#but this is the ONE THING I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOILED

[oct0bra1ns]

can you do a platonic yandere teacher? like maybe the teacher kidnaps the darling (his fav student) because he has always wanted a child and you just seem like the perfect child to have! and he kinda gets pissed off if you mention your old family. Reader can be High school or Middle school age i don’t care which.

teehee, i hope you don't mind but i combined it with another another ask which was similar, i went to keep both aspects of the ask so there'll be two yandere characters, they can be a couple or just two people who live together, whatever you want. once again, no names :P

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Yandere Teacher and Yandere headmaster who used to argue all the time despite the fact that they live under one roof. Yandere teacher hates what the headmaster deems as necessary for the students and teachers while the headmaster hates how the teacher never listens to anything he says.

All the staff hate whenever a meeting is called, not because their day was disrupted, no, but because they have to sit and listen to these two arguing over the most stupid things.

They couldn't seem to agree on anything until they met you. Yandere teacher had always kept an eye on you, the one student in his class who used to submit everything on time, complete every assignment to perfection nd rather well behaved.

He usually hates having to explain himself over and over again but if you ask him to repeat something, he will, even if he has already gone though the topic like 100 times.

If by chance you don't do well on a test, he'll give you another assignment to make up for it, or be less harsh with his grading on that certain paper.

He'll let you disturb his free time if you have any doubts or topic you don't understand.

You've always been his favorite student, so well behaved, never causing a scene in class and doing everything he assigned you to the best of your abilities.

With all this in mind, there was no surprise when you decided to run for the President of the student council, with your track record, you were bound to be selected by the teachers*.

That was until he found out one student from a more well off family was planning to run as your rival and for once he went to the headmaster to ask for help.

The headmaster has always kept an eye on you, someone who managed to impress the Teacher who was known for being nitpicky with everything his students did. Of course, that wasn't the only reason, always participating in events, getting awards, representing the school in inter school events, all made him quite interested in what you could achieve within your school years.

Naturally the moment the Teacher came in, asking for you to be selected as the next president he agreed without hesitation,bringing down the reputation of a spoiled child in the eyes of the teachers was no problem for him.

It didn't take long for both of them to agree it would be better if you were staying with them, after all, being the child of the headmaster of one of the most prominent schools was nothing to scoff, that too along with a teacher who had years of experience and a well known reputation in the eyes of various boards.

Of course, being the student council president meant that you had lots of duties to attend to, ones which included you staying late in the school while most of the staff and teachers left, as such, it was quite easy for them to bring you the unfortunate news that your family perished in an accident, when in reality, they made sure to use their influence to make sure they'd never be found.

Under the disguise of being concerned for you, they'd offer to let you stay in their houses. They'd use the first week to make you forget your old family under the guise of giving yourself closure and giving you time to yourself.

They wouldn't rush anything, in time they'd start acting as if you had no other family except them, both of them would step in the role of your parents.

They'd do anything to keep you happy, learning all your likes/ dislikes, cooking whatever dish you wanted, helping you with whatever and buying you everything you ask for.

The headmaster is not someone who cares if you mention your old family, they don't matter because they're gone and as long as he has you with him, he doesn't care while the Teacher on the other hand, tends to get irritated if you mention your old family, he'll bear it to a point before he snaps and goes on a long lecture of all he's doing for you and how clinging onto the past is not good for you.

At that point the headmaster steps in and drags him aside to have a few words with him and he'll come back and apologise to you over his behaviour. The next time he goes on such a rant, one look from the headmaster and He'll stop talking.

Being the headmaster's child comes with a lot of perks, teachers giving you much more respect, students also making sure they don't upset you. If even after all that a teacher or student manages to do something that makes you upset, the headmaster deals with them personally.

*In schools over here, the student council is always decided by the teachers after a few rounds of interviews and 'tests'

[cameronspecial]

I’m just restarting my Tennis routine again, so maybe you could make like a fluff about Rafe with Tennis player!reader on how he loves her in her short cute tennis fits and everything. just a cute sweet something😆! thank you

Good Luck Charm

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Masterlist

The warming weather in the OBX only means one thing for Y/N and Rafe loves what it brings for him. Not only does it mean she comes to the country club with him more, the purple pleated tennis skirt she wears to play drives him crazy. He loves tennis season and he wouldn’t change a thing about it. Before dating her, he never used the club's tennis court. Now, every time he goes to the club with her, they play at least a round on the green rectangles. 

 “Rafey, are we almost done?” she whines from the cart. He takes note of where the ball lands and turns to her with a smile, “Almost, Baby. I just have three more holes. Think you can handle that?” A small pout falls on her face and her fingers play with the hem of her skirt. She rubs the fabric against each other. “I guess, but it’s getting a little late and if we get lunch before hitting the court, it might be a little hot once we get on the court. I have to practice my backhand.” He can see the worry in her eyes. He knows she doesn’t love playing later in the afternoon because there are a lot of people on the court and the heat causes her to get a little cranky. She grins as he makes his way over to her. His lips meet hers and he sets his club back into the bag. “Okay, then we can head to lunch now. It’s all good, Baby. I’m going to go get the ball and we’ll go.” She jumps with a small clap, causing her tits to bounce. His eyes follow its movements. “Thank you so much. I love you,” she thanks. 

———

After lunch, Rafe runs to the car to grab their rackets. The soles of her white Addidas that Rafe bought her slap against the green pavement as she runs over to him. She jumps into his arms with her arms wrapping around his neck. He picks her up by her waist for a second and puts her back down. Once he sets her down, he taps her bum to get her moving toward her side of the court, loving that her short skirt means the tips of his fingers can touch the skin of her bottom. He flicks his chin in her direction, “You start. And if you win, I may have a little something for you.” Her eyes sparkle at the teasing of a surprise and she eagerly nods. She bounces the ball against the floor, throwing it up in the air once her mind is in the right mind frame. Her racket makes contact with the ball and sends it across to him. The game has begun. 

———

With the ball hitting just outside of the line, a point is awarded to Y/N and she wins the game. “Yaayy!” she screams, jumping up and down with the racket in her hand. She runs over to Rafe and throws herself into his arms. “Congrats, Baby! You always do,” he felicitates. He peppers kisses all over her face and she giggles. She rests one hand on his shoulder and holds the palm up of her other one, “You owe me a gift, Rafey! You promised.” He chuckles, setting her down on the ground. He fishes into his pocket and pulls something out. “Close your eyes, Baby,” he orders. Her eyes flutter short and she feels him lift her hand into his. A weight falls on her wrist. Excitement fills her as she has an inkling of what it is. She has been hitting at it all year. His lips touch the shell of her ear, “You can open them.” Her eyelids pull apart and the Tiffany Victoria Line Bracelet gleams back at her. “Awww! Thank you, Rafey.” She smears his face with kisses, leaving her lip print all over his face. “What is it for?” His head tilts to the side, “I don’t need an occasion to spoil my girl, but if you really want one, then think of it as a good luck charm. I may not be able to be physically there for all your games, so this can be a reminder of how much I love you and am rooting for you.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[starlostseungmin]

husband!changbin

✰ notes: finally a changbin fic after 2 years omg and i apologize for posting this late as i was busy studying !! special mention to @l3visbby for giving me ideas <33 not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

chan | lee know（ changbin ）hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

ꔛ

Husband Changbin who proposed on a random Thursday evening when you were on a car ride home. He suddenly parked the car by the sidewalk and asked the million-dollar question that would determine your relationship in the future. 

