#❛ memes ━━ i can even turn to ghost they don't need to be in death.

[starry-bi-sky]

danyal al ghul memes because i don't think i've done those yet for this au.

(the jason one is in reference to the fanon headcanon/au that Jason and Damian potentially knew each other and interacted while jason was in the league. I've thought about it before in context of this au, but haven't thought about it enough to feel inspired or motivated to make a post exploring the idea)

(diablito means, as you can guess, 'little devil'. while i'm neutral to latino jason, i think the nickname is cute as fuck and was danny's main nickname from Jason. i don't wanna touch that timeline so im not gonna decide how old they were when Jason was there.)

Skulker: i am the ghost zone's greatest hunter! i capture and hunt creatures both rare and dangerous. Danyal: a poacher?? you're a poacher?? you poach animals??Skulker:...i sense i've made a mistake of some kind.

anyways that was the day that Skulker cemented himself as Danny's no.1 opp, and still remains there to this day even if he and Vlad are both viciously fighting for second. Out of everyone in the the AP rogues gallery, Skulker will be the first to be thrown under the bus in terms of 'o shit here comes phantom fucking RUN'.

[thuganomxcs]

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[soulprompts]

HEROIC INTERVENTION. ( A PROMPT LIST! )

so i was writing this headcanon for one of my characters, and it got me thinking about how some characters are absolutely, to their very core, protectors, and even then they still need protecting! so i made this list which is similar to about five other memes i've made. feel free to add a "reverse" if you so wish! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST NOR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN. THANK YOU.

FROM THE SENDER TO THE THREAT:

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " is there a problem over here? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " can i help you with something? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i think it's time you were leaving. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " why don't you and i go outside for a sec? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " you wanna tell me why you're hassling my friend? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " you better start running before i really get pissed. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i'm sure there's a rational explanation behind you upsetting this person? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i hope you're not thinking of staying here a moment longer. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " get out. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " right, either you leave or i kick you out. your choice. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " i think it's fairly obvious my friend doesn't want anything to do with you, don't you? "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " leave them alone. now. "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " didn't you hear them? back off! "

[ TO THE THREAT ]: " don't even think of pretending you didn't hear me the first time: leave! "

FROM THE SENDER TO THE RECEIVER:

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " hey, are you okay? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " don't worry. i'll take care of this. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " why don't you go on out back? i got this, it's okay. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " here. you go on into the car, alright? i'm right behind you. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " is this person bothering you? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " it's okay. hey, hey… look at me. they're gone. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " hey… what's going on? what's wrong? i… has this person said something to you? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " it's alright. the others just went out to the car; why don't you join them? i'll handle this. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " hey, hey… talk to me, huh? what's the matter? you look like you've seen a ghost… who was that? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " don't be scared. i'm going to take care of this. i promise. "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " you don't need to say anything. just nod if you want me to kick them out, okay? "

[ TO THE RECEIVER ]: " you're alright. i'm right here, don't worry. and they'll be gone before you can blink, that's another promise. "

ACTIONS:

[ HAND ]: sender, having seen the receiver's encounter with the threat, gently takes the receiver's hand to assure them they aren't alone.

[ INTERVENE ]: sender wordlessly steps in between the receiver and the threat, facing the threat while shielding the receiver from them.

[ BLOCK ]: sender steps in between the receiver and the threat, this time facing the receiver while turning their back to the threat and blocking them from the receiver's line of sight.

[ BACK ]: sender places a protective and gentle hand on the receiver's back, preparing to guide them away from the threat.

[ DOOR ]: sender firmly but politely insists that the threat leave the building, and escorts them out of the door.

[ EXIT ]: sender physically catches hold of the threat and drags them away from the receiver, and outside of the building.

[ PUSH ]: sender places a careful hand on the threat to keep them at arm's length, and steps forward again to give the receiver more space between them and the threat.

[ SHOVE ]: sender runs over and forcefully shoves the threat back and away from the receiver.

[ SPACE ]: sender pushes between the receiver and the threat and begins to move forward, invading the threat's personal space as both a means of intimidation and a way of getting them away from the receiver.

[ DIVERT ]: sender arrives behind the threat and gains their attention, distracting them from the receiver so as to give them time to leave the area.

[ CLEAR ]: the sender firmly and clearly tells the threat that they are no longer allowed in the premises nor anywhere near the receiver.

[ ARM ]: sender wraps a protective arm around the receiver and guides them away from the threat and out of the premises.

[ PUNCH ]: the sender, having seen the receiver's reaction to the threat and the threat's lack of consideration, moves forward and punches the threat in the face.

[rainybubbles]

How do you accidentally confess to COD men ?

Soap, Ghost, Alejandro, Gaz, König, Alex, Price

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written)

S O A P :

-"I can't lose you, Soap. Shit, you're important to me," you say while crying.

-"...I'm flattered, but can you focus on fixing my leg first?" he says.

-You blinked awkwardly.

-Let's start over and try to understand this, shall we?

-Well, you were a nurse working on a military base.

-When all the doctors asked you to wake up at 3 AM, you knew something had happened. You ran to the infirmary and saw Soap.

-He was heavily injured.

-Your heart skipped a beat.

-You and Soap had known each other since his enlistment.

- You were just an apprentice nurse, and he was a cadet. He always burnt something, and you were there to look after him, even when he accidentally burnt the ass of his sergeant.

-You had a crush on him since that time, but you decided a long time ago not to act on it.

- Soap was clearly not interested in you, and he had gone out with a lot of people.

-You can definitely say you're not his type at all, and you like your bond the way it is.

-But now, seeing him like this, it was different. Your heart was overwhelmed, and your mouth spoke before you could filter what you said.

-"I can't lose you, Soap. Shit, you're important to me," you say while crying.

-"...I'm flattered, but can you focus on fixing my leg first?" he says.

-You blinked awkwardly.

-"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm not ethical at all. You need help, and I'm talking nonsense."

-You helped the doctors and quickly went outside when you finished, in order to think about what had just happened.

-"Shit, it was so awkward. I really thought we were in a movie or something," you said, angry at yourself.

-"Well, honestly, it was fun to see you like that. I mean, it could have been the climax of a movie if Ghost had started to play the violin, and a slow-mo started on your face," a voice joked.

-You turned around and saw Soap.

-"You're supposed to lay down. You can't walk."

-"What can I say? Seeing you make miracles," he says with a smirk.

-You sighed and walked towards him, offering your arms to lead him to a bed. He smiled.

-"I'm sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have said that," you said.

-"But you mean it?"

-"That's not the point. It was not the moment, and I know the answer. It was just cringe."

-"...damn, loving me is cringe?" Soap said teasing you.

-"That's- you know that's not what I mean."

-"Yes, I know. I feel the same, by the way."

-"But you..."

-"It's been three months, I realize. I know it's longer for you."

-"You noticed," you realized, all these years thinking you were good at hiding it were in fact obvious to him.

-"Yes, but you decided not to tell anything, so I never acted on it. But I...I feel the same now, and you almost confessed, so can you give me a chance?"

-"You mean when you can take me on a date and not bleed to death?" you said, looking at his injuries.

-"Yes," he chuckled.

-"Okay," you whispered, scared that it was a dream.

-"Okay," he repeated with a smile.

G H O S T :

-"WHAT DO I DO NOW ?!" you screamed and looked at your friend.

-"Just...explain to him."

-"Oh yeah and how do you explain why I send him a fucking eggplant emoji at 4 AM without anything ?" you screamed panicked

-"Tell him the truth." your friend casually says.

-"He won't believe me. Like 'hey I sent you this emoji not because I want to fuck you, but because my brother sent me a lot of memes with eggplant so every night we sent this emoji to each other laughing. And I made a mistake and sent this to you, not him. Nobody does that. He won't believe me." you sigh."Oh fuck, he rode the text."

-"Well...he's your crush no ? I mean you talk about him often so if anything happens it could be good."

-"Yes he is, but I don't want to confess, not now. Fuck, I only met him like three times and only thanks to Soap. We're just acquaintance. I only have his number because I'm Soap's emergency contact."

-"And now he thinks you want to fuck him." your friends resumes

-"Thanks for your help." you say sarcastically."Shit he's writing, what would he say ?"

-"Well I bet on a peach emoji."

-You looked at your friend and showed them your middle finger.

-"What if I make things awkward and-"

-"You are always awkward."your friend interrupts you.

-"...thanks for your support." you said ironically.

-"I mean the worst is that he says no and when you'll meet again the only thing he remembers will be this fucking emoji. That's fine."your friend says.

-"No. I don't want to be the eggplant emoji in his mind."

-"It's too late."

-A ring interrupted your conversation.

-"It's him." you said looking at your notification.

-"And ?"

-"He sent a comma."

-"A comma?" your friend asks lost

-"Yes."

-"what does it mean ?"

-"I DON'T KNOW ! Does it mean he stops to breathe, or I should breathe or-"

-"Or he made a mistake and typed wrong."

-"No, he's good with his hands."

-"I don't want to know how you know that." your friend says looking at you

-"...I wasn't implying anything weird. He's a fucking military." you answered.

-"Ok. So what do you do ?"

-"I could send a comma too ?"

-"Yay revise your punctuations with Y/N and Ghost." your friend says ironically.

-"I...oh fuck, he sent another text."

-"And ?" your friend asks

-"Does the eggplant be used to convey a desire to meet me or is it some weird shit like Soap does usually,"you read out loud his text

-"he texts like a grandpa." your friend comments

-"Fuck you." you say.

-"Calm down, I'm just saying the truth. You should answer it's because you want him."

-"No way, I told you we're acquaintances. I have a crush yes, but we don't know each other well and I-"

-Ting.

-Another text from him.

-"Because it's okay in both cases." he texted you.

-"Oh fuck." you say with your eyes widen.

-"You can say that again !" your friend laughs.

A L E J A N D R O :

-Being a soldier means living in a community. And even if sometimes you're lucky and have your own little room, it's obviously not a hotel.

-So when Alejandro was doing a patrol to check everyone was asleep, he didn't expect to overhear you.

- But it was normal, the walls were thin and he could hear Rudy's snore from here.

-So yes, he heard you talking in your sleep.

-Except it was a fever dream you were having, and it was his name you were whispering.

-He froze.

-He didn't want to intrude, so he stepped back, but it was too late.

- He heard you clearly because of those thin walls.

-The next morning, when all his soldiers were eating together and you were present he couldn't stop looking at you. He didn't know what to do.

