#my first attempt at writing

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[tubbytarchia]

Missed drawing these two too

Bonuses

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 1 masterlist

-

In the end, gazing out of the ship's portholes into the dark vastness of space proves to be less comforting than the architects must have originally anticipated. You can attest to this more than most.

Every morning, you get up an hour earlier than the rest of your crew and make your way to the galley to make your morning cup of coffee. A pack of instant crystals into your favorite mug and hot recycled water from the kettle. Sometimes you stay to have breakfast, but often you take your coffee with you to the main viewing deck for your morning sojourn. 

There, you sit curled up in the navigator’s chair and stare out of the flight deck window until your breathing levels out. Early morning meditations. With the sun only visible through the rear porthole, the Milky Way stretches out before you, immeasurably vast. Ancient cosmic entities, some already long dead. 

Stars fill your field of vision like an intricate latticework of varying brightness. The watery glass warps at the edges, bending the far off light. All things with their propensity for brightness and decay.

A deep, steady hum fills the room. It’s cathartic to be alone. Sometimes, when you look out into the depths of space, you imagine yourself as a cartographer of old, labeling everything beyond this point: “here there be dragons.” 

Farah is the first person to join you, the ship’s maintenance technician already washed and dressed, floral cumberbund cinched around her midriff and her headwrap pinned in place. She greets you with a firm nod upon her entry, never one to mince words. In the months since your ship set off on its course for Jupiter, you’ve exchanged all of ten words, most of your conversation one-sided. 

She glides in like she’s been up for hours, likely running through her routine maintenance checklist. Monitoring propulsion, life support, and all critical systems. You wouldn’t doubt if she had been, descending into the bowels of the ship and cataloging every minute difference from the day before. Nothing if not thorough. 

Graves sweeps in not twenty minutes later, his uniform pressed and ironed. When he glances your way, you shrink under his gaze, self-conscious about something unidentifiable. He is every bit the commander you met briefly back on Earth, never a hair out of place. If he were less intimidating, he’d be insufferable. 

“Morning,” you murmur, the mug still close to your lips making your voice reverberate. He doesn’t respond. You wonder if he even heard you greet him. It likely wouldn't matter.

Medic has a different connotation this far from Earth. Hierarchy out in space is typically determined by way of one’s importance to the ship, and the scope of your role does not, unfortunately, include maintaining the ship. What that means, unofficially, is that you speak when spoken to, and not for any other reason. 

In the months to come, there may be moments or days when your usefulness is acknowledged, usually much to your colleagues’ chagrin. Though it’s not likely that any of the crew will encounter foreign pathogens while on a hermetically sealed ship in the middle of space, they’re all still susceptible to falls and cuts and worse. Nikolai, the chief engineer on board, had sprained his wrist during the first week of the mission, lending you immediate purpose and validation. 

You make way for the second officer when he finally deigns to make an appearance, sliding quietly out of his seat and stepping to the back of the cockpit, back pressed to the wall closest to the door. 

“Morning, everyone,” he greets, peppier than the three of you despite his rumpled appearance. His thick mustache twitches with the force of his smile. “Ready to seize another day?”

“Jesus Christ, Keller, let’s tone it down ‘til about ten o’clock, alright?” Graves sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache.  

“Our clocks are off, commander,” Alex jokes, coming over to give him a little shake by the shoulder. It would be insubordination from anyone else. “I’m about ready to eat lunch.” 

“Let’s just get through formation and then you can go fill up the bottomless pit you call a stomach.”

The morning briefing never takes up too much time. It’s as much of an excuse to have coffee together as it is to go through the day’s schedule. Graves spends most of the time reviewing the flight course, charting where the ship will be by day’s end. 

“Almost through the belt,” Alex remarks, staring down at the monitor in front of him. It’s an incomprehensible jumble when you try to peer over his shoulder, but he must be able to make sense of it. 

The crew had been on high alert since entering the torus-shaped region between Mars and Jupiter a month back. For the most part, they needn’t have been so on edge—the average distance of the asteroids in the circumstellar disc between the two planets tended to be quite substantial—but a collision the previous day had reinstated their earlier anxiety. 

“Can we switch from manual yet, Farah?” Graves asks from his seat at the helm of the ship. 

She shakes her head, lips tightening with frustration. “I still have to figure out what’s going on with cruise control—it’s not responding correctly.”

“Was that from that little ding the other day?” you ask, blurting out the question without thinking.

Farah’s expression is flat when she glances over at you. “That ‘little ding’ nearly took out our communications system altogether.” 

You wince at that, staring down at your feet instead. Better to just shut your mouth than make a fool of yourself. Had you not blurted out the question, you might have even surmised the nature of the situation given the comm specialist’s notable absence from the cockpit. 

When Nikolai eventually ambles in with a thermos of coffee and deep troughs under his eyes, Farah looks up and frowns. “Where’s Hadir?”

The man shrugs, nonplussed. “Cargo?” he grunts, rolling the toothpick between his teeth around the words. 

She sighs. “I’ll go find him.”

No one says anything when she leaves, the double doors sliding open and shut automatically at her approach, and she doesn’t bother saying goodbye. 

“Dismissed, I guess,” Graves sighs, collapsing into his chair and spinning around to face the stars proliferating in front of him. 

The informality digs at you sometimes because you know you can’t indulge in it. The times you’ve attempted to, you’ve been rebuffed. Sometimes unintentionally, but often to remind you of your place.

This isn’t a crew you’ve ever worked with before. From conversations you’ve overheard, you’ve gleaned that they’ve all worked together in different capacities before, years of familiarity breeding an easy trust and companionship between them. Two of them might even be lovers—though Farah maintains a neutral facade at all times, the same can’t be said for Alex, the man always hovering nearby, eyes going soft at the sight of her. 

You’re the only odd man out. The newcomer. And though you sit with them in the mess for meals and partake in conversation and pass jokes like small stones from hand to hand, you know deep down, in the dark well of your heart, that you are not one of them. You are a passenger that they picked up along the way. A straggler. 

This wasn’t supposed to be the case. When you signed on to the mission months ago, the circumstances were wholly different. A newer ship, a different crew, some of which you’d worked with before. Then ownership changed hands and budgets were cut. Slashed to ribbons even. You had a chance to tour the ship before the launch date, and even down on Earth with all the glitz and glam available to trick the eye, you hadn’t been convinced of the vessel’s ability to withstand the extreme conditions of space.  

But by then, you were locked into a contract so iron-clad that the consequences of breaking it seemed worse than simply seeing the mission through. 