Husband Changbin who would always ask you to hold his hand while driving. 

Husband Changbin who is tough on the outside but sweet and soft inside. He’s the cutest human being in your life. 

Husband Changbin who would send pictures of him while he’s at the gym making you giggle and blush every time. Sometimes he would ask you to work out with him as a form of bond, “You need to exercise to be healthy!”

Husband Changbin whose muscles you want to bite (he would say yes) that you would often ask him to headlock you but he’d refuse because he might choke you later. 

Husband Changbin who loves taking an interest in your hobbies and asks you to teach him. (e.g. if you happened to like crocheting then he would gladly pick up his favorite colors of yarn and crochet Dwaekki). At first, he would mess it up and complain playfully but he gets it later on. 

Husband Changbin who spoils you A LOT and lets you use his card. 

Husband Changbin who’s loud and gets even louder when he’s with his friends. 

Husband Changbin who has the most precious and contagious laugh. 

Husband Changbin notices everything subtly and gives you the things you want without you asking for it. 

Husband Changbin who loves showing you off, enjoys writing songs about you, and telling everyone how great you are, how much he loves you, and how he is so proud of having you in his life.

Husband Changbin whose love languages are words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, and gift-giving. 

Husband Changbin who loves taking photos of you. He would often ask you to pose on a pretty scenery/background so he could choose something to be his home screen later on. 

Husband Changbin who takes you on a trip once a month and goes to your favorite places when you need to get off from work. 

Husband Changbin who is protective and makes sure you don’t get hurt. He takes care of you diligently, tells you to eat on time, and nags you (lovingly yet strictly) like a mother when something he doesn’t like happens.  

Husband Changbin who would put you first before everything and let the world burn just to save you. 

Husband Changbin who panics when he sees you crying and sad. He would automatically capture you in his arms as he whispers how much he loves you and that he’s always there when you need him. 

Husband Changbin who’s calm when you’re having an argument and tries his best to make up with you. He’s the type to never let anyone sleep in this household unless everything is fine. He may lose his temper sometimes but apologizes a few minutes later. 

Husband Changbin who refuses to leave your shared apartment without you giving him a sweet kiss and showers you with kisses when he gets home. 

Husband Changbin who loves cuddles on random nights after having a very long day until you two fall asleep on the couch or your shared bed. 

Husband Changbin who loves to joke around but when he noticed that you weren’t laughing he’d turn away out of embarrassment and sulk at the corner making you baby him. 

Husband Changbin who acts cute and makes questionable noises to get what he wants which you would immediately give in to. 

Husband Changbin who would bring up the topic of having kids in the most subtle way but just like the other members, he doesn’t pressure you and lets you decide whenever you’re ready to have one or two with him. 

Husband Changbin who never misses a call or text from you and updates you a lot whenever he can despite his busy schedule. 

Husband Changbin whom you promised to love to the moon and back no matter what challenges come in your way. You never said your vows for nothing and will love him to eternity. 

Husband Changbin who loves you more than anyone and promised to stay with you until death do you part. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[miley1442111]

admitting- b.floyd

----------------------

----------------------

a/n: i got this idea from the comments of my last post with ranch! bob floyd so thank you to @nerdgirljen for planting this idea in my head!

summary: how bob finally gets what he wants

pairing: ranch! bob floyd x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, breeding kink, slight praise and degradation kink, unprotected piv, talk of cum (i think that's it?)

----------------------

He’d had the dream again. He was a dad. You two had a baby girl and boy, twins. He was playing with them out in the field and you were by the picnic blanket, pregnant in one of your gorgeous sundresses. 

Fuck he wanted it so bad. 

He got out of your shared bed and walked downstairs, grabbing himself a cold cup of water. He chugged it down as his mind raced, thinking about your kids, how beautiful you’d look pregnant, how much he wanted to get you pregnant and-

Oh. Bob was hard. 

This had been an increasingly common issue in recent months, essentially since you two moved onto the ranch and got engaged. You both had chosen that you’d wait until after the wedding to start trying, since you wanted to have the wedding, a nice honeymoon, and a few months alone as newlyweds without kids or pregnancy to spoil your fun. 

If Bob had it his way? You’d already be pregnant. Since moving to Texas and with the summer was fast-approaching, you usually opt for sundresses, long skirts and breezy tops, or shorts with one of his light hoodies. Some days, you'd forego clothes all together and just walk around in a swimsuit or just your bra and panties.

It was driving him mad. Everyday, you looked so fucking good he could barely keep it in his pants. You two fucked like rabbits, in the morning, in the afternoon, and at night. But every time you did, the dreaded question of ‘do you have a condom?’ would dampen his fantasy. He didn’t mind, trust me, it’s just he knew how good you’d look with his kid inside of you, his marks on your neck, and his ring on your finger. 

“Are you thinking about it again?” you asked sleepily, leaning against him.

Bob’s face turned pink. He’d been caught, but how did you know? “Well baby… yeah.”

“I’m so excited,” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “It’s going to be amazing.”

Bob turned around from his position of leaning on the counter. His arms wrapped around you with his hands smoothing up your back and his lips finding yours in a sweet kiss. “Yeah, I can’t wait to be parents.”

Your head snapped up and looked at him quizzically. “What?”

Of course that wasn’t what you meant. He doesn’t exactly bring up his sexual fantasies that often, and when he does it’s usually just to do it raw, or from the back. He’s a pretty vanilla guy, but don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing. 

He stuttered his way through half a sentence before you cut him off. “I want to be a mom too.” 

He smiled at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your wedding was 4 weeks away, what’s the worst that could happen?

“And I want you to fuck a baby into me,” you whispered seductively and Bob’s brain short circuited. 

“Really?” he asked as you pulled his top up and over his head, kissing his neck. 

“Please Bob,” you begged and he knew he couldn’t say no. 

He grabbed your waist and turned the position around, now your back was against the counter and he was pulling off your clothes, leaving you bare in front of him. “Walkin’ around everyday in those damn sundresses, just waitin’ for me to fuck a baby into you, weren’t you?” he kissed up and down your neck as he groped you all over. 