-He was not a moron, and he didn't want to confront you about that, but keeping this silent was also horrible.

-"Everything is good, Ale?" Rudy asks.

-"...I overheard something."

-"Let me guess, two soldiers making out? It's like the fourth time this week. Are they rabbits or what?" Rudy sighs at the new cadets.

-"No, it was not two soldiers," Alejandro answers.

-"Oh." Rudy realizes, "oh. Well...it's also common to do it solo. Why are you making this a big deal?"

-"Because they say my name."

-Rudy chokes on his bread and starts laughing.

-"Why do you find this funny?" Alejandro whispers angrily.

-"Because you seem all flustered. You're usually a smooth talker, but you seem so shy about it. It's not the first time a soldier has a crush on you, Alejandro."

-"I know, but it's different."

-"And why is it different?"

-"It's them."

-Rudy smirks.

-"I see."

-"But I can't say I overheard them, but I want to tell them I feel the same. How do I do this when all I could think when I see them is this memory?"

-"Be honest, you don't know how to lie. You're an honest man, Alejandro."

-"You're right, I have to tell them," Alejandro says. He's brave, he can do that.

-"They're coming, good luck," Rudy says and winks.

-You sit at your usual place, greeting everyone, and look at Alejandro.

-"Is everything okay?" you ask him when you notice his expression.

-"I overheard you," he says blankly out of nowhere.

"...can you be more clear, because I have no idea what you're talking about?" you say lost.

-"Last night, I was checking if everyone was asleep and I overheard you saying my name in a feverish dream."

-You raise your eyebrows and smirk.

-"Is that so?"

-He notices the smirk.

-"Why are you smirking?"

-"Because I was on cleaning duty this night; it's Mina who was in my room."

-"Oh."

-"Yes. I guess you have to talk to her," you say.

-"You're right. Sorry, I didn't know."

-"That's okay, but if I may ask, what were you planning to do after telling me this?" you tease him.

He notices your playful tone and smirks back.

-"That you don't need to dream, you can have me in real life."

-"Smooth, really smooth, Alejandro."

He smiles.

-"So it's a yes?"

-"Yes, but you still have to talk to Mina. I wasn't joking; it was her in my room last night."

G A Z :

-It was a night mission.

-You were waiting with the 141 for the order to go.

-It's been hours since you were waiting, and you knew after this mission you probably couldn't see the 141 again.

-Because you were in a different unit, and your collaboration was only for this mission.

-So you knew it was probably the moment to shoot your shot with Gaz.

-You inhale and go to his figure lying in the dark.

- "Gaz, I know we get along with each other. I can't count how many nights we spent just talking to each other on the base or even how many times we laugh together.I...I'm interested in you in more of a friend way. I know it's horrible to say that now, but afterward, it will be too late. So yeah." You say.

-Silence.

-You only hear silence as the figure doesn't move.

-You feel your heart aching.

-Shit, is he rejecting you in silence without saying anything?

-You look at the ground.

-"I think you should activate your vision nocturne, soldier. Gaz is at your right."

-Shit.

-Shit, shit, shit.

- You open your eyes wide.

-You...you just confessed to Price thinking it was fucking Gaz.

-"Shit, I'm so so so sorry. I didn't mean that obviously. I-"

-"Calm down, soldier. And go talk to him. We still have time here, but look at who you're talking to." Price teases you.

-You nod and walk towards Gaz ashamed.

- "Are you okay?" Gaz asks.

-"I just made the worst mistake of my life."

-"What did you say? Did you say to Price he had a nice ass or what?" Gaz jokes to light up the mood.

- You stay silent.

-Gaz opens his mouth. "No, you-"

-"It wasn't his ass. But yeah, I basically confessed to him, because I mistook him for someone else. ?Because obviously in the dark without night vision you can't see anything."

-Gaz laughs.

-"Stop laughing, it's horrible. I'm the worst, he probably will report me."

-"No, he knew it wasn't for him, didn't he ?"

- "Yes, but it...I'm feeling so ashamed."

-"With who do you think mistake him for?" Gaz asks.

-"I don't answer that question. I have made enough confessions for today."

-"Come on, tell me."

-"Nope."

-"Let me guess then."

-"We're only five here, I don't want to let you guess."

-"Soap?"

-"Gaz, I said no."

-"Because if it's him, I don't think he-"

-"You. It was you." You say to shut him up. "Happy, now?"

-He stays silent. You look at him.

-"Yes," he says, smiling. "Even though I'm jealous that Price got the whole speech, it felt like I'm only having the crumbs." He teases you.

-"Shut up," you smile.

-"But I'm happy, I feel the same."

-"Good, because I have enough rejection for today."

-"Ohhhh, Price's rejection is not a good experience?" He jokes.

-"I could never again look at him in the eyes," you say.

K Ö N I G :

-"I thought you were just getting to know him," Soap says.

-"Yes. And that's why I was doing."

-"So could you explain how König ended up with his vest burnt if you were just talking ?" Gaz says skeptical.

-"I...well I was lighting the vanilla candle and he was here, with his eyes and I-"

-"You were checking him out and didn't pay attention to the matchstick, isn't it ?" Soap asks.

-"I was absorbed by his eyes ! They're like so beautiful and he was so close, I-"

-"You burnt his vest." Gaz says.

-"Thanks for the reminder, Gaz. I know now my chances are ruined with him. Shit. The worst is that I can't tell him why I accidentally burnt his vest, so now he thinks I hate him."

-"Well you could find an excuse." Soap says.

-"What excuse could explain a burnt vest, Mr. explosion ?" you asked.

-"You wanted to test if his vest was fireproof." Soap tried

-"..." you said.

-"..." Gaz said.

-Soap sighed.

-"Ok it's not a good one. But I'm trying to help, okay ?"

-"I have to tell him the truth. I don't want him to think I hate him. He's so gentle with us."

-"He's here. Go !" Gaz said as he pushed you.

-You opened your eyes wide. You didn't expect you would have to do that so soon.

-You walked anxiously towards him.

-When he saw you, he stepped back a little.

-It hurt you, but it was fair after the incident.

-"Hey, König, I- I wanted to explain what happened."

-He looked at you and just nodded, waiting for your explanation.

-"In fact I burnt your vest because I was admiring your eyes.I was gazing at you. And I didn't concentrate at all on the candle and I let the matchstick fall. I'm sorry."

-He opened his mouth. He didn't know what to say.

-"I- you were gazing at me ?"

-"Yes, I find you beautiful. But it's not an excuse for what happened. I should have paid more attention to the candle" you said honestly.

-"Thanks for the compliment and the apology"

-"I hope that you don't have any grudges, or you don't think I hate you. I wanted to make it clear."

-"Oh no, well, I know it was an accident. You seem..." he stopped himself to find the right word to described how much you were screaming and scared "terrified ?"

-"Yes." you confirmed.

-"So I knew it was not intentional, but I didn't understand why. But now I know."

-"Cool, so we're okay ?" you asked.

-"You don't want to know ?"

-"Know what ?"

-"If I find you beautiful too ? If I'm gazing at you sometimes ?"

-"Oh, no. I mean I didn't expect anything, so don't feel pressured or anything and-"

-"Because I do." he interrupts you.

-"Oh."

-"Yes."

-"So if I ask you on a date ?"

-"Yes."

-"Cool, cool, cool," you said anxiously but happy

-"Tonight ?" he asked.

-"YES ! I mean, yes of course."

-He smiled under his mask and left. You walked back to Soap and Gaz.

-"So ?" Gaz asked.

-"I have a date."

-"WHAT ?" Gaz said.

-" WHY DID Y/N HAVE A DATE WHEN THEY PUT HIM ON A FIRE AND I CAN'T EVEN HAVE ONE ?!" Soap whined

-You laughed. You didn't know why, but you definitely knew you were lucky he said yes.

A L E X :

-You were a barista at a coffee shop. You were taking Alex's order as usual, since he was a regular when your colleague interrupted you.

-"I prepared the order of the regular hottie you were talking about."

-You looked up at Alex.

-You looked at your colleague.

-He opened his eyes wide.

-"Oh shit" your colleague said.

-"I'm sorry Alex." You said, "This one is on the house and the next time my colleague will serve you. Sorry again." You gave him his coffee and left in the backs now not only your chances were ruined, but you could be possibly fired.

-Shit, it was unprofessional to talk with your colleagues about your crushes on some clients.

-But this was worst because the said client knew that now.

-He knew he was the hottie.

-"Hey", your colleague said after few minutes "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

-"That's okay you couldn't guess he was here. In fact you could because it was his order, but yeah..."

-"But I'm happy."

-"Happy ?" you said a little angry by his remarks now.

-"He let you that." he said giving you a paper.

-"What..." you took the paper and saw a number :"glad to be called a hottie by a hottie, call me."

-"oh wow"

-"It's like a romantic movie !"

-"Absolutely not."

-"YESSSSSSSS" your colleague teased you.

-"I'm just glad to not be fired right now."

P R I C E :

-You were an interpreter. During a long, boring brief, you were chatting with Gaz.

-"Nikolai, Lasswell, Price. Kiss, marry, kill," he says.

-"Lasswell is married, Gaz." you answer.

-"Then Ghost."

-"I kill Nikolai."

-"You dare to kill him!" Gaz says shocked.

-"I mean, I like him. He's a good guy, but I don't know him well. So yes, kill him, kiss Ghost, and marry Price."

-"Your judgment is so biased," Gaz says laughing.

-"Biased?"

-"You only marry Price because you like him."

-"Yeah, that's the point of the game. It's based on preferences, Gaz," you say.

-He smiles.

-"You don't deny what I say."

-"It's because that's obvious, I have a thing for him. Plus, everybody knows Price is like the perfect husband material."

-"Hmm, thanks for your comment," a voice says.

-You and Gaz look at each other.

-The whole room is staring at you.

-Lasswell points the microphone at your right, which is still on.

-"Fuck," you say and your voice echoes throughout the room.

-"Sorry about that," Gaz says, and he switches off the microphone.

-"We are so dead," Gaz says.

-"I am so dead, you mean. I'm surprised if they don't replace me with another interpreter at the end of the day."

-The meeting ends, but as Gaz and you are leaving, you hear Price calling you.

-You hesitate but walk towards him.

-"You know what I'm about to say."

-"Yes, Sir, it was inappropriate, and we should have paid attention to the brief. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. As you can guess, my goal was not to let this slip," you answer.