Most days, you feel like you’re waiting for something to give. You pass through halls that echo with low creaks and a deep, rhythmic thrum. Sometimes the walls of the ship groan so loud that you wait with baited breath for the hull to implode around you, to feel the metal crush the delicate eggshell of your body beneath its weight. 

It’s not any better to just stay in your room, your quarters too cramped to nurture anything other than claustrophobia. A recent, unfortunate side effect of spending months on such a small ship. You’ve become accustomed to crews numbering in the tens and hundreds, ships so colossal in size that even months spent aboard weren’t enough to explore all of its nooks and crannies. Cargo holds with excavators and backhoes for excavations on Mars and humvees for getting around the rough terrain. 

This ship barely holds six people and the payload you’ve been hauling to Europa. Pipes hiss in the corridors. Once a week, the radiator splutters or the intercom overhead crackles, kicking your heart into hyperdrive. 

You leave formation more out of sorts than ever. Vaguely aimless. With nothing to do, you grab breakfast in the galley and eat at the counter, too uncomfortable to venture over to the mess. Your days consist mainly of hovering around the ship or sitting quietly in the medbay, waiting for something to happen. A morbid preoccupation. 

The stairs clunk under your feet as you make your way down towards the medbay. You’ve long grown used to the sharp sound of your boots against the metal floor. 

Rationally, you know they don’t dislike you. You might even venture to say that you get along with the majority of them, particularly the chief engineer and Farah’s brother. The big man likes that it only takes a single drink to get you plastered, often howls with laughter when you stumble out of the mess after drinking with the crew, always the first to turn in for the night. Farah herself is only frosty because she works twice as hard as anyone else, burning the midnight oil on the regular. 

You swallow half-truths like stones to help settle your stomach. 

It doesn’t replace real companionship though; it approximates, but doesn’t quite replicate it. You feel its absence most acutely in the sidelong glances you sometimes get of real affection: Alex grazing his pinkie across Farah’s when he thinks no one is looking; Farah’s eyes softening at the sight of her brother; Graves and Nikolai reminiscing about something a decade past, hardly even aware of your presence in the room. 

It’s something you’ve endured before, but never for such an extended period of time. Prolonged isolation prickles at the mind, feathering the edges. It purples space; passes through the vents. The crew rarely goes on spacewalks (hardly any need for it), but sometimes you swear the ship’s oxygen has a faint sulfuric undertone, like rotten eggs. It permeates the air wherever you go. 

Someone knocks at the window just as you walk by.

You pause mid-sip, the mug raised to your lips and just pressing into your bottom lip, not yet tilted. 

“Hello,” you hear through the thick-paned glass, the voice muffled through the layers of glass and plastic partitions. “Could you let me in, please?”

Though your reflex is to look up, you don’t for some reason. The muscles in your neck stay locked instead. Shoulders stiff, weighed down by an unnatural force. 

The thing outside the ship knocks again. “Love? Can you hear me?”

Your head turns towards the porthole, the hand holding your mug drifting away from your mouth. It tips in your hand and a drop leaks down the side. Your lips tingle, almost numb. 

There’s a man outside the porthole, clear as day. He hovers outside the window, a hand raised in a friendly wave and full lips splitting to reveal perfect, white teeth when he smiles. He’s dressed in a spacesuit, no different than any of the crew on a spacewalk. Through the helmet, you can make out dark eyes and dimples. A close cropped beard.

It’s not a face you’ve ever seen before though. You think you might’ve remembered someone so handsome working on the ship with you.

Something needles inside of you though. A sickening feeling, like something you’ve forgotten but you desperately need to remember. 

“Hi there,” the man says, voice as charming as you’ve ever heard, so velvety rich that you feel the blood heat your cheeks. “Glad you were passing by. Mind letting me in?”

[capricornlevi]

"this is a bad idea," you mumble, one plastic-gloved hand perched on atsumu's shoulder while the other vigorously shakes the bottle of box dye. "i cannot stress how appallingly bad an idea this is."

atsumu scoffs, head dipping back so he can look at you properly. "ya gonna help me or not?"

with a smile and a roll of your eyes, you gently push his head back into its original position, fixing the towel that's slipping off his shoulders. "obviously i'll help you, but i want to absolve myself of any blame. this bet with aran isn't exactly legally enforceable."

"i know, i know," he mumbles, and you see his smile in the bathroom mirror in front of you both. "but i gotta stick to my word, ya know? plus, ya just know 'samu will find it funny."

"will he?" you grimace, eying the empty cardboard box that reads charcoal grey in big bold letters on the side. "his hair hasn't been this colour since high school."

"it'll still be the closest we've gotten ta being mixed up since we were kids," he grins, "and ya know you're the only one i trust ta not dye it bright green or somethin'."

"fine," you agree cautiously, unscrewing the cap from the bottle and running your fingers through atsumu's soft tresses.

"one last thing!" he interrupts just as you're about to start applying the dye.

"yeah?"

"you'll still wanna marry me after this, right?"

another fond eye roll as you apply the first of the dye to his roots. "oh, we'll get you back to blond before long, and if you're still silver by the wedding, you'll have a lifetime of making it up to me."

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

could you write a cute lil drabble of reader who has anxiety (could be general or maybe something specific like being in a car) x lando norris and lando is a big comfort to the reader and then one day after a bad race the reader gets to be a comfort to him (i imagine their love language to be physical touch)!

Normally I don't like to write reader inserts, but I like this prompt so I'll give it a try just this once!

The greatest comfort in your life was Lando. He was one of the only ones who understood you, who understood what you went through. He never judged you when your anxiety got bad. He would just hold you close and whisper comforts in your ear, until you felt like yourself again.

Your anxiety often struck when you least expected it, snowballing from slight nerves to nearly immobilizing fear before you could stop it. You were more likely to have an attack when you were stressed, be it about work or your relationship or even just life in general. Lando was one of the only ones who had never made you feel bad about having anxiety, and he'd always done his best to help you through it, even when he'd been scared of doing something wrong. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

It wasn't often that you had to return the favor. He was so strong, taking steps to preserve his mental health and facing everything thrown at him with confidence. He wasn't immune to anxiety, but it struck him so infrequently that you hadn't had a chance yet to take care of him the way he'd always taken care of you. You would never wish for it to happen, never, but you did wish that you could show him how much you appreciated everything he did for you.

That time came unexpectedly after a wet race where things went completely to shit.

You'd nearly had to leave the garage halfway through the race, so anxious that you were almost vibrating out of your skin. Lando had had horrible luck today, ranging from a poorly-timed pit stop to caught in the crossfire of not one but two separate incidents on track. When a Williams collided with him on lap 42 and knocked him out of the race for good, you only breathed a sigh of relief because at least it was over now, and you didn't have to watch him try not to die out there any more.