You moaned at his words alone. When you two had sex, his accent came out a lot more, which was a definite turn-on for you. 

“I asked a question honey,” he stopped his kisses and delivered a soft smack to your ass. 

“Yes! Yes! Always for you! All for you!” you whined and he smirked. One thing no one would even truly understand was that, while he was the perfect gentleman outside of your bedroom (or kitchen counter, or bathtub, or couch, or stables, or car, or plane- yes it happened, but only once) he was down-right depraved in bed. His hands grabbed anywhere, his lips were all over your skin, and his dick? He was huge. 

“Good girl,” he cooed and you could feel yourself getting wetter. “My good girl, right?” You moaned out an incoherent agreement and his finger ran through your folds. “So wet for me, yeah?”

“All for you,” you whined. “Please I-I want it-” Your begging was lost in your throat as you felt his dick pushing in. The entire length of it was shocking, and the girth was something you’d never get used to. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You’re such a good girl, letting me take you like this, on the kitchen counter,” he cooed as he started to slowly move, wrapping his hand over your chin to turn you so he could watch you. His other hand landed on your hip, kneading the skin there. “You gonna’ let me fuck a baby into you?”

You nodded furiously as you moaned into his hand. “Please, I want it-”

“Be patient honey, you’ll get what you want,” he smirked. 

He picked up the pace as you screamed and moaned his name, something he’d never get enough of. Your voice as you screamed out in pleasure, as he was giving you that pleasure, he’d never stop loving it. 

“Bob! Bob, I-I’m close!” you whined. “Please don’t stop-”

“I’m not stoppin’ ‘till I put a baby in you,” he groaned and he felt your walls clamp down on him as you came, squirting all over his cock. He came with you. But he pushed himself and you through overstimulation and continued fucking you. His finger circled your over-sensitive clit, his cock was snapping in and out of you at a godly pace, and his cum shooting into you again, triggered another orgasm. 

He pulled out and plugged it with his finger, kissing you sweetly. “I don’t want you to waste any of it, yeah?”

You just nodded your head, to fucked out to even respond. 

“Good girl,” he smiled. “You’re going to be such a pretty momma,” he smirked as he slowly pumped his fingers into you, fucking his cum deeper into you. You leaned against the counter as he fingered you to another orgasm, spewing lines like “my perfect girl, ye’ gonna give me a baby?” and “Gonna look so beautiful pregnant with my kids,” and your personal favourite; “God you’re my whore, lettin’ me come inside like that.”

You came a lot that night. 

----------------------

He carried you back up to bed, dressed, and cleaned you up, then planted a soft kiss on your forehead as you fell asleep on his chest. 

Maybe he should admit his sexual fantasies more often. 

And maybe he should start painting the nursery.

----------------------

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

topgun masterlist :) (requests open!)

[604to647]

Marine Attraction

4.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: When a stakeout at the aquarium does not go as planned, Detective Tim Rockford must interview all the aquarium visitors, including you.

Warnings: Fluff! Meet cute! Maybe a dirty thought or two that reader really should not be having about a (hot) man just trying to do his job 🤭 Made up Merge Mansion lore. One cute nickname because it’s me (won’t spoil).

A/N: This was written for @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge – thank you for hosting a lovely event.  Please see #Jamie’s Ocean Challenge for all the wonderful works! I’ve noticed that as of late, some of the authors that I look up to and consider mainstays in this community since I started lurking 2+ years ago have wanted to leave, needed to take breaks from the fandom or felt disconnected from the community.  This story is for you, about stepping away when you need to and maybe rediscovering how something old can still bring you joy. Xoxo, love you all.

Fishy dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

You’re not really sure how this happened.

You’ve been feeling a bit off, as of late.  Nothing was wrong, per say - your job is fine, your friends are dear, your life leaves you grateful.  It’s just that you feel… untethered.  Like you should be doing something more?  Work is fulfilling enough – you achieve and excel.  Friends and family make for wonderful company, but your social battery isn’t infinite and as much as enjoy your get-togethers, they can leave you drained.  Even some of your solitary pursuits, cooking, watching tv, scrolling through social media don’t seem to be as satisfying as they used to be – you consume, but you don’t create.

On a whim, you decide to take the day off work (the first in who knows how long?) and go somewhere you’ve always loved: the aquarium.  You’ve been visiting this aquarium since you were a child – something about the gentle hum of the tanks and the darkness that’s illuminated only by the glow of the exhibits has always relaxed you.  You’re going to go specifically to take photos.  Photography used to be a casual hobby of yours; you were even featured on local news blogs and had your photos chosen for a gallery showing once – but as life got busier and your other endeavours required more of your time and energy, it had fallen by the wayside.   It’s been forever since you took a photo walk or even a picture that wasn’t for capturing a moment rather than a snapshot.  You’re actually getting excited about shooting photos again.

It had been a serene couple of hours spent watching your unhurried fish friends and the silent watery dances of the marine plants that shared their abodes.  The aquarium is playing host to a few young families and two eager fieldtrips, but otherwise, you’ve had the place nearly to yourself.  Able to loiter so you can try different lenses and play with the lighting of your shots, or wait as long as you want in order for a mixed rainbow hue of fish to swim into frame, the morning had passed quietly and contently.

But now you sit in the children’s play area, the last of today’s aquarium visitors, waiting for your turn to be questioned by the police. 

---

Detective Tim Rockford is not really sure how this happened.

It had been a simple enough stakeout operation.  He and his team had received a tip a few days ago that there would be a handoff taking place at the aquarium today: an exchange of money between one of Grandma Ursula’s henchmen and a mystery player whose identity has eluded Tim for the entirety of this case thus far.  Perhaps it was unreasonable to expect Mr. Pie (so nicknamed by the squad for the Bolton Berry pies he consumed) to show up himself, but Tim held out hope that whomever they nabbed today would provide the break in the case that he so desperately needs.

Only, Grandma’s man had come and gone and none of the six men, Tim included, posted at the various vantage points and exits had seen a damn thing.  At some point between spotting their target enter the aquarium with a briefcase in hand, they had lost track of him and picked up his movements again only when he was already leaving the gift shop, empty handed.  How was it possible they couldn’t account for what happened in the aquarium?  Did the meeting with Mr. Pie occur?  Or was the briefcase stashed somewhere?  Tim presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and grimaces – the operation had been an utter failure. 

Not only did they not get what they came for, but now the remainder of the day was completely shot.  What had followed once the police realized just how out of depth they were, was a complete shut down of the aquarium with all visitors locked in and needing to be interviewed before they could leave.  Even the elementary school trips of thirty children.  Each.  After giving instruction to the additional LAPD support he called in to search the aquarium top to bottom for the missing case, Tim had settled in for a long afternoon of what he expected to be fruitless Q&As.

