#he has so much potential ughhhhh

[gauloiseblue]

You carved your love on mine / And left a wound / That refused to heal

(Younger!Simon Riley × Older!Reader)

[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]

TW: manipulative behavior (reader), toxic relationship

He met you when he's still young and reckless. You were enticing, dark, with your moral compass pointing to the south. With your words, you lured him into your world, where all the rules didn't matter except for yours.

He couldn't remember exactly when, or why you took interest in him, but you weren't afraid of showing it. Just like a fool, he took a bite of your poisoned apple.

The first time you marked him as yours was when you pricked his earlobes with earrings. It was a black and round pair, and the wounds slowly healed under your care. You smiled every time you saw your handiwork, and he got a sense that your love was gonna mold him into a puppet on strings.

The second time happened on impulse, because you tempted him with your work of art. You weren't a tattoo artist, but you drew intricate designs in your note. You told him you always wanted a tattoo, but upon an unfortunate circumstance, you were denied every chance of having one. So he offered himself to be your canvas instead. The next day, his forearm was wrapped with cling film, and you kissed him on his cheek as you both exited the tattoo parlor.

The third time you did it was when he wanted you, but you didn't reciprocate. Instead, you asked him to lay down, as you put his wrists on handcuffs. You tortured him for hours with your hands and toys, and never gave him what he needed. You pushed him to the point of frustration, and it made him cut himself from pulling too hard on the metal cuff. You kissed his tears away when you're finished, carefully tended his wound as he laid there, completely spent.

The fourth and the fifth time occurred at the height of your obsession, and he liked you enough to let you use him. You decorated his arm with blank ink, before you paid a tattooist to embed your work into his skin. It took a month to heal, but it was worth it, since you'd trace your finger on his arm when you both laid on the bed. Your touches lingered with him for a long time, and he'd caress the lines of his tattoo—absent-mindedly—as he thought of you sometimes. And he still does it, even to this day.

The sixth time you left a mark on him was the result of his confession. He told you about his plan to enter the military, and you sneered as you taunted him about his pain tolerance. He ended up on your bed, pinned down, as you worked on his nipples. He hissed in pain as you pierced his nib, before you slid the little rod into his skin and screwed it shut. Your eyes darkened as you watched him laid under you, panting, and helpless. Then again, you always liked him when he's powerless.

The seventh time was different, since he was the one who put the mark on himself. He told you that he loved you, that he wanted them to be something more. Yet you were silent, you didn't look at him in the eye. He took your hands into his, trying to get the words through you, but you pulled them away. "I'm sorry." You muttered to him, "I can't love you the way you want." He asked you, begged you for a chance, but once again he's met with your silence. So he swallowed his words, and lied that he's content with what they had.

The eighth time you ruined him, was the time when you took him on a holiday. It was a three-day trip, and you were the one who's driving. The two of you went to the countryside, slept on cheap motels, ate at old diners, and lazed around wherever you liked. You both stopped at a quiet lake, where he took a photo of you for the first time. You were smiling, with your eyes crinkled with amusement. That was the day when he realized he loved you more than he let on. At a Chinese shop near the hotel you both stayed in, he brought you a jade ring in lavender color. You kissed him senselessly once you received it, turning him drunk with the only kind of affection that he knew—on the bed, two bodies tangled, with heavy breaths filling into every corner of the room.

Perhaps the only time you've ever been honest to him, was the ninth time you marred him with false hope. He was lying on the bed with you in his arms, when you suddenly asked him of what they'd become. He furrowed his brows, as he lifted his head to look at you.

"We can be anything you want." He answered.

"What do you want us to become?" You asked him again.

"I want us to be married."

Your eyes widened, before a laughter erupted from your lips. "It's not possible, I'm the daughter of a politician."

"Run away with me, then." He replied, with a certainty in his tone, "We can live together, just you and I."

"My father would catch us in no time."

"We can leave the country, change our names, and live somewhere quiet."

You looked at him with an amused smile, and a strange sense of pity that he could only decipher once he lost his naivety.

"Do you think we'll be happy living like that?"

He shrugged, "Maybe. But I know I'll be happy with you."

You chuckled at him, before you gave him a kiss. "I hope you never change, Simon."

You didn't mean it, but he didn't know better. You made him believe that you were capable of love, and he gladly took it as a promise.

And he was happy, he was happy that you're happy with him, at least that's what it seemed. He thought they'd stay that way, until you maimed his heart for the last time.

He was in the kitchen when you told him that it's over, that you could no longer keep this going. He could only listen as you confessed to him about your engagement with a man of your father's choice. He felt his heart twist as you said that it's inevitable, and there's nothing he could change. You shouted at him when he grabbed you by your wrist and demanded you to think it over. We can run away together, we can leave the country, just stay with me. But you shoved him away, telling him things that you knew would hurt him. You forced him out of your apartment and slammed the door in his face. He convinced himself that everything would be fine by tomorrow morning, and you'd change your mind once you realized that you loved him. But when he came in the next day, he found your place had been emptied. He searched for you—even just a trace of you—in every room, only to find a single ring on the table.

And just like that, you disappeared from his life. Leaving him with a self he no longer recognized.

You left such an imprint on him, that you ruined him for another love. But you, no part of him stayed with you. You slipped his ring off your finger just as easy as you slipped away from him.

He never saw you again, and never once did he not think of you in a day.

Years would pass, and he'd keep on searching for your face in the crowd. It became a habit of him, as he'd look around, wishing to catch even just a glimpse of you. Until he found you everywhere, in the train station.

You were on the front page of every newspaper, with a man beside you. A promising man, with a promising career in politics. You were smiling, but it wasn't the grin you used to show. When he unfolded the newspaper, he noticed the little accessory on your fourth finger. It's no longer made of the lavender jade—rather, it's a silver one, with a diamond adorning the top.

A mark of someone else's possession.

And a proof that you're never his.

[weebsinstash]

so like in the most awful manipulative evil way possible can you imagine Valentino pulling some outright DEBAUCHED, VILLANOUS shit like making Angel do one of those "ha ha you were blindfolded and your partner isn't who you thought it was" sorta pornos because yes that's an entire genre and for him, the blindfold gets ripped off and it's, ya know, his friend, YOU

and you'd think "oh chicks would be safe though right" WRONG BECAUSE APPARENTLY ON ANGEL'S WIKI IT SAYS HE'LL FUCK WOMEN IF THEY PAY EXTRA also like how does that even work out. Like... dude is a hole a hole for you??? Like with Husker??? I guess being able to withstand sex is different than being actively turned on and desiring but I guess that's pretty sad on his part, he's probably snorting pills and shit to get it up just to get the job done

Also I need to visit genuine nonplatonic yan Angel x male Reader at some point but that's a story for another time. God the absolutely TOXIC potential of poly Val/Angel/Reader like ughhhhh the suffering, throw Vox in there too and you've got just a bunch of toxic codependent horny addicts and then also there's the TV they watch porn on cjfjfnfjr

But like. Valentino just being a MENACE because one or both of you have CROSSED HIM. he wants to punish you both in such a fucked up horrible way that he also wants to get off on and potentially film for himself or profit(and I imagine even outside of this specific scenario, Val would be 500% a voyeur/cuck to some degree and loves watching his toys play together, like didn't he even kinda make Vox strip in a gram post once? Once you're his ho, you're his ho, that certain "I haven't fucked you" type of respect is never regained back)

I just picture. Maybe Angel is blindfolded but he's still in an aggressive dominant role and maybe even instructed to be rough or say really mean shit (slapping you, calling you a whore, demeaning you about how much you're definitely enjoying this) and all he can tell is that his partner is gagged and restrained, and at some point in the most traumatizing post nut clarity possible the blindfold is removed and one of two things happens

1. You were gagged but unlike him WASNT blindfolded so you could see him and cry through your gag and like pointlessly uselessly call for his help and tell him who you are but it doesn't work and that's like part of your punishment

Or 2. You're blindfolded and kept ignorant and Valentino holds this over Angel's head like an atomic fucking bomb. "You better remember this the next time you try to betray me, because I have pleeeenty of nice footage to show your little friend if this happens again"

just saying, I doubt Valentino would even NEED to use Angel's contract to make him behave anymore after getting THAT kind of dirt on him. Angel's SO lonely, and he can't lose his best friend, and also, he couldn't possibly traumatize you even worse like that.... totally not also being potentially selfish and self serving "I can only protect you if you're around me" or some deranged shit... and of course, now Val gets another nice little plaything out of it too, isn't that so nice for him ❤️

[morningstarwrites]

Hello there darling! I just want to say I enjoyed your story. It’s been quite an experience reading it and I look forward for the future chapters. My question to you is, how did you stumble upon radioapple and what made you ship it? Have a lovely day!

Thank you so much for reading my story - I'm so glad you like it!!

Re: radioapple THANK YOU FOR ASKING (I'm sorry this is gonna be a bit long),

They're EVERYTHING that I like in a dynamic!! The origin was definitely when they started arguing/competing with one another, I was like 🤔 because this is one of my favourite things, lmao. They're so very entertaining and fun to watch! And now I'll just separate it into 3 categories -

personality, relationship and appearance:

PERSONALITY

They have so many similarities and differences! You can say it's opposites attract, but also not? Lucifer is awkward, kind (to the people he loves), definitely weird, he's got these extreme highs and lows. Alastor is charming, charismatic, cruel, mysterious. And I love how they're BOTH egotistical and powerful, and that they piss each other off ughhhhh.

RELATIONSHIP

The instant rivalry JUST KILLS ME!! I love that they're constantly trying to one-up each other (it basically becomes, I can't stop thinking about him because he annoys me too much). It's cute as hell that they were fighting about being Charlie's dad. I feel like that has a lot of potential for future shenanigans in season 2, if they want to keep joking about it. Their strengths and weaknesses really balance each other out - and I just think it would be a really equal relationship.

APPEARANCE

I love height differences!! And the fact that if Lucifer uses his wings he's TALLER is so fun too! The colour scheme also works really well (but Hazbin's colour scheme is pretty cohesive to begin with). And also THE ANGEL (Lucifer) X DEMON (Alastor) angle is so killer too. Love it.

So yeah, radioapple just hits different. Really excellent stuff all around 10/10

[iamred-iamyellow]

ok this is very random (as im not sure how much of an ls2 defender u r)

BUT

every new thing that James bitchass stanky dummy shitty Vowles says abt the Logan situation just pisses me off more. makes me even wonder how logan dealt w everything for as long as he did.

Swear if Logan wasnt backed by Duracell and all the other US companies that bring in sm bank, Vowles would have dropped him even without meeting Franco...

Logan might have underperformed but his car isnt good to begin with, strategy was practically a DIY youtube video every fucking race weekend and not to mention that out of what 10-12 races his teammate has only managed to score 6 points...(no saying Albon is bad at all just goes to show that even a decent driver cant do shit in that fucking half charged golf cart 😒)

As a CS55 girlie im praying for the best for Carlos and that the team figures itself out over the new year break bc the way things r going i wouldnt be fucking suprised if Carlos opted to race for another team or just become a reserve driver after one year w bitchass Williams.

Truly a shame that a driver with such potential (LS2) and an excellent teammate and great driver with consistency (CS55) have ever had to deal with James stanky Vowles ( even tho Vowles is a D1 national level Sainz glazer 😭😭)

UGHHHHH i just know next year is gonna b...interesting to say the least.