You knew he would be upset, of course. Who wouldn't be after a race like that? You knew you had some of his favorite comfort meals on hand, and were ready to pull one of them out when you got home and start cooking. The activity would help calm your own nerves, and familiar food would hopefully lift his spirits, too.

But when you got back to your room, he was already there, and he was already crying.

You froze for a moment as you took in the scene before you. He wasn't just crying, you realized, he was sobbing. He was huddled on the sofa, curled into a ball and head in his shaking hands. Three different hoodies were strewn around him, like he'd been trying to find something comfortable and soothing to wear but nothing had done the trick. And he hadn't even changed out of his fireproofs. He must have come straight here as soon as he was free, too broken and upset to face anyone.

"Lando?" you asked cautiously, walking closer to him. He didn't stop crying, but didn't move away as you carefully sat next to him. "Are you -"

You cut yourself off before you finished the question. Of course he wasn't okay. Why ask the question when the answer was already obvious?

"Is there anything I can do to help?" you asked instead. You itched to pull him into your arms and hold him, hug him tight until the tension finally left him and he felt safe again. You wanted to ask what had made him cry, but you knew he probably wouldn't be able to tell you now, not while he was sobbing his eyes out and breathing little hiccupping breaths. You had a theory, though, that it was because he felt like he'd let everyone down today and was a failure. You wanted to tell him that that wasn't true, that he'd done amazing today, even with all of the odds stacked against him. He'd been so strong all day, and it was okay if he needed to cry now. You just wanted to help him through it.

Without looking up at you or saying anything, he leaned closer to you, reaching out with a whine. You understood what he wanted immediately, and tugged him to your chest for a hug. He sobbed into your shirt, burrowing into your arms until he felt like he was safe.

"Don't let me go," he whispered, sniffling. "P-please don't let me go."

You hugged him tight, rubbing his back soothingly. "I won't," you promised. "I'm here."

He settled deeper into your arms, clutching you like a lifeline. You continued to hold him, gently rubbing his back and occasionally whispering soothing words to him. You weren't anxious about the day's events at all any more - you were just glad that you could be here to help him through this.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, he sniffled and whispered. "Th-thank you. I love you."

You smiled, giving him a gentle squeeze and kissing the top of his head. "I love you too."

You two had each other. And you were going to be okay.

[celebrimborium]

Stop fighting me and together, let us fight them.

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[saltedbiscuiit]

Matching pyjamas mayhaps?:3

[sickwhispers]

eeeee!! yay!! ^♡^ can I ask for finn x reader and/or sprout x reader hcs?? I don't wanna overload u so I'll keep it at those!!! tysm ^_^ -incredibly desperate annon from earlier

Oh my gosh you are such a cutie (/p) don't worry about overloading me, I'm at your service!

WRITE ME LETTERS (hot freaks)

Credits to xx675ehf on tumblr for the finn picture

Pairing: Finn x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: he doesn't understand personal space all that much, but he means well

Type: headcanons + drabble

"Whale, whale, whale... look what we have here!" Would be the first thing you hear before he comes barreling towards you at a hundred miles per hour. His body colliding with yours from behind as he brings you in for a tight squeeze

He was never one to really announce his presence, preffering to instead tackle you with affection after a quick fish pun

They never seemed to end when it comes to you

Or, really, they never seemed to end in general

But, if you indulge him just the slightest, it's easy for him to get carried away

He's almost like a dog, in a way

He'd follow you everywhere

To each machine, to each hiding spot, right by your side the second you make your way into the elevator

Every break is spent with him practically glued to your hip, his hands holding onto you in anyway they can

Whether it be by holding your hands, clinging onto your arm, tugging at any article of clothing he could reach rapidly to bring your attention back onto him

He's a Hyper one, and he isn't scared to prove it

He's even been trying to come up with new and improved fish puns

Something that'll impress you

He's self aware, he knows not everyone's a fan of his fish puns

But, even if he was able to score just a tiny giggle from you, he'd be over the moon

"Oh, c'mon! Don't act so koi with me, i dont bite!" His arms wrap around you just a bit tighter, head pressed up right against your side as an proud grin spread across his face.

You had sat on the floor of the elevator, giving yourself a few seconds of peace before having to go back to being tormented once more by the threats lurking around practically every corner. But, of course, there was rarely any moment of peace with finn on your team. He meant well, you knew he did, and he definitely wasn't the malicious type. He just... never seemed to realize when the right time for affection was. And right now, with your chest heaving up and down from a chase you had just endured, you weren't exactly begging for psychical touch.

But at the same time, you couldn't help but find it endearing. Your arm slowly lifted up, shaky from the adrenaline you had just experienced only a few moments ago, before wrapping around him, bringing him just a bit closer. This had caused him to let out an ecstatic gasp in return.

"Yknow, Finn... you're really-" you take a pause, avoiding eye contact with him. Although, despite you doing everything you can not to let your gaze fall right back onto him, you could still feel the way his eyes bored into you. You almost didn't want to say it. Your mouth opening and closing a few times as you tried to muster up the courage. "krilling me with the puns..."

There was a pause. Not one long enough to be considered worrisome, but it had definitely been a decent amount of time before you finally craned your head in his direction. And, once your gaze finally landed on him, the first thing that greeted you were his eyes staring right back into yours. They had widened significantly, and along with that his lips parted slightly. For a second you wondered if it was his body that was shaking or the movement the elevator made as it climbed up to the next floor.

"That..." He began to speak, taking another pause. You soon realized it was his body that was shaking, not the elevator. And, as he took a deep breath, signifying that he was ready to finish his sentence, his smile seemed to stretch farther then you've ever seen. "Was fin-tastic!"

It's safe to say that he'd enjoy it if you ever decided to reply to his puns with some of your own

Nothing would make him happier then hearing a fish pun slip from your mouth, whether it be intentional or a complete accident from all the times you've heard him say them

PERSONAL BODY GUARD

Pairing: Sprout x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: none!

Type: headcanons + drabble

Overprotective

That single definition was a word you heard thrown every round every now and then when it came to sprout

And, not once was it ever used as a lie

Because he was, in fact, overprotective

A gentle tug of the wrist in an attempt to drag you away from running head on into a twisted, a two hour lecture afterwards about how much danger you could've been in had he not saved you in time

His presence constantly looming over you each floor, never too far away.