As he wearily enters the kids play area once again (an officer more considerate than he had suggested that given the number of children being held, it might be the best place to have everyone wait), Tim sees only one witness left to interview: you.  He had noticed you earlier, each time he came in to select another interviewee, in fact – if your pretty features and sweet smile hadn’t caught his attention first, your everlasting patience and kindness would have.  Several times, he spotted you playing patiently with the children – the sound of your melodic voice and gentle laughter floating above the grumblings of the other adults who had also had their days ruined. The sound eased the tense spot in his shoulders where his holster straps had started digging in a little bit.  At first, Tim thought you might be one of the teachers or a field trip chaperone, but then he noticed that you let all the school trips and families with children go ahead of you, and he overheard you tell his fellow officer that you didn’t mind waiting, that it must be much harder for the children.  He was grateful for you and he didn’t even know you.

As Tim approaches, you look up from your phone and shoot him the soft smile that’s been his one bright spot in this disaster of a day, though he thinks it seems a bit more tired than when he first had the pleasure of seeing it earlier this afternoon.

“Is it my turn?” you ask him, still in good spirits despite the circumstances.

“Sorry for the wait, miss.”

“No need to be sorry… Detective?”

“Detective Rockford.  Tim Rockford.  I appreciate that, it’s been… a day.”

You hold out your hand to shake his before repeating his name, then giving him your own.  Tim can’t decide if he likes the way his name rolls off your tongue, or the way your own name floats above the cheer of your voice more. 

“Well, hopefully I can help with… whatever has made it such a day,” you give him a sympathetic smile.

The kind of smile you might offer to him when he comes home after a long hard day.  Damn. He’s in trouble.  Focus, Rockford.

Since you’re his last witness of the day, he offers to conduct the interview right here instead of the stuffy office that the aquarium staff had lent him.  As you acquiesce to his suggestion, you stretch out your arms and legs, arching your back to work out a bit of stiffness from having sat for so long and Tim finds himself admiring your figure in a way that is decidedly not going to help him solve this case.  He tries to cover up his less than professional gaze by stretching himself – it feels good.

After collecting your information and starting with his routine questions, Tim realizes he’s pinning his hopes on you having seen or noticed something today – not only because no one else has, but so he can keep speaking with you.

When it becomes evident that you didn’t, he sighs a heavy sigh of disappointment. 

He hadn’t realized that he’s done so until hears you apologize; quick to reassure you that that you don’t have anything to apologize for, Tim places his large warm hand over yours before he can stop himself.  You gasp softly, you think only to yourself, but Tim hears the sweet noise and smirks a little – it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who’s been affected.  When he notices that you don’t move your hand away,  he lets himself revel in the feel of your soft, small hand under his for a beat longer before he removes it and somewhat begrudgingly starts to wrap up the interview.

---

Fuck. This fucking detective.  Rockford.  Tim Rockford.

Even his name is hot. 

You had noticed him earlier, of course – how could you not?  He was a hulking presence, impossibly broad and tall, and he carried himself with the authority and gravitas of a man in charge.  During the earlier hours of your wait, you had been preoccupied with helping entertain some of the young children in the waiting area who were restless with boredom, not sure why their promised day of aquarium fun had to be ruined by something as trivial as a police matter.

But once you caught sight of Detective Rockford’s handsome profile, it became impossible to not be captivated by the deep richness of his brown eyes or that strong nose that centered his face perfectly.  His grave countenance conveyed the seriousness with which he took his work (that facial scruff screamed he worked too much), but he was quietly calm and his tone gentle with all the witnesses, especially the children.  You couldn’t help but hope it was him every time an officer entered the waiting area. 

Some time between now and the last two times he had come in to call forth witnesses, the detective had lost his suit jacket, strolling in wearing only a gun holster and a white dress shirt that stretched taut over his firm chest and bulging arm muscles; you thought you were going to have to dunk yourself into one of the aquarium tanks to cool off just from the sight of him.

Your heart picks up a little when it’s him who appears when you’re the last one left to be interviewed; silently, you pray to Beyoncé to give you the strength needed to coherently answer the detective’s questions when he asks them in that honey laced baritone of his.

When Tim mirrors your big stretch, you hope you’re discrete enough that he doesn’t catch you staring: his limbs extend fantastically long, arm span wide enough to cast a shadow that reaches across the floor in front of you - he's huge.  After hearing the detective inhale a deep breath, it feels to you as if all of the air has been sucked from the room, leaving you dizzy as you gawk at his hard chest, expanding and pushing up against his crisp dress shirt, held closed only by the strained efforts of a few valiant buttons.

You feel bad that you have to answer in the negative to Detective Rockford’s questions.  Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary during your visit, too engrossed in your own photo taking, and you don’t remember seeing the man in the picture that he shows you.  You can tell that Tim tries hard not to show his disappointment and wish very much that you could please him, be the one to wipe the weary look off his face and the release the tension from his hunched-up shoulders.  Maybe please him in other ways, as well.  You have a feeling that praise from one Detective Tim Rockford would have you dripping wet and clenching around nothing embarrassingly quick. 

GIRL. GET IT TOGETHER.  For all you know, a serious crime took place here today!

You apologize.  Outwardly, for your inability to help him with his case, and inwardly, for the dirty thoughts that are wholly inappropriate to have about a complete stranger who is just, very competently, doing his job.

To try and put you at ease, Tim relaxes his handsome face and hopes to reassure you when he gently pats your hand; instead, a jolt of electricity shoots through you and you warm all over from his touch.  Maybe it’s your imagination but Detective Rockford seemingly lets his bear paw of hand linger over yours for a bit longer than he needs to, and you think you spy his plush lips curve up slightly at the corners when you gasp.  You might just melt off this bench right now.

“Oh, one last thing, did you take any pictures at the aquarium today?”

You nod, but are suddenly shy as you anticipate the Detective’s next question.  Tim nods at you matter of fact, “Good.  Could you please show me?  I just need to look through them quickly to see if there’s anything in the background that might be useful.”

He holds his hand out, not really expecting any resistance - you’ve been nothing but perfectly cooperative so far.  But when his hand remains empty, he looks over to find you adorably chewing your bottom lip while gripping your phone tightly with both hands, making no motion to hand it over.  For one ridiculous moment he panics, Are you Mr. Pie?!  He shakes his head slightly to rid himself of that ludicrous thought, and waits patiently for you to tell him what you’re remunerating on.

