do you miss him?” you ask, not really looking at him.

“what kinda question is that?” he asks, and his voice is a low, seismic rumble, almost too quiet to hear.

“it… you should’ve… i mean —” your words catch in your throat and your hand shoots up to cover your mouth, almost dislodging the iv hooked up to the back. leona tuts before gently tugging your hand back down.

“i should’ve saved him? bullshit — he’d kill me himself if he got outta there and you didn’t.”

“but —”

“shh… don’t think about that… you need to rest.”

you’re vaguely aware of the buzzing warmth spreading through your limbs from your right arm before your eyes fall shut and your breathing evens out once more.

by the door, ruggie cocks his head.

“when’re you gonna tell her, boss?”

leona slates him a dark look, “when she’s ready to hear it.”

not where but when.

“mr. kingscholar, back again today?”

“yes, room —”

“i know the one, sir. uhm… it’s just —”

the nurse purses her lips, her eyes flickering from leona’s deadpan face to the room down the hall, the lights always kept low, the blinds always drawn.

“just say it already.”

the nurse jumps at leona’s voice, but she swallows and nods.

“it’s almost been… a whole year now… don’t you think we should move her to the longterm ward? the rooms are bigger up there — and there’s more natural light — i’m sure she would —”

“no. that one’s fine. and… she can’t be moved.”

he doesn’t look up as the nurse nods tersely, watching as he makes his way to the end of the hallway, the last door on the right. he takes a breath as he stands in the doorway, his eyes catching on your sleeping form.

he pulls a revolver from his pocket, drops into the seat next to you, turns down the dial for your sleeping drugs, and slowly starts to clean.

when you wake up this time, your eyes are a little bit clearer, but your gaze is still unfocused when they land on him.

“l-leona? wh-what happened?”

“you were shot,” he says, matter of fact as he turns his eyes back to his gun.

“yeah… i feel that. but… where… when…” you frown, trying to feel along the side of your body where the bandages are. they feel stiff, and somehow, the pain is too far away. leona tuts as he tugs your hand away.

“don’t mess with your bandages — you’ll never heal properly that way.”

you purse your lips as your hand goes slack in his.

“you got… new gloves.”

“huh? yeah — course i did. i couldn’t keep my old ones.”

you nod, letting your head fall back onto the pillows, staring up at the barren landscape of the hospital room ceiling.

“leona…?”

“hm?”

“i… i want to go home.”

leona goes still, his whole body feeling like a wound spring, his stomach clenching inside him as he stares at the gun in his hands. he has to curl his fingers into his palm to stop himself from shaking.

“ye-yeah. we’ll get you home. i promise.”

“when?” you ask, turning towards him, your eyes wide and hopeful.

he casts you a smile, and somehow, even after all this, it’s the bravest thing he’s ever had to do.

“soon.”

time warp.

“you can’t keep doing this.”

“the fuck i can’t.”

“boss — it’s not fair —”

“don’t talk to me about fair —”

ruggie winces as leona’s fist smacks into the punching bag, nearly knocking it completely sideways as he lets out a frustrated snarl, ripping off his boxing gloves.

ruggie takes a deep breath, “it’s been almost two years. the hospital bills alone are getting insane —”

“so what? it’s not like we’re strapped for cash —”

“but how’s this doing either of you any good? i mean —”

“oh, you think i want this? you think i enjoy this fifty first dates shit? this… this — weird, time-warp where every time i go to see her i’ve gotta pretend that — that everything’s just happened? that i’m not the reason she’s in that bed to begin with?!”

leona’s chest is heaving by the time he finishes, his face pushed up against ruggie’s almost nose to nose. and still, ruggie steels himself to hold his ground.

“you’re not the real reason she’s in that bed.”

“i was the one who shot her!”

“you were the one who saved her.”

leona shakes his head, sinking his now-bare fist into the punching bag once more. ruggie chews on his bottom lip, resisting the urge to turn tail and run. but he’s had enough running for a lifetime — this at least, is something he needs to do.

“she — she deserves to know,” he says.

but leona only swallows and shakes his head.

“i… i don’t know how to tell her.” and it’s the first time that he’s admitted it to himself, out loud at least. and even the words are crippling — the breath seeps from him as he sinks down against the wall, letting his head thunk back, his hair falling loose from it’s haphazard ponytail.

“well…” ruggie says, joining him on the ground, casting his eyes up as well, a light grin pulling at his lips, “you start with one word, and then the next… and then sometime after that, it should get easier.”

and try as he might, leona can’t help the laugh that stumbles up and out of his throat — torn from him almost like ripping off a scab, leaving him feeling red and raw and restless. he shakes his head, letting his shoulder bump against ruggie’s.

“you’re a shit best friend.”

ruggie smiles, “and you’re a shit boss. but hey — we can’t have everything, can we?”

the first time.

and the next time he goes to see you, he tells himself that it’s the last time he’ll do this. but when he walks into your room, it’s to find you already awake, staring up at the ceiling. when he breaches the threshold of the room, your eyes slide over to settle on him, and a faint smile graces your lips.

“hey you.”

leona blinks.

“uh — h-hey… did the sleep drugs wear off?” he can feel his heartbeat thrumming a too-quick baseline at the back of his throat and he wonders if one of the nurses had screwed up your daily doses of anesthesia.