Praying for Franco too 🥺💯 I've really come to like him so far after Monza and think he has great things in store and can rlly prove himself too 😞🩷

How it feels being BOTH a LS2 and CS55 gal btw;

as an american i think im obligated by law to be a ls2 defender 🫡🦅🇺🇸

“strategy was practically a DIY youtube video every fucking race” TRUTH!!! 

i will forever be a defender of our four williams babies alex carlos franco and logan because they were dealt some fuckass cards 

i just cannot believe that logan didn’t have enough time to develop in f2 and williams didn’t even TRY to give him more opportunities to train during his f1 seasons. they literally tossed him in a car and said GO they set him up to fail and then got mad that he didn’t exceed their expectations 

don’t even get me STARTED on the comments james made about mick i am PERSONALLY offended omg 

i’m really gonna miss franco at the end of the season but i hope he gets more opportunities from what he’s proven he can do in f1

and speaking of carlos his journey is just one that ends up being really sad for me. he jumps from team to team and proves himself EVERY TIME but he has the worst luck when it comes to it. he was teammates with max first and therefore the second fiddle because christian was set on max being his everything. then he moved to renault which was uhm renault. then mclaren where he could’ve technically been seen as first driver or equals with Lando but Lando to Mclaren is Max to RB. He got a win at mclaren and just brought out the absolute best vibes for the team. Then he moved to ferrari but it was too late bc again Charles to Ferrari is Max to Red Bull. He always ends up second to a teams golden boy and as much as i love all those drivers it really sucks that Carlos does so much and will never truly get the recognition he deserves.

[starweed]

read 264, and ughhhhh kiyoraaaaa. way to give us nothing kaneshiro. i need more of him please.

speaking of needing more, rin!!!! where is my most specialest favorite little boy??? you can give us more charles but no rin????

i’m excited to see more of ness, since it seems like he’s about to do something as well. i hope it’s decking kaiser, but i doubt that’s what it is. i’d settle for therapy.

it’s interesting to see how similar kaiser and isagi’s playstyles are, and how as the situation has changed throughout the NEL the way that they act during the games has swapped. it makes them very compelling in my opinion. because these two very different people approach the game in a very similar way, and they each get very similar results. they foil each other very well, albeit in a different way to isagi and rin. because rin and isagi approach football very differently, and i think they get very different things out of the sport. what makes the two of them interesting is how their differences play off of each other, rather than their similarities.

i don’t really have much to say about charles, at this point i don’t really like him. i think the interactions between him and shidou are funny, but there aren’t any of those in this chapter. but maybe as we progress i’ll like him more, i remember feeling similarly about kaiser when he first appeared.

i kinda hope kiyora backs kaiser, because i’m honestly a little bit tired of isagi winning all the time. it’s frustrating because it doesn’t feel very earned, but at the same time i don’t want to actively root against my boy. blue lock’s going to get real boring real quick if isagi never loses though. but i’m also thinking about the consequences of him losing at this point in time. like, if it’s a personal loss then his value plummets like he mentioned kaiser’s would. which has real consequences for his potential career and where he’d be playing. if the team loses then a similar deal to what happens if it’s a personal loss, except if isagi plays just an exceptionally standout game. which feels much more compelling to me. he’d have to deal with the fact that he played so incredibly well, his absolute best game yet. and it still wasn’t good enough. his best is not enough. maybe it would actually get him to try and work on teamwork with the team. because so far they’ve mostly been focusing on spontaneity, and doing what’s most logical in the moment. but the don’t know each other that well, and it can be hard to trust someone when you don’t.

i think that’s about it, lmk if you have any thoughts or questions or whatever.

[xx0yeet-everything0xx]

OK SO :D

listen man. listen. jason and reyna have the potential for the most interesting dynamic in the entire rrverse and i stand by that ok. like imagine. two people who were best friends are suddenly torn apart and when they reunite through no fault of either of them one cares a lot more than the other now. losing jason was the worst thing reyna ever felt and then he came home and looked her dead in the eyes and treated her like a stranger. god i am so unwell about them anyway. im mad that this never gets explored in canon it has so much potential. the fucking tragedy of it all. they avoid each other now because one will inevitably end up saying something a little too familiar and its miserably awkward for just. everyone tbh. they cared so deeply for each other amd then it was just gone. she spent months searching for him overworked and unable to even grieve properly and he just didnt care anymore. its unclear how much memory he got back but its obviously not as clear as percy’s and thats so interestingg?? knowing you cared for this place, for this person, so much it was a part of you, and just. having no emotional attachment to it anymore. not knowing how to get back to that even if you want to. oughhhh. not knowing how to tell them the person they knew is dead or at least unrecognizable. if you take every moment and memory that makes up a person away and put newones in their place is it still the same person? she loved him more than anything. he doesnt know how to be the person she loved anymore. he doesnt know if he wants to. he avoids her, and she lets him, because really what is there to say? she still cares. he doesn’t. i dont even know how to articulate this okay just. they were best friends. and now everything has changed. and how do you cope with that. what do you do, when your best friend looks you in the eyes and treats you like a stranger? what do you do, looking a stranger in the eyes and knowing she was your best friend?

and nobody ever talks about their relationship??? like they either get ignored or treated like weird exes which is just so not what this is. anyway the implication that reyna had a crush on him was stupid thats called *amatonormativity* reyna is arocoded thank you goodnight. i am so utterly deranged about them <3

OMG ANON THANK YOU FOR THIS but literally ikr?? their entire relationship (not in a couple-y way) is just so complex and ends so tragically and it’s like. ughhhhh it literally drives me crazy to think about it and it’s so UNFAIR for both of them because reyna has to look at jason and see someone looking back with a strangers eyes and it’s like. hes there. but he’s NOT because he’s so different and then for jason he can see her but he can’t feel the emotional attachment that SHOULD be there he only knows that he once had it and instead it’s this empty feeling and. the worst part is that they never got to confront the situation with each other!! jason got back to new rome and when he left almost instantly they’d barely exchanged any words with each other so like. the most either can do is soo many presumptions and MAYBE time could’ve fixed it. maybe they could’ve one day talked it out; but god fucking damn it because they didn’t have time and the next time she got to properly see him he was in a coffin. it’s so tragic it really really HURTS and I can’t explain how it feels but u get it aishsjbsksmsksns

and no frrr reducing them to exes of any sort is just soo annoying because it’s completely taking away EVERYTHING abt their dynamic and just as you said all that’s very much linked to amatonormativity. WOW sorry for the rant here but yes im also very very deranged abt three <3

ty for this tho, anon! <333

[silvercap]

I really love your fic Aura and I was wondering how you think krauser and leon's relationship would have continued within that story.

Took me a minute to get my thoughts together on this, but boy do I have a lot of them, anon 🤭

They're so complicated to me, and I'm honestly kind of (read: intensely) obsessed with the dynamic of teacher-partner-antagonist they have going. The way things end in re4 is something out of a tragedy, and Krauser's motivations are always a bit of a mystery to me. But let's back up a bit, first:

I actually have plans to write a sort of follow-up to Aura, but I've been so busy with everything else that I haven't gotten around to it, haha. I'm interested in their military training days, and what exactly Krauser and Leon had that made them spar each other in private and for Krauser to train Leon more than anyone else. The fact that he's never been in any sort of military setting before and was thrown directly into special forces training is a pretty raw deal, and I think Krauser would notice him struggling to keep up. It's hard to say what exactly Krauser knows from the government, but the situation is fishy to anyone with eyes, and I think he's a smart enough guy to piece together at least a little bit of what Leon's going through. Leon's presence is an anomaly he has to figure out, and paying attention to him just makes Krauser more interested in his obvious talent and strange paradoxical attempts to do his best. Pair that with Leon's big blue eyes and pretty face, and I think Krauser is pretty much sold on training him more than the rest of his soldiers. Of course, because it's Krauser, that involves brutal conditioning and self-discipline (he likes control) and I've joked with @electricfencing that they probably hunt each other through the forest with knives for 'stealth' and 'awareness' training 😭😭 I also think there's something to be said for the jealousy of everyone else training under Krauser, critical of his blatant favoritism, and there's conflict there I'd really like to explore in a fic!!

I think a lot of Krauser's motivation is to shape Leon into not only an equal but someone who can surpass him as a fighter, taking advantage of his natural skills and honing him into a weapon like Krauser is. He's big on power, especially in re4, but I feel like he's always seeking to make himself better and passes that on to Leon because it's a way to show he cares. With the whole "I trained you well" line in Spain, he hands over the metaphorical torch, acknowledging that Leon has beaten him and has gained the power he wanted Leon to have in the first place. And I think Leon goes along with it because it makes him feel wanted, even if the last thing he wants is to become violent and weaponized, because Krauser is there for him when nobody else is. He's eager to please and easily moldable into whatever shape Krauser wants him to be, and that dedication just draws Krauser in like a moth to flame.

In terms of romance, there's a ton of homoerotic tension from day one, and they've definitely kissed and done more than kiss, but considering the setting and who they are I'm not sure how deep it goes. I think they probably have at least a few months of established 'togetherness' and casual domesticity, even if they don't talk about it. I see Krauser being the one to pull away, and I've written a couple drabbles on the subject, especially with his arm injury and operation Javier throwing a wrench in their relationship and giving Krauser disillusionment in his job and disappointment in himself. I think Leon would be the one to get more attached, and Krauser's 'death' and actual death hit him hard both times.

I could quite literally write an essay on the two of them, and I'm also really fascinated by the concept of them as parallels---with the opening of Darkside Chronicles, we get introduced to the imagery of snakes and butterflies, and ughhhhh the metaphor potential is crazyyy. On the surface, Leon can fit into the butterfly space (pretty, naïve, light etc.) and Krauser is the snake (dangerous, relentless, strong) but the real significance comes from what they have in common... which is metamorphosis. Both snakes and butterflies are symbolic of change; a continual cycle of rebirth and a one-time transformation, respectively, which is why I think Krauser is closer to a butterfly and Leon is closer to a snake. Leon lives a much more cyclical life, always falling apart and coming back together only to fall apart and lose something again, where Krauser's transformation is a brief burst of power and strength that is unsustainable and burns him out. They share the need to change themselves, but the motivations are different, and it's part of what makes them so tragic as a pairing. They were bound to separate from the start!! I had a whole rant a while back about their purposes in life and the way they try to deal with an intangible 'hole' they can't fill, but this is starting to delve into character analysis instead of relationship analysis 😭 you've stumbled onto something I've thought a lot about, haha. I hope this was coherent, and thanks for the ask!! I'm ill about metaltango and I will always talk about them happily <33

[edogawa-division]

It has grown late into the night in the city of Edogawa as a certain Hacker’s birthday was slowly approaching its end, only a few more hours were left and Kaoru Shinozaki was spending the remainder of her birthday locked in her lab working on a new invention as always, while eventful and somewhat fun as the day had turned out to be, Kaoru was more than content to lock herself in her lab doing what she loved, at the moment she was currently trying to connect two wires together to power up the device on her table when the intercom in the corner of the room sounded off, surprising Kaoru and accidentally shocking herself.

“OW! MOTHERFUC—“

“Kaoru! Someone’s at the door for you!”

“Ughhhhh..” Kaoru groaned as she slammed her head on the table, rubbing her poor, burnt fingers before sitting up and leaving her now ruined invention to go check (and potentially cuss out) whoever it was that was here for her.

Upon making her way to the main level of the house, she stopped short however as she did not expect Joey Kurusu to be standing (or perhaps, fidgeting would be the right word as the detective looked like a spooked deer) at the house’s entrance, looking like a hot mess as if he had just rolled out of bed in his casual clothes and had ran all the way over here…and knowing her bespectacled friend, he probably did.

Aside from his presence, the numerous pile of gifts he had in his arms had also caught her attention as they had almost blocked the detective from her view. “Joey?” Kaoru questioned and it was a miracle that Joey didn’t drop her gifts with how high he jumped before swerving to look at her, instinctively brightening up. “Kaoru! Hey, happy birthday!” Joey had tried going in for a hug but remembered that his arms were already occupied so he just gave a smile and nod in her direction.