-Price nods.

-"Good. You can leave."

-You leave the room.

-You thought it was the end, Price clearly rejects you.

-Yet a few weeks later, when the mission ended, Price approached you.

-You were sitting at the bar with the 141 celebrating the success.

-"So you're not working with us anymore," he said.

-"Yeah, that's the end of my mission." You answered, smiling.

-"So it's not inappropriate if I ask you on a date?"

-"A date? Wait, you-"

-"I keep my work and personal life separated."

-"Shit, so if you didn't say anything, it was because we were colleagues."

-"And because it was fun to see you defeated," he chuckles.

-"You're mean." You laugh. "But that's a yes."

If you want more my Call of Duty masterlist : here

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[604to647]

Macarons

3.9K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Tim thinks you’re mad at him.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, soft!Tim, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), fluff and smut, oral (m receiving), titty fucking (don't look at me), unprotected PiV.

A/N: Another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio and this one is just silly, silly (until the smut😂); as always, can be read standalone. You guys know that TikTok couples trend where the user films their significant other's reaction when they try to leave the house without a kiss goodbye/saying "I love you"?  Ok, Shutterbug tries it on Tim (and Tim does not have the TikTok) 🤭🤭.

Photography inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

You’re chuckling to yourself as you send goodnight messages to your friends.  While Tim’s been getting ready for bed in the bathroom, you’ve been catching up on the memes and TikToks that have been sent since you last opened the chat.  The latest ones all a variation of the same couples trend.

Hubby’s reaction when I try to leave without kissing him goodbye!

Pranking my boyfriend by not saying “I Love You” back.

Watch me confuse my golden retriever s/o.

The trend is mainly silly, the humour laying in the adorable confusion of partners who are clearly in love with their significant others.  Even if most of these videos are likely staged, you find yourself smiling at them.  Looking up to see Tim turning off the bathroom light, your heart skips a beat at how delicious your handsome boyfriend looks in his nighttime wifebeater and boxers combo; he’s giving you that lopsided, adoring smile that always makes your stomach flutter.  Damn you love him.

[10:49 pm] Good night babes!  Thanks for the laughs!  I think I’m going to try this on Tim tomorrow.

[10:50 pm] Hahaha! Oh my god, tell us how it goes!

[10:50 pm] Good night!  Yes, report back!

[10:51 pm] Oh yes please, I tried it on Andy and he was just like, ‘Did you hit your head?’ Hahaha!  Good night!

[10:51 pm] Good night!! Love you, bbs!

“What are you smiling about, Shutterbug?” Tim grins up at you after he slides into bed and snuggles his head into your pillow, ignoring the perfectly matching and fluffy ones on his side of the bed. 

Giggling, you set your alarm and put your phone away, “Just watched some funny TikToks that the girls sent.”

“I swear it’s like a secret language.  Sometimes those chats of yours are just videos and pictures - no actual words,” chuckles Tim as you turn off your bedside lamp and slip down under your shared covers.

“It is!  Like a friendship love language.  You should get TikTok, Detective – then we could speak it too,” you give Tim a playful smile because you already know what his answer is going to be.

“Don’t need to, Shutterbug.  You show me all the good ones anyways, and explain them to me if I don’t understand,” Tim presses a long and soft kiss to your lips, coaxing your mouth open so he can slowly lick in.  An invitation.

It’s a given that you’ll accept.  You gently roll the detective’s massive frame onto his back with your hand, the gentlest of nudges, before climbing on top of him. “It’s hard work, you know? Staying on top of all these memes and video trends,” you murmur, lips ghosting over Tim’s as your hips start to lightly grind down over his growing bulge, “Hard work should be rewarded.”

“Is that what you want, gorgeous?  To be rewarded?” Tim smirks into your neck as he trails kisses down the column of your throat.  You whimper in assent as his rough hands start to claw up your waist, thumbs drawing sweet circles on the underside of your breasts.

“Gotta use your words, Shutterbug,” teases Tim.

“Yes, please, Detective!  Reward me,” you manage to breathe out before letting out a joyous squeal at the lightning speed with which Tim flips you over.  Pinning you to the bed under his massive weight and kissing you hungrily, Detective Tim Rockford growls against your plush and pouty lips, “Going to reward you and then ruin you, baby,” turning your sweet giggles into moans.

The next morning, you have an early meeting that has you leaving for work earlier than usual.  Tim is just getting out of the shower when you slip on your work shoes and call out, “Bye!  Have a good day, Detective!”

Grabbing your jingling keys from the key bowl, you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing when you hear the hurried strides of your boyfriend rushing out of the bathroom.

“Have a good day, Shutterbug.  I love you,” Tim exhales as slows down and reaches the front foyer, glad to have caught you before you left.

You immediately regret turning around – this is going to be a lot harder than you thought; Tim is fresh from the shower with only a towel hung low on his hips, steam still rising off his hot body and residual drops of water dot his hard chest like diamonds.  His wet hair is slicked back, making him look distinguished even in his nearly nude state.  Forget not kissing him - how the hell are you supposed to keep from pouncing on him like a wildcat in heat?

Your best option has to be a quick escape; hand on the door handle you practically yell, “Okay, bye!”

“Wait!” Tim looks confused that you didn’t meet him halfway for a goodbye kiss as you normally would, but he smiles indulgently at your slightly frazzled behaviour.  It’s early and you didn’t get much sleep last night, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Avoiding eye contact, you feign patting your pockets and looking in your purse, “No, I’m good!  Thanks, babe!”  You’ve almost got the handle pressed all the way down when you hear Tim’s voice closing in behind you, “Are you sure?”

Shoot.

You turn and put on a tight smile, trying not to look into the eyes of your stupidly dreamy boyfriend, but where can you look?  Where can you look?  Not that solid wall of muscle that’s close to caging you in, that’s for sure.  You can’t even look at Tim’s jaw because that adorable patchy spot in the scruff on his left side always melts you into a puddle of goo.  You say to his forehead, “Yeah, I’m sure, why?”

“Just seems like you might be forgetting a thing or two, gorgeous,” Tim smirks, but if you would meet them, you’d see that his eyes are starting to worry.

“I really should go, Tim,” you say with a sympathetic tilt of your head, “I can’t be late for this meeting.”

He has you trapped, your back pressed against the door, but Tim isn’t leaning in; he’s sure by now that you’re not kissing him on purpose, but he has no idea why.  Not wanting to force anything upon you, he just waits – giving you some time in case you change your mind.

After about twenty seconds of silence, you nearly squeak, “Tim?  I have to go to work.”

With a furrowed brow, Tim steps back to allow you to open the door for your getaway, “Okay, love you, Shutterbug.”

You nod as you slip out, “Okay!  Talk to you later.”

Now Tim is straight up flabbergasted – he catches the front door before it closes and calls after your retreating figure, “Baby, I love you!”

You turn around and actually give him a thumbs up?!  He’s about to leave the apartment half naked to come after you and ask what’s wrong when he sees you slide into the elevator right before the doors close.

What the hell was that?

---

In the elevator you exhale the ridiculously loud breath you’ve been holding and slump against the wall.

[7:38 am] Total fail, girls.  That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and Tim had no reaction at all!

---

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Tim absentmindedly taps his pencil against the edge of his desk, the repetitive noise echoing off his office walls and into the bullpen.  It was a habit he picked up a long time ago, and everyone at the precinct knew that if they heard that sound coming out of Detective Rockford’s office, it meant something had him stumped.

Your odd behaviour this morning has been on Tim’s mind all day.  He can’t for the life of him figure out why you didn’t want to kiss him goodbye.  Other than being a little harried, nothing seemed out of the ordinary with your exit this morning – your words were sweet and cheerful, you didn’t seem stressed about your meeting.  Was it his morning breath?  No, he had just brushed his teeth.  And even if it was your breath that prevented you from kissing him, it didn’t explain why you wouldn’t say “I love you.”  Normally so generous with your adulation and words of affection, he’s finding the change in your manner this morning to so off putting he can barely concentrate on police work.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Had he done something?  Surely you would have said; it wasn’t like you to play mind games.  And even if he had, when would he have done it?  The two of you had gone to sleep the night before perfectly content; Tim didn’t want to toot his own horn but you seemed more than sated after your three orgasms.  To add to his confusion, you’ve been texting him all day long like you always do, like nothing was wrong at all.

Cheerful texts announce when you got out of your meetings, then a sad picture of the muffin you accidentally dropped on the ground, followed by one of the much better cookie you got to replace it.  You send suggestions and ask him what he wants to have for dinner.  The funny comic panel from Instagram that you screenshot for him makes him laugh out loud.  Your messages say that you miss him and look forward to seeing him at home.  Tim answers them all as normally as he can without showing his growing skepticism.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Detective Rockford’s impressive solve rate is no match for this particular mystery.  What the hell was going on?  Tim suddenly recalls something his former captain and mentor had said to him once:  When you have conflicting pieces of intel, try to separate out the irrefutable.

Okay.  The only reason that you would refuse to kiss him or say ‘I love you’ would be if you didn’t want to.  And if you didn’t want to, it must be because you were unhappy with him.  For something.  It didn’t matter if you acted like nothing was wrong all day or he couldn’t figure out what he had done, it was irrefutable that he had made you unhappy.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

---

You get home a few hours before Tim and have most of dinner prepped before he’s due to arrive, so you decide to take a quick shower to wash off your work day.  Wrapped in the fluffy hotel-grade bathrobe that Tim had in fact purchased for you from the hotel the two of you stayed at on your trip to New York, you pad back into the kitchen humming to yourself.  You’re just thinking you’ll pop dinner in the oven when you’re surprised by your sweet boyfriend only just returned, gun holster still snug against his tight shoulders, waiting for you behind the kitchen island; big hands holding open the lid to a box of scrumptious looking macarons.

“Tim!” you exclaim, surprise and delighted, “You’re home early, baby!  What’s this?”

He looks sheepishly at you, “They’re ‘I’m sorry’ macarons.”

You look at him confused, “What are you sorry for?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he practically howls, looking like he’s at the end of his rope.

You rush over and throw your arms around your hulk of a man and pull him close, running your hands over his broad back in what you hope is a soothing enough manner, “Tim, baby, tell me what’s going on.”