“they must’ve… what time is it?” you look around for a clock in the room. there isn’t one but leona looks around with you.

“not that late,” he says, dropping into the chair next to your bed, “are you… hungry?”

“starved,” you say, laughing as you try to sit up and he reaches out to wrap an arm around your shoulders. you’d never been fragile, not even when you were a tiny little girl, but just now beneath his hands, he laments at how breakable you seem.

“i dunno if you’d like any of the hospital food but… i could try paging for one of the nurses.”

“no, it’s okay. the only good stuff at a hospital is the jello anyway.”

leona laughs, nodding as he props you up on a pile of pillows, sitting back and staring at you in mixed awe and trepidation. it’s the most he’s heard you say in… god — years? years. and he can’t help marveling at the sound of your voice, just as sure and strong as it’s always been. he used to jam a finger in his ears and yell that you were too loud but now, he thinks he’d like nothing more than to fall asleep to it, just to hear it and hear it and keep on hearing it.

“then… how about we get outta here later and i take you to a proper dinner?”

your smile is sweet and just on the other side of teasing.

“leona kingscholar. are you asking me on a date?”

he sighs, shaking his head, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the top of his nosebridge as he pinches.

“yeah — sure, if that’s what you want to think.”

you regard him for a moment before you drop your gaze to the back of your hand, the iv needle still taped firmly in place.

“i’m… not quite sure what to think… i mean — what’s a girl supposed to think of a guy who’s been lying to her for the past two years?”

leona feels his whole body go cold, but you’re still smiling as you look at him, your hands folded neatly in your lap. so, he forces himself to move, to lean forward and reach for your hands, and when you don’t stop him, he doesn’t question why your touch feels a little bit like salvation. why you’ve always kind of felt like that to him.

“i — i’m sorry.”

“i know… i know you are,” you reach up to tug at the ends of his hair, “it’s gotten way longer y’know… it’s one of the things that gave it away.”

he laughs, the sound both helpless and mercifully light as it spills from him.

“shit… i should’ve known it’d be the hair. you always were so damn obsessed with it.”

and when he looks up, it’s to find your cheeks tinted with a color he hasn’t seen in two long years and it takes everything inside him not to reach out and press his palm to it, to reach out and catch it, to save it and cup it close to his chest like a firefly’s dying light.

“can you blame me? you’ve got gorgeous hair,” you say, even now running your fingers through it and he lets himself sink to the sanctity of your touch.

“so… i guess i owe you an explanation,” he says, finally looking up as your hand drops and he bites down the urge to grab it and press it back to the side of his face, to kiss at the patch just inside your wrist.

“yes, that’d be nice,” you say, your voice as casual as it is light, and he knows, even before he starts speaking that he is forgiven, and it’s all he could’ve ever, ever hoped and prayed for.

you, alive; him, forgiven.

and, given those circumstances, he thinks that he really has no other reason to keep on deflecting anyways. so, leona takes a deep breath and tries to remember ruggie’s words — one word, and then the next —

“so two years ago… your dad came to tell me that there was going to be a coup…”

[idontplaytrack]

any auli’i character x reader where reader has always felt unlovable and auli’i’s character proves to her that she’s not.

Matilda

Amber Appleton x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, crying, angst?

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Two decades went by, with yelling, crying, slamming doors, smashing windows and walls. Always nervous, always alert. You’ve never had a second where you felt like you could relax, even when you were sleeping. You felt like you could be jolted awake by someone in the apartment who got angry. Oftentimes…over trivial things. With each year, things only worsened the more you understood what was going on in your life— in your family. It was falling apart, and you were the one desperately trying to glue it back together by having no personality but obedience, doing all the chores, going to work, putting food on the table and chipping in for bills. It kept peace in the house, but you were in turmoil. Sad, exhausted, unappreciated and unloved.

Every birthday got worse. Lesser gifts, lesser guests, lesser celebrations. Year after year, the excitement dwindled away…but only because you were trying to match up to the enthusiasm of your family. They didn’t care, so you stopped feeling the excitement, stopped wishing, you stopped wanting to celebrate your birthday…you stopped wanting to celebrate you.

You’d just gotten home from work, achy and tired. Sliding your shoes off, you bent down to put them on the shoe rack and hung your tote bag on one of the wall hooks. Entering the living area, Socks walked up to your feet and nuzzled against your leg. “Hi, baby.” You smiled, picking up the cat. You promptly put her back on the floor then went to get changed in the bedroom. She follows you inside anyway, making you laugh and get startled when you felt her against your leg again.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, placing her on your lap as you gave the feline head scratches. She purrs a bit, then laid her head down. You two stayed like this for a bit before you went back outside to feed her. Right then, Amber returned home from work as well. “Hello, honey.” She walked up to you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I brought cake.”

“Amber.” You sighed, “I don’t— I don’t want a cake.”

Yes, you did.

She doesn’t say anything but gives you another kiss once you stood back up straight. Then she was gone, in the bedroom to get changed too. Within a minute, there she was again, right next to you. “Come here.” Amber held your hand. You followed her over to the couch, sitting down next to her. “I made you this.” She pulls out a wooden box from the bag she was holding.