Kaoru couldn’t help but smile at the lovable goofball she called her friend and helped him carry the gifts over to the living room where they sat them on the table. Kaoru plopped on the couch and patted the space next to her, inviting Joey to sit as well, the blonde did so but made sure that there was a respectful distance between the two, Joey kept mentally reminding himself to be very respectful, very mindful, it wouldn’t be very demure of him to invade Kaoru’s personal space even if all he wanted was to—

“S-so! Birthday, yeah? I bet you already got a lot of gifts but I still wanted to put my two cents in, I would’ve given you these sooner but…uhhh, yeah, I guess my habit of binge watching anime for days straight finally caught up to me because when I woke up, I only had like, 30 minutes to get you a present and I may or may not have spent 10 of those 30 minutes panicking super hard haha..” Joey sheepishly laughed and scratched his head, Kaoru only smiled broadly as she cursed A.R.K. the fuck out in her head, she decided to keep the fact that she had returned both Joey and Lyall back to their homes to herself after taking photos upon photos of their cute sleeping faces for her collection.

“Uh, anyways! Go ahead and feel free to open them! I really hope you like them.” Joey placed his hands on his knees and swayed back and forth gently, anticipating Kaoru’s reaction to the gifts he picked out. Kaoru didn’t keep him waiting for long as she grabbed the first gift she had her eyes on and tore into it, revealing…

…A coffee mug decorated as a prescription pill bottle.

“Hehe, I saw this and immediately thought of you, I’m more of an energy drink kind of guy but even I understand how important coffee is to us Anti-Sleep deviants haha.”

After that, Kaoru grabbed another present, this one revealing…

…A…weird ass stuffed animal.

“Now you have your very own autism creechur to squish and cuddle as much as you please! I would have gotten you the ADHD one but unfortunately they sold out of those but hey, this little guy is just as cute!”

After that, Kaoru grabbed another present, this one revealing…

…A Cinnamoroll plush neck pillow.

“Boku Cinnamon!…God that was so cringey, I don’t know why I even did that, please erase that from your memory, anyways, I figured that this might help you with your neck problems or at the very least lessen them, I get it, dealing with a sore neck from countless hours of staring straight at a monitor fucking sucks.”

After that, Kaoru reached for the final present, this one being the smallest one of them all, revealing to be…

…A starry night charm necklace.

“Oh heyyyy, how did that get thereeeee? Um, this was kinda more of an impulse buy but it’s still a gift all the same! I thought of nothing but you when I saw it and I thought ‘hey, Kaoru would look pretty with this’ so I bought it…as a friend! Because friends buy each other bracelets, yeah! Purely platonic intentions here!” Joey grinned, proud of himself after that truly pitiful performance of trying to save face before growing bashful again. “But you are one of the closest people here to me, Kaoru, I really hope you know that.”

Happy Birthday Kaoru! 💙

Kaoru blushed a deep red at Joey’s words. Her mind was running a million miles a minute at hearing her crush say those words. She had even felt her heart skip a beat. Oh lord, did Kaoru have a bit of a meltdown when she realized she had a crush on two people. Lyall and Joey? What shojo manga did she just step into? She wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with her feelings for Lyall when feelings for Joey just crept up on her.

How could she not develop feelings for Joey? He made her laugh with his jokes. He was the person she would spend hours with binging anime, playing video games, and staying up until morning just sending messages after message to each other. Kaoru even waited for the days when she could go visit him down in Kanazawa, wanting to see Joey and his cute freckled face-

…she was down bad wasn’t she?

“Uh Kaoru?” Joey asked, waving his hand in front of the hacker's face and bringing her out of her mental spiral. “You good?”

“Oh! Bracelet, right! I love it, Joey!” Kaoru brightly smiled, trying to squash her nervousness down deep inside. When all of the sudden a voice in the back of her mind that suspiciously sounded like A.R.K kept taunting her telling her that she had “no fucking balls” and we’ll never let it be said that Kaoru made good decisions. Her entire life was proof of that. Gathering every bit of courage she had, Kaoru leaned over and placed a small kiss on Joey’s cheek, letting out a giggle when he began to sputter and turn bright red.

“Thanks Joey. Can’t imagine a world without you.”

[paper-pencake]

I can't be the only person that watched the idol thinking it seemed very much like cult indoctrination right???

From the first 2 episodes alone, it feels like the protagonist is being punished and for what? It really feels like it is about a weak woman that is 'saved' by a man that knows the show industry better than her. He quite literally sent Diane to be her friend and set up the circumstances for he and the mc to meet. Like...ughhhhh

I have never hate watched something so boring in my life. It has potential, it is visibly great but omg.. its being thrown away to focus the the weeknd and his lame character.

[shirogane-oushirou]

not rbing the post bc they're a minor and i'm not gonna be a hypocrite wrt "no minors" stuff... but i'd never heard the saying regarding how soulmates aren't found, they're made... and it's nice to know the definition of soulmate i've used for years actually has a basis in something ksjdnfkjnsdf. ;;; like i didnt NEED the validation but it's NICE to have.

if i ever use the term 'soulmate' it's that definition. no red strings of fate, no "first word on your wrist when you turn 18", none of that. soulmates should include having the agency to choose.

anyway. ren is my soulmate in that sense KJNSKDJN.

(rambling under the cut idk i just wanted to talk about ren's and my relationship and why i feel so comfy calling him a soulmate despite everything. we couldn't have worked OUT without putting the work IN, but once we do, it's Joever. i love him so much. i can't believe my brain made up a character who's so perfect for me in that he's NOT perfect but in the most complementary ways possible ughhhhh.)

wrt doc!ren, we absolutely Are Not Good For Each Other when we meet. two people internalizing everything and putting up walls and masks, obsessively people-pleasing vs doesn't-say-no-to-anything-to-keep-the-status-quo people-pleasing. he's very good at Playing A Finely Tuned Role and i'm just a fucking Brick Wall 7ft Deep, and it takes a lot of work for us to see that projected falsity in each other... see our similarities behind our differences... open up a bit... find more similarities...

he becomes ill, and we lean further on each other to help with our disabilities. when either of us reaches the "paranoia tells me this is going to end and i should pull back" point of the relationship, the other helps work through the source of their particular brand of paranoia.

just like... a series of "based on prev life experience, i have the exact emotional and physical skills needed to help you become a better person and reach your full potential" momence (tm).

even in r!ren's case, he still has things to work through wrt his anger towards his early life and his struggles to connect deeply with others, and in that story i'm closer to reality (in that i'm in my real life living situation and i'm not as self-assured or as self-sufficient), and that all leads to inconsistencies in what we both think the other person thinks about us. and it takes difficult work... walking through things... and in the end we become so healthy and so close! and we create a joint toolkit for solving interpersonal issues. it takes work, but we become the best people we can be with the other person, not expecting everything to simply work out in the end bc of magical soul bonds or w/e.

idk, the idea of "the perfect soulmate" is just so creepy to me. "they're trying to sell me something and i'm blackmailed by the universe into buying in" vibes..... hence why i love that one post of alice being like "if i'm approached by a perfect prince on a white horse, i'm gonna push him off the horse. eat shit." AKJNSDKJN

[gauloiseblue]

If I were a good man / I'd understand the spaces between friends

(König × Reader)

I'm a sucker for a childhood friend AU, but combined with the obsessed, loyal dog AU? I'm gone. I'm further than gone.

Words: 4.7k

König isn't the type of man who believes in superstitions, but he'll never buy you shoes.

It's something that's been engraved in him, since he saw his mother leave the house, with the shoes he bought for her. She only looked over her shoulder once, watching him with tears before she turned away, and never came back.

His father was an angry man, and all he did when he went to an empty home was to blame him.

The scars that his father left on his body weren't as painful as the wound that his mother left in his heart. She abandoned him. Leaving him with an angry man in the house.

Sometimes, when he wasn't busy loathing, and resenting his mother, he brood over the choices that she made. Why she abandoned him. Why she didn't take him with her.

Yet what came was an echo, and he found himself biting his lip until it bled.

He carried his feelings around, to the point that it's clear for anyone to see. People began to avoid him, though some of them would tease him for the things he didn't have.

And all of them would end up with a broken bone.

He was trouble. He was hideous, inhuman, and it's only natural for people to look away from him.

That was, until he met you.

It was horrible for both of you, since you both were like oil and water. But you had no choice, since the teacher assigned you as a volunteer to help him with his grade.

He didn't hide his vexation when you tutored him, and he knew you're holding back your irritation inside. It was hell, but it was him who fed the fire. You were patient, but you had your limit. He knew it'd come to an end someday, but it came not in the way he expected.

It was the fifth day of your lesson, and the day you resigned as a volunteer. He couldn't remember exactly what he said, but it made you snap as you slam your fist on the table.

"I'm sorry that you have a shitty life and sorry your mother left you, but have you ever been kind to your mother when she's still around?"

He snapped back at her, telling her it's none of her business, but when she left him, something clicked in him.

Have you ever been kind to your mother?

Just like the wind, she swept away the mess, letting him see what's underneath. It's not always an echo, it's not always a wall, he just needed to take a step back and see.

It was disorienting, as if he had learnt something forbidden—something that's only reserved for the watcher in the sky. But he did, and it's all because of her.

Have you ever been kind to your mother?

Have you ever been kind to the one who held your hand?

You held his hand, you pulled him from the dark place, and all he did was to make you leave. Just like what he did to his mother.

Several days after the fight, he came to you with a silence that's strange. You thought he was possessed when he muttered out the word sorry.

"I'm sorry." He mused as he kept his face turned from you.

You heard your friends gasping, while you tried to make sense of the situation.

"Sorry?"

"Should I get on my knees when I apologize?"

"No—" Your eyes widened when he hunched down, "Of course not! Let's uh, let's talk somewhere else. You and I."

You pushed him out of the crowd, and into the empty room. In the space full of unfinished art, he confessed his mistakes, and all the things that he did wrong to you. You gaped at him when he bowed down, with a honesty that you didn't know existed.

He was given a second chance when you accepted his apology, and he saw it as a way of repentance.

The two of you became friends, despite of the strange dynamics that you both shared. Your friends teased you when he's around, saying that he's more of a guard dog than a friend. You'd explain in fluster that it's not true, that he just wasn't used to having someone around, but he didn't deny it. He did follow you around after all.

When you helped him with his study, he quickly found that he's weak academically—except for history. He didn't know what drew him into the topic, but he's always fascinated by great events, including war.

Perhaps that's the reason why he joined the military.

When he told you about his plan, you were quiet as you listened.

"I'm glad you've found your way," You commented, "You'll certainly fit in in no time."

He looked at you, as he sensed a continuation.

"But…" You sighed, as you rubbed your neck, "I just… don't want you to get hurt. You've suffered enough, and I don't want you to go through it again." You shook your head, before giving him a smile, "But it's your future, I don't have a say in this."

The silence filled the room as you looked away, and he kept his eyes on you, before he reached out to touch your hand. "It's the only thing I knew I'd do it right. I don't have any talent, and I don't live a normal life, so," He squeezed your hand, "It's the only way for me."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, as you didn't say anything further.

The night he's leaving for the army, he walked aimlessly, before his feet carried him to your home.

Your window was closed, and the lights were dimmed. You might’ve been sleeping, but he wanted to see you for the last time. He picked up a pebble by his boot, and threw it to your window. Carefully, as to not break the glass.

That was the only time he's been the softest. In his hand, everything breaks. But that night, the window didn't shatter.

You peeked through the curtain, before you pushed it open upon seeing his face. You stare at him, dumbfounded, as you asked him the obvious question.

"What are you doing here?" You hissed.

"I wanted to see you." He replied.

"It's late, my parents will kill you if they see you here."

"Won't be a problem."

You were ready to scold him, before he suddenly jumped, and grabbed on your window railings. You closed your mouth as you watched him climb, before he landed on your floor.