It was a natural instict at this point

No matter how far away you were on a floor, the second one thing goes wrong, he's right by your side

Sometimes he could be a little too much

Not that he cares about your complaints when he's grabbing you by the cheeks, twisting your head in every single direction as he inspects you for any sort of wound

"Do you know how risky that was!? You could've lost a heart!" Despite the almost desperate tone behind his movements, turning your head from side to side, his touch was always gentle. He had taken a good blow to the back, his scarf barely holding onto his form as it threatened to slip at any second. You hadn't lost a heart, thankfully, but he sure did.

He kept you huddled behind a few boxes, legs trembling beneath the both of you as you tried to regain your stamina from the chase you had only managed to survive from. His grip was tight, and once he had made sure you hadn't gotten hurt during your little stunt, he slowly let his hands slip from your face.

"Are... you okay?" You tried to reach out, your arms stretching out to check him for any injuries just like he had done for you. And yet, they didn't have to move an inch before sprout's body seemed to slump against you. His head resting against your shoulder as his arms stayed hanging lazily by his sides. He almost didn't want to move, finding too much pleasure in having you pressed up against him.

A sigh slipped past his mouth, the sound drawn out as he hesitated for a second before speaking. "Me? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Well- I'll be fine. But, let's just stay here for a second, okay..?"

You couldn't remember the last time he had ever admitted to not being okay during a run

Typically, he'd brush off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand

As long as you were fine, he was fine

It didn't take too long before he was reassuring you, smiling as he always did while he stuck a bandaid over a wound too serious for just a simple bandaid.

He always kept the better stuff for you

Did he ever want to admit he put you before himself almost all of the time?

No.

He didn't want you to worry

He's the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around

He's a bit of a hopeless romantic, it doesn't take much before he's head over heels in love after a simple smile you threw his way

It's always better to be focused and prepared, especially when the people he loves are constantly being hunted down by corrupted versions of his friends

He doesn't like it when the others point out how distracted he gets everytime he spots you from far away, his body freezing up on the spot as his eyes lock onto the way you pick up protein bar off the floor

For a second he wonders if your admiring his picture on the wrapper

But surely that's wishful thinking...

[sematarygirls]

stop i’m literally so in love with your acc, it’s gorgeous!!!! missed you sm. need to start writing or creating something again tbh but idk what.

anywaysss had this super cool drummer!rafe idea where they’re all like mid-20s and were suspected of murder (maybe a roadie died or an ex bandmate??)

buttt there you are interning with the local police department (aka nancy drew nerd) and go poking around (woah somehow you end up in rafe’s arms what a coincidence). maybe he did it or maybeee he didn’t, who knows. ur just a silly little inter.. right?? unless ofc this wasn’t the first time you met and you both did it together?

anyways do what you wish with this, feel free to let it rot. ur a genius mastermind either way. ily mwahhh

(here’s some drew pics mini moodboard bc why not)

Partners In Crime — Rafe Cameron.

pairing: drummer!rafe x policeintern!reader

summary: your internship at the kildare county sheriff's department proves extremely useful after ex-bandmate of local rock sensation, morphine animals, is found murdered.

warnings: smut! semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, murder, inaccuracies regarding police work

word count: 3.6k words !

a/n: this request is AMAZING omg!! your mind is literally so incredibly brilliant. i am so incredibly jealous. i just want to scoop it out and study it because your plots are always so genius it's insane. also, i got a little freaky with this request. i don't know where it came from, but i hope yall enjoy. side note, i know nothing about police stations or internships beyond what I've seen on tv, so this is most likely very far from anything that would happen in real life.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ   You cursed quietly, swatting a mosquito away from you as your fingers danced along the collection of files, skimming through the box of evidence labeled "Ryder, Elliot". It was July, and the summer was in full swing. the air was thick and heavy, causing a layer of sticky sweat to cling to every inch of your body. The cramped storage room seemed to be at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the police station, and it had the added bonus of recycled air that smelled of dust and mildew.

Your gaze flickered between the door and the police report in your hands, readying yourself to be caught any moment now. Technically, you weren't supposed to be looking at anything in this room. You were simply an intern, and as such, your jobs mostly consisted of clerical work like running the front desk, answering phones, and filling out the occasional police report—typically for some misdemeanor offense that they had granted you competent enough to navigate your way around.

On a normal day, you did not have clearance to be in this little room with all the important documents pertaining to cases ranging anywhere from vandalism to first-degree murder. However, on this particular day, you had been instructed to organize and clean the records room, ensuring that everything was dusted off and placed in alphabetical order.

You knew you weren't really supposed to take a peek into any of these boxes, but when you saw the name Elliot Ryder on one of the boxes, you simply couldn't help yourself. It was the biggest case your town had seen in the last decade.

"Local rock legend Morphine Animal's ex-band-mate found murdered" had been splashed across headlines for weeks, each news site ranging from local to national discussing the case and their theories, but surprisingly much of the case had remained a mystery.

Morphine Animals had been practically untouchable ever since they skyrocketed to fame. It was truly fascinating how quickly they went from small-town rockstar wannabes to household names. They became a national sensation practically overnight, and it all started when Elliot Ryder was fired as the band's drummer and replaced by Rafe Cameron.

You remembered it vividly. Elliot went around telling everybody who would listen how he was cheated out of fame. The other three band members had been his childhood best friends. The band was their passion project and they had vowed to do it all together, but then, one night, they just dropped him out of the blue, and Rafe Cameron took his spot.

People couldn't help but wonder if the band's colorful history had anything to do with the murder. The whole situation would've made more sense if Rafe was the one murdered. It would be open and shut. Elliot killed Rafe to get back at him for taking his spot and stealing the fame that was "rightfully" his, but revenge just doesn't quite sit right with the case being turned around.

Rockstar drummer that has it all kills small-town drunk nobody? It just doesn't fit.

You turn your attention back to the police report in hand. You didn't have much time left before someone inevitably needed a file or came to check on you, so you needed to focus, read it, and put everything back where you found it before that happened.

Case Number 0608

Responding Officer: Sheriff Susan Peterkin

On 06/28/2023 at approximately 2100 hours, I responded to a noise complaint at 2971 Shorecrest Drive.

I knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. I announced myself as the police and knocked once more, but again, received no answer. I looked into the window for signs of life, and saw Elliot Ryder laying prone on the living room floor with a pool of blood around him. I immediately radioed for assistance and kicked down the door. I checked his pulse and discovered that Ryder was deceased. While I waited for assistance, I secured the scene. At approximately 2110 hours, Deputy Victor Shoupe, Officer Danielle Lyonne, and Officer Franklin Hewitt arrived on scene. Officers Hewitt and Lyonne canvased the surrounding homes and took their statements to find out if anyone had seen or heard anything. Their individual statements are enclosed. Deputy Shoupe called for the coroner and cordoned off the area while I began assessing the crime scene in a spiral method. Pictures included document the blood patterns and shattered glass discovered at the scene. No murder weapon was discovered.