“What is this?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s for you, open it up and take a look.” She nudged with the cutest freaking smile on her face. She set the box on your lap and you carefully opened it up. You were met with an array of mini photo frames on the inside of the box cover. Each photo taken on a ‘special occasion’ over the course of your relationship with Amber. There were little trinkets in the box, more frames lined in the sides— photos taken in random mundane moments. Beneath the layer of trinkets, were little post-it notes folded into hearts. ‘One for every day we’ve been together, one for every day I’d like you to smile<3 ’ The paper hearts read. Tears were already pricking at your eyes.

You nearly dropped the box trying to hug her. “Thank you.”

Again, she doesn’t say anything and just hugged you bag tightly, rubbing your back.

She breaks the silence a minute later though, “I love you. I love you, so much.”

“I know you do.” Your voice cracked, “And that— it scares me. Because I don’t wanna lose you.”

She took the box off your lap and placed it on the empty spot on the couch next to her.

“You will never lose me for as long as we both shall live.” She says, “I’ve got you, and I will always have you. I will always be here for you. Just like I’ve been since we started talking. You deserve so much love, so much…everything. So much better than what you know. Let me continue helping you, get out of that, get better. Let us continue living the life we deserve to live. I know you, I know things haven’t been easy…they’ve been way too hard, but it’s okay to relax now. It’s okay to do what you want, make mistakes, get excited, want to rest, want to play, want cuddles and attention and just…about whatever your heart desires because you have me, right here with you. No matter what they’ve told you, no matter how unlovable they said you were, never listen to those words, never let those thoughts stay for as long as they do. They’re not true, those people aren’t right…they don’t see you like I do. They don’t see you like a person, they don’t treat you like their baby. They don’t care about you because they’re broken themselves and thought they could just get things done and call it a day. Well, you…are my baby. You are the love of my life, my partner. I chose you.”

You nodded, face held by her hands as tears fell down your face. “You’re okay, you hear me?” She licked her lips, trying to swallow her own tears. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me. I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. It’s okay to be scared, it’s okay to cry, and no matter what it is, I’ll be here right next to you however possible. I can promise you that, and I will.”

“Sometimes I just feel like it all hits me at once and I don’t know what to do to help myself get out of it.”

“And that’s alright. I’m gonna be here. I’ll go through it with you. You’ll be just fine, we’ll grow and heal together, angel. One day at a time, we’ll get there. We’re getting there.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[mysteryampharos]

Tell us about your favorite character?

i really love dusknoir and ampharos from the pokemon mystery dungeon series, but after playing Rainworld, i can wholeheardtedly say that the base game + downpour made five pebbles into one of my all-time favorite characters! i was gonna avoid spoilers, but ill inevitably speak about it, so ill just do two spoiler-free paragraphs first! and then go insane

for half of the campaigns in the game, i was his BIGGEST hater. i think the order you play certain campaigns in probably affects how you feel about certain characters, and boy, my choice of sequence was NOT doing him any favors. he was like a catalyst to speed up the decay of the dying world, both when it came to the enviroment itself, and other characters. he had without fail harmed all but one character he interacted with by that point.

and then. . i played the last two campaigns. with a few pearl reading sessions prior to going through them, the closer i got to finishing the game, the more my thoughts on him changed. granted, the game DID give me enough clues, but it wasnt until getting to see what happened in these campaigns that his character clicked for me. five pebbles is a surprisingly tragic character, and the dlc makes an excellent use of him to weave a beautiful narrative together with Looks to the Moon. words cannot describe how incredible and life-changing playing this game felt. (spoilers below the cut! dont read if you haven't finished rivulet and saint's campaign)

five pebbles is a rat in a cage. he tried everything he thought of to try and find an escape to the eternal life the ancients condemned the iterators to, and he did succeed in killing an iterator.

it just wasn't him.

so moon dies and is left in a worser state than ever before after being 'revived' by hunter, and now he has a ticking time bomb in the form of The Rot spreading through his superstructure and the garbage wastes like a cancerous plague. he keeps himself cut off from all and any means of contact and with the exception of artificer, is somewhat hostile to the slugcats.

it takes rivulet's campaign, where the rot has almost entirely overtaken most of the can, that his attitude changes. he is still the same as before, but much more. . sorrowful, regretful. at this point in the game, he and moon switch places: he falls deeper and deeper to disrepair while moon starts restoring her functions and communications. he's forced to sit still during rivu's campaign, but otherwise, five pebbles is largely fine when it comes to his neurons or mind.

so when i told you i cried during saint's campaign.

it was already customary. every single campaign after monk, i'd beeline for five pebbles, seeing as he was always involved somehow. so, i climb up chimney canopy as i always do to get to him through the wall, and: there it is. the infamous room

the entire right section connecting to his superstructure is gone. not even damaged or anything: it's completely vanished. and the game makes sure you feel dread the moment you see this. already, not a good sing: but hey! maybe that just fell like the underhang did. theres still another path to go through.

i hate shaded citadel, but its the only other way i know how to get there. still, i took a detour to moon first before going there, since i knew shoreline had a gate! i visited her, and was on my merry way. . until i get to the gate. something is off right away.

the path is different. sure, that's normal in this campaign, but it wasnt like the overgrowth or other snowy areas: the entire structure of the area. . was very different. its like something crushed in. the deeper i go toward the gate, the more confused and conflicted i get. i cross the gate, and the name shows up on the screen..