Tim’s face remains buried in your neck, inhaling the soft smell of your body wash as he sinks every part of himself that he can, his face, his hands, his chest into your soft cotton clad body, “I’m sorry, Shutterbug.  I’m sorry for what I did to make you mad, and I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

Running a hand up to cradle Tim’s head, you’re so confused, but wait until his expansive body relaxes a bit against yours before pulling away a little so you can look at Tim’s distraught face, “Baby, I’m not mad at you.”

He studies the bewildered but sincere expression on your face and believes your confusion to be genuine, but that only adds to his own, “But you didn’t want to kiss me goodbye this morning, and you refused to say ‘I love you’ back.”

The sharp gasping sound you make is so startling it causes Tim to step back from you and he watches as your eyes widen in shock and your hands fly to cover your mouth in disbelief.  Then just as quickly, you launch yourself at him and press a flurry of soft kisses all over his face, his mouth, his neck, “Baby!  I’m the one who needs to be sorry!! It was just a silly TikTok trend!  You didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not mad at you!!  I’m so, so sorry you thought that!”

Tim comforts you with a gentle squeeze of your waist - you look beside yourself and ready to cry, but he still doesn’t understand, “TikTok trend?”

Grabbing your phone from the counter, you scroll to the videos in the chat you were watching last night and show them to him.  When Tim’s done watching the fourth video, he looks back at you chewing your lip adorably, worried, “So you’re not mad at me?  You just wanted to see what my reaction would be if you didn’t kiss me goodbye or say ‘I love you’ before you left?”

You look so small nodding up at him, “I’m sorry, Tim.  I didn’t know you would take it so seriously.  I actually thought it barely registered.  I never dreamed it would bother you.”

Now it’s Tim’s turn to be reassuring; stroking your cheek with two of his thick fingers, he tilts his head and smiles, “The woman I love more than anything suddenly won’t say she loves me or kiss me and it’s not supposed to bother me?”

“Oh Tim!” You fly into his open arms, lips crashing into Tim’s with a force that nearly sends him tumbling backwards.  Tim devours you with hunger and relief, so elated that rift he had imagined all day between the two of you turned out to be nonexistent.  You chase your deep and passionate kisses with light butterfly ones that map the entirety of his jaw and neck, fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt franticly to clear the path to his chest for your worshipping mouth.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmur against his skin, making up for the times you held back these same words this morning.

“I love you too, Shutterbug,” Tim hums, hands roaming down your back; dipping low to grab and knead the plush globes of your ass.

Breaking away, you slip your hands under the firm leather straps of Tim’s holster and walk backwards, pulling him along with a shy smile, “Come, Detective.  Let me make things up to you.”  Tim would follow you anywhere, so happy to have you back, even though he never really lost you at all.  He moves in a daze as you lead him over to the living room couch, directing him to sit before you sink down to your knees like a dream between his wide spread legs. 

Quickly undoing Tim’s belt and pants, you look up at your handsome boyfriend with big doe eyes, pleading with him to give you what you want; unable to ever deny you even if he ever wanted to (which he never did), Tim lifts his hips slightly and helps you slide his pants and boxes down his thick thighs, his already semi-hard cock bouncing out and slapping against the buttons of his dress shirt.

You lick your lips at the sight of Tim’s beautiful, girthy cock, head already swollen and weeping for you.  Reaching out to give him a few tentative strokes with your hand, you angle the tip towards your mouth and kitten lick Tim’s slit until his whole chest rumbles above you. 

Smiling to yourself when you see Tim’s eyes close at your efforts, you lick several long fat stripes from balls to tip, following the ridges of the thick vein that run along the underside of Tim’s length before happily taking him in your warm mouth.  At Tim’s low throaty moans, you slowly sink your face closer and closer to the grey peppered hair at his base, taking in more and more of Tim’s throbbing cock while stretching your lips as wide as they can in order to accommodate his impressive girth.  Hands covering what still remains after your mouth is stuffed full, you start to bob your head rhythmically; spit leaks out of your overstuffed mouth and drips down Tim’s dick, making it shiny and easier for your small hands to pump.  The slick, wet sounds of your mouth and hands working in tandem have you dripping in your robe, desperate pussy clenching around nothing.

“Baby,” Tim’s hands cup the side of your face and gently guide you so you come off of him with a pop.  Not sure how it’s even possible, he gets even harder at the sight of your blow out eyes and messy mouth, hands still working him lazily as you gaze at him, already cock drunk.  Tim’s other hand reaches forward to pull at the lapel of your robe, “Want to see them.”

Knowing what he wants, you gladly shrug open your bathrobe, letting the fabric loll off your shoulders and pull open the front so that your bare breasts spill out for Tim to ogle.  Tim groans as he watches you wipe the drool from you face and spread it over your chest, rubbing your mess into your supple skin as you grope and play with your seductive curves.

“Do you want to fuck my tits, Detective Rockford?” you coo.  Tim’s eyes snap open at your dirty offer, nodding eagerly, mouth agape.

Shuffling closer until you’re pressed up right against the couch, you reach for Tim’s cock, already standing at attention, practically saluting and ready to nestle in between your pillowy soft breasts.  Dribbling a little more spit onto his dick, you use your hands to lube him up before gently placing him in the valley of your breasts.  Once you have him where you want him, you flash Tim a sultry smile and use your hands to press your boobs together, squishing them so closely that the bulbous head of Tim’s cock nearly disappears.

“Oh baby, your tits are so pretty,” moans Tim, unable to peel his eyes away from your chest.

“Thank you, Tim,” you purr politely, starting to move yourself up and down, stroking him with every bounce.  Keeping up a comfortable pace, you keep your eyes down, mesmerized by how hot Tim’s gorgeous dick looks sliding through the snug fitting opening between your tits – the very sight has you gushing.

“Fuckkkkk, that feels so good, baby,” he chokes out. Tim worships your breasts; normally unable to keep his hands off of them, he loves groping and manhandling your plush curves with his big, rough hands, and rolling and playing with your nipples until they’re hard and pointy.  But watching you use your delicate hands to press and hold your tits together, up and out so that the tight and deep valley in between hugs his cock oh so perfectly is unlocking something new and feral within him. 

“Let me fuck ‘em, please, gorgeous,” he practically growls; when your response is to stop your movements and slobber more spit down onto his cock before smiling back at him with a wide-eyed look of innocence, Tim’s hips start moving of their own accord, bucking wild and furious.

“Oh yes, Tim, fuck my tits just like that,” you whine; Tim is driving his cock up between your breasts with such vigor that your whole body is being jostled despite your best attempts to hold still for him.  The top of your robe has long since fallen off your body, but the sash remains tied tight around your waist so that the lower hem remains floating over your thighs; the opening at the bottom starts to open of its own volition from all the movement and the luxurious piping in the hem catches on your clit so deliciously that you scream.  You start to meet Tim’s every upwards thrust with a little downwards bounce so that you can rub against your robe, chasing after that mind-numbing friction; with your added efforts, Tim’s cock nearly hits your lips with every pass between your tits.  Smiling to yourself, you tilt your head down so that the next time Tim pushes up, you press down and give his tip a little kiss.

Tim’s body shudders and he nearly loses his rhythm.  You do this over and over, kissing his swollen head with the gentlest of pecks every time Tim’s cock breaches the tight cavern between your breasts and pokes out to meet your affectionate mouth.

Tim’s low baritone groans and huffs are getting huskier and faster, “Fuck baby, wanna finish inside you.” 

“Yes, please, baby, need you in me,” you cry as you scramble off your knees and climb onto Tim’s lap.  The debauched feeling of having Tim fuck your tits plus the heady sensation of rubbing your robe’s hem against your pussy has you so close already - you’re sopping wet and needy.

You sink down on Tim’s angry cock and slip your fingers under the shoulder straps of Tim’s gun holster as Tim immediately starts to punch up into you; holding on to the supple leather for dear life as he fucks you like his personal fuck doll, you throw you head back and wail how good he makes you feel.  Your tits bounce in Tim’s face and he thinks about how they looked minutes ago wrapped around his cock and he’s ready to explode, “Gonna come, Shutterbug.  Fuck, come with me, baby.”

Tim reaches down between your bodies and applies the perfect pressure against your slippery clit, barely completing one rotation of his rough thumb before you seize and clench down on him.  Your loud cries of his name taper to a soft, desperate mewling as he fucks you through it, chasing his own high.

“Give me your cum, Detective,” you plead as you continue to pull against the leather straps that border his broad frame, “Fill me up, Tim.”

He shoots his load deep in your cunt at these words, willingly obeying your filthy command.  Not only would Tim never deny you anything, he would readily do anything, give you anything your heart desired.  Your happiness and well being are all that matter to him – he comes hard and with the assuredness of a man that knows his earlier concerns of having made you unhappy were completely unfounded.  All is as it should be once again.

Coming down from your high, you release your death grip on Tim’s holster straps and wrap your arms loosely around his neck, smiling at him affectionately, “Am I forgiven, Detective?”

Even if he wasn’t still inside your warm cunt or your perfect tits weren’t sitting right below his chin close enough to lick, Tim’s answer would be the same, “There’s nothing to forgive, Shutterbug.”  

Eyes soft and full of love, you hold Tim’s gaze as you affirm for him again, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  Each declaration of your feelings is accompanied by a corresponding press of your lips to his.  “I promise I’ll never do that to you again, Tim.  I’m going to kiss you and tell you I love you until you’re sick of it.”

“Never going to happen, Shutterbug.”

---

Afterwards, when the two are you are enjoying the ‘I’m sorry’ macarons that you giddily photographed, swapping cookies between bites so you can each try every flavour, you chew thoughtfully, “You know, this whole thing could have been avoided if you’d just get TikTok.”

You’re only joking of course, but your jaw drops when Tim holds his phone out to you, “Okay, Shutterbug.”

Eyes widening, you’re in disbelief, “Really?”

Tim grins devilishly and retracts his hand, “No, not really.  I don’t want to send you TikToks, baby.  I rather like the love language we have already.”  And with that he snatches the last bite of the lavender macaron from your fingers with his mouth and presses his lips to yours for the sweetest kiss you could ever ask for.