I instructed Deputy Shoupe to stay at the scene and await the coroner's arrival while I headed back to the station. At approximately 2330 hours, I left the scene.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you read over the report. You used the back of your hand to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on your forehead—created from a mix of the unbearable heat and your growing nervousness as the moments ticked by—stopping them from dripping down your skin.

Your gaze darted to the door once again before returning to the files, pulling out a series of pictures that documented the crime scene.

He was found on his stomach, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood. The cause of death was blunt force trauma, and it was very evident from the crime scene photos.

You turned your attention from the photos documenting his body to the ones showing the state his living room had been left in. There was broken glass from a shattered mirror near the front door coating the carpet, and the living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Furniture had been turned over, his belongings strewn about in a disorganized fashion. It seemed like whoever had been there was looking for something.

Something in one of the photos caught your eye. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the flash from the camera reflected off something imbeded into the cream colored carpet just beneath the table that Elliot's body was found beside.

Your brows furrowed as you brought the photo closer to your face, squinting to get a better look.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you jump. You quickly folded the picture and shoved it into your pocket before placing the photos and police report back into the box and hauling it onto the shelf.

"Hey, kid," Deputy Shoupe peeked his head inside, the sound of him chewing his gum seemingly reverberating off the walls. You turned, your face flushed, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. You had managed to get everything in order moments before he opened the door.

"Uh, yes, sir?" You cleared your throat, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your sticky forehead.

"Boss lady needs the Ryder files," he informed you, still smacking his gum. The sound filled your ears, somehow louder than the beating of your own heart.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned and grabbed the box, the piece of paper in your pocket feeling like it weighed a ton as you carried the heavy box over to him. "Can I ask why?" You worked up the courage to ask, handing him the files, your palms sweaty as you pulled back.

"Just got done interviewing Rafe Cameron," he told you, propping the box under his arm. Your eyes widened a fraction. Why was Sheriff Peterkin reinterviewing him? Was there new evidence to connect him to the murder? "So, she wants to take another look at the evidence."

"Oh," you simply said, the room seeming to grow hotter. "Whew, god, it's hot," you huffed, fanning yourself. "Are you hot?" You asked, clearly not doing well at playing it cool.

"You alright kid?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously at your odd behavior.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna step outside and get some air," you nodded, suddenly feeling very suffocated in the stuffy atmosphere.

"Sure, whatever," he shrugged, clearly not all that interested in you or your actions as he turned on his heels to deliver the box to Peterkin.

You hurried down the long, grey corridor, pushing the backdoor open harshly when you arrived at it. Outside wasn't much cooler, but the small, shaded alleyway provided reprieve from the sun's unrelenting rays. You took a few deep breaths, feeling better now that you were breathing fresh, clean air.

"You look like shit," a voice piped up. Your head whipped to the side, eyes finding the source. Rafe Cameron was leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He was wearing a white tank top that clung to him like a second skin. the heat was just as unforgiving on him, his muscles glistening and his hair sticking out in all directions, a few strands clinging to his slick forehead.

"Excuse me," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Truthfully, you knew you probably did look like shit. You were sweating like a pig, your clothes clinging to you uncomfortably, and after hours of running your hands through it and being subject to intense humidity, your hair was undoubtedly frizzy and wild.

Rafe pushed off the wall, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his boot. His blue eyes locked onto yours, amusement dancing in them as he approached you. "I'm just sayin'," he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, well, you don't look too hot yourself," you rolled your eyes. It was a lie, of course. Somehow, he even made sweating to death in the sweltering July heat look sexy. It was utterly infuriating.

He grinned, amused at your attempt to insult him, but he could see right through you. "You mad at me or somethin'?" His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist, his grip sending shivers down your spine.

"You just said I looked like shit," you glared at him. The heat was making you irritable, and it didn't help that his stupid fucking earring—that you'd told him twenty goddamn times to take out—had showed up in a crime scene photo.

Rafe's thumb began to trace circles on the inside of your wrist, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. "C'mon, you know I was just teasing you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and seductive. He knew how to play your body better than he knew how to play his drums.

You stubbornly pulled away from him, ignoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "You're lucky I got saddled with file room duty, asshole" you gritted out, pulling the picture from your back pocket and shoving it into his muscular chest.

Rafe wore a silver stud in his ear, a staple of his rockstar persona, and that little glimmer of reflected flash in that crime scene photo was that stud, which had fallen out during the murder.

Thankfully, it hadn't been logged into evidence and had been completely overlooked by the bumbling small town crime scene techs, so you only had to take the photo to keep that little piece of incriminating evidence from ever being discovered.

Rafe glanced down at the photo, his expression unchanging as he took it in. He looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You worried about me, babe?" He asked, his voice laced with mockery, but there was a harder edge to it that betrayed his unperturbed demeanor.

"No," you shot back, your brows furrowing in frustration. God, the heat was making you bitchy. "I'm worried about myself. I mean, I covered up your little fuck up perfectly. The last thing I need is for you and your lame ass jewlery to fuck me over."

Rafe's hand snaked out and wrapped around your throat, his grip tight but not painful. He backed you up against the brick wall, his eyes boring into yours. "You think I can't take care of my own shit?" He asked, his voice a low growl. His patience was clearly wearing thinner and thinner by the second. He was already agitated at being ripped away from band practice to do this little song and dance with the police. The last thing he needed was you bitching at him and challenging his capabilites.

"If you could take care of your own shit, you wouldn't have called me in the middle of the night panicking because you fucking killed someone," you retorted, not backing down. You weren't afraid of him in the slightest. You knew what he was capable of, but it didn't scare you. In fact, there was a twisted part of you that liked knowing about his violent side.

Rafe Cameron had been the one to kill Elliot Ryder in cold blood, and he'd called you up moments after because he knew your experience as a police intern would come in handy. You had rushed over and helped him stage the whole thing as a burglary gone wrong. Unfortunately, Rafe hadn't realized his little wardrobe malfunction until it was too late to go back and retrieve it.

His face darkened, his hand tightening around your throat. "I had it handled," he hissed. "Until you showed up and decided to play detective." His other hand reached down, gripping your hip possessively. "You're supposed to be on my side, not throwing my mistakes in my face."