Silent Construct.

its like things clicked for me a second time, and it was at that point i paused the game just to think about it for a few seconds. Five Pebbles' superstructure collapsed and crushed the ENTIRETY of Shaded Citadel. the only sign of life left was a weird combination of wildlife from the exterior and shaded citadel itself, with barely any rot left. this was both one of the highlights of the whole game to me, and one of the most emotional. theres 100% gonna be echoes here, so im gonna go ahead and look for that: but five pebbles is priority.

this is one of the most interesting regions in the game to me. maybe not the most fun (I HATE THIS GAME'S SPIDER ENEMIES SO MUCH) but thematically and symbolically? second best region. i dedicated half of the time i had that sunday just to find him, and sure enough..

he is in a state even worser than how moon was when she fell to disrepair. a supercomputer degraded to a barely sentient puppet who can't remember much of anything. the only thing that remains is the music pearl hes playing, and if the player wants to,

you can take that away from him too.

is downpour canon? i don't know nor remember! will i consider it canon regardless because this was one of the greatest gaming and life experiences ive ever had? you fucking BET. i love you five pebbles im sorry for calling you a littlebitch when we first met

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

I dunno if anyone's asked this already, so I'm writing it anonymously

How do you think the bachelorettes or bachelors would react if they found out you turned their kids into birds?

Oh wow...

Ok, let me take a quick look at my masterlist... Nope, I don't see such a question, so it will be a new headcanon 😀

I also have a large number of bachelors asks, so to be fair I'll make this one about bachelorettes. I hope you don't mind dear anon, since you asked "or" (I'm not lazy, I'm trying to be fair!) Anyway, thanks for ask 👋

⚠️ Warning: angst, mention of blood, mention of violence, loss of children, nervous breakdown

Leah:

"You did not do anything bad to our children. You wouldn't dare. You did NOT do that to OUR CHILDREN!!!!" If Leah had one of her sculptor's tools at hand, she would immediately turn into a deadly weapon. That even an easel will strike a man just as hard as a sword if it is in the hands of a furious and in tears mother who has just lost her children. Somebody's blood will be spilled on the floor...

Penny:

When Penny heard about what the Farmer had done to their children, she just dropped to her knees. She stared glassy-eyed at the man she thought was the love of her life, not understanding why this had happened. Hysterical, she would crouch in a corner and scream loudly. To Penny, her family, her spouse, her children, is the treasure of her life, and what happened made Penny's mind wobble.

"Mother..." *hic* "Mooootheer..."

Haley:

Screaming and throwing things. Haley can't control her emotions. And who can blame her for reacting this way when the one she married essentially killed their precious children? Not even death, but a fate worse than death, to wander like the damned, in the body of a short-lived bird, at the hand of their own parent... Screaming and throwing things. Haley wished she wasn't so helpless right now... That she could get her kids back, that she could punch her (already ex) spouse with all her might, that she... She...

Screaming and throwing things... What else could she do...?

Abigail:

Abigail, in utter shock, heard clearly her inner voice, which kept saying one word: run. And she ran. Without stopping, she ran to the forest, to the tower, to that strange wizard man. Abigail run because she needed help. She needs help to get her children back. She needs help to find out what happened to her husband. Because what stood before her in their house is not even a human being, it cannot be...

Emily:

"Turn into pigeons? Oh, you bought pigeon costumes for our little ones? That's very nice of you, I remember they wanted animal costumes." Only Emily's smile slid lower and lower every second as her spouse stood before her, not saying a word. "Honey..." Her voice broke. "Please tell me you bought costumes for them. Please...Tell me what you bought..." She could say no more, and her spouse's blank and indifferent stare made the situation even more tense.

"Yoba, help me...."

Maru:

But that's... It defies all logic. Dark magic? What do they mean "turn into pigeons"? What are they talking about? Where... are her children? Maru thinks her spouse has a fever. She wants to stay calm, not show aggression, and just ask what happened and where the children are. But another part of her, her instinct for self-preservation, is screaming that she needs to run to safety. Run home to her parents and stepbrother. Run for help. Why can't she stop shaking...?

[creativitwincest]

the pic you drew of them giggling in crop tops was so cute 🥺

also I'm imagining on a day when Roman just. can't handle the teasing (maybe something went really wrong with presenting a creative project and it took a sledgehammer to his self worth) then Remus hangs up a sheet around his bottom bunk to make a little cave hidden away from the world and aggressively snuggles Roman in it until the sad is back to manageable levels

- 🦞 (same anon who requested post-battle kisses)

Thank you so much! :)

Also FUCK YEAH REMROM CUDDLES. That's adorable!! Remus would. Also because I'm terribly gay and still very in love with the "Roman overthinks shit Remus does that Remus himself doesn't think twice about" dynamic, I want to imagine a world where Roman kinda-sorta realises he may or may not have feelings for him while they're snuggled up together and starts unlocking shrimp emotions about it

[found-wings]

idea of them discussing phil just outside his room and he's just perching stationary, not looking up, and he hears someone outside mention two names that make his head shoot up. he doesn't even know what the topic of the sentence was, (worries of not bringing their phil back before ̶c̶h̶a̶y̶a̶n̶n̶e̶ and t̶a̶l̶l̶u̶l̶a̶h̶ return) but hearing those two names Meant something to phil even in this state and the people outside 100% notice. I feel like it'd be one of the first signs of him still being in there that they'd catch and boosts the hope they have of saving phil before the federation finds out where he is - 💿

Oh my god

The thought of Phils immediate stare as his head shoots up at these all too familiar words - names - and something within his instincts, his mind, just clicks.