"You're crazy."

"I've heard it a million times."

"No, you're really crazy. You're insane, mad, not—"

"—right in the head?" He grinned, "Call me something else."

You let out a long sigh, as you pressed your hand against your forehead.

"Alright." You huffed, "Why are you here? Are you trying to scare me before you leave?"

"I told you I wanted to see you."

"And why did you want to see me?" You tilted your head, "Is this a goodbye?"

"No." He replied as he leaned against your window, "I wanted to say thank you."

You raised your brow when he said it.

"I'd still be in the dark if I never met you." He told you with ease, as if it wasn't a confession of the heart, "Thank you. I mean it."

He didn't say anything, as the words sinked into you. Your face softened, as the tension melted away from your body. He was surprised when you pulled him into a hug, but didn't utter any complaint.

"I'm happy for you." You murmured against his chest, "Write me a letter, okay?"

He said yes to a promise he never fulfilled.

It's not that he didn't want to write to her, he just thought that it's never good enough. He wasn't good at talking, moreover retelling his day in a letter.

It didn't mean he carried no guilt in his heart. It was a promise, something that he should've kept after all. But his days were terrible, he was terrible.

He couldn't pass the sniper's test, he made several mistakes in the missions, and he couldn't make any friends. It was when he's away from you that he began to appreciate your company. You put him at ease, and he never felt the need to hide himself. He could say what he wanted, and you'd just scold him if it's wrong, but you didn't leave him. You didn't treat him like a plague.

Sometimes when he felt weary, he'd imagine you beside him, telling him about your day instead. He wondered what you're doing, and how you're feeling that day. He wondered if you're reading a new book, or you're getting ready to sleep. It comforted him when he kept the phantom of you by himself.

He didn't count the day, and he just let it pass. One or two times, he thought of you when it's holiday. He wanted to go back, but he didn't have home anymore. He left it the day he went to the military, never to return.

He always hoped you'd send a letter to him, telling him about your thoughts, even the most insignificant. He wanted to hear from you, just so he knew you're still thinking of him.

Unfortunately for him, he heard about you from other people.

He was on a rescue mission when he met his former classmate, the one he broke his nose in a fight. He spoke to him like a friend, and treated the incident as something that's in the past. He told him about the school, and the update about their classmates.

That's when he found out about your relationship.

He didn't hear the rest of it, as his ears were ringing. He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't help but feel betrayed. Was that the reason why you never wrote to him? Because you're too busy with your boyfriend?

That day, he almost failed the ops because he went on a rampage.

It was supposed to be a quiet mission. Secure the site, and escort the hostages out. But he rammed through the door, and killed everyone on sight. Though he didn't harm the hostages. He received a penalty from his General, and he's never again received a delicate mission.

But he's a strong man, he could easily take down the whole squad if he's angry enough. His anger was just like his father's, violent, and combustible, and it was a boon in volatile battlegrounds.

It earned him a higher rank faster than his peers. Since he was efficient, despite of him destroying everything in his wake.

Years went by, and he began to forget about his hometown. Until one letter arrived, informing him about the death of his father.

It had been foreseen, since the amount of alcohol he consumed could rival the sailor's.

He didn't want to go back, but he had to tie up loose ends if he wanted to be completely free from his father.

His hometown was still the same, except for a few stores that had closed, and a few of the new ones. His house didn't undergo any change, it's still messy, with bottles and bottles scattering around the floor.

His father died on the sofa in the living room, and he could still see him there, sitting down, drinking himself to death. There's no longer an angry man in the house, but his rage still lingered in the room. As if refusing to pass.

They said when you're worn out, you'd seek comfort just as you seek fire in the winter. So when he walked out of the house, aimlessly and unthinking, he found himself striding to your house, unconsciously.

He's never a lucky man, but that day, the Goddess smiled at him. You were just about to leave when you saw him by the gate. He saw your frowned, before your eyes lit up as you recognized him.

"I told you to write me letters, you bastard."

He opened his mouth to answer, but you already pulled him into a hug, interrupting him from replying.

"Welcome back." You told him as you squeezed his arms.

Since then, he has spent more time with you more often. Whether by talking, or enjoying each other's company. She helped him with the paperwork, as he was busy with his father's burial. When it's all over, he told her his desire to sell the house.

You opposed it at first, before he explained that he's planning to move his home. His house was old, and there's several new apartments around. He was alone, and he wouldn't stay for long, so a little room would be enough for him.

He ended up buying a smaller house, for you he was convinced that he'd find the use for it someday. And he did, he did find it when he looked at you.

But he was afraid. Afraid that you'd reject him despite of your current status. You weren't dating anyone at that time, and it should be easy for him to enter your life. Yet all he offered, was for you to use the house.

"I'll be gone for months, so I need someone to take care of the house." He said, "Why don't you live there? It's closer to your college, isn't it?"

It was a good offer, but you refused it politely. Saying that it's not necessary, that you didn't need that. The next morning, he went back to the base, feeling dejected, wondering if he should've been braver.

This time, he kept his promise. He wrote letters to you, although it'd take about 3 months before he could write more than five sentences. Sometimes they'd talk through phones, and he'd listen to your rambles about your day. When he talked, he mostly told you about his job. He was cocky about it, but you pulled him down to the ground somehow. He didn't realize it, until all of his teammates pointed it out to him.

He didn't come back at Christmas, and he spent his time lounging around the empty base. You were busy that day, but you made time to call him in the evening. It was short, but it was the nicest thing someone ever did to him. And when you hung up, he stared at the phone for minutes, wondering if he should've just gone home instead.

When you graduated from college, he took his day off to attend the ceremony. You were surprised, but glad nonetheless. Your family was present as well, and they shot him funny looks every time you talked to him. It wasn't until your father leaned in to talk, that he found out the reason for it.

If he said that he should stay away from you, he'd believe it. But the way he spoke, and—Lord help him—implied that you're interested in him almost sounded like a ruse. He stared at your old man as if he's gone mad, but when he turned his head towards you, his heart was burning. How easy was it, to be consumed by greed upon hearing a just few words.

He wanted it to be true, he desperately wished it to be true. But once again, he left with his feelings kept.

He wanted to rip his hair off, as he screamed into the pillow. You liked him, didn't you? Wouldn't it be easier for him to ask you? To have you by his side?

In that moment, he swore to himself that he'd do it the next time you both met. Because he wouldn't forgive himself if someone else took you before him. So he swallowed his pride, and asked for advice.

He expected his teammate to laugh at him, but to his surprise, they were very eager to give him one. Though most of them strayed from the topic.

When he first flirted with you, his hands were cold, and if they were talking face to face, she'd be able to see how much of a mess he was. Even when you noticed the tremble in his voice, you didn't say anything. He only did it for a week, before he settled with calling you Schnecke.

It wasn't until he was listed for a long mission, that you called him for a question.

"Hey." He could hear the uncertainty in your voice when you muttered, "Does the offer still stand?"

He almost asked her for it, before the realization struck him.

It was about his house.

His body turned stiff, as he felt the warmth in his loins. He was silent, and you began to think that it was a bad idea.

"Forget it, you don't have to ans—"

"Yes." He breathed out, "Yes, it still stands."

From that day on, you began to live in his house. He had to send the key via mail, which arrived three days later, according to the letter you wrote for him.

It felt… strange, pleasantly strange, knowing that you lived under his roof, filling his house with your things. He'd feel his skin heated up, as he pictured you on his bed, sleeping. At night, he dreamt of you in the house. Just you and him, doing a mundane routine, and even in the middle of the battlefield, he still couldn't get the image out of his mind. But why should he? It was everything that he ever dreamt of.

When the long mission came to an end, he visited his commander's office to request a month off. His boss was perplexed, but it was soon granted, in exchange for his contribution in a Tier 2 mission.

It was past midnight, when he arrived at home. You must've been startled when he knocked on the door, since you opened it with the latch still intact.

You helped him with his things as he stepped inside, admiring how warm his house became. There were traces of you in the living room—an empty mug, a soft blanket, and several files that you worked on before you slept. You sheepishly told him sorry as you tidied them up, but he stopped you, telling you it's okay.

"It's already late, let's just sleep."

"Go on then, I'll sleep on the sofa."

"What are you saying?" He retorted, "Take the bed. I'm not letting you sleep here."

"I can't. This is your house."

"I don't care."

"I care." You frowned.

"Schnecke." He said with a sigh, "It's either me on the sofa, or we share the bed."

He didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out of his mouth so easily, before he fully realized it. Your mouth hung open, and all of your protests died down in your throat. He'd be horrified of it, if it's not for a burst of confidence, and a portion of sleep-deprived that made him a bit braver.

"The bed is big enough for both of us." He added.

You were hesitant at first, but you agreed on it later on.

That night, he woke up to find the side of the bed empty. Panic rose from his chest, before he sucked up a breath to calm down. He stepped out of the bedroom, and into the living room.

He found you curling on the sofa, with the warm blanket around you. He let out a sigh of relief, before silently cursed at your little escape. He scooped you into his arms, as he carried you to the bedroom.

He could see your reluctance to share the bed with him, and he understood it. He's a man, and it'd be strange for you to sleep with him on the same bed. But still, it affected him in the way he's afraid of.

You apologized to him the next morning, when he climbed up to the bar stool to watch you cook.

"I didn't know you moved me to the bed. I'm sorry, it should've been uncomfortable for you."

"It's fine." He said as he stretched, which made his joints pop, "I've had worse."

"Still, it doesn't mean you can sleep on the sofa forever."

"I don't want you to sleep on the sofa either."

"Ugh." You groaned as you placed the breakfast in front of him, "If only we could afford another bed."

"We?"

You stopped on track, as he tilted his head.

"Th—" You faltered, "That's because it's our problem now. You don't want me to sleep on the sofa, and I don't want you to sleep there too. We're running in circles."

He let her have a moment, before he said, "We've figured out the solution, haven't we?"

You almost dropped your plate after hearing him speak, he observed you as your face turned red. "You must understand, I can't sleep with you on the same bed. That'd be… improper. And no, I won't let you sleep on the sofa either."

He watched you as you paced back and forth on the kitchen floor.

"Fine, we can sleep on the same bed. But we won't share the same blanket, alright?"

With that, the new rule had been set. You'd sleep on the left side, while he took the side near the wall. He used the fleece blanket, and you cocooned inside the thick bedcover. Outside the bedroom, he's the one who (begrudgingly) cleaned the house, while you took care of the food. They went to the grocery store twice a week, and they'd split the bills into two.

He quickly fell into the routine as he found the comfort of it. He enjoyed the domesticity of it, something that he never knew would fit him. Whenever they went out, he'd keep himself neutral while secretly reveled in the attention that people gave to them. He'd hold your bag, and open the door for you. He might’ve not realized it, but those gestures pushed their relationship into a strange territory—where you harbored a conflicted feeling, while he stayed blind to your frown.

Alas, everything had to come to an end. When it was time to go, he stood at the door as he teased you by asking where's his kiss. Your face turned red, and he chuckled when you stammered. He didn't expect anything out of it, but when you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, he found himself at loss at words.

Back at the base, everyone stared at him for wearing his sniper hood. But he'd rather people asking him about the mask, than the cause behind his flushed face.

As he promised, he was transferred to a new team for a difficult mission. It was a secret ops, consisting of retrieving an important document from a small terrorist group, and finding the leader's whereabouts. They've reviewed the plans several times, before they put their gears on.

When they breached the base, he was the one in the front line, with a technician beside him. They knew there'd be traps and bombs, and it should've been the technician's job to detect and disarm them. But when he barged into the main office, they missed a little bomb at the corner of the room.

He was the first to shout, and the one who took the damage. When the explosive was triggered, it went off with a deafening boom, sending shrapnels into the air.