"Then stop making dumb fucking mistakes," you spat, your jaw clenching in annoyance. You could feel your panties growing wetter by the second, which only fueled your frustration toward him. You hated how he could still make you want him even when he was being a complete asshole.

Rafe's face twisted with anger, but beneath it, you saw a flicker of something else—desire. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your lips. "You know, I should just shut you up for good," he muttered, his grip on your throat unyielding.

"Yeah?" You asked, your voice almost taunting. "You gonna kill me, Rafe?" You looked him in the eye, not backing down. "Who's gonna clean up your messes then, huh?"

His expression turned grim, and for a monent, you thought he might actually do it. But, then, without warning, he crushed his mouth to yours in a rough, bruising kiss. His hands tightened further on your hip, pressing against your body and pinning you in place.

He bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood. His tongue darted out, lapping up the blood and soothing the wound as his thumb rubbed over your pulse point, feeling the way your heartbeat quickened with desire. His mouth tasted of nicotine, stale beer, a slight hint of mint, and then the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue. If it were anyone else, you would've recoiled in disgust, but something about him was intoxicating.

He was so close you could feel his bulge pressing into you, and it only made you want him more. You didn't care that you were pressed against a wall in the back alley behind the police precinct, in fact, something about it, the potential thrill of getting caught, turned you on more.

Rafe's hands moved to grip your ass under your skirt, roughly palming the fatty flesh with his rough hands. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. "You drive me fucking crazy," he growled.

"Yeah, well you're fucking insufferable," you said breathlessly, tilting your head to the side and threading your fingers into his hair as he continued his assault on your neck.

He grunted in response, his hands squeezing your backside painfully before he pulled away to fumble with his belt, the buckle clanking loudly in the otherwise quiet alley.

As he fiddled with his belt, you took your opportunity to latch your lips onto his neck, the salty taste of his skin mixed with the thin layer of sweat coating him danced on your tongue as you sucked and nipped at the areas you knew would drive him wild.

Rafe's breathing hitched as you marked him, his body stiffening. He finally got his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, shoving them down just enough to free his hard length.

He gripped your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you hard against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Think you need to learn your place," he said darkly, pulling your panties to the side.

With one swift movement, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely. He held you pinned against the wall, his hips rolling into yours in deep, punishing thrusts. "You're supposed to worship the ground I walk on," he muttered, his voice ragged.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his powerful hips snapping back and forth as he pounded into you. His blue eyes, darkened with lust, locked onto yours, watching your face intently.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He slowed his pace, his hips rolling leisurely, his thick length stretching you wide. He knew his slow pace was like torture to you. "Tell me you worship me, baby."

"Fuck," you moaned, your face scrunching in a mix of pain and pleasure as the brick wall dug uncomfortably into your back. "I worship you, Rafe."

A smug grin spread across his face at your words, his pace quickening as he continued to slam into you, his hips rolling in that way that always hit that spot inside you, making you practically see stars. "Good girl," he praised, his lips finding yours again.

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers curling into his hair and tugging slightly as his mouth swallowed your little whimpers and moans.

He released your mouth, his head tilting down to watch where you were joined. He let out a low groan, his body tensing as he watched himself disappear inside of you. "Look at you taking me so well," he gritted out, his pace quickening.

You gasped when you felt his thumb begin rubbing tight circles on your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a dirty fuckin' girl," he growled. "Letting me fuck you in an alleyway, behind a police station no less." His lewd words only served to heighten your arousal.

His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you dizzy as he continued to pound into you. "I'm going to fill this pretty little cunt with my cum," he snarled, his voice echoing off the brick walls.

His words paired with his grip on your throat and the way he was pounding into you sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you moaned his name.

His hand on your neck tightened possessively as you came apart for him, his own release following shortly after as he felt your walls squeeze down on him, milking his cock. He buried his face against your neck, his breathing hot and ragged against your skin. "That's my girl."

You panted, your head falling back against the brick as you caught your breath, your mind reeling as the weight of what you'd just done crashed over you. It was reckless and stupid to have let that happen, especially behind the police station you worked at. If anyone saw you, it could raise some serious red flags.

Rafe slowly lowered you back to the ground, pressing one last kiss to your swollen lips before tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans up, refastening his belt. He leaned against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette as he looked you over with a lazy smirk. "Try not to look so guilty."

"Don't be an asshole," you shot him a sharp look, fixing your skirt and blouse. Now, you had to go back to work and act as if you didn't have a murderer's cum leaking out of you.

Rafe took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow stream. He watched you intently, his eyes glinting with amusement as he observed you straighten your hair and adjust your collar, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "I'll pick you up after your shift. We've got a few more things to discuss."

"You can't pick me up here," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, pushing off from the wall and taking a few slow steps closer to you. "And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He knew very well why not, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"Don't play dumb, Rafe," you rolled your eyes. He could be so very infuriating when he wanted to be.

"Say it," he insisted, his voice firm. He took another step closer, towering over you. "Tell me why I can't pick you up here." His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a deceptively gentle touch.

You huffed frustratedly, narrowing your eyes at his insistence. "Because you killed Elliot Ryder, and I'm your fucking accomplice," you relented.

Rafe's hand tightened, gripping your cheeks firmly, his touch bordering on painful as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh," he whispered, his voice dark and threatening. "You shouldn't go around saying things like that, baby."

You glared up at him, your annoyance evident in your gaze. Everything always had to be a game with him, and sometimes it utterly maddened you.

Rafe's lips curled into a smirk as he pulled back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'll pick you up around the corner," he said, as if the matter was settled. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and heading down the alleyway to his car.

You watched him leave, your gaze burning holes into his back for a moment as he retreated before you shook your annoyance away, pulling the back door to the station open and heading back inside.

[sandwitchstories]

I Will Wait For You

For anyone that voted on the poll for Kyojuro Rengoku Angst, here you go!

This is my first attempt at writing angst, and I hope I did it justice. I tried not to use gendered terms in reference to the reader, please let me know if you find any!

If you prefer to read on AO3, click here!

Summary: You are awoken by your husband's kisses and his need to make sure his love is imprinted on your very soul. If only you had known...

WC: 2600

CW: MDNI, SMUT, AFAB terms to describe reader's body, vaginal sex, vaginal finger, oral sex f!receiving, angst, character death, spoilers if you aren't to Mugen Train, pregnancy implied (ONE mention)

Divider by : @firefly-graphics

You awoke to the feeling of lips on the back of your neck. A smile curled your lips as Kyojuro’s familiar scent and energy flooded your senses. You reached a hand behind you to cup his head as he nuzzled the crook of your neck.