Everyone who‘s gathered there in the discussion notices when someone points it out. Imagine whoever brought up Chayanne and Tallulah first just receiving an unblinking stare, almost glare from Phil the more time goes by.

Phil can‘t tell himself why but there‘s something about these names that make him.. feel.

Despite it all, it‘s the smallest of hope and potentially could be worked with if they attempt to

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I want to scream just saw your response and it was so cutee 😭😭😭 him lulling both of us to sleep is so cute😭😭 I don’t want to send him back to the see I know that I usually write fluff ask for this au but what if the reader has to move somewhere WITH NO SEA like Sweden bc if their work 😭😭😭 they would never be able to see each other and I am extra sad for the reader bc nobody would be as good as Suguru he would ruin their love life forever 🌙

HEHE I’M SO GLAD U THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE <33 i think mer!sugu would sing u to sleep all the time!! it’s his love language …….

but 😭😭 my sweet 🌙 anon …. how could u do this to me…… reader moving from mer!sugu’s beach would be sooo heartbreaking :((( if they moved anywhere he could follow i feel like he would, but if it was somewhere too dry for mer!sugu to live at i’d be so sad :’3 …. sigh. for my own mental health i’m just not gonna think abt that LMAO but it’s a very tasty angst scenario……. AND YES SUGU RLLY WOULD RUIN THEIR LOVE LIFE silly hot fish man is the new standard…. no other person could make them as happy 😔😔😔

in return for the treat i’ll offer u an angst thought of my own …. >:3 ok so. i imagine that merfolk age differently than humans right…. as for mer!sugu i feel like he’s around the same age as reader (probably a lil older mentally but physically the same)…….. but he would definitely outlive them :(( and i keep thinking abt that!! how tragic it is. mer!sugu would treasure their memory so dearly though… maybe there’s an intricate burying ritual for merfolk that he’d follow? like. collecting their bones and burying them by the beach… or down in the deep sea….. or maybe he makes a necklace with some pieces of their skeleton and wears it. so he always keeps a piece of them with him. Kinda Fucked Up but it’s a merfolk thing ok just roll w it 😭😭 they’re sinister creatures but also very devoted….

idk just. mer!sugu grieving reader for as long as he lives without them…. the idea of that makes me so so sad. imagine him swimming up to the surface when the moon looks the same as it did when they first met…… shedding a tear or two before returning to sea……. and his tears end up turning into a myriad of sea glass, covering the beach in green and blue and purple…….. or so the folktale goes <3 yeahhhh i just like the idea of their love story becoming a local fairy tale decades after reader has passed. it’s so bittersweet … T—T

sigh i got carried away again. tysm as always for chatting w me 🌙 anon!!! <33 i don’t think my heart can handle thinking abt mer!sugu angst…. i just want him to be pouty and cute all the time……… :(((

[almostheav4n]

Can’t get the idea of a dbf Joel fic where reader has graduated from her undergrad but isn’t too sure about more schooling and applying to do a higher degree or working and Joel happens to be a famous folk singer who made it big but readers dad and him stayed right while he skyrocketed to fame. She ends up going on tour with him and working odd jobs around the venue and do photography while he’s on stage. Long story short they end up falling in love. Hot, steaming summer romance with dbf Joel miller while your traveling the world

oh bestie this is perfect- your mind is insane, please tell me all your ideas

[cosmicporos]

What would Arcane characters call their partner? What pet/nicknames would they use?

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE! Thank you anon :3

Synopsis: A lot of little cut scenarios where arcane characters call you by cute pet names!

Characters: Sevika, Vander, Silco, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor

((awkward Ekko x reader, Teasing Viktor x reader (he calls you an airhead…))

Warning: Angst for Silco, called you “Pet” but ends with comfort!

Not proofread

Sevika

Nicknames for you: Darling, Dear, Sweet thing, Babe, Dove.

Okay maybe I’m over sentimental but imagine her calling you Dove because you bring her so much peace in life. So you’re quite literally her little peace dove.

Sevika leaned against the bar, her mechanical arm resting on the counter as she watched you move around the room. It wasn't anything special-just you tidying up after a long day-but to her, it was everything. "You know," she started, her voice low and gravelly, "you've got this way of makin' the world feel... quieter."

You paused, glancing at her with a small smile. "Yeah? That a good thing?"

She smirked, pushing off the bar to walk toward you. "It's a damn miracle, is what it is. You don't know what it's like Dove… how loud it gets up here." She tapped her temple with a finger, her gaze softening. "But then you show up, and it's like everything just... stops."

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in her voice, but you kept your focus on folding a stray cloth. "I didn't think I was doing anything special."