They fulfilled the objectives, but they didn't minimize the casualties. While there's zero count in death, he and three other members suffered quite injuries.

When the doctor came, he knew he would deliver bad news. He cleared his throat, before telling him about the wounds on his face. It's quite possible that he'd suffer permanent scarring, from all the shrapnels that was dug into his skin.

He didn't know what to feel about it, except for the fact that you'd see him differently.

When he came home a half year later, his gut churned when you stared at him with wide eyes. He almost turned back, if not for your hand that reached out to him, while you softly spoke.

"What happened?" You mused, "Does it still hurt?"

He was quiet when you touched him, subtly shaking his head to reassure you.

"Oh…" You frowned as you traced the jagged scars on his cheek, "It must've been hurt."

It didn't hurt as much as he thought it'd be, but the way you looked at him that moment made him silent. He wondered if he denied it, he would end up with less amount of care.

You bought him an ointment the next day, and you told him to sit down as you put it on his skin. He told you it was unnecessary since he's healed, but you said it was for the scars.

He was moved, but troubled at the same time. The thing that you'd do and the length that you went through for him, it was�� endearing, to say the least. But when you touched his face, you'd wince at the roughness of the new skin.

One night, when you spread the cream on his cheek, he asked,

"Do I look so hideous with the scars, that you want them gone?"

You stopped at your track, before you stared at him. "I don't think I understand what you're saying."

"You brought me ointment just to make them gone."

"You thought I was disgusted by them?"

He didn't answer.

"Look," You shook your head as you sighed, "I'm sorry if I offended you in any way, but whatever you thought about me is wrong. I—" You bit your lip, almost wanting to stop yourself from talking, "I just, I want to do something… for you. That's the least thing I could do."

He watched you look away, with a red flush creeped up across your face.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why?" You snorted, "Well, I don't know. I'm not gonna answer that."

"Do you like me, (name)?"

This time around, you were the one who stared at him.

"What are you saying—"

"Do you like me?" He repeated.

He left you speechless, tongue-tied for the question.

"(Name)."

You didn't flinch when he touched your cheek. For whatever reason, your head turned to him instead. While your eyes searched into his.

At that moment, he forgot about his doubts and went forward to kiss you. Something that he wished he'd done years before, in your bedroom, where he said his first goodbye.

You moaned against his lips, and he growled as he pulled your body into his arms. You didn't resist him, as his hand slid under your garment.

The next morning, he woke up to you on top of him, sleeping soundly, as you quietly snored against his chest. He'd thought he's still asleep, if not for the warmth of your skin against his. When he stood up, his head throbbed, as if he had a bottle of wine last night. While he wasn't drunk, he surely felt like he did.

For a moment, he couldn't remember anything, before the memories hit him all at once. The taste of your sweat, your sweet moan, and a shudder of bliss when he first came. It all came down to him like cold water.

He wasn't an innocent man, he wanted you from the start, but he knew that, once he had walked down the path, he'd have no way to return. The rage that he felt when you weren't his, and the impulse he had when you looked at him through your lashes, they were untamed. It was out of his control, and he's afraid that he'd hurt you with his obsessiveness.

But he couldn't help it. That's just his nature.

When you woke up, you found him on the side of the bed, staring at you. And you smiled at him, so sweetly, that he wished to lock it away from anyone's eye.

And when you kissed him that morning, he felt the exhilaration and the dread of free fall. Where he'd feel the sense of freedom before the gravity pulled him toward a grave. A grave that's reserved only for him.

At that moment, he knew he had to die before you. Because he wouldn't know what to do with himself when you left first.

König doesn't believe in an old wives' tale, but he'll take away your shoes if that means he'll keep you forever.

[rwqv]

bro i would talk and talk and talk about toji and megumi for hours and hours upon end if someone let me .... im so serious they are two of my favorite favorite characters ever there is so much to be said about them ............ like yeah ok toji is hot and megumi is the most beautiful boy in jjk but oh my god i can talk so much about their characters and their actions and what they say like .. THIS is what my english classes were preparing me for

YES BRAH UGHHH everyone always memes that megumis only character trait is summoning mahoraga which .. dont get me wrong its funny and all but like the point is that bro does not wanna be alive.. like he KNOWS that if he summons mahoraga its over ... and he ONLY tries to summon mahoraga when he needs someone to fight for him, not to actually obtain the shikigami. and its cus he knows he has so much potential but hje just doesn't push himself to use it .. unlike someone like gojo or yuji whjo we see in that scene where gojo points out that megumi lost his turn during the baseball game.

like hes supposed to sort of sort of be a character foil of yuji AND a parallel of geto .... which .... when he couldn't keep up with gojo's growth You Know. ....

anyways ya i agree with u gojos character arc was pretty much finished and it was a good place for him to die. like i want him to come back but at the same time it would be really like unrealistic and bad writing if he did. So I guess my glorious king can die i gess ...

grrr i luvv character analyses ... yes ugh riko and gojo were SO siblings coded ugh dont get me started on them... the scene of riko being sad about having to leave okinawa and gojo trying to get them to stay longer UGHHHHH hes so adorable bro ughhhh i miss himmmm

you sorta see some of the kamo clan and noritoshi later .. thats around the place im on .. its kinda a snooze fest tho so i havent read much still

DID ANYONE LOVE HIM AS A KID LMFAOOOOOO dude i saw this tiktok that was liek "when the character is cocky and full of himself but its actually because he has an awfulk childhood with no love" or something and i was like GOJO .......... i find that a lot of my favorite characters are super sassy but also super sad ........

bro on everyones life but mine higuruma and nanami are together in heaven ON EVERYONHES LIFE I SWEAR ..... so so many interactions that i just know would be fire. THATS WHY TJKN IS SUCH A TOP TIER SHIP LIKE I SWEAR THEY WOUOLD FIGHT LIKE CRAZY

gojo said it correctly- this is the difference between yuji and megumi. what a shame that this was barely emphasized in the anime but megumis tactic is to win by dying while yuji will win even if he dies. mahoraga is megumis trump card

megumi cant push himself to the extremes that yuji and gojo do, like lots of humans. most people will turn away by instinct from the slightest amount of failure, or if some feel like they have no choice, they will die just to win. yuji always has hope while megumi has a trump card. thats why yuji still continued after what sukuna did in yujis body at shibuya... even though he was devastated and lost motivation, there was always a source of hope (in shibuya it was todo)

talk about toji and megumi alll u want!! im here to listen

i was tbinking abojt it while driving.. naoya might be similar to gojo ....in the sense that naoya vs. maki parralells the first fight between toji vs. gojo. naoya has cursed energy and still underestimated how good maki was, while gojo did the same thing. gojo was an arrogant teenager who thought nothing could kill him, just like naoya did. and they both "died" to be revealed not to be dead completely. i thought naoya was dead after the first encounter but hes like a cockroach bro. ig thats whay toji thoight of gojo LMFAO

but toji is compared so much with maki its crazy like how they were both looked down upon for only using cursed weapons and their commanding presence 🤔

i will miss you my gojo my blue eyed king. yknow i did hear something crazy on tiktok., since yuta is still trapped in gojos body and how gojos soul is still probably there (like in the case of geto when kenjaku was binding gojo in the prison realm.. me too geto me too i get kooky when i see a beautiful twink tied up and bent at an angle i mean whatt) and in an effort to save gojo and yuta they feed the last sukuna finger to gojos body and it becomes this weird ass mix of all three. (since sukuna is still too weak to do anything) i really hope this isnt the case but i do kinda hope they save yuta... mf is the next gojo or whatever 😭😭😭

GOJO WAS SO CUTE AS A SIBLING AND GETO WAS TOO LIKE THEY BOTH JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE FUN AND THEY WERE READY TO PROTECT HER FROM DYINGGG I DISLIKED TOJI SO MUCH IN THAT MOMENT... i watched the scene even before i knew what jjk was so it was spoiled anyways but it didnt hurt any less

i saw noritoshi kamo later on... hes kinda 🤫🤫🤫 with short hair😍 in shibuya he was a bitchass tho "me?!" no not u mf u couldnt even land a single arrow even wirh your clan technique dont EVEN. no one cares abiut you the better kamo is choso and choso 4ever.

I GOT SO SAD SEEI G THAT TIKTOK LIKE THE GOJO CLAN IS THE REASSOKNNNN GOJO TURNED OUT LIKE THAT AND NEVER HAD A CHILDHOODDD 😭😭 HE HAD BOUNTY HUNTERS ON HIS ASS THE WHOLE TIME FREE HIM the sassiest ones are the best in my opibion like yess

it might jusy be me or i feel like toji would be super sassy and also be a girl dad. like hed spoil his daughter and let her do his nails or makeup and talk about drama and hed do dress up with her and wear princess costimes and have tea time toggejrr 😭😭😭 and when she grew up hed listen to all her boy problems and stuff and buy her shit😭 the daughter would renind him of mamaguro and hed love her forever 😢😢😢 SORRY.. ooc not toji because hes dead

what i also like about tojis character is that he took his wifes name. in asian countries such as japan they take the fathers name like 95% of the time, so for toji to take his wifes name fushiguro is very out of place. he either hates zenin clan so much or loves her so much (most likely both)

WAIT THATS SO TRUE LIKE THEY BOTH WORK LIKE CRAZY and they arr both like very morally set and guided THATS SO COOL

also hirugama is kinda.. that nose..

Besides that

i dont know the manga that well these are all my assumptions 😢

[milla-frenchy]

Tim(my 🤭) and Shutterbug 😍😍😍 I missed them 😍😍😍

Almost impossibly, your entire face lights up even more and you hold your arm out in his direction; with a hypnotic dance of your hand that’s part flirty wave, part sprinkling of fairy dust over your devotees, you beckon him, “Timmy!!!” He sees a few cops mouth, smirking, “Timmy?!”

I really, really love this. It made me giggle, but also, kinda made me sob happily? Because Tim is a bear, you said it. And Shutterbug is a sweetheart.

And as you wrote it "the gruff grizzly bear detective that was Timothy Rockford had been tamed by your gentle hand" and it makes my heart tickle and I love it ❤️❤️

“Hi Shutterbug,” Tim radiates a happiness that you feel as much as you can see - you’re finally back in his arms. “Timmy.  They all want to talk to me about police stuff, and I’m running out of things I know,” your silly tipsy face conveys some unwarranted trepidation, as if there was any chance in hell you could ever disappoint this group of smitten cops.

Oh my god she's just so damn cute!! I feel like I'm falling more in love with her every time 🥰

Tim presses his forehead to yours as he holds you close, finally letting himself relax now that his broad frame can once again melt and mold to the softness of your body

ughhhhh reading them is like being on my coach under my favorite blanket 😍😍😍 (and it's my favorite place in the world)

Tim growls, grasp tightening around your waist, “…not that tiny.” 

😌😏😏😏 not that tiny for sure

The sound of Tim’s belt buckle clicking open has you arching your back, ass wiggling and eyes closing in giddy anticipation.  Smack. You yelp in delight at the bright sting blooming on your ass cheek from Tim’s open palm.  He chuckles as he pulls your lace panties to the side, “Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby.”

oh my god I need him so bad 🫠🫠🫠

“Let everyone in this bar know who you belong to.”

OMG YES§§§

“It wasn’t all luck, Shutterbug,” Tim flashes a shit eating grin. “What do you mean?” “I mean, that day at the aquarium, MacMillan and I were both interviewing potential witnesses.  And when we got down to the final few interviews, I bribed him to let me question you.”