“You’re back early,” you said, voice still laden with sleep.

“Not quite,” he said softly.

You moaned softly as his hand slid into your robe and gripped your breast in his large hand. His calloused fingers found your nipple and toyed with it, rolling it and pinching it. He pulled on it until you moaned and arched your back more into him. 

You bit your lip as you ground yourself against his hard length pressing against you from behind. His lips were trailing kisses up and down your neck and shoulder, alternating between gentle kisses and open mouthed tasting of your skin. You helped him remove your robes, delighted to only feel his skin against yours, so warm and welcoming as his arm wrapped around you and pulled you even closer. 

He used his free hand to find yours, locking your fingers together and stretching resting them above your heads. He kissed your cheek and his hand on your waist began to roam your curves. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Almost as much as I love you,” you grinned as you answered. Your freehand reached back to bury in his flaming locks and hold him closer. 

“More than. More than all the stars in the sky,” he said, hand resting on your chest. “I will show you. Because even with my dying breath, my love and my heart belong to you.”

He moved his hand to turn your head and kiss you before you could reply. His lips pressed against yours. Meeting and parting, slotting to fit. His tongue teased the seam of your lips before plunging into your mouth and enticing your tongue to dance with his. His hand slid to your neck, resting there as he deepened the kiss before sliding lower to grope and toy with your breasts against before sliding lower. He gave you hip and ass a light squeeze before moving to grip your thigh. He moved a knee forward to lift your leg slightly and give himself better access to his destination. 

His hand cupped your pussy, giving it a gentle squeeze before sliding his thumb down your slit and separating your folds. He stroked his thumb gently over your clit several time before moving lower. His thumb circled and teased your entrance before sliding into it. 

“Always so wet and ready for me,” he groaned against your neck, scraping his teeth over the skin. 

“You have that effect on me,” you chuckled, moving your leg higher up on his thigh to spread yourself a little wider, offering him more room to move. 

He changed the angle of his hand to rub two fingers up and down your slit before pressing them into your tight warmth. He groaned and ground his hips against you, rubbing his cock against your ass. “Can you feel what you do to me? The effect you have on me, my love?”

Things had been a little rough between you two lately. It was bound to happen with your duties to the Corps constantly coming between the two of you and having to come first. But here in your room, in his arms, nothing else mattered but the two of you. No demons lurked for slaying, no Corps members or Kakushi were vying for your attention. 

No, here you had each other’s undivided attention. Here, your relationship and each other came first. Here you could lose yourself completely in the man you loved. “Yes. Can you feel how it is the same for me, Kyojuro?”

His lips moved with more passion on the skin of your neck and back and shoulders as his hand began to move faster between your legs. His thumb found your clit and he rubbed it back and forth as his fingers thrust into you. He nipped at your ear as you rocked back on his hand. 

You were feeling that delicious feel of warmth starting to pool, feeling your muscles start to tighten in expectation. The moment he uttered the word ‘Now’ in your ear you fell apart, your slick covering his fingers as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers, moaning with your head thrown back and squeezing your joined hands tightly. 

“That’s it. So beautiful, so perfect,” he said, a smile in his voice as his hands worked you through it, slowing to just a teasing rub, spreading your cream over your lips. 

You turned your head, giving him a sloppy and desperate kiss. “Kyojuro, please… I need to feel you inside of me.”

He rolled you onto your back, covering you with his body and kissing you passionately. His mouth began a descent down your body, stopping to worship your breasts. His cock was hanging heavy and leaking between his legs, but his sole focus was on you and your pleasure alone.

“Kyo…” you whined as you held his head closer to you as he sucked your nipple.

“Yes, my love?” he said, letting go of your breast and opting to place kisses in the valley between them. 

“You heard me, right?” you were starting to feel desperate.

“I did,” he grinned up at you, moving to kiss you again. “And I will give you what you want. Don’t I always?”

You nodded and made and affirmative noise, whimpering when his fingers were plunging into your cunt again. “Always. Always.”

He kissed you again before kissing a line down your body for his mouth to join his fingers. He pressed several kisses to your pussy. “You always have been my favorite meal.”

His mouth was on you as soon as he finished speaking. His tongue delving into your depths and licking stripes up your slit. He grabbed onto your thighs, pushing them up and wider, giving himself better access to feast. His tongue replaced his fingers in your cunt while his thumb fanned and forth over the little bundle of nerves.

You moaned his name and buried fingers in his hair, holding him closer and rocking against his face. “C-c-close, baby. I’m close!”

“Let go for me. Let me see you fall apart again. Let me taste your pleasure one more time,” he said as he returned his fingers to your pussy.

You cried out as he slid three fingers into your dripping hole. He curled them and found that special spot within you with a practiced ease. His fingers thrust and scissored inside your depths as his mouth suckled and flicking at your clit.

“Kyojuro!” you cried out his name, your orgasm washing over you a sudden flash of heat and pleasure that had you whimpering and trembling, pulling him off of your too sensitive cunt. 

He grinned, his fingers slowing as he kissed up your body. You paused him to wipe a hand across his mouth, making him chuckle before he claimed your lips. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you closer into his lap. He rubbed his cock between your folds as he kissed you, rocking it and coating it in your essence, angling it so the swollen tip dragged deliciously across your over sensitive clit.

His hands found yours, again locking your fingers together. He moved them to press them above your shoulders. He broke the kiss as he changed the angle of his hips and thrust inside of you, filling you fully on the first go.

Your mouth fell open and you moaned, your eyes closing as pleasure filled your veins and clouded your mind. “You always feel so good inside of me, Kyo. I always feel so complete when you fill me.”

He groaned and began to move his hips. “It feels so good to be inside you. You always take me so well.”

He kissed you passionately as his hips rocked. Slow, deep, dragging thrusts. Pulling all the way out to the tip and then thrusting back in to grind against your sensitive folds, giving your clit the friction you so loved. His hands moved to be holding your wrists down as he thrust into you, fucking you down into the soft blankets beneath you.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much,” he breathed the words over your lips. “I need you to know how much I love you.”

“I do, Kyo, I do. You show me in every way, every day, all the time. And I love you the same,” you said, ripping your hands free from his to cup his face and kiss him passionately. 

His arms moved to slide under you with his hands cupping your shoulders. His hips continued to move, never breaking his rhythm as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing you in and sucking a mark into your skin. 

Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, ankles crossed and resting on his lower back. You slid a hand up into his hair, kissing the side of his head and his shoulder as you held him close. You had had sex many times over the years you had been together. But this felt different somehow. It sounded silly but it felt like he was making love to you on a soul deep level. He was trying to fill every molecule of your make up with him and his love. And you soaked it up like a sponge, hoping and praying he was feeling the same from you.