Sevika snorted, stepping closer. "That's the thing. You don't even try, and still... you're it for me. My peace. My little Dove."

Vander

Nicknames for you: Peach, Love, Sweet Pea, Darling, Sunshine, Lass/Lad.

The Last Drop was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of mugs and background chatter of conversation was replaced by the occasional cough or sniffle from the makeshift beds spread around the common room. Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Vi lay bundled in blankets, their fevered faces flushed as they sipped the herbal tea Vander had brewed.

"Peach," Vander called softly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness as he approached you. You were perched on a low stool, dabbing a cool cloth against Powder's forehead. He knelt beside you, resting his broad hand on your shoulder. "You've been fussin' over them all day. Why don't you take a break, huh? Let me handle things for a while."

"I'm fine," you said, though your hands trembled slightly as you wrung out the cloth."They need us."

He tilted his head, giving you that steady, knowing look of his. "And I need you to take care of yourself, Peach. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Powder stirred, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. "Don't go," she mumbled, her voice weak.

You smoothed her hair back, glancing at Vander. "See? They need me."

Vander sighed, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite himself. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Alright, Peach. We'll do this together, then."

Silco

Nicknames for you: Darling, Precious, lovely, Pet, Beloved.

After Jinx’s fiasco over at Topside it was obvious Silco was more than simply stressed.

In fact tension in the room was palpable, suffocating as it weighed down on your chest. Silco's piercing gaze bore into you, his lips pressed into a thin line. You'd overstepped-at least, in his mind-and now his sharp tongue was letting you know it.

"Stay out of matters you don't understand, pet," he snapped, the word cutting and cold as it left his mouth.

You flinched, the sting of his words settling deep. Your jaw clenched, and you refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cracked edge of the table.

“I was—I was only thinking about Jinx.” You gulped down the bile that burned in your throat. “Temporary keeping her from missions is keeping her safe.” You spoke finally looking up at him with your wet pathetic eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Silco's breath hitched as he realized what he'd said, the regret settling in almost immediately. His tone had been cruel, and the look on your face drove a pang of guilt through his chest.

“I apologize…” he said softly, his voice no longer harsh. "That was... uncalled for." He spoke as he stood up, fixing his cuffs as he walks over towards you.

Silco stepped closer until he was within arm's reach. "I shouldn't have said that. You didn't deserve it," he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You mean too much to me for me to speak to you that way."

When you still didn't respond, he hesitated for a moment before tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his mismatched ones.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his tone sincere. "You are not my pet. You are my beloved. The only one who stands beside me, who understands me."

Caitlyn

Nicknames for you: Petal, Cheeky one, Muffin, Trouble, Dearest.

Flour completely dusted the countertop and your face as you tried to knead the dough. Caitlyn stood across from you, her sleeves rolled up, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Petal," she said, tilting her head, "you're supposed to knead it, not wrestle it."

You huffed, brushing flour from your cheek. “It's sticking to my hands! I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to tackle this.”

Caitlyn chuckled and walked over, gently taking your hands in hers. "Here, let me show you." She guided your movements, her hands warm and steady.

When the dough finally started to cooperate, you couldn't resist smearing a bit of flour on her cheek. She froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Trouble," she murmured, her voice teasing.

You grinned, backing away. "You love it."

Her soft laugh filled the kitchen as she grabbed a handful of flour. "Oh, I do. But you're not getting away with that."

Ekko

Nicknames for you: Firefly, Sugar, babe, baby, Cutie

You sat on a spinning chair in ekko’s workshop mindlessly spinning while watching him work. He was trying to fix a circuit board, but his focus seemed to drift in your direction. You caught him glancing at you a few times, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking of something important.

After a moment of silence, Ekko cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering slightly. He set down his tools and looked at you with a small smile, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey, uh... can I tell you something?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden and strange behavior. "Sure. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well, I've been meaning to call you something... I dunno, it's just, uh, you're always so sweet, you know?" He glanced up at you briefly, cheeks turning faintly pink. “So, I was thinking... Sugar?"

There was a long, awkward pause. You blinked, processing the nickname, unsure how to respond. "Sugar?" you repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

Ekko's face reddened even more. "Yeah, I mean-because, uh, you're sweet... like sugar? You know?" He shrugged, clearly flustered now. "It's not like, weird, right?"

You couldn't help it you laughed, the sound light and teasing, but not unkind. "I don't know, Ekko. It's a bit... unexpected," you said, still grinning.

His gaze shifted, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Okay, okay, I get it. That was dumb, huh? Just trying to be smooth, but I guess it's not my thing." He shifted uncomfortably.

against his arm, your smile softening. "It's cute," you said, voice warm. "But I think you can do better."

He met your eyes, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his awkwardness. "Yeah? You think so?…Well, I'll keep working on it then."

Viktor

Nicknames for you: Beautiful, Trinket, Dearest, Cheeky, Airhead, Sweetling.

You were fiddling with a complicated piece of tech, the gears and wires all tangled in a way that made your focus drift. Viktor stood beside you, watching with a raised eyebrow as you muttered to yourself.

"Careful, darling," he teased with a sly smile, his voice smooth and mature. "An airhead might break something important."