[autisticlee]

I hate when people tell me "friendships don't last/will change over time and fade away" and say I need to get used to/accept it. maybe that's easy for YOU. but most of these people also have committed partners that they expect to stick with for life. why can't I want that too? as an aroace person that needs to rely on platonic relationships to get the support and connection I need to thrive in life, and as an autistic and disabled person that needs consistency and routine and security and constant support to feel safe and comfortable to thrive in this society, telling me "people come and go/friendships aren't forever" REALLY HURTS. it feels awful. it makes me feel hopeless and even more alone. makes me feel like i'll always be drifting through life with no support and alone forever until I can't survive anymore because I *need* help and support and consistent companionship to live a healthy and stable life!

being aroace, I don't have the benefit of getting a partner to fill the gaps a lack of friendship leaves. I have no one to turn to when my friends disappear from my life or betray me. I have to rely on these unstable/inconsistent/short-lived relationships. it's not sustainable and makes my life extremely hard and scary and hopeless. so telling me it's "normal" and I should "get used to it" doesn't do anything for me when I need it to last for more reasons than everyone else uses friends for.

I know it's unfair/wrong to "trap" someone into a committed platonic relationship that makes them feel like i'm "trying to date them" (ive had this accusation thrown at me before, then the person ghosts me after) but I really do think I need a committed platonic relationship. one that lasts and one that's two way and secure and consistent. no one wants to offer that though. they save it for their romantic partners only. the sad reality is, romantic relationships are always going to be placed above, and even replace platonic ones. leaving me, an aroace who needs those discarded platonic bonds, out of luck and left out. forever alone, as the old tumblr meme once went (which i'm sure 99% of those people who used the meme are now i'm committed relationships and/or have at least dated a few times)

I know, i'll be told I need a "queer platonic relationship" but that's not as simple as going shopping and picking one out. I dont even know how you get one! that's as much of an enigma to me as dating and making friends! getting a platonic friend to commit to you're friendship for life and be your life partner and not drop you for no reason, as soon as they make a new best friend, or as soon as they start dating? sounds more impossible than simply making casual friends I can convince to play a video game with me once a month (im lucky if they give me time once a year.....or 3)

i've tried establishing with certain people I feel comfortable with and get along with well that I want and need this type of "qpr" but they either mistake it for asking them to date, are afraid of commitment and ghost me immediately, or slowly start to push me away and decide their new friends are better. so it's not something I can just "get" from any friendship i'm finding. i'm not even sure exactly what it would look like. the best I can use to describe it is the found/chosen family trope where a two or more people come together to form a family where they help and protect each other and live together for life. they don't date. they are more than friends. they are a family and need each other and rely on each other and it stays like that. but that often feels like it can only happen in fiction. real humans aren't like that.

however, i'm told by other chosen families/best friends/people in qpr that it is possible. so then comes the dreaded "one day" they all tell me about. (I don't want it one day I want it NOW. i'm living in the present not the future!) so I have a vague idea of what I want/need, but not what it actually looks like, how to find it, where to look, or how to cope without it. I need more than a couple friends I see and talk to once i'm a while. I need more than a group chat. I need more than someone I get coffee with every weekend. I need a roommate, a forever bond. someone I live with and have separate lives from, but also share our lives together at the same time. the perspn who supports me when i need it, the person I support at all times. but someone who doesn't expect romance and sex. someone who isn't looking for "something better" and using me as temporary filler until they get better friends or a partner. someone who doesn't give up and run away from commitment. someone who wants to stay in my life for the rest of life. someone who puts me first and is committed to me as I am to them.

a life partner, or small family group.

but so far I've just been stuck on my own and I dont have the patience or energy to keep waiting 30+ more years for this "one day" to come and I don't have any options to make it come faster....RIGHT NOW is more important and i'm struggling in the present.

sometimes being aroace really sucks....

[inspirationalucky]

Disney Princess Villain Songs

[ PART 1 / 2 ] a collection of sentence prompts / rp memes inspired by lydia the bard's disney princess villain songs. please don't add more prompts/memes to this list, definitely change pronouns, names, etc. as necessary for the situation! part two.

Tale as Old as Time (Belle's Villain Song)

"It's your final page."

"You see in this world, we're merely players."

"The truth is I'm the beauty, you're the beast"

"You thought we're a match. Sweetheart, I am far smarter than that"

"There is no one living that can challenge me"

"You're unworthy."

"What a genius plan! Truly, did you think this through?"

"I let you all believe I would go quietly while I sat and planned my hand"

"I have not spent my life reading books, my hours studying, to be some desperate prince's lonely wife"

"Wanna lock me away? Well, by all means, have your fun with that"

"I will be the author of my life"

"You're all idiots for thinking that you'd really make it out of this alive"

"You are nothing but a monster to me"

"You're not worth my pity"

"Not even one of you is a rival to what I can do"

"Don't you get it? This is my design"

"I've made all my moves"

Journey to the Past (Anastasia's Villain Song)

"Your new queen is speaking"

"A new age is finally here"

"Yes, the rumor's true!"

"Bow down now or live in fear"

"Starting now you finish last"

"You stole my family and my past"

"There's a debt that's owed. Justice to deliver."

"You'll be forced to right this wrong"

"This ghost's been here all along"

"Thought I'd found them, but then, how was I to know?"

"It's a lie, they just abandon you and go"

"I will never be complete until I find you"

"Now you understand!"

"You're the special few blessed to join my table"

"You're my brand new family now"

"Justice will be mine, I'll have vengeance for my past"

Almost There (Tiana's Villain Song)

"[ Tia! ] What have you done?"

"[ Tia ], you need to snap out of it!"

"I remember when you told me all our dreams are coming true"

"Dreams like that? They don't come for free."

"Didn't think I'd have to stand and see just what you'd turn into"

"She doesn't care who gets hurt on the way, 'cause she's almost there"

"Oh, [ Lottie ]. You're not thinking about the big picture!"

"If there's one thing Daddy taught me, it's that hard work don't get you by"

"You gotta be willing to play bad and give the cards a try"

'If a few folks get hurt on the way, well, maybe they should've learned to play"

"I'm collecting, and debts are due"

"I haven't worked this hard to stop right now!"

"You're scaring me!"

"Don't you see? There's nothing we can't do when it's just me and you."

"Do this and you'll lose me! Or don't you care?"

"Babe, if you're against it, I don't want you here!"

This Wish (Asha's Villain Song)

"You're so far from what I'd thought you'd be"

"You've taken one step too far, and hurt the ones I swore to defend"

"Well, I want my life to finally mean something"

"They say we're made of stars, but a star's more dangerous than they seem"

"If a darker path is what will free us finally, let me be the first to walk that line"

"My whole life I idolized you!"

"I followed your rules, did what I had to do"

"It seems about time you paid for your abuse"

"Shouldn't have dared to try and cross me."

"If I can be powerful, then I can provide everything we need"

"You see, I've been weak before. I won't be that anymore."

"I'd give anything to stop history repeating"

"I didn't want any of this to happen"

"You'll suffer for your crimes!"

How Far I'll Go (Moana's Villain Song)

"I had been the perfect daughter long as I can remember."

"But you laughed and you shoved me away!"

"When you push you'll soon find out how far I'll go."

"We could have fixed this so, so long ago."

"Now reap what you've sown"

"You've brought about all of our demise"

"You've spread fear to all of those around you"

"I could save them all. I could stop this curse."

"But you shut me out, you abandoned me!"

"I once thought that I had a loving father"

"Now you'll pay for all the lives that you've broken"

"You'll watch your people drown"

"All these useless and meaningless deaths? They're on your head"

"I take no pride in seeing them die"

"You won't find a savior in me, I guarantee"

I'll Make A Man Outta You (Mulan's Villain Song)

"The least we could do is give them a warning."

"I feel we could use a pep talk before leaving"

"Once you find his weakness, we are sure to win"

"This man's debts are finally due"

"Boy, was I a fool for trusting you!"

"Now, look what you've made me do! See what you've turned me into!"

"It let me know that my true calling was to see you dead."

"Most of you won't make it, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make"

"We've sacrificed too much to turn back now"

"They've been in charge too long."

[lucifersresources]

taylor swift // the tortured poets department : the anthology rp meme part two. part one here.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!

the black dog.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

old habits die screaming.

i move through the world with the heartbroken.

my longings stay unspoken.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

do you hate me?

i pledged and i still mean it.

now i wanna sell my clothes and set fire to all my clothes.

i wanna hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons.

i wanna hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons, even if i die screaming.

imgonnagetyouback.

i can tell when somebody still wants me.

i'm gonna get you back.

i'm gonna curse you.

you were never not mine.

i can take the upper hand.

i might just love you till the end.

we're becoming something new.

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

we broke all the pieces but still wanna play the game.

told my friends i hate you.

i love you just the same.

pick your poison, babe, i'm poison either way.

the albatross.

wild winds are death to the candle.

a rose by any other name is a scandal.

they tried to warn him about her.

cross your thoughtless heart.

only liquor anoints you.

she is here to destroy you.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i'd visit in your dreams.

they tried to warn you about me.

devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger.

she's the death you chose.

you're in terrible danger.

the devil that you know looks more like an angel.

i'm the life you chose.

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus.

you just watched it happen.

i loved you the way that you were.

tear my world apart.

you said some things that i can't unabsorb.

you turned me into an idea of sorts.

you needed me.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more.

i couldn't watch it happen.

i crashed into you like so many wrecks do.

too impaired by my youth to know what to do.

can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses?

it just didn't happen.

will i always wonder?

how did it end?

we hereby conduct this post-mortem.

our maladies were such we could not cure them.

a touch that was my birthright became foreign.

how did it end?

we were blind to unforeseen circumstances.

we learned the right steps to different dances.

the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving.

my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree.

i can't pretend like i understand.

so high school.

tell me about the first time you saw me.

look at you.

no one's ever had me, not like you.

you knew what you wanted.

i hate it here.

tell me something awful.

tell me all your secrets.

all you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize.

now i seem to be scared to go outside.

i don't believe in good luck.

i hate it here.

i will go to secret gardens in my mind.

nostalgia is a mind's trick.

only the gentle survived.

i dreamed about it in the dark.

i felt like i might die.

i'm lonely.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

in my fantasies, i rise above it.

thanK you aIMee.

it was always the same searing pain.

all that time you were throwing punches, i was building something.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

but i can't forget the way you made me heal.

it wasn't a fair fight.

i built a legacy that you can't undo.

i built a legacy.

but when i count the scars, there's a moment of truth.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

in your mind, you never beat my spirit black and blue.

i don't think you've changed much.

i look in people's windows.

i had died the tiniest death.

i'm afflicted by the not knowing.

what if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

the prophecy.

i got cursed like eve got bitten.

a greater woman wouldn't beg.

please, i've been on my knees, change the prophecy.

change the prophecy.

who do i have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?

i still dream of him.

even statues crumble if they're made to wait.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

someone tell me it'll be okay.

cassandra.

burn the bitch.

do you believe me now?

i was in my tower, weaving nightmares.

what doesn't kill you makes you aware.

what happens if it becomes who you are?

they knew the whole time.

when the truth comes out, it's quiet.

peter.

forgive me.

is it something i did?