“It’s just that there are a lot of pictures..,” you start, “… and a lot of them are kind of duplicates…”

You know you’re being deliberately vague – sighing in resignation, you decide it’s best to just rip the band aid off.  Unlocking your phone, you go to your camera roll and filter to today’s library before handing over your phone without meeting the detective’s gaze.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim scroll slowly through hundreds of photos of the aquarium’s exhibits; you attempt to avoid meeting his eye by focusing on how your phone looks inexplicably small in his big, rough hand.

“That’s… a lot,” Tim finally says when he reaches the bottom of the roll.

When you look up, you expect to see maybe a cringed look or even a mocking expression on the detective’s handsome face, but instead you find the massive man looking at you with a gentle curiosity, maybe even holding himself a little smaller in an attempt to not intimidate you.  It doesn’t seem to matter that you don’t really know him, you suddenly feel comfortable enough to tell Detective Tim Rockford this very personal thing about yourself – he might look like he's perfectly cast as the 'bad cop' in interrogations, but you have a feeling he’s got just as good of a track record playing 'good cop'.

“An old hobby of mine was… I guess they call it iPhoneography? Using apps to mimic traditional camera captures?  I used to love it, actually.  Selecting the different lenses and choosing different exposures, then seeing how the images would developed – of course, with the phone, you wouldn’t have to take it in and wait for a week or anything, it would be processed digitally in a matter of seconds.  But… editing apps are so common place nowadays, and most social media platforms have built in filters and effects - iPhoneography has sort of fallen out of favour,” you explain.  Tim is nodding along - he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about, he has three apps on his phone that he uses regularly (Weather, Candy Crush, and the app from the City that reminds him when to put out his garbage bins); the rest of the apps on his phone were preinstalled and he can’t figure out how to delete them.  But he encourages you to go on.

“In fact, I haven’t really gone out to shoot in years.  But lately… I’ve sort of wanted to get back into it?  I came to the aquarium today to fire up the old camera, so to speak.  That’s why there’s so many – a lot of the pictures are just of the same frame but where I was trying out different lenses or exposure options.  I’m not, like, super obsessed with fish or anything,” you finish up quickly, hoping you haven’t made a complete fool of yourself.

Tim hands you back your phone, still open to today’s photos, and smiles, “Why don’t you tell me about what you shot today?”

“Really?” you look up, surprised.

“Really,” Tim tries to convey his genuine interest via his eyes, and is instantly rewarded by a smile on your face that could light up the room.  It’s certainly lighting him up.

And so, you tell Detective Tim Rockford all about the photos you took today.  You swipe through your pictures and show him how the different lenses affect the lighting, exposure, saturation and even colour tinting of the resulting photo.  You proudly tell him about how you had to switch up your technique and settings when shooting the tanks where the marine animals or plants thrived primarily in the dark or relied on bioluminescent light.  You laugh, mainly at yourself, when you tell him about how long you stayed at certain attractions, waiting for a particular school of fish to swim perfectly into frame.

Tim thinks your laughter is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard.

You tell him your favourite sea creatures to photograph are the jelly fish because they’re so weird and they move with such alien grace, unpredictable yet seemingly purposeful, and that’s why there are more pictures of them than any other animal in your camera roll.

Tim finds himself enchanted watching you get more and more animated and excited as you go through the pictures you took today; while your eyes are peeled to your screen, he admires how they twinkle and the way your mouth slopes upwards, grinning wide even as you talk non-stop about your long-forgotten hobby.  Your pretty face is aglow.  He thinks he could listen to you talk about the things that bring you joy forever.

He lets you talk for an hour.  You don’t even realize until you get to the last photo (a school of clown fish weaving between the tentacles of their anemone home) and glance up at the time at the top of the screen, “…oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry!! I’ve prattled on for so long, I’m sure none of this was helpful at all!”

Tim won’t have any of that, “Don’t be sorry.  You had fun.  I’m glad you had some fun today… before I ruined it by sequestering you here in this waiting area for the entire afternoon.”

You shyly look at his apologetic face, “I’m having fun now.”

Tim can feel his ears warm and is sure they’re pink at the tips.  Darn, you’re sweet.  He distracts himself by flipping to a brand-new page in his notebook, “Me too.”  You feel your heart expand at his soft confession.

“Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”

You look at him expectantly with an innocent, doe-eyed expression that Tim thinks might be one of the most dangerous things he’s ever encountered in all his years on the force, “The good news is that I think you’re a very, very good photographer.  It’s clear you enjoy it and there isn’t a single photo you showed me today that isn’t obviously a labour of love.  I think you should get back into it if you can.  The way you were talking about your photos today, I don’t think I’ve seen that much joy on someone’s face in… I don’t know how long.  I’m grateful you shared that with me.”

You’re speechless.  His words are so, so kind… and exactly what you needed to hear today.  You’re filled with tremendous gratitude and fondness for Detective Tim Rockford.

“… the bad news is, I spotted the reflection of our man in the shadows on the glass in some of your photos, and I’m so very sorry but I’m going to have to confiscate your phone,” Tim could not be more truly sorry.

After the initial shock of being told you’re losing your phone for a few days, you quickly recover and tell Tim that you’re genuinely glad you could help.  You give him your email and use your phone to send off a message to a few of your group chats regarding how you can be reached for the next few days before dropping your phone into the evidence bag Tim produces.  Under different circumstances, you might be upset at this turn of events, but the expression on Detective Tim Rockford's face is more than enough to make the minor inconvenience worth it – he looks invigorated, energized.  Clearly, this is what he loves doing.

Walking you to the aquarium exit, Tim apologizes and thanks you again before seeing you out.  Right before the door closes behind you, you turn and see him already rushing off to brief his team, your plastic covered phone clutched in his hand and an excited grin on his face.  After the kindness and patience the detective has shown you today, you’re glad to have played a small role in putting that smile on his face.

True to his word, you receive an email from Timothy.Rockford@lapd.online.org just a few days later, letting you know your phone is ready for pick-up.  When Detective Rockford meets you in the precinct lobby, you have to suck in your breath – he’s even more handsome than you remember, and you’ve been spending nearly every waking minute over the past few days picturing his strong jawline, soulful eyes, and that charming facial scruff you’d give anything to run your fingers through.  He’s jacketless again, just another pressed white dress shirt that his broad frame threatens to rip through, bordered by those leather holsters that make you want to swallow your tongue.

As Tim takes you to Evidence so you can sign out your phone, he tries to chat amiably and not cast too many obvious and admiring glances your way; you’re all warmth and serenity in this place that he only ever associates with being loud, bustling and cold.  He simultaneously never wants you to leave and wishes to sweep you far away and keep you only for himself, distanced safely from this place where his every day is synonymous with darkness and mystery.

When you’re once again outside, Tim leans against the frame of the precinct’s front doors and you look up at him from one step down, hopeful, “Did I help?”