So damn cute 🥹🥹🥹

Tim is still where he was when you inadvertently let go of his hand, but now down on one knee – in his upturned palm he holds an open ring box, his rich brown eyes swirling with a storm of deep emotion, love.

omg? Omg Emily???? I could cry for real omg I'm so happy!!! They're getting maried!!!! 💞💞💞💞💞

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Emily!!! These two are my comfort couple, I already told you, today more than ever!! Thank you for this gift 🥹🥹🥹 SHE SAID YES§§§§§§

Tiny Tim

A The Rockford Portfolio Christmas Special

5.2K/ Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Tim takes you to the precinct Christmas party.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, soft!Tim, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous). Semi public sex, fingering, unprotected PiV, thrill of being caught, alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy, but this is a devoted relationship with deep trust, not dubcon). Reader wears a dress. Bad 'A Christmas Carol' jokes.

A/N: This is a holiday love letter to all you lovelies who read The Rockford Portfolio 🥹🥹 Thank you thank you for all the love you’ve shown these two - they are one of my favourites to write, I'm always so encouraged by the sweet response I receive on their stories 🥹 This instalment is probably the only one I’ve written that makes more sense if you’ve read some of the others - there are a few callbacks, little winks for those of you who enjoy their stories 🤭 Thank you thank you again and happy holidays! 🎄

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

Tim watches the scene from across the bar.

It’s like a Renaissance fresco come to life, a modern-day depiction of royal court with you as the monarch at its centre - sitting up high, you’re perched on a barstool looking radiant and gorgeous in a pretty holiday dress that drapes off your curves and cascades over your legs; your feet dangle off the ground, swinging to and fro without a care.  You’re surrounded by a crowd of cops who have arranged themselves in a semi-circle with you at their epicentre - those on your left and right stand or sit on their own stools, while the officers in front of you fan across a stretch of tables.  Every person is angled towards you like a moth trying to fly closer to their flame, all eyes are trained, adoring and fawning, on your pretty face as you laugh and finish up what you were saying.  They hang on your every word, and when you make eye contact or touch your hand to an arm in order to emphasize a point in your story, Tim swears the lucky recipient literally lights up a little.

Tim wonders if he should have told you that you’re kind of a celebrity at the precinct.  No, not because he’s yours.  Yes, it tickled his colleagues to no end that the gruff grizzly bear detective that was Timothy Rockford had been tamed by your gentle hand; they had seen evidence of his previously thought nonexistent softness and docility whenever you would visit.  But he could never claim credit for the esteem in which you were beheld – your renown was all your own.

Even before tonight’s party, there had been a tittering among the various law enforcement departments that you would be in attendance.  Those who had only seen you in passing or heard tales of how Detective Rockford’s lady love had provided much direct or indirect assistance to their cases, were eager to meet you.  No sooner had the two of you entered the bar where tonight’s party was being held than you were swept out of Tim’s arms to make the acquaintance of what seemed like a never-ending queue of his colleagues.  It’s been a while now since Tim lost track of you, sulking solitarily until his partner, Detective Arnold Calloway, came over with a conciliatory beer and pointed to where you’re currently holding court.

The team from Cipher, who had used your Graffiti Alley photos to decrypt the Pie Distribution playbook, are at your feet - ignoring the now lukewarm drinks on their tabletops in favour of trading quippy witticisms with you in between their rounds of raucous laughter at your jokes.

O’Brien and his team who had made up Surveillance Teams Alpha and Bravo the night you obtained information from Buchanan’s girlfriend in the restaurant bathroom that would lead to the apprehension of The Accountant, flank your left.  Whenever you tilt your radiant face towards them, they take full advantage - commanding your attention so they can regale you with more detailed stories about the busts and raids that resulted from your intel.

Tech guys that used the meta data from your aquarium photos to track the movements of Grandma Ursula’s henchman, resulting in the retrieval of the missing briefcase that broke open the case, gather to your right – keeping a watchful eye on the cocktail glass you hold in your hand, prepared to replace it with a ready refill at a moment’s notice should you desire.

The head of Financial Crimes and a few of her analysts who run what has affectionately been named “Operation Spring Roll” (per your request), an intricate and far-reaching money laundering investigation kicked off by your keen observations at The Midnight Palace, slip in to occupy the empty seats next to their colleagues in Cipher, bringing appetizers and bowls of bar snacks as offerings.

Every single one of your admirers appears entranced by your charm and the warmth of your bright aura; convinced that you’re the wittiest, most intriguing person in this bar, they loathe to be torn away from your sweet face and the way it’s alight with genuine joy and holiday mirth.  Tim is all too familiar with how they feel.  He starts to make his way across the bar – individually or collectively, his coworkers have bogarted your attention all night and he’s had enough.  He misses you.

Tim barely makes his presence known, arriving and stopping at the periphery of your audience where your eyes find him immediately, as if drawn to him.

Almost impossibly, your entire face lights up even more and you hold your arm out in his direction; with a hypnotic dance of your hand that’s part flirty wave, part sprinkling of fairy dust over your devotees, you beckon him, “Timmy!!!”

He sees a few cops mouth, smirking, “Timmy?!” and Chen from Cipher actually puts her hands together in prayer and says Thank You to a deity above for this gift with which Tim is sure he will be mercilessly teased later.  But Tim doesn’t care.  No matter how you call, he will always come.

Threading through the maze of chairs and bodies, he reaches you just as you step off the bottom rung of your stool – catching you easily right before you throw your arms around his neck.

“Hi Detective,” you coo, melodic voice a whisper against his lips.

“Hi Shutterbug,” Tim radiates a happiness that you feel as much as you can see - you’re finally back in his arms.

“Timmy.  They all want to talk to me about police stuff, and I’m running out of things I know,” your silly tipsy face conveys some unwarranted trepidation, as if there was any chance in hell you could ever disappoint this group of smitten cops.

“You want to know how to make a bunch of cops scatter?” the twinkle of mischief in Tim’s eyes is mirrored back to him in yours as you nod, nuzzling your nose against his in conspiratorial agreement.

He kisses you. 

And not in a tempered and chaste way one might expect at a work event, where superiors are in attendance and professionalism might be monitored even while off the clock. 

But a full out, no holds barred, deep and passionate kiss that leaves Tim’s colleagues slack-jawed in shock, some even avert their gaze, embarrassed – as if they know they will have to staunchly deny having witnessed this side of their co-worker should they ever be interrogated about its existence.  Tim’s mouth opens and wordlessly demands entry – you happily obey your detective’s directive.  It’s truly beyond your understanding how anyone (you, these cops, anyone breathing) could ever deny Tim anything - his very being so commanding and reassuring that it only feels natural for you to surrender to him every time.  Smoothing your tongue over Tim’s, you let him chase you to the furthest corners of your mouth; sighing when he catches you and licks behind your teeth in victory.

Though most of the onlookers have now left the two of you to your reunion, a few of Tim’s cheekier squad members remain. “Woooooooooooo!” the cheers from the surronding crowd are playful and jovial; there are a couple of whoop, whoops and arm pumps from some of the older detectives who were clearly Arsenio Hall fans.

“Alright, break it up, break it up,” Tim gruffs as you bury yourself into his chest, giggling.  The remaining cops swiftly do as Tim says, going off in different directions – to order more drinks, out for a smoke, all eager to spread the lore about Detective Rockford’s kryptonite to their fellow jolly drunks, leaving you and Tim to stare dreamily into each other’s eyes in the middle of the bar.

Now that the two of you have a moment to yourselves, you can once again hear the bar’s music system that’s been blasting Christmas carols all night.  Bing Crosby’s White Christmas comes over the speakers and you and Tim, still lost in one another, begin to slow dance – Tim presses his forehead to yours as he holds you close, finally letting himself relax now that his broad frame can once again melt and mold to the softness of your body.

Sighing in contentment, you lift your hands to run your gentle fingers through Tim’s rough facial scruff – a gesture that’s as soothing for him as it for you; it’s been great getting to know Tim’s colleagues and super entertaining listening to their stories and jokes, but this is where you’ll choose to be every time, “This has been so fun, Detective.  I don’t know why you don’t like the precinct holiday parties.”

Tim closes his eyes and gives a little snort, “You try being named Tim at Christmas time around a bunch of drunk cops.  The ‘Tiny Tim’ references usually start after the third round.”

You giggle, face now impish and eyes dancing with merriment, “Well, they just don’t know what Tiny Tim is capable of.”

Tim growls, grasp tightening around your waist, “…not that tiny.”  Squealing, you crash your lips to Tim’s, delighting in your detective’s playful touch that’s now amorously roaming your backside.  The two of you, lips never parting, sway over to a darker, less populated area of the bar – leaving Tim’s colleagues to their reveries.

“Ah, well, Detective Rockford, here’s the thing: I know for a fact that there is absolutely nothing tiny about Tiny Tim,” your hand trails down your boyfriend’s hard chest, smoothing over the front of his fancy dress pants to cup his bulge.

Tim jerks sharply to the sensation of your delicate fingers massaging his balls through the fabric; his voice lowers to a rumbled warning, “Shutterbug…”

“Mhhmmm?” you hum cheekily against Detective Rockford’s plush mouth.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to have to arrest myself for public indecency.”

Still drinking in the harmonious ring of your resulting laugh, Tim doesn’t see you subtly look around to see if there are any prying eyes trained on the two of you.  When you find none, you hurriedly tug Tim down the hallway that leads to the restrooms; the bar has individual bathrooms instead of gendered ones, and you quickly find one that’s vacant, dragging Tim inside.

Tim looks surprised to find himself in the relatively well-lit bathroom, “Baby, what are…?”

His adorably naïve question is cut off when you push him up against the wall with surprising force from your soft hands.  The party has been fun, but you were away from Tim for entirely too much of it. 

Though you’re sure it wasn’t by design, nearly every captivating story you heard tonight has heralded your Tim as brave, clever, tough – never backing down in the face of particularly dangerous or puzzling elements of his cases; intimidating scumbag perps that deserved to get a little decency scared into them; displaying incredible feats of intelligence that left his colleagues amazed.  Most of these stories you’ve actually heard before, but you learned tonight that Tim’s version often downplayed his own contributions and prowess – seeing your detective through the lens of his fellow law enforcement officers, hearing their accolades and seeing just how clearly they admire and respect your brilliant boyfriend has made you beam with pride. 

And warm with arousal.  Tim’s competency and humbleness are a one-two punch combination that never fails to turn you on, and by this point of the evening, you’ve heard a lot of stories evidencing both.  You can’t wait any longer to have him.

“There, Detective.  We’re not in public anymore,” you purr, scraping your kitten claws over the black cashmere of the sweater you gifted him, your hands meet in the middle of Tim’s expansive chest to give his smart, silk tie a sharp and quick tug; your cheeky move has absolutely no effect on the mountainous stance of man before you, and instead tips you into his space.  Detective Rockford catches you with little effort, and when you see the smirk he throws your way, you drunkenly chuckle and allow to Tim descend on your lips once more.  Sighing, completely enamoured with the handsome man before you, you throw your arms around his thick neck and give yourself over to Tim’s hungry kisses, matching his tongue stroke for stroke - whimpering as he nibbles and tugs on your plush bottom lip. 

“Feeling needy, gorgeous?” Tim murmurs against your pout, hands gripping your ass in his heavy palms through the luxurious fabric of the dress that he’s been admiring on you all evening.  You lean back and nod, giving him a coquettish, doe-eyed look, “Needed you all night, Timmy.  Felt like I haven’t seen you at all, but I love how everyone’s been telling me stories about how brilliant and vital you are.  All I’ve wanted to do is show you that I feel the same way.”

“Oh, baby, I’ve missed you too,” groans Tim as you claw your nails down his sweater, pressing hard through to the crisp dress shirt underneath – the way both garments stretched taut across his broad frame has you licking your lips; you start lowering to your knees, eyes already trailing to where Tim’s impressive cock is straining valiantly against his dress pants.