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

you said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

promises oceans-deep, but never to keep.

are you still a mind reader?

are you still a natural scene-stealer?

i've heard great things, *name*.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

underneath the same moon, in different galaxies.

i won't confess that i waited.

i let the lamp burn.

as the men masqueraded, i hoped you'd return.

love's never lost when perspective is earned.

the shelf life of those fantasies has expired.

lost to the 'lost boys' chapter of your life.

forgive me, *name*, please know that i tried.

please know that i tried.

please know that i tried to hold on to the days when you were mine.

the bolter.

we must stop meeting like this.

as she was leaving, it felt like breathing.

she liked the way it tastes.

she just knows she must bolt.

there's escape in escaping.

robin.

you are bloodthirsty.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

you'll learn to bounce back.

the manuscript.

now and then she rereads the manuscript.

now and then she rereads the manuscript of the entire torrid affair.

i'm not a donor but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

but soon, it was over.

everything had been above board.

the years passed like scenes of a show.

write what you know.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forward.

the tears fell in synchronicity with the score.

at last, she knew what the agony had been for.

the only thing that's left is the manuscript.

the only thing that's left is the manuscript, one last souvenir from my trip to your shores.

but the story isn't mine anymore.

[bitch-butter]

For the writing meme perhaps a POV!

Per your latest insight on writing web it’d be interesting to see some scenes from any of your series from his pov!

But joe from pretty on the inside would also be a beast from what you’ve shared!

omgg I'll leave the trainwreck!joe pov for a minute and turn to a favorite moment of mine from rivers part five aka beat a slow dance. this happens towards the end of chapter two, and is a scene that lowkey is a very important scene because it's the first time they both really want to tell the other that they love them but realize that they don't actually need to. I loved writing it the first time, I hope this is interesting ~

(there's another scene from this fic that's going to get a reimagining but that one might take an extra minute lol)

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

The night raced through his veins like charging horses, like poisonous sugar making his heart thud in his chest and his body feel hollow and brittle against it. He lay with his eyes shut, but knew sleep wouldn't truly come for hours no matter how Joe demanded he find it. It was just too much, far, far too much as he pictured all of their faces behind his eyes: mother, father, the priest, father, the priest, Philip.

Sighing through his nose, he turned his face into Joe's thigh, doing his best to go empty.

For a while he succeeded, and he found himself dreaming softly in Joe's voice, each sharply refracted image touching his mind softly the way the other man's hands would lay upon him, run through his hair. Nobody had ever been as kind to him. Nobody had ever been as beautiful. He saw Philp again, even as his face was not Philip's, as though from across a crowded room and he regarded him with a peaceful feeling in his heart, as though a dove had landed on the sensation. Smiling, he turned his attention back to Joe - beside him the dream as surely as he was in life - and put his face to the other man's neck.

The dream melted away against him easily, and it was like waking up in a rosebud with no traces of sleep deprivation, no lingering sense of doom. He cracked his eyes open gently with no concept of the hour, face feeling grimy and drawn as his blurred sight landed on Joe's silhouette against the honey light of the lamp, the book still balanced in his hand.

He must have read on after David fell asleep, and he found his heart going soft and warm at the fact.

"What did you think?” he asked, his voice barely a figment. Even still, it drew Joe's eyes down to him, and in this light they were practically black, onyx, precious and dark.

Joe huffed a laugh through his nose. “You’re supposed to be sleeping," he chided, and David fought not to preen at the other man's attention even if it came laced with concern. He was weak for anything Joe would give him.

“I slept,” he said easily, practically a sigh as he rolled onto his back. “Did you like it?”

He knows Joe only barely tolerates his questioning about what he reads, and he does do his best to temper it. Joe can be on guard against ghosts at times, still somehow afraid David is setting him up fore some elaborate joke, and it makes him cagey when asked too many questions. David knows the best way to soothe him is to simply allow him to Be, but then that's never exactly been his strongest skill.

They have such things in common. It's why they work.

Joe closed the book with a gentle sound, setting it aside carefully. “I don’t know,” he said with faux nonchalance, his hands finding David's hair. “I liked her, I think," he said cautiously, running his fingers from David's forehead to the space between his eyes, a simple, soothing gesture that David guessed was more for himself. "But I don’t know if I liked it.”

Humming, David relished in the touch nevertheless, eyes closing against the simple pleasure it brought to him, blood going slow as caterpillars in his veins. “Do you think she dies?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t know,” David replied, unable to deny just how deeply he enjoyed the moments when Joe let him talk about books, about what things meant. “Whenever I read something with an open ending like that I think of why they left it open in the first place.”

“Why do you think?”

Thinking, he blinked slowly up towards Joe. “Why give us the option to hope she lives if she dies in the end?" he asked, voice soft in the quiet of the night, in the gently rush that Joe's hands gave him. "If the story is all about how she’ll never be free in life then why not let her die, why even try to keep her alive?”

Joe frowned down at him, brow furrowed, and David knew he was worried for him. He wished he could tell him that there was nothing to worry about, but it wouldn't have been the truth. Nothing made him want to vanish from the earth like being in his parents house.

“Dark way of looking at it, buddy,” he said, like a hand outstretched. “People like hoping for something, maybe it isn’t actually as open as you say it is.”

“You think Chopin wrote it that way?”

Head tilting, Joe ran his fingers through David's hair once more, and he found his heart and eyes fluttering at once at the touch. “I think she could have lived,” he said, and his smile was a delicate thing, something David was afraid of breaking. “I think she probably died, but who's to say she doesn’t live?”

He was so wise. So good. He was the greatest person David had ever met, and he allowed him so much. Permitted him to be so much. “I think that’s right,” he said softly, eyes drifting back and towards Joe with an opaque clarity.

Joe looked uncertain, his smile wobbling, and David couldn't tell whether he was internalizing David's approval or his own pleasure at it more. “You think?”

God, but he was so dear. So...just so. His grandmother had been right, there were moments when he looked at Joe and words escaped him, when even the deepest parts of himself went still and silent like a forest in winter. There could be no way he could ever adequately express just how much he...

“I love your voice,” he said, finding the sentiment as close as he'd come to just saying the words themselves in many years. “I love it when you read to me,” he added, mouth quivering around the word as though it would sprout wings, fly around the room and refuse to be pulled back into his heart.

Joe had no business looking as surprised as he did. “You do?” he asked, voice stretched with incredulity.

Swallowing, David felt himself nod. “It makes me feel safe,” he admitted, wanting to tell Joe everything he'd ever felt laying in this bed in the long, lonely nights when he was convinced his life would be worth nothing. How even in his wildest dreams he couldn't have created Joe, wouldn't have allowed himself the hope, the courage to dream of someone of his enormity.

“You’re always safe with me,” Joe replied, smoothing his hand over David's hair, easy and sure like he had known just what David was going to say.

He broke somewhere deep inside. “Thank you,” he managed, muscles feeling weak at simply laying there and letting himself be looked at, touched with gentleness.

“For what?”

How could he say? But he must say it, otherwise what if Joe never quite knows?

“For taking such good care of me,” he said faintly.

Joe laughed at him with closed lips, shaking his head and giving David a pitying look. “You’re out of your mind, kid," he said on the edge of a breath, the way he always acted as though being kind was just something people did instead of something eternal, something almost otherworldly and deserving of celebration.

“I mean it, Joe,” he insisted, frowning up at him, unwilling to let Joe escape his gratitude. “I can think of ten guys who would have given up on me.”

Scoffing, Joe bent sharply down from his lean against the headboard to press a dry kiss against his forehead, which scrunched up in response. “Well, I can think of a hundred who would have given up on me,” he countered, his fringe hanging to tickle the point of David’s nose, making it wrinkle as he smiled back up towards him. “We made it through, that’s what matters.”

They made it through. How simple and yet how deep could something be?

He couldn't believe that his life was his life. Couldn't believe that Joe was his and he was Joe's, that whatever it was they had between them was worth bravery, worthy of living. He had wanted this so badly as a child, yearned desperately for love and understanding and kindness and had long disavowed that these things could ever truly be his.

But Joe had given it all to him without asking. David owed him the debt of his heart.

He suddenly, urgently, wanted to say the words.

“Can I say something?” he asks, slow and intentional.

For a moment Joe looked down on him with knowing eyes, as though he could see through to David's brain and see the way his synapses fired, the shape the words were taking before his mouth even tried to make them.

“Don’t," he said simply, mouth soft and smiling, and David huffed in dismay.

“Let me say it,” he insisted.

“Don’t,” Joe rebuked, soft and easy as he petted him.

Rolling his eyes, David did his best to not feel rejected even in the most meaningless way. “You don’t want me to say it," he accused, feeling mean, bristling at the way Joe just laughed at him and pulled gently at his hair.

“I don’t need you to say it, alright?" he said, and if it hadn't been the truth the feeling of dismissal might have lingered long in David's veins. As it was, he felt himself going warm once more, sure enough with the knowledge that it was real. They say the words in different ways every day, sometimes absent of even their voices. He doesn't need to say it. "I know,” Joe said, his voice low and solid, his eyes dark against David's face. “I know.”

David could only look at him, and look, and look. The man of his dreams, the man of his life, the man who made him laugh, and forced him to live with his eyes open. If Joe would just ask him to say it he would, he would, and he might never be able to stop. He reached out for Joe with an open hand against his neck, and Joe came to him smoothly, like it took no thought at all, easing him into a soft, lingering kiss, urging him down until they could embrace each other.

"Do you know?” Joe breathed against him, kissing the corner of his mouth until it turned up in happiness, in an elation that he thought this room might never know.

[thuganomxcs]

Send 'HELP ME YUSUKE' + your muse' problem and Yusuke will give them good advice.

[no-m4gic]

Love the layout of your blog- anyway, could I request a character of your choice with an S/O whos scared of the dark and or has nightmares frequently?

thank yyyoouuu anon both for the compliment and this request, it's a really cute prompt AND I CAN FINALLY WRITE FOR MY FAVORITE BOY KOREKIYO :)) honestly i was never scared of the dark is that normal lol

was deciding to do one character per game but like i'm lazy... so you guys enjoy korekiyo for now! (i love him)

this is a GN s/o btw!