You shot him a playful glare, a little flustered. “I'm not an airhead! Besides…I'm working on it!" you said, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice.

Viktor chuckled, reaching over and gently fixing the wires with practiced hands. His tone softened as he met your gaze. "I didn't mean it, Sweetling. You're far from an airhead. You just... get a little lost in your thoughts sometimes." He smiled warmly. “And I think it's kind of endearing."

You felt your heart warm at his change in tone, the teasing replaced by something far more tender. "Geez thanks, Viktor." You pouted and sighed out quietly.

He smiled and chuckled softly, his hand now brushing against yours. "Anything for you, Sweetling."

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT<3 thanks so much for all the support on my last post :>

FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REQUEST AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED IT! (I love reading comments and any feedback!)

[gloomwitchwrites]

For call of duty, can you write how 141 would react to you coming home after being announced KIA?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️

Not gonna lie, anon, but I genuinely read this as us reacting to the 141 coming home after being announced KIA, not them reacting to us coming home. I literally dumped everything I had planned and redid it because I missed that ONE word. (oops). Still, it's an emotional one. Your tears fuel me. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Task Force 141!f!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, reunions, fluff, kissing, secret relationship, established relationship, grief/loss, swearing, mild humor, suggestive themes, mild sexual content

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Reality isn’t fair. It’s not kind or forgiving.

A week gone and John is simply floating, going through the motions, simply existing. This is why you don’t date military while in the military. It’s shit like this. It’s being told the person you love is fucking dead and now you’re the one left to pick up the pieces.

There wasn’t even a body. Vaporized is what they told him. Instant and painless. You felt nothing. It’s a small comfort, but John would rather have you in his arms than knowing you’re nothing more than atoms.

He sighs, and then puffs on his cigar. Smoke curls around him. It’s all quiet on base. Everyone is gone other than the routine patrol. John sits alone in his office, looking for files for an upcoming mission.

There’s a soft knock on is office door.

“Come in,” he says, not knowing who it might be but it must be important for it to be this late.

The door clicks and then creaks as it opens. John glances up, the cigar halfway to his mouth before the world around him completely stutters to a halt.

A phantom—a vaporized phantom—stands just inside, one hand on the doorknob. You are unharmed—clean. No scratches or wounds that John can see and wearing civilian clothing.

John is already standing, already moving, unable to resist the urge to remain in his chair and write this all off as a delusion. The cigar is forgotten, probably burning a hole in the wood of his desk. You match the forward momentum, shutting the office door, reaching out to him. When his arms go around you, and pull you in, John realizes that this is not an illusion. You are real and alive and here.

“You’re dead,” he murmurs, disbelief in his tone.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—”

John grasps the back of your neck in a harsh hold, pulling you in for a kiss. He silences your voice, only needing your warmth and taste. You melt for him perfectly, answering the kisses with your own. With a gruff groan, John presses you up against the closed door.

“John,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“How are you here?”

“I’m sorry. We had to. It was the only way to extract me safely.”

John presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. “Never again. Promise me.”

“Promise, John.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

One. Two. Three.

The seconds tick by, and still, Kyle refuses to move. For the last two weeks, Kyle has been cold and distant, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the living room.

He doesn’t read, doesn’t return the numerous missed calls and text messages, and he doesn’t turn on the television. He just sits, staring off into space, unable to figure out where his life will go next.

Why you? Why are you gone and not him?

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You should be alive and whole and happy. You should be home, wrapped in Kyle’s arms.

Kyle sighs, running his hands over his face. An overwhelming wave of grief bubbles up, threatening to rip a sob from him. Leaning forward, Kyle rests his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The wave crashes against his resolve, eroding some of the numbness.

The coffin is empty. No body to bury. He still hasn’t contacted your family. He can’t do it. Can’t face them. That fact that he is here and you are not is a failure on his part. Kyle promised that he’d look after you, and now you’re gone.

Around him, the air stirs—shifts. Kyle rubs at his face, sudden awareness slipping in. There’s an anticipation in it—a tension.

“Kyle.”

That voice. He knows that voice.

Shaking his head, Kyle keeps his face covered, his breathing becoming ragged.

“You’re not real,” he gasps.

Phantom fingers lightly brush across the back of palm, traveling to his wrist. Another set join them, and two warm hands gently wrap around his wrists. They tug, and Kyle surrenders, glancing up at the delusion his consciousness is creating.

Your smile is a beacon in the dark. It is everything he’s dreamed up these aching days, only wanting to see you again. And this is no dream, this is the waking world—reality. Somehow, you are standing before him, grasping his wrists, smiling down at him with such happiness that Kyle doesn’t entirely understand how this could be possible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Kyle.”

He’s standing, wrapping you up in his arms. There is no mistake. You are here. You are here.

Kyle murmurs your name over and over again like a mantra. He touches you everywhere, needing to know that every inch of you is real and not a figment of his imagination. You curl against him, tears forming, threatening to fall and stain your cheeks. Kyle kisses them away, grasping the sides of your face to steal your breath.

You melt beneath him, and Kyle’s only desire is to keep you near him, to relearn your every moan and whisper. He can get answers later. Later. Right now, you are here, you have returned to him, and that is enough.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny made the choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s his own fault for caring about you, for deciding that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He should have found a civilian. That way they’d be mourning him and not him mourning you.