To your surprise, Tim’s hands slip under your arms and lift you back up – you whine at being denied his cock in your mouth, but the sweetness of his expression makes it impossible to be mad, “Don’t want you to get that pretty dress dirty on the floor, gorgeous.”  Tim’s thoughtfulness combined with the firm way he maneuvers your body towards the bathroom sink has you positively gushing, any disappointment disappearing.

Standing behind you so that you’re both watching Tim’s bear paw hands snake up your chest, your detective gropes your breasts over the front of your dress and listens as you sigh and whinny; you slump back against your tank of a man, perfectly content to let him have his way with your body. 

Still palming full fistfuls of your boobs, Tim’s long fingers reach up to pull down the neckline of your dress so that your tits come spilling out, eager to greet his hands.  His mouth finds the sweet spot of your neck that he claimed as his long ago, and you watch him continue to paw and knead your breasts, finding your already peaked nipples with ease.  Rolling, pinching, teasing your hardened buds between the rough pads of his fingers, Tim murmurs against your skin, “We gotta be quick and quiet - can you do that for me, Shutterbug?”

You meet the dark gaze of your boyfriend in the mirror and nod feebly; the reminder that you’re at a party full of cops, cops that work day in and day out with the fromidable man behind you who looks like he wants nothing more than to devour you, has you clenching pathetically around nothing.

Nothing escapes the eagle eyes of your detective – he responds to your desperation with a final squeeze of your tits before raking his monster hands, hard and gripping, down your willing body; frantically rucking up the skirt of your dress and bunching the festive fabric above your ass. 

The sound of Tim’s belt buckle clicking open has you arching your back, ass wiggling and eyes closing in giddy anticipation. 

Smack.

You yelp in delight at the bright sting blooming on your ass cheek from Tim’s open palm.  He chuckles as he pulls your lace panties to the side, “Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby.”

The goofily grinning and sassy-eyed you in the mirror chirps, “Yes, Detective!” about to give him a cheeky salute when you’re rendered witless, dissolving into a puddle of lust at the feel of Tim’s thick fingers gliding through your folds.

He doesn’t tease you for long - finding you already wet and willing, Tim easily slides two of his fingers into your sopping hole; he bites down at the base of your neck and you keen as your boyfriend’s long reaching touch grazes your softest, most intimate parts.

Your reflection unravels and whimpers, “Pl-, please, Tim!”

Detective Rockford’s obsidian gaze meets yours in the glass and he acquiesces to the request you can’t quite vocalize with a quickening of his thrusts; the slap, slap, slap of his palm meeting your desire drenched pussy echoes off the walls of the small bar bathroom like the beat of a naughty Christmas carol.

Spurred on by the buzz of tonight’s alcohol and the titillating knowledge that Tim’s colleagues are only a short hallway away on the other side of the bathroom door, and that any or all of them could hear you or even come knocking the next moment, you start to crest shamefully quick.  His knowledge of your body’s pleasure so familiar and intimate, Tim recognizes the fluttering of your walls and swiftly adds a third finger.  You cry out, one hand flying up to muffle the sound as you press back against your detective’s hard chest; the other Tim cradles in his free paw and slips up your skirt and down the front of your panties, big hand over yours - using your lithe fingers like a quill to scrawl his command to your clit.

“Come for me.”  Tim’s baritone growl is the last thing you hear before the air in the room rushes past your ears and you shudder at the silence that seemingly rings; biting down on your own hand, tears spring to your eyes at the sting of pain and the force of the orgasm that hits you.

You barely register as Tim’s fingers slow through your come down, withdrawing and finding their way to his mouth.  The you in the mirror hazily watches as he sucks his fingers clean with a wicked grin, winking at you before nibbling playfully at your earlobe, “Taste so sweet, Shutterbug.”

Giggling, you pull your detective’s face down to yours for a tender but desperate kiss, your cunt already feeling empty and needy.  Tim returns your affections ten-fold, hands frantically pushing down his pants and boxers, releasing his hard and thrumming cock with a slap against the smooth dip of your lower back.  You whine pitifully, shimmying in Tim’s tight hold and pushing back to try and angle his dick down to where you need him; he chuckles darkly in your ear and grumbles, “Brace yourself, baby.”  You place both hands firmly on the ledge of the sink counter and exhale shakily when you feel Tim wick the head of his cock through your slick, gripping hard as he firmly pushes in.

Tim’s eyes never leave your lust blown ones in the mirror.  He sets a purposeful and delicious rhythm - pulling out nearly all the way so that you pout, letting you yearn for the loss of his stretch for a moment too long before slamming back in with a heavy drive of his hips and bottoming out each time with an aggressive snarl.  He does this over and over and over, his punishing pace never wavering; your eyes start to roll and your bottom lip starts to smart from how hard you’re biting down to keep from screaming.

“Maybe we should let them hear, baby.”

“Let everyone in this bar know who you belong to.”

“They kept you all to themselves tonight – need to remind them that you’re mine.”

Tim punctuates each of his possessive words with a particularly harsh thrust, jolting you hard against the counter. 

“Tim!” Your arms fly up to wrap behind his neck, and the reflected vision of you being bounced on Detective Tim Rockford’s hard cock with your supple tits tumbling whorishly out of your party dress, sends the both of you rocketing towards a dual high.

“You’re fucking perfect, Shutterbug.”

“No wonder they all want a piece of you.”

“But they can’t have you.”

“You’re mine, baby.”

“Mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours,” your breathy declaration sung to the chorus of your orgasm, Tim comes shortly after to the tight squeeze of your warm walls claiming him as yours.

“I love you, Detective.”

“I love you more, Shutterbug.”

The two of you stay at the party for just one more round of drinks; Tim’s arm never leaves your waist, tucking your body securely against his.  As far as he’s concerned, his colleagues have monopolized enough of your time this evening, you’re all his now; you can’t help but enjoy Tim’s harmless display of possessiveness when his fellow officers swarm and try to engage you as they did before. 

Perhaps in retaliation, the Tiny Tim jokes start coming in rapid succession:

“Tim, are you feeling tired? Is it hard to stand?  Do we to find you a wittle crutch?”

“Isn’t it past Tiny Tim’s bedtime?  He’s just a little guy.”

“Leaving already?  Bah humbug!”

“Should we be calling Bob Cratchit?  Does Tiny Tim need a lift?”

“No, don’t go, Rockford!  Who’s going have god bless us, every one??!”

You can’t help but laugh at that last one as you and Tim sweep out of the bar; Tim raising his hand and flipping the bird to his friends without ever looking back.

The December air outside feels crisp and pleasant against your skin, still warm from tonight’s drinks and the crowded party.  By some coincidence, the bar is in the same neighbourhood as the restaurant where Tim took you on your third first date, and much like that night, you and Tim opt to take the twenty-or-so minute walk home.  Though the fresh air sobers you, you remain cheerful and giddy from tonight’s festivities and a general sense of seasonal merriment – his hand never leaving yours, an amused Tim lets you happily swing your arms as you walk, occasionally giving you a twirl on the sidewalk and smiling widely as you duck under his beefy arm and spin so that the skirt of your dress fans out with a dancer like grace.  Chirping cheerfully, you fill Tim in on all the courageous and funny stories his colleagues shared with you tonight and delight in the way his face reddens in embarrassment.

“I’m so lucky, Tim! I get to call the biggest, baddest, smartest detective on the squad as my own.  And I also know him to be so sweet, and kind, and funny.  I’m truly the luckiest girl in the world,” your words and eyes are genuine, all adoring.

Tim can’t help but grin dopily back.  He takes off his tan trench coat to drape over your shoulders and accepts your quick, sweet peck of gratitude before countering, “I’m the lucky one, Shutterbug.  It was clear to every single person in the bar tonight that you’re a star, everyone’s dream – and you choose me.  I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Your chest swells with affection for your tender-hearted boyfriend – Tim never fails to make you feel cherished, supported and loved, and of course, always so very safe and protected.  You’re sure that if the people of the city knew even half of what you know about how deeply Tim cares and takes seriously his charge of their protection, they would all be as in love with him as you are.  It’s no wonder that you had felt that initial spark with him when he was just diligently doing his duty all those many moons ago at the aquarium – he had been so earnest and dedicated to the job, you’re convinced you fell in love with him on the spot, “We’re both so lucky that you’re who I ended up interviewing with at the aquarium during the Grandma Ursula case.”

“It wasn’t all luck, Shutterbug,” Tim flashes a shit eating grin.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that day at the aquarium, MacMillan and I were both interviewing potential witnesses.  And when we got down to the final few interviews, I bribed him to let me question you.”

You’re absolutely shocked and delighted by this revelation, “Detective Rockford!! You’re diabolical!  What did the favour of my company cost you?”

“I had to transcribe all of MacMillan’s interview notes from that day… and for the following month.  Plus, he made me drive all the way to a deli across town to pick up his favourite sandwich.”

“Omigod,” you giggle, “And?”

“Hmmm?”

“Was it worth it?”

“The sandwich? I did get myself one - it was pretty delicious.”

You swat playfully at Tim’s chest, “No, silly.  Not the sandwich – what you transcribed all those notes for.”

“Absolutely.  Changed my life for the better. You're priceless, baby.”

“Oh Tim,” you sigh at your detective’s romantic words.  The truth is you’re absolutely gobsmacked that Tim went through all that effort for you when he didn’t even know you; knowing what you do now about Tim’s instinct and how often the success of his cases rest on its sharp edge, it makes your heart sing that he had had a feeling, saw something in you worth pursuing.  You tell him as much.

“I’ve been grateful for you since the moment I saw you, Shutterbug,” says Tim sincerely, “When you were in that waiting area, patiently letting the families and field trips go ahead of you, I knew I was in the presence of genuine grace and kindness.  I- I don’t run across that very often in my line of work – you’re so special, baby.  I was having such a shit day and you were an unexpected beacon of light.  I think, selfishly, I couldn’t let you go without basking a little longer in your warmth.”

Tears spring to your eyes so quickly that you have to turn away from Tim to hide how emotional his confession has made you.  You had felt such a strong connection to him that day as well – Tim had been so sweet and patient, encouraging in his words for your photography when he had no reason to be; your gratitude had only been compounded when you bore witness to the enthusiasm and commitment Tim held for his policework.  And since the day of the Grandma Ursula case verdict, your feelings of admiration and awe for this strong, honourable man have only grown.

You tug Tim along the twinkle lights illuminated path, still unable to look at him while admitting these sentiments, “When we didn’t talk at all during those seven months of the Grandma Ursula case, I thought maybe I had made you up – it didn’t seem possible to have properly gauged the measure of a man so smart, kind, and honourable from just the few times we interacted.  But Tim, you exceed even my wildest fantasies with how steadfast, loving, respectful, caring you are to me everyday.  You’re the man of my dreams.”

If you were hoping to avoid getting overwhelmed by your feelings, thinking about how much you love your detective and all the reasons you can’t live without him has certainly not been the way to do it.  Swimming in your own happiness, you brush away your tears with the sleeve of Tim’s jacket and quicken your pace, your footsteps timed to the thundering beat of your very full heart.

You walk so quickly that your hand slips from Tim’s and in your surprise at the loss of his warm, comforting grip, you turn around – the sight that greets you leaves you stunned.  Both hands flying up to cover your mouth, now dropped opened in a placid ‘o’ shape, you’re unable to contain the loud gasp that escapes.

Tim is still where he was when you inadvertently let go of his hand, but now down on one knee – in his upturned palm he holds an open ring box, his rich brown eyes swirling with a storm of deep emotion, love.

You walk the few steps back to Tim in silence, teary eyes crinkling from a smile that you can’t quite hide behind your hands.  Your barely concealed joy makes Tim’s heart soar and calms his nerves somewhat.