~ mod sitaya

KOREKIYO W/ A S/O WHO'S SCARED OF THE DARK

no because like he's literally the worse person to be around if you're scared of ghosts and the dark.

yeah he'll try to not talk about spirits and japanese legends around you at night.

he'll even flip his creepy ass paintings around or move them to a different room aww.

if you nightmares and you guys don't sleep in the same bed, you can go look for him in his room and he'll give you huggies and cuddles.

extra points for the above if it's raining heavily.

if you still can't fall asleep he'll get up just to make you hot cocoa... with marshmallows mm, lucky you i'm jealous.

he'll also make sure his hair doesn't like smack or poke you. he's more considerate than other long haired folk like izuru.

oh you need white noise? fear not, he'll just bring like a white noise machine or a fan in, whichever you prefer.

well since he doesn't want to disturb you while you're sleeping your full 8 hours, he'll turn his alarm off.

still can't sleep since you're a very light sleeper as light as a cloud? or you just wanna sleep in the day time? yeah no problem, kiyo's just gonna bring you on a late night drive in the rain.

maybe even stop by a open-24-hours convenient store to get like cup noodles or something.

kiyo likes his cup noodles alright.

once you finally start feeling sleepy, he'll tuck you in and turn the temperature colder or warmer, whichever you like, before leaving to do his own business.

so he'll stay up the entire night till early morning so you can have a good night's or i guess morning's, rest.

i found this picture while searching up danganronpa memes so enjoy kiyo, rantaro and shuichi exploring the vast lands of pocoyo's world.

i found this off pinterest... if you're the artist lmk so i can credit <3

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

Show us!

Yippeee!!!

*looks to the side* Hehehe. Come out, come out~

Honestly. I can see this as a good crack headcanon for him and Taka LMAO. Takaaki, Taka, Kiyondo, Taichi and Chihiro all can't watch Disney movies together as a family because Takaaki and Taka are gonna start crying at the happy endings.

"Anyone wanna play Yahtzee?" -Takaaki

"S-Sorry, Papa...I uhm...I'm busy." -Chihiro

"Same here, Aki." -Taichi

"Hell no, Yahtzee is boring." -Kiyondo

"Sorry, Father...I have to study." -Kiyotaka

"Okay :'D" -Takaaki

YES, YES, YES. I'm CACKLING but he'd fr slay

At first I jokingly went "He probably hunts Roblox predators on there."

AND THEN THIS GENERATED AFTER W H E E Z E

YES

Canon. Well...he is a dad so he kinda has to.

He's like those moms that give you a heart attack every single time you get into the car with them. I take this as a he can drive, but he's just scary behind the wheel.

I'm scared LMAO

HFIRBEJEJEN????

I'M CACKLING

Bro doesn't even speak English JDJRHEHE (honestly I can't spell it either if I don't have autocorrect PFFFFF)

He'll be in bed and turn to Taichi and be like "Darling. Honey. Can we?"

"No, Aki. Ghosts aren't real."

"They are and I can prove it! GIVE ME THE OUIJA BOARD!!!"

"GO TO SLEEP, AKI!" Insert Taichi throwing a pillow at him (softly.)

While sipping a glass of wine "Damn, this shit is spicy." as he's taking a swig as he reads smut of his two favorite TV show characters

Now. Ladies? Gents? Theys? Its?

Here are my absolute FAVES of this entire list

Bro is already in Hell/j

W H E E Z E, I bet for some of them he'd butcher the words so bad or not even know the meme properly

I need to draw this

He would, but I'm kinda wondering what he'd get canceled for LMAOOOO

THIS MADE ME HOWL WITH LAUGHTER, THAT'S SO FOUL 😭

And that's all djdnene. Hope some of my additions made you laugh as much as for the actual thing

[hazzybat]

Hi:) at first I want to say that I love your monster hearts universe very much ❤️‍🩹 and want to ask jance from this universe with 17

First off I'm very happy you like my fic :D

Second off because you picked Jance this is set after the whole fic ends and (spoilers) they get together by then (who could have seen it coming?). Or it's a parallel world kinda deal. I dunno.

Anyway I loved this one cause it's 17... to distract 😈

The party was in full swing, liquor flowing easily and everyone getting increasingly louder, sloppier and more willing to show affection. This was lovely when it meant Kris was telling everyone how much they meant to him with enthusiastic hugs and cheers or when Bojan truly let loose with his dance moves or when Jere was liberal in his use of pixie dust. It also meant however that certain people were more willing to die on stupid hills.

"I'm not giving you my coke Jure, go drink something else or get your own can," Nace said, keeping his grip firm on the can of soft drink, even as the ghost tried once more to steal it.

"I just need a little bit for my Jack, I don't need a whole can," Jure protested, hovering a bit above the ground so he was higher than Nace, trying to glare at him.

"I said no," Nace rolled his eyes once more and took a sip of his can, exaggerating his moan of pleasure at the taste just to tease the poltergeist.

He felt a slight shudder at his right and looked at the werewolf currently tucked under his arm, his pupils blow and tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jan was officially his boyfriend now and Nace couldn't be happier. He nuzzled Jan's cheek and planted a kiss there.

"Let me have a taste," Jan said. Nace offered the can but it was quickly taken out of his hands and placed on the bookshelf the two were leaning against. Instead Jan turned, pulled Nace in close and kissed him.

Nace brought his hands up to Jan's neck, carding his fingers through the ebony locks he found there. He felt sharp canines dig into his lower lip and he gasped in surprise, giving Jan access to his mouth and feeling his tongue explore it, tasting the surgery sweet drink on his teeth. He pulled Jan closer, one hand trailing down his back, already feeling the windmill that was his tail wagging at full speed.

"Success! The coke is mine!" He heard a cheer behind him and reluctantly broke from Jan's perfect mouth to see what was happening.

Jure had snatched the can from where Jan had left it and was now pouring it into his glass of Jack Daniel's, tipping his head back in victory and taking a large gulp of the mixture.

Nace looked back at Jan to see him showing off his canines in a grin.

"You betrayed me!" Nace clutched his imaginary pearls, offended his boyfriend would use something as special as his kisses to cheat and get Jure his drink.

"He bet me €20." Nace glared at the ghost now proudly sipping his stolen drink.

"I hate both of you," Nace pouted even as Jan leaned in to give him another smooch. He had to admit, the kiss did taste better than his drink.

(P.s, this whole this was mostly inspired by this incredibly old meme)

[slime-sandwhich-nom]

Back in this fandom for the fourth time, will be giving headcanons.

> The snatcher wasn't always evil, he was once a very sweet guy. And i don't mean the prince, even as a ghost, he was once a very sweet guy! It's after eating souls and actually participating in the "monster" role that he found out he had a particular liking to bring suffering to others.

> Deep down, he still loves vanessa. The sweet, caring and beautiful Vanessa that somehow got replaced by that possessive monster roams around the manor now. He just can't look at the current one and say "yeah, that's my girlfriend" no, it's not. It's vanessa. Not his princess. That's the queen.

He's hurt by her, very hurt. But he wants to be his prince again, well, he wants to be his princess's prince again.

> the snatcher is chaotic neutral. He's that type of guy who never actually goes a certain direction, he only does whatever HE wants and whatever will grant him the advantage. He's here for the DRAMA. but he doesn't wanna be involved in it. He wants to watch it.

He can be both good and bad, as long as he gets entertainment in return.

> the snatcher is aware that he's in a game, hat kid isn't. Whenever he talks about "icons" or regular stuff that appears in games (example: "all of the minions who are awaiting mail, will have an icon above them, once you're done, come back here, and "clock out", get it?") hat kid is always left confused, but always knows what to do for some reason.

the snatcher also knows about memes. He knows about Twitter and everything, and will joke about it, despite hat kid not getting it.

> The snatcher always joins whatever hat kid is doing, why? It's fun. He always goes around as another hat kid because it's easier to move, since he's not a big noodle.

> Since he was a kid, the snatcher was always a bit mischievous, a little silly, if you will.

> Vanessa wasn't always an obsessive and possessive person, which made her turn into the monster she was now, it somehow..was her mother passing that struck a nerve. She was a good person once.

> snatcher dosen't really hate his minions. He acts like a goofy villain who has these little guys helping him and always tells them his secrets and plans, and they enjoy it!

> Snatcher eats the souls, the minions take the goods and throw the bodies in the swamp.

> Snatcher is literally those sassy Disney villains

> both Vanessa and the prince had powers. Ice and fire. Both had to keep their cool to keep it under control, which wasn't too hard, but even a snap could lead to at least one room frozen. Or worse.

Vanessa usually had her feet frozen and ice spreading slowly the more she got angry, but the prince? (aside from hardly ever showing anger, he was the literal definition of joy.) He would get on fire like hades does in the Disney movie.

It never hurt the two royalties, the ice never gave Vanessa any sides effects or the fire ever hurt the prince, but if it got out of hand, it could corrupt them.

> Somehow only royalty (by blood) could reach power such as magic (ice, fire and all), so they had several lessons to keep it under control. It's a little special thing that only these specific people had, no one else did.

> The prince had the habit, and still does, to brush aggressively his hair with his hands until he would accidentally rip his own hair whenever he was stressed or upset. Bad habit.

> Vanessa instead always touched her hands a lot and fidgeted, or paced whenever she was alone.

> the snatcher always had that booming laugh of his.

> The snatcher can sing. (Reference to his VA)

> the snatcher is Italian, Vanessa is German. Subcon is somewhere in Europe, specifically in Germany (the prince comes from a kingdom in Italy, but he started living in Germany with Vanessa in subcon)

The conductor is Scottish.

Mustache girl is British (meaning the land mafia town, is in England, but the mafia is not British.yet. I gotta decide.)

[Need to figure out the others]

P.S. technically speaking, all the characters are from different places, so they don't really speak the same language or English (aka: the prince and Vanessa technically would speak German (and Italian, for the prince)) aside from who is from England, Canada, the united states ect. But for the sake of everyone (to understand what they are saying) the game is in English and everything will be said in English.

plus everyone at least KNOWS some English, to communicate with everyone around the world, so everyone (when they figured out that hat kid didn't understood them) kinda spoke English to hat kid. Helped a little because everyone spoke the same thing, but as an alien she had to force herself to understand.