Yes.  You help more than you know, Tim thinks, having been unable to get your incandescent smile out of his mind since he last parted from you; finding that it’s become the image that grounds him during his long grueling hours.  Instead, he says, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Oh no – not this again,” you grin.

Tim smiles back, emboldened by your cheery demeanor, “The good news is that a lot of your photos and what the tech guys called… um.. meta data?  A lot of it helped generate some good leads that we’re now following.”

“Oh!  That’s wonderful!  I’m so glad, Detective Rockford!”

“Tim.  Please call me, Tim.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like calling you Detective,” you tease, good naturedly.

Tim should not feel his pants tighten at this, “The bad news is, because your photos had so much useful information, there is a very good chance they will be used as evidence if this case ever goes to trial.  I don’t think you will need to testify, as you yourself didn’t see anything, and that meta data gives us the info on when and where the photos were taken.  But even so… it means I can’t ask you out until the case is over.”

“Oh no,” you’re disappointed, but somewhat mollified that Tim has just basically asked you out without asking you out.  “That is bad news indeed.”

Tim looks around to make sure no one is looking before he reaches out with his hand and gently strokes your cheek with the back of two of his thick fingers just once, whispering, “I’ve never wanted to put a case to bed more.”

You can’t let the joke pass you by, “The case?  The case is what you want to put to bed?”

The booming laugh that shakes Detective Tim Rockford’s entire torso reaches all the way to his eyes, crinkling them in the most adorable way.  It’s staggering the difference it makes – he looks 10 years younger, you think. 

He’s needed this.  A really good laugh.  He’s needed it more than he realized.  He’s needed you.  He looks at your impish grin, so proud of yourself for pulling this sound from him, a sound so rare that it’s become almost foreign to his own ears; Tim hopes he’s able to convey his gratitude for you with the way his eyes have brightened, flecked with gold and mirth. 

He thinks you just might understand him perfectly. 

When you lift up on your toes to brush your lips softly against his scruffy cheek for a goodbye kiss, he whispers low in your ear, “I’ll call you, Shutterbug.” 

A promise.

7 months later

The Grandma Ursula case has taken the nation by storm.  The TV in your workplace breakroom is permanently dialed to the court case broadcast so no one misses a minute of the scandalous proceedings, a single interview with those involved in the case, or any legal and criminal analysts’ commentary.  For someone who is billed as the Lead Investigator, Tim makes shockingly few appearances onscreen, but you feel a little thrill go through you whenever you catch a glimpse of his striking figure in the background of a news broadcast about the case, or when you see him standing stoically behind the head prosecutor while the latter debriefs the press from the steps of the court house.

You gaze dreamily at his face while the press shouts out what everyone (your friends, colleagues, the public) all want to know:

How many aliases does Grandma Ursula really have?

Can we even call it the Bolton Mansion anymore?

Why that particular number of pies?

You’ll be honest, you’re just as interested in the case as everyone else, but you have one pressing question that you know no one else is asking: Will he call when it’s over?

You’re in a departmental meeting when the verdict is read.  It takes you forever to get back to your desk, caught up in everyone’s excited chatter about the ruling, but when you finally sit down and pull out your phone from your drawer, it’s to the best outcome you could have hoped for from the Grandma Ursula case.  Positively beaming, you reread the text message sent from an unknown number only two minutes after the verdict was announced: Hey Shutterbug, take any good photos lately?

End note: The iPhoneography aspect of this fic is a bit self indulgent; some might know that this Tumblr used to be a photo blog before it became my writing blog. Just like reader, it's something I used to enjoy a lot but I haven't opened those camera apps in years - maybe I'll get back into it one day! In the meantime, yes - the aquarium photos in the moodboard are by yours truly 🤭

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Do you think Buddie would have another kid after getting together? What are your headcanons for that?

Personally, I say yes and see them worrying that Chris would feel some type of way about it and then approaching the conversation very carefully and then Chris is just like “so I get a sibling FINALLY? Awesome”

Oh bestie i absolutely think they would… especially with how much buck wants a kid and how eddie would love the chance to be there for the important things he missed with chris.

(i actually have an ongoing fic series called “Never Grow Up” centered around buddie being baby-girl dads; i will link it below if you want to check it out ☺️☺️)

but one of my headcanons is that they would name their baby girl after maddie- i don’t think she would be maddie diaz, i think they would make her full name Madeline (or any similar spelling) followed by her middle name being Isabel after abuela.

if they had a baby boy, i could 1000000% see them naming him after bobby in some capacity whether that be his first name or not (i also love the idea of him being called robbie instead of bobby so that it’s like the same but different)

i think buck would immediately become the helicopter parent for whatever extracurricular activity they join (im talking coaching the kindergarten soccer team, sewing dance costumes for dance competitions, volunteering as a kid wrangler for school plays, etc.)

i think eddie would sing old lullabies to their children as he rocks them to sleep at night, buck would tell him he has a beautiful voice (he would), and eddie would shake his head and say he doesn’t think so

buck and eddie would both find moments during the day when chris would sneak into the nursery and be telling the baby a story about their family, or saying sweet things like “im slways gonna protect you” or “i will never let anyone hurt you” “if anyone gives you a problem you come to me”

buck would go all out for their birthdays, often bringing out clipboard buck to make sure everything goes exactly the way he planned

their kids would call all of the 118 uncle/aunt/auntie

i think buck would be the one who everyone thinks spoils the kid, but in reality eddie is much worse about it than buck is (although they are both bad about it)

i think they would have at least one baby via surrogate, so that buck would have the chance to he a biological father, but any more, they would look into adoption, getting help from henren through the process

i think they would raise the kids to be bilingual (buck would come home raving about research he did on how beneficial it would be to raise them in a bilingual household, and eddie couldn’t say no to buck)

eddie would get really insecure over messing up again (bonus points if he panics about not knowing how to raise a little girl) while buck reminds him that he is an amazing father and he will be just as amazing with their kids

I am so sorry this took me like over a week to post, anon… I started a draft of these and then life kinda blew up and i only just thought about it… i guess better late than never, right?

If you are interested in reading my baby-girl-dad!buddie fics, i am going to link the series below (there are currently only two one-shots, but i am sure there will be more to come!)

Thank you for the ask, anon! and again, i am so sorry it took me so long to get to it! 😭🙏💕

[milliesfishes]

Hi!!! I love ur writing! I was wondering if u could write when for some reason reader and billy break up but maybe its a misunderstanding or he did something but they break up but end up getting back together? No rush!!

you and billy break up (then get back together) fem reader x billy the kid warning: reader has loss of appetite/has a hard time eating for a period of time

Billy knew that it was hard to be with him.