When you finally stand before him, Timothy Rockford, first line attack dog of the LAPD Detective Squad, scourge of the city’s hardened criminals, and certified grump who hates all holidays and holiday parties, melts in front of the woman he loves.  He looks up into the eyes of his personal goddess, the one who makes it safe for him to reveal his soft underbelly, nourishes him and has his back in every way that matters on this mortal plane he had long resigned to walking alone before meeting her, and asks the most important question he’s ever had to pose, inside or outside of an interrogation room.

“Shutterbug, when we met, I couldn’t have fathomed how much better my life was going to get with you in it.  You’re the embodiment of all the goodness that for a very long time I was convinced existed in too short supply in this world.  But not with you, baby – you’re generous and open, and the sweetness and compassion you extend to me and everyone around you feels never-ending.  You give me so much, but the most important is something I didn’t even know I was missing: a home.  You’re my home, Shutterbug.  A home full of love and softness.  I- I never knew that could be in the cards for me, or that anyone like you existed, never mind that you would choose me.  I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but if you allow me, I want to spend the rest of our lives coming home and loving you.”

You’re nodding now, happy tears overflowing.

Tears now rolling down his own face, Tim chokes out, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, Tim!  I’ll marry you!!” You cry, launching yourself into Detective Rockford’s arms, practically knocking him and the ring box to the ground.

Wrapping his arms tight around his little slice of heaven, Tim helps you both stand; pulling back only so he can slip the diamond ring that he had so long ago bought and hid in the back of his sock drawer, waiting for the right time (a time that wouldn’t be too soon), on your ring finger.  You admire the beauty of this bright flawless thing, an actual physical embodiment of Tim’s love – still in shock that something, someone, could be so exquisite and yours.  Thankful and humbled before its, his, grace, you place your hands on both sides of your fiancé’s handsome face as he brings his careful paws up to yours and you meet for a long, perfect kiss.

Still feeling like you’re in a dream, you start heading home - alternating between walking while holding out your left hand and admiring it in a daze, and looking back at Tim’s blinding smile, stopping to kiss him again when you see the look of devotion and awe that he radiates back at you.  This continues for several blocks until, giddy and blissful, you suddenly notice the slow licking flames of want that have been keeping you warm on this chilly December walk – immediately, you start pulling Tim towards your shared destination with renewed urgency.

“What’s the hurry, Shutterbug?” laughs Tim.

“Want to get home, Detective,” you giggle, “so I can ride my new fiancé until we both come so loud the neighbours complain."

At this, Tim quickens his pace, long legs taking strong purposeful strides - one for every two of yours; his eagerness and boyish grin making you laugh, “Then tomorrow, after we celebrate some more on every surface of the apartment, I want you to take me to that deli across town and I’m going to buy MacMillan a ‘thank you’ sandwich myself.”

You squeal in laughter as Detective Tim Rockford breaks into a full out jog, practically carrying you, his Shutterbug, love of his life, raison d’etre – fiancé, wife-to-be, the future Mrs. Rockford (Oh, he likes the sound of that!), all the way home.

A/N 2: We time hop a lot in this series, a lot of the stories not necessarily happening in the order they're written/posted and I don't think it matters much - but for those that are wondering, a little note on timing. This story can be considered the most recent in the timeline of Timmy and Shutterbug's relationship; I consider it to take place a good while after Sniffles (when they move in together). Sniffles I imagine to take place 3-4 months after Husband Material, and before the Sleepy Trilogy. I'm not terribly committed to when the others slot in, but I always think of Dance for Me as also taking place when they're already living together.

Thank you again for reading and happy holidays - god (nondenominational) bless you, every one 🥹🥹😘

[transwattson]

i don’t really know many revenant ships but i do like the idea of revenant breaking free from who he was made to be. like fuck canon, even if revenant was an assassin life too, there was more to him—and then with revenant, they simply chose to reduce him into, what they thought, was the only thing he could do: kill. but personally, i would love to see him escape that. i want to see revenant learn how to live for others, if not himself, rather than exist to fulfill the vision and bloodthirsty desires of someone else. and of course he’d struggle with it. i’m sure revenant would kill or break something beautiful in his hands just to prove that he’s the reason he can’t have it. but the thought of him holding onto someone, and, for the first time, fearing that he might hurt them. revenant choosing to love and be loved is an act of revolution. and isn’t that what it’s all about

[ur-fav-alien]

what really breaks my heart is Max and Billy's relationship post s2, because yeah something obviously changed, but maybe good things changed too. Because why else would Max be so hopefully that the Mind Flayer wasn't possessing Billy unless she cared about him. Because if he was still as much an asshole as everyone says he is, then why would she care? Yeah, I know about truma bonds, but Max had scared the shit out of Billy and told him to stay away from her and her friends, whose the say that Billy didn't contiune to keep up that promise? So why would their truama have anything to do with this? Even then, if you find out your abuser is being possessed with something that might kill them, wouldn't you be happy? Max on the other hand is not happy about Billy potentiality being possessed, she's very worried about him. First evidence is the god damn sauna scene where Billy's bawling his eyes out for Max to believe him and Max is crying right with him and promising him that everything is going to be okay and that they're going to help him. If Max didn't care about him, why would she be crying and telling him that he's going to be okay. And fucking- I know that he's going through something really painful right now but he's so vunrable to her and willing to tell her everything about what's going on with him. And idk the way that he talks to her in this scene just feels so heartbreaking and he keeps calling her Max instead of Maxine and ughhhhh tears man tears. And then during the battle of Starcourt, when Billy is chasing down Mike, El, and Max, Max tries to reason with him and reminds him of who he is and while she's doing this she's fucking crying. LIke UKLASDJF;LKAJSDFKLJASDFJ I can't it breaks my heart. AND THEN HE USES HIS LAST DYING BREATHS TO SAY SORRY TO HER!?!?! FUCCCK

Like yes something obviously changed about their relationship after Max damn near smashed his junk in, but they got closer between seasn 2 and season 3 to the point where Max genuinely cares about her brother and ughhhhh

This post has no point other than me crying about those stupid siblings and how Billy could've had some kind of redemption arc, because it so obvious he can change ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. this is also a fuck you to the duffer brothers because why would Max say Billy didn't deserved to be saved when she literally said she hoped he wasn't possessed. I can't-

[padfootastic]

Hey!!

I’m a big fan of your blog as I am a fellow James and Sirius apologist. I feel like there aren’t enough people out here that love these two and their bond so finding someone who feels the same is like nothing short of a miracle. Especially one who is active on here. Also, I’m a big fan of your stories you are an amazing writer. ❤️

I was just sitting here thinking about how Sirius could have put an end to Lily’s relationship with James with a snap of his fingers if he felt so inclined. Like James and Lily are “soulmates” in canon but not the same soulmate level these two guys are on you know? I think back to your fic Shovel Talk in regards to this and how Sirius basically tells Lily as much. It just makes me sorta giggle (is that wrong?) because it’s just so true lol. Like James and Sirius were operating on a whole different plane of reality than everyone else I swear. I just I love those two boys so so so much.

If you wouldn’t mind sharing I would love to just read your thoughts on these guys. Like just to read you talking about them and their bond in whatever capacity you want. Weather it be what you think of them, how you see them, who you think they are, how you think they’re perceived by their friends just any and all thoughts you feel like sharing. This is only if you don’t mind. I just live for these two codependent lunatics and love getting to see other people love them. 💛💙

anon there is something in my eye and u might be responsible for it 🥺🥺

i don’t know where i’m getting this prongsfoot attention from as of late but i am absolutely not complaining because it is the best thing ever and i will never tire of talking about my baby boys. thank u so much for liking what i write (and thinking i’m active lol) :”)

also!!! another shovel talk fan!!! listen every time someone references that story, it makes my heart do this giddy little spin because it’s literally one of my favorite fics/hcs and i genuinely thought people wouldn’t like it but they do and it’s amazing.

you’ve given me such free reign that i don’t know where to start lol my mind has suddenly gone blank trying to think of something i haven’t already talked about before

hmmm ok let’s see. i know i skew towards sirius leaning on james a lot but i fully believe it was a relationship of equals. james was equally besotted by and reliant on sirius as the other way around. so i mentioned this in the last ask a bit, but i see james as someone who’s constantly burning bright and it’s…not exactly easy but very possible to snuff that light out completely. and i think lily had the potential for that bc of her sharp tongue & self righteousness. and she wouldnt think to tone herself down for james, either, because she sees what everyone else does—a spoiled, happy go lucky, privileged dude who doesn’t need to be treated with kid gloves. fair, yeah? except. sirius has seen this boy inside out, knows how fucking sensitive he is, and will do anything it takes to make sure james doesn’t shrink himself to fit the world. and this isn’t like—a huge thing, not for sirius. it’s in the little actions—cutting someone off when they might say something hurtful, turning him away from people who don’t like him, casually blocking hexes cast behind his back etc etc. sirius doesn’t have blinkers on, he knows first hand how ugly the world is and he doesn’t want it to touch his james. (sure, that might mean putting up with his big headed ass but he’ll take that any day over a subdued james potter) and we know from swm that he’s not scared or hesitant to go against james if needed so he’s the perfect person to both keep him in check and protect him ykno? (very grumpy one protects the sunshine one of me)

another thing i love thinking about is how unconditionally they love each other!!! james has a mean streak (often powered by ignorance/arrogance) and sirius genuinely has a whole dark side bc of his black heritage (so many thoughts on that ughhhhh) and it means the absolute world to sirius that james accepts all of him. his family doesn’t like him being a ‘muggle loving traitor’ and the people at hogwarts are scared/wary of his name and anger and sometimes he’s seen it even in his friends’ eyes and he’s sick and tired of having to hide parts of himself to be palatable so it’s like a fresh of breath air to be around james who never ever judges him. i’m such a sucker for unconditional acceptance lol both sides of sirius are fundamental to him and he can’t separate them from himself so whenever james steps up to him without hesitation or fear, it heals a part of him.

also, this might seem obvious, but i think they genuinely liked each other in a way that u don’t always see. like, they were each other’s favorite persons at all times, no questions asked. the average person might get sick of spending so much time with one person, even if it’s their best friend (i know i couldn’t lol) but not these two. they happily welcome every opportunity they have to be together. that’s why detentions are fun—hours left alone to goof around while working off their energy? sign them tf up. they genuinely look forward to talking to each time, every single class they share, nighttime when they can crawl into the others’ beds etc etc it’s all horribly codependent and perhaps not the healthiest (definitely not in a non-prongsfoot universe) but it’s james&sirius and even if they were stranded on an island together, they’d be happy about it

wrt to the james/lily/sirius thing—god, yes. sirius *knows* that he only needs to say the word and james would listen to him over lily and that’s so much power and sometimes he’s equal parts terrified and on top of the world bc of what he holds in his hands but it only makes him more determined to not abuse that trust and faith james places in him. i think this would happen with any potential partner, if only a bit harsher w lily bc of their experiences. james will always, always turn to sirius first and that can be a good or a bad thing, depending on how u look at it. u just know that remus and peter were envious of this dynamic but i think, over time, they overcame it and just resigned themselves to it. i can even see them (particularly remus) actually being a bit thankful it’s not them because let’s be honest, a friendship as all encompassing & overwhelming as this? not easy at all. u need to be able to completely open ur heart and soul up, break down even the smallest pretence of barriers, accept that you’ll always be part of a whole and that’s neither simple nor desirable most of the time. and i truly don’t eee remus laying himself bare open like that, not even for j or s. so i think he’s actually a bit relieved that these two tide over their most intense behaviours with each other and you get a more toned down version of them around others lol (does any of that make sense? i’m just rambling here tbh)

i’m gonna stop here bc i have no clue of any of this is even like, coherent. i erased and wrote the whole thing 2-3 times bc it kept growing a mind of its own and Not Cooperating so i hope this draft is,,,okay ykno?