> the snatcher has always greeted people with a "why hello there!", Rather loud too, but in a cheerful manner, rather than the current one.

> the snatcher didn't have a big scary change or transformation, he just can shapeshift, and thought the form he uses in the game is scary (it's not. It's rather cute in my opinion.)

> The prince has the little habit of always standing and stare at Vanessa from behind whenever she would brush her teeth or hair before bed, and always gave her a little scare by just letting her realize that there's someone behind her by looking at the mirror. He enjoyed doing this a lot and always gave a few small chuckles without waking up the entire subcon with his loud laughter.

And as much of a scare Vanessa would get, she would laugh along.

> since the prince didn't spoke German, and only communicated in English, he was a silent character for quite a while. Once he actually started speaking some German thanks to Vanessa, he started speaking more. He was always the talkative type, he just couldn't be understood.

> the snatcher has a bush cat as a pet. Y'know, those little cats with a bush as their bodies? Yeah that.

He treats it like this

But he loves the little feline.

[glorious-spoon]

9 and any Stranger Things ship for the wrapped meme

Thank you! Number 9 this year was Limelight, by Rush. Here's a bit of pre-relationship Steddie featuring Eddie's complicated feelings about his hometown - I hope you enjoy!

-

title: get on with the fascination [on AO3]

word count: ~1900

-

Fifteen years after the world doesn't end, Eddie Munson returns to Hawkins.

It's a dramatic phrasing, even in his own head; for one thing, this is far from the first time he's been back since the summer of 1986, although the last time was almost a decade ago. He doesn't call it going home. Home is New York, and sometimes Chicago these days, which is as close to Roane County as he usually wants to get. Home, as far as it ever existed for him in Hawkins, was a trailer that got dropped into an alternate dimension along with a good chunk of the town the same night Eddie almost died. Home is the little house over the Illinois border where Wayne has lived since '91. Home sure as shit isn't here.

"You planning on brooding this whole time, or what?" Steve asks from across the booth. The bar they're currently sitting in is no longer called The Hideout; at some point in the last fifteen years, it's been rebranded to On The Rocks Bar And Grill. There's a fresh coat of paint on the walls and a layer of new laminate flooring over the old asbestos tile. Draft taps and an honest-to-god raised stage instead of the grimy corner where the old band used to play. At the turn of the millennium, Hawkins is finally gentrifying.

"I'm not brooding."

"Yeah, man, you totally are. Could we get a couple of refills? Thanks so much," he adds to the waitress who pauses by their table to ask if they need anything. She doesn't seem to recognize Eddie. Too young to remember him from his illustrious youth here, and apparently not into the metal scene, thank fucking Christ. For the most part, he kind of likes it when strangers come up to him in public—two platinum records in and it still hasn't lost its novelty—but not here. Not in Hawkins. This place still feels fucking cursed.

"Are you buying me beer now, Harrington?"

"You're the big-shot rockstar," Steve points out with a shit-eating grin. "You're buying."

"Ugh," Eddie groans, and puts his head down on the table, which doesn't even have the decency to be sticky. "Remind me again why I agreed to this?"

"I don't know. Closure?"

"Next time I decide to do something this shit-stupid, can you do me a favor and just, like, duct tape me to a chair or something?"

"Kinky," Steve says dryly, but he's still smiling when Eddie lifts his head to glare at him. Eddie should probably be less of a dick about this, given that Steve is only here for moral support; he doesn't live in Hawkins either these days. He's up in Chicago with Robin, who would also probably be here if she weren't mired in stacks of midterm papers on film theory from her earnest little freshman ducklings. Steve makes his own hours, so it's not that much of a surprise that he closed up shop and drove down here and didn't bother to call until he'd already crossed the county line, at which point Eddie was winding himself up into a dangerous head of steam and was grateful for any distraction that offered itself.

And Steve is the best kind of distraction. Always has been. Even now, kicked back in a bar booth in all his yuppie glory, sipping the last of his beer and scanning the bar every now and then with a wariness that Eddie hasn't seen from him in a while. Because Eddie isn't the only one who left a headful of ghosts behind in Hawkins, Indiana. He forgets that sometimes.

"Thank you, by the way," he says. "Did I say that yet?"

"Nah. Mostly you've just been, like, bemoaning your life."

"Bemoaning," Eddie repeats, delighted. "We'll make a poet of you yet, Stevie."

"In your dreams," Steve says mildly.

"Oh, every night, baby."

That gets him a scoff, but it's a fond one. The waitress comes back with their drinks, and he leans back out of her way to let her set them down and clear away their empty glasses. Steve thanks her again, and this time Eddie does too, because there's only so much wallowing that Steve will let him get away with and he's probably closing in on that limit quickly. Still, all Steve actually says once she leaves is, "So what's the plan, then? You're meeting the interviewers at, what, three?"

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. "I don't fucking know. They wanted me to, like, walk them around and show them the old sights, which sounded like a great idea when Marleen pitched it, but now it's like, what old sights? Oh, here's where the basketball team tried to kick my skull in. Here's where the football team tried to kick my skull in. Here's the picnic table where I used to sell weed out of my lunch box. Here's where my trailer was before a girl died there and it got sucked into the shadow dimension, except—oops!—can't tell you shit about that because I signed a stack of confidentiality agreements almost as tall as me. But they're still gonna ask." He lets out a long sigh and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "They're gonna want me to talk about Chrissy."

"So you tell them to go to hell."

He barks a laugh. "Easy as that, huh?"

"You've never had trouble with it before," Steve says with a shrug.

That's true enough. Eddie sighs again and reaches for his beer. "This place is fucking me up. No, there is actually a plan. We're gonna stop by the high school after it's cleared out and do the interview there, it's all set up. You know they put up a plaque with my name on it outside the drama room?"

Steve laughs. "No shit?"

"Yeah, apparently there was a vicious battle about it on the school board. Real fire and brimstone shit, went on for months. Henderson's mom led the charge on my behalf, I got the whole story from him."

"Jesus," Steve says. And then, "Shit, we should go see her while we're in town."

"You're just hoping she'll feed you."

"Well, yeah," Steve says. "I've been living on my own cooking since…" he waves a hand and makes a face. "You know. Since everything went south with Jerry."

Jerry was the latest in a series of attractive people of varying genders that Steve has dated over the last ten years, since he moved to Chicago and figured his shit out. Eddie kind of hated the guy, but it wasn't personal. He was objectively probably a perfectly fine person, and it wasn't his fault that Eddie fell head over heels for a hot monster-slaying jock in the spring of 1986 and never entirely recovered. Though, as he's now reminded, it's been a long time since he and Steve were both single at the same time, and the last time that happened, he still thought Steve was straight.

He tries to swallow that thought down with a mouthful of beer, but it lingers like a strange spiky shape in the back of his throat. "So, how's all that going, anyway?"

Steve groans dramatically.

"An encouraging response."

"No, it's fine. I'm, like, totally over him at this point. I just… I don't know, I figured I'd be past all this shit by now, you know? Thought I'd settle down, get my life together, find somebody who…" he trails off.

"Who…?" Eddie repeats leadingly.

"I don't know. Somebody who gets it. Somebody I don't have to, like, lie to."

"That's a tall order, my friend."

"Yeah, I guess," Steve mutters. He's looking at his beer, rubbing a thumb against the wedge-shaped scar bisecting his lower lip. He's got a lot of scars, and Eddie knows the story to most of them, even the ones he wasn't personally present for. But he supposes that he can see how it would wear on Steve, inventing explanations for them that aren't about being tortured by Russian spies or eaten alive by interdimensional monsters. Steve's not much of a liar, when it comes down to it. Eddie doesn't mind spinning fantastical stories to obscure the ugly truth, but they're wired differently that way.

"Hey," Eddie says. He taps his fingernails against Steve's glass and waits for him to look up. "Listen, I'm sorry I brought it up."

Steve smiles a little. "It's fine. Seriously. Robin says I'm being a sad sack, and she's probably right."

"Mm. Probably, but I am not the sensible Professor Doctor Buckley, am I?"

"God, you know she hates it when you call her that."

"She's the one who decided to get a PhD. Masochism, in my strong opinion."

"Oh, we all know," Steve says. He glances over Eddie's shoulder at the clock, then says, "Probably ought to get going if you want to make your interview on time."

"And Marleen has promised to string me up by my metaphorical balls if I show up late for another one," Eddie sighs. He drains the last of his beer and stands, digging his wallet out.

After they pay and head outside, Steve lingers by the side of the brick building, facing the road. It's a sunny day, breezy and crisp, pale wisps of clouds moving fast across the blue sky, and something about it makes Eddie's chest pinch with a strange nostalgia. Something about the way Steve looks right now, in his stylish yet dorky windbreaker with his hair tossed by the breeze. It's shorter now than he used to wear it but he really doesn't look that different at thirty-four than he did at nineteen. Older, sure, but it suits him.

"After I'm done with all this shit," Eddie says. "You wanna go get high at the quarry? You know, for old times' sake?"

Steve laughs softly, eyes crinkling. "Does it really count if we're not smoking in the back of your van?"

"True. Pretty sure I wouldn't get the deposit back on my rental if I turn it in smelling like grass, either."

"We can take my car," Steve says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If you want."

"You wanna crash with me after? So you don't have to drive all the way back home tonight, I mean? The room they booked me is, like, palatial. I didn't even know they had places that nice around here."

Steve glances at him again, rubbing his jaw. It wouldn't be the first time they've shared a hotel room, but there's a different context now. For one thing, they can both afford separate rooms these days. For another, Eddie's got that itch that means he's probably gonna do something reckless, and he's not even sure he wants to try to stop it.

If he and Steve go smoke up by the quarry where they spent the last summer of Eddie's teens, he's going to confess something, he's pretty sure of it. Lay it all on the line for Steve, after all this time. He's starting to think that might not even be the worst idea he's ever had. Steve is here, after all.

"Yeah, okay," Steve says, finally. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie's, and Eddie leans back into the solid warmth of him, and takes a deep breath of cool spring air, and watches the Hawkins traffic pass them by.

Tomorrow, he'll be gone. Maybe, if this doesn't all blow up in his face, he'll go back to Chicago with Steve. Hawkins is a place he's outgrown years ago, and whatever story comes out of this interview is never going to be anything other than a media-crafted shadow of the truth, but honestly, that's never been what mattered in the end.

"It's a date, then," he says, and when he glances over at Steve, he finds him already smiling back.