He knew that being the sweetheart of an outlaw had more than its fair share of difficulties. People talked about such a sweet girl being with such a hardened man, and it took a toll on you. You weren't ashamed to be seen with him in public, but he was always keeping an eye out, wary of the judgmental stares and not so subtle whispers.

Because he knew he didn't deserve you. You were such an angel to him, a sweetheart in every sense of the word. So, he doted on you, spoiled you the best he could. With kisses, cuddles, sweet words, little gifts he'd bring you from the places he came and went. Because he loved you, more than anything. And he was overly concerned with what he thought you needed to have.

Which is why he'd come to the conclusion he was at now, standing in front of you in a dimly lit barn, hat literally in hand.

You were crying, your eyes hopeless as you looked up at him. He felt awful seeing you like this, felt awful that he'd made you cry when you hadn't even done anything wrong.

"I’m sorry baby,” he whispered, his expression somber.

“Why?” you asked quietly, tears pouring down your cheeks. “What happened…what did I do-“

“Nothing.” He cut you off, dropping his hat and going to you. His hands came to your cheeks. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. You’re perfect, angel.”

“Then why?” Your words were pathetic in tone, desperate.

He sighed, looking down at you sadly. “I ain’t no good for ya darlin’.”

“I don’t care,” you pleaded, holding his wrists. “I love you. I don’t wanna live without you.”

“Baby…” he tilted his head, eyes somber. “I love ya too. Love ya more than my guns. But I can’t do this to ya…’s hard on ya.”

“No it’s not,” you insisted.

“Ya don’t know what you’re sayin’ darlin’,” he shook his head, the weight of all he’d seen in his voice. “One ‘o these days they’re gonna find me ‘n string me up by the neck from the nearest tree. Your heart’s too pure. Can’t put ya through that.”

“There’s no guarantee of that,” you pleaded, tugging on his shirt. “Billy.”

“Sweetheart…” he shook his head firmly and you could see he wasn’t budging.

And so you dissolved into tears.

“‘M sorry baby…’m so sorry,” he brought you to his chest, pressing your face to his chest. “Baby.”

You shook your head, pulling away from his arms, not wanting him to comfort you, not wanting him to see you like this. “Do-on’t.” Your voice broke in the middle of the word, collapsing in a sob.

Billy looked helpless. “Sweetheart?”

You shook your head, turning your back, folding your arms around yourself and whispering, “Just go.”

He felt a little stab in his chest. Unable to do anything else, he nodded, picking up his hat. Before he shut the door behind him, he said, “I’m sorry. I love you.”

And then he was gone.

You pined for him. The only thing you could think of was Billy. Your mood was noticed by your father, who was confused at it. You were usually so happy and vibrant. He didn’t know you’d been seeing Billy of course, or anything that had transpired between you two.

After about three weeks of this, your father sent you out with a few of your friends. He gave you a little money, telling you to get something nice. You knew he was trying to make you smile, so you did, albeit a little sadly.

Your friends were lively, chattering eagerly as they walked arm in arm with you. They were trying to cheer you up, you knew, but you remained solemn, forcing smiles to make them feel better.

They went inside a shop, and you lingered outside, hoping they wouldn’t notice. Luckily for you, they didn’t, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You leaned against the wall, your head resting against the wood as you looked out at the square. It was bustling as usual, with people coming and going all over the place. You were numb to the energy of it all, a cloudy haze coming over you as you simply watched.

In the three weeks since he'd ended things you hadn't heard a wink from him. You'd avoided town as not to see him, and all but barricaded yourself in your bedroom. You figured the distance would make it easier, but in truth it only made you miss him more.

You didn't sleep. You were hardly eating. It was a miserable existence, missing him.

Looking back at the shop door, you wondered what on earth was taking your friends so long. Or maybe they'd only been in a few minutes. Time was irrelevant to you these days.

"Darlin'?"

Your head turned, and there he was. Tall dark and handsome. Gun at his hip. He looked concerned, but you'd grown so used to that look on people's faces that you hardly batted an eye.

"Billy." You offered him a tired smile.

He looked just short of stunned. You knew you didn't look well, but by the look on his face you would have guessed you were close to death. "Ya doin' okay?"

Shrugging unhelpfully, you said, "Fine."

Billy raised an eyebrow. "Ya look a long way from fine, pretty."

You pursed your lips and shook your head tiredly. "I don't know what you want me to say." Reaching your hand up, your fingers found the end of your hair, pulled into a loose braid. "It's been hard."

"'S been hard f'me too," he said softly, looking as though he wanted to reach for you. "Sweetheart...I'm gonna ask ya 'gain 'n this time you're gonna be straight with me. Are ya doin' okay?"

It was no feat to see that you weren't, but you felt as though he could see the extent of it. He'd always been able to see you so clearly. Billy had only said a few words to you for the first time in weeks, and yet his presence disarmed you. You bit your bottom lip, not wanting to cry in front of him. You'd already done so much crying. So instead of speaking, you simply shook your head.

"Thought so," he said gruffly, moving closer to you. He lifted your chin to look into your eyes, studying your face. "You been eatin' at all honey? Sleepin'?"

Your silence told him everything he needed to know. Instead of waiting for a verbal answer, he nodded and held out his other hand. "C'mon, we're gonna go get ya somethin' to eat."

"No," you shook your head, drawing back from him. "It's okay Billy. I don't..." You didn't want to be a burden. For some reason it embarrassed you, having to be taken care of like a child. Having to be coaxed to eat. It all made you feel unexplainably guilty.

Billy knew his girl, knew you well enough to understand you didn't want to be coddled. At least, not right now. So instead, he kept his hand held out for you. "Why don't we go for a walk, hm? Just you and me."

You hesitated, looking at his hand. It was tempting. You'd missed him so much. On the other hand, he was the one who'd hurt you. Besides, "I can't leave my friends."

"I'll have ya back soon. It'll be alright," he reassured you.

When you looked up at him, his eyes were so earnest, so caring. He nodded, giving you a small smile of encouragement and flexing his hand.

So, you took his hand, and let him guide you. He kissed your fingers, and the two of you walked side by side outside of town. You knew where he was taking you- your special place for when you were feeling overwhelmed or upset. It was the top of a hill, where a tree growing peaches sprouted tall and wide.

Billy sat you down, and set himself beside you, leaning against the trunk. His hand was still holding yours. He looked over at you, just watching you for a moment. Then he ventured to speak. "How've ya been?"

You knew you couldn't lie to him. "It's been really hard," you whispered, looking at the ground.

His brows were knitted, eyes soft as he looked at you like you were disappearing. "You haven't been eatin', have ya?"

Shaking your head, you refused to look at him. Though your appetite had disappeared not of your own volition, you still felt ashamed.

"We gotta get ya somethin'," he squeezed your hand. "Can't have ya wastin' away."