Three months and the missive still burns a hole in his chest. It’s folded up nicely, faded and worn from him unfolding and refolding it, tucked into an inside pocket beneath his bulletproof vest. It’s right over his heart. Right where you should be. Right where you belong.

The missive doesn’t belong to Johnny. It’s addressed to Captain Price, but the man handed it over to him, because he knew—even though Johnny did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to share what he had with you with anyone. That was just for the two of you.

“You all right, Soap?”

Simon’s voice cuts through the static.

“I’m aces, Lt. Don’t worry about me.”

The words feel false on Johnny’s tongue. He hates lying—but he especially hates lying to Simon.

Even behind the balaclava, Johnny can sense Simon’s frown. But the big bloke says nothing, appearing content with his answer.

“Price wants you in Conference Room B.”

“Now?” asks Johnny. “We’re supposed to transfer out in a few.”

Simon shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Just said he needed to talk to you before we leave.”

Johnny sighs but he goes, patting Simon’s arm before jogging to one of the main buildings. It’s inconvenient—and Price could have just met him on the fucking tarmac.

“What do you need, Captain?” says Johnny, pushing open the door.

Captain Price stands just inside the doorway. And he’s not alone.

At first, Johnny doesn’t understand. It’s like all but one singular bulb has been extinguished, the remaining light illuminating the one ghost in the room. Because that’s what you are. A ghost. Unreal and ethereal. Not reality at all but a simple hope in the back of Johnny’s mind that has finally blossomed into delusion.

“Soap.” Price’s voice is gruff. He sighs and then takes a step away from you. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

He brushes past Johnny, lightly squeezing his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And Johnny does not move. He stands in the doorway like a bloody git, unable to understand how you’re standing before him.

You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.

Your smile is hesitant at first, your movements even more so. It’s a tentative walk to him, and you don’t touch, you only gaze at him, eagerness and hope in your eyes.

“Johnny,” you breathe, and he knows that voice.

So crisp and clear and real.

Johnny reaches out, and pinches. He pinches your arms, your waist, your cheeks.

“Ow,” you laugh. “What the hell?”

You are not cold, but warm. Solid.

Johnny laughs in disbelief. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

Your arms go around him and suddenly, like a firework bursting with color, Johnny is happy and whole.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shuts the front door and frowns.

Whenever Simon comes home, Bravo always greets him. The all-black German Shepherd is a singular ball of energy, turning in quick circles and tap tap tapping his paws against the hardwood in anticipation of back scratches and belly rubs.

For the past week, Bravo’s presence has been the one bright thing, the only bit of happiness keeping Simon going. The rest of it was snatched from him, torn apart and shattered, scattered to the wind. The letter is tucked inside the drawer of the bedside table. He only read it once. And once was enough.

You are dead. That’s what the letter says anyway. And it infuriates him more than anything. Every mission you’ve ever been on has been with Simon. Except this last one. And on this last one, you did not come home.

“Bravo!” shouts Simon, dropping his keys in the designated spot next to the front door.

Removing his coat, he hangs it up, and then kicks off his sneakers. Sighing loudly, Simon heads down the hall but Bravo does not emerge. Simon pokes his head into the living room and finds no dog. Kitchen, and still nothing. He even checks the backyard. No Bravo.

As Simon turns into the bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s Bravo on the bed, and sitting on the edge—

“You—”

You hold the letter in your hands, attention turning to Simon as he enters. Standing quickly, you extend the arm holding the letter while you bring a singular finger to your lips, implying silence.

Simon’s stomach flips, and then twists quickly. He moves across the room a couple strides, grasping your waist and pulling you close. He says nothing, only searching your face as you keep that finger pressed to your lips.

You flip the letter over to the blank side.

Compromised.

Everything clicks into place. Either you faked your death or someone lied.

Simon cups the side of your face as you drop your finger away from your lips. His mouth replaces, tasting and seeking, wanting to remember. You open for him, accepting it all. His hands tighten on your waist and it takes every ounce of Simon’s control to not throw you onto the bed and rut like an untamed beast.

But he does refrain.

Simon has the car loaded and the alarm system armed in ten minutes. Even on the road, Simon doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can. All he does is keep his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly, attempting to ground himself and keep his focus on the road.

At the safehouse, Bravo takes off, running through the tall grass as you and Simon enter the barn through a small side door. The moment the bags are dropped onto the floor, Simon is on you, fisting your clothes, tugging at them in a need to seem them gone.

“Simon,” you groan against his mouth.

He wants answers. He needs to know what happened. But reconnecting with you is far more urgent.

“After,” he begs. “Please.”

You nod, understanding.

The two of shed your clothes quickly, falling onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Simon’s hand delves between, fingers finding your arousal. You’re ready for him—just as eager as he his. He makes no gentle effort, just a quick thrusts until he’s in to the hilt. Your brief gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, tongue delving inside for a taste as he starts to thrust.

This is what he needs. More than anything.

Talking can come after.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

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@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[dollishmehrayan]

HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦

a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞

(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."

Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out… without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"

The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”

Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”

The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”

Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.

The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"

The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”

The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”

The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame

A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."