"I can't," you nearly choked out. "I haven't been hungry for so long."

Billy exhaled softly, nodding. Then he looked up at the tree, at the heavy fruit hanging from the branches. "Could ya eat one of these, honey?"

You shrugged hopelessly. He stood up briefly, picking a peach from a low branch. Sitting down beside you, he held it out. "Try it."

The peach was perfect; plump and round and rosy. Any other time it would have tempted you, but you could only stare at it now, willing yourself to want it.

Seeing that you weren't going to just eat it on your own, Billy took a bite himself. "We'll share it. Just try a bite f' me, yeah? It's good."

You looked from him to the peach, your mind running. Maybe just a bite wouldn't hurt? So hesitantly, you took the peach and held it up, looking at him again.

He nodded, giving you a smile. "Go on pretty."

Your teeth sunk into the peach; the juice sweet on your tongue. The fuzzy skin was a comforting texture, and you swallowed your bite. Almost as soon as you did, your stomach growled lightly, accepting the bite and wanting more. Your eyes filled with tears, and one slipped down your cheek.

Immediately, Billy gathered you in his arms, hugging you close and kissing your hair. "Atta girl...ya did so good...know that was hard...'m so proud of ya..."

You turned in his arms, burrowing into his chest, where you knew it was safe. You'd missed everything about this, missed everything about him.

He rocked you back and forth. "Ya think ya can do another for me? Just a little bite?" Billy took the peach from you and took his own bite.

Nodding, you sat up and did as he asked. The two of you passed the peach back and forth, until there was nothing, but a pit left. You stayed in his arms long after you were done, just savoring the feeling of his arms around you.

He kissed your forehead, arms around your collarbone holding you against his chest. You whispered, "I missed you so bad."

"I know," he breathed, his cheek on the top of your head. "Missed ya too."

The truth of that statement hung in the air. You were both miserable without each other. And you knew he wanted you back, but his thoughts about himself were holding him back.

"I don't care if you think you're going to hurt me," you turned a little to look at him. "You're not a bad man."

He shook his head, exasperated. "Baby-"

"Would a bad man be holding me?" you asked, cutting him off before he could say what you knew he was going to say. "Would a bad man have cared that I haven't eaten or slept very much?"

Billy was quiet, just looking down at you. Finally, he said, "Guess not."

"No. A bad man wouldn't," you said quietly.

He sighed, shaking his head, but a tiny smile found its way to his lips. "You're a stubborn girl."

"I wish you wouldn't make me be," you countered, and he laughed lightly. Then your face turned serious. "Don't you ever do what you did again. I missed you so bad...it was like I couldn't breathe."

"I'm sorry angel," he said softly, his hand finding its way to your hair. "Second I left I knew I shouldn'ta done it. Been hurtin' too. Need my baby."

You nodded, turning in his arms so your stomachs were pressed together, your arms wrapping around him. He cuddled you close, holding you late into the afternoon. Right then he knew leaving you would hurt you worse than anything he thought he'd bring your way. So right then he vowed to focus on what he had control over. He couldn't manage whether or not a bounty was on his head, but he could choose to keep you close.

[goblinbabyy]

It would be!!!! So very cool!! If people in the Twisted Wonderland fandom!! COULD STOP POSTING SPOILERS ABT BOOK 7 WITHOUT A WARNING AT THE TOP!!!!!!!!

[monitorkernelaccess]

does anyone remember when team salvato had that “for fans by fans” fanart merch contest, but like it had a backstory that monika “wasn’t allowed to participate” cause “she always wins and it would be unfair :(” but like all images of her and mentions of her name were glitched out, and in the background of the promo art there was a piece of paper with her poem “Hole in Wall” mostly erased (and not even in her font asset, just in the neutral/MC handwriting font) so all signs pointed to monika’s file being deleted

but then literally none of that was ever directly acknowledged in the posts or the merch for the contest, or in ddlc+ lore, or on other posts from team salvato’s twitter or monika’s twitter account? so, though it probably wasn’t intended to be lore to begin with, we never got any context for it, even within the constraints of the “backstory” for this specific contest?

…no? just me? ok.

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

me after editing the aau prologue for the bajillionth time

[shywhumpauthor]

Hi, Coal! This is anonymous from the Whumpuary question

There's no need to respond to this, lol-

I really just wanted to say thank you for taking the time to respond to my previous question :))

(I enjoyed reading the dragged out version of your response, lol- better for my brain to process and take in for sum reason)

I'm good with whatever decision you make. I was honestly just curious because I do enjoy your stories and writing style, so there's that-

(#love Noah)

And, I get where you're coming from with writing series and all, so like- yeah

Regardless of your decision, as long as you don't stress yourself out about it, I'll be fine with whatever

So, uh, yeah- thanks for responding and– take care :)

I am so bad with responses but I wanted to say something just to lyk that I appreciate that you read the long response and then also took the time to reply. That sounds so stiff and insincere written out like this, but I promise it’s not lmao

You as well! Happy new year!

(#love hurting noah)

[regal-bones]

Hey! It’s been a while since I’ve send off last seasons Patreon bundle, and I wanted to show you the kind of stuff my top patrons are receiving! The physical rewards tiers get:

A4 prints

Little item prints (with physical stat blocks and descriptions for all your TTRPG needs!)

Stickers!!

And a personalised little map showing you where each item (and sometimes big print) is from :)

Patrons get 4 seasonal packages over the year, and I’m pretty confident in saying each bundle has been better than the last! If u sign up before October 1st you won’t miss the next bundle (which will most likely be quite swordtember themed ⚔️⚔️⚔️)

If you’re interested, click here!

And to my current patrons - thank you so so much! you are helping me out more than you know, and I’m hoping to get you guys cooler and cooler rewards as you continue to support me. Thank you, so so much, you guys are the best! 🥰💖

Thank u for reading!!! ❤️

[blue-dream-rhapsody]

Apparently I absolutely obliterated my dad’s funny bone by telling him about the smooth criminal ace attorney edit, bc i had the humiliating experience today of him gleefully playing it on the big family room TV for me (who’s watched it fifty times on my own already) and my mom (who I showed it to before him bc she’s been actively watching me play the first game)

[itoshi-s]

working at a lingerie / erotic boutique really puts sm thoughts into my head 😵‍💫 how different bllk / hq / tokrev boys would act. what’d catch their attention. whether they’re a bit timid or playful abt it. or maybe they’re so confident it makes the staff go crazy and gush abt u two as soon as u leave the store .. yeah ……

[boomerang109]

i am an incredibly sentimental person and lately i find myself remembering items i once had and wondering what happened to them and mourning them

[deltastorm101]

“do the face, do the face! :D”

@subjectsix ‘s K.Y.E. and Raster from her original story Botan City!