He lifted up over you, kissing you again. He straightened up onto his knees, pulling you back against him so your ass was almost in his lap as he began thrusting again. He licked his thumb and lowered it to your swollen clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

You began to tighten on his cock, another orgasm approaching. You mewled and moved your hips, trying to meet his every thrust. “I’m gonna cum, baby!”

“Let go my love, I’m here to catch you in this moment in time. This moment is ours, just ours,” he said, snapping his hips forward with more speed and more force. 

You cried out his name as you came on his cock, pulsating and squeezing him as your pleasure made a mess of you both. You reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. Your kiss was passionate, frenzied, pleasure zapping through you like electricity as he managed to prolong your orgasm even more with the speed and angle he was fucking you are. 

He put your legs onto his hips and bent over you, bracing on his hands as he fucked into you. His thrusts were hard, deep and deliberated. When he spoke, he punctuated each word with a thrust “I. Love you.”

He hit that spot inside you just right and another orgasm slammed into you, making you wail in pleasure and dig your nails in to his flesh. The feeling and sight of you cumming dragged him over the edge. “I’m cumming my love, I’m cumming!”

“That’s it, Kyo. That's what I want. Fill me up, my love.” You closed your eyes and moaned at the feel of him twitching and filling you with his cum, your body still twitching in pleasure as he thrust until spent.

He leaned over you with eyes so full of love it almost brought tears to your eyes. Panting and sweaty, he slid a hand behind your head, cupping through your hair gently. He kissed you several times, slow and long. Breaking apart to give you several soft kisses before claiming your mouth again. 

He rested your foreheads together and spoke softly. “If I have done one thing right in this life, please, let it be loving you.”

“You have loved me well and fully since the start. I’ve never doubted your love for me, you wonderful man. And I hope you have never doubted my love for you,” you said, wondering where all of this was coming from. 

“Never even once. Your love has always been my ultimate source of strength.” He pressed your lips together again before moving to lay beside you and pulling you into his arms, he kissed your forehead. “Please… let me hold you while I can.”

“Always,” you answered, concerned but letting it be for now. You lifted your head, holding his gaze.  “Kyojuro… I will love you for all of time, and in every reincarnation, in every life... I will find you, just so we can fall in love again. That is how well you have loved me and I love you.”

He kissed your shoulder and squeezed you tighter, “It is the same for me, my love. I will wait for you. I promise.”

You cuddled into his warmth, soaking up the feel of him wrapped in your arms. Your eyes glanced out the window to see the sun was just cresting on the horizon. You allowed yourself to fall asleep in the warmth and safety of Kyojuro’s arms.

You roused from your sleep when you heard one of the crows cawing to wake you and bumping your forehead with theirs. Your stroked the feathery head several times and gave it a kiss before sitting up and pulling the blanket over your bare chest.

You recognized the crow as Kaname, Kyojuro’s messenger. “Kaname. What news or mission do you bring?”

“Y/N…” Kaname said in a tone you had never heard a bird take before. He looked up at you and you swore you could see tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” you turned more fully towards him, wanting to know the details before you woke your husband. 

“Lord Kyojuro has fallen to Upper Three, Akaza.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you snapped at the bird. “Kyojuro is right he-”

You turned to find the bed beside you completely empty except for a single sunflower on his pillow. Panic and dread filled you. Where the hell was he? He had just been there… you had just… You turned back to Kaname. “N-N-N-no!! This isn’t possible!”

“Lord Kyojuro fought until the end. He saved over 200 lives. But at the cost of his own,” the bird said, looking up at her. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You can’t stop the tears that are falling and the cries of agony coming from deep within your soul as you thought back to his words while you were making love… his determination to make sure you knew how much he loved you…

“If I have done one thing right in this life, please, let it be loving you.”

You snatched his pillow to you, breathing in his scent and sobbing into the fabric. “No…. No.. Kyojuro.. No…”

You couldn’t breathe. The very air had been snatched from your lungs. You heart had been shattered into a million pieces and no amount of gold filling could ever fix it. 

“I will wait for you. I promise.”

You continued to cry into his pillow, clutching it to you like a lifeline. You cried until all you could do was let out little broken breaths. You set down the pillow and touched a hand to your stomach as the other wiped a tear from your eye. There was so much more you needed to say… that he needed to know… and now he would never know…

In a broken voice you whispered, “I hope our baby looks just like you.”

[snakesinsocks2005]

The slaughterrrrrrrrrrrrrr

(click for quality!)

[eggnogtoast]

smoke break.

[enbeemagical]

lemme try this again

Hey Tumblr! I'm writing a book. It's 102k words (and counting) of pure queer fantasy and a year's worth of emotions.

It's about a queer kid finding community and support, and then stepping up to defend the people they love. And it's about falling in love and finding yourself, and it's about trust, and connection, and responsibility, and trying to do good in the world. It is also about gay.

Blurb thing:

Destiny has always been alone, self-isolating so that no one will find out about her magic, the same power that she watched a little girl dragged away for nine years ago. Then she meets Vida, a beautiful fae whose kiss sparks something inside her, and Destiny chooses to follow her.

She's not expecting Vida's family to be a werewolf pack. Or that they'll be so welcoming— she was told werewolves are monsters, after all. She's definitely not expecting them to become her own family.

But when Destiny begins to change, it's the wolves who accept him for who he is. And it's the wolves who are the first to see Destiny's magic and swear to protect them, no matter what. And it's up to Destiny to decide what that looks like.

Even if it means changing the world.

(yes the pronoun shifts in the almost-last paragraph were intentional)

And now a quote:

“Don’t you ever want to do something you’re not supposed to? Love the wrong way, be the wrong person, want the wrong things?”

If this sounds like your cup of tea, rb and let me know! I'm not sure when I'll start posting it, there's still a few edits I need to get done, but encouragement will definitely make that happen sooner~

[alienwithobsessions]

Scenario I can't get out of my head:

THE GHOUL

- Reader has her period while wandering alone through the wasteland. Cramps get so bad she falls to the ground in the open. She's also dehydrated, so she passes out.

Cooper finds her and can smell the blood, so obviously ferals will too. He decides to hide her somewhere until he can figure out what to do with her.

Examination of his discovery, covers her with his coat to mask the smell of human and blood, internal thought process, pros and cons, memories of wife's periods, how can he help, why should he. Decides to keep her alive for a while longer.

Reader awakens, confusion, shock, fear. *cramps* Cooper is gruff but not too mean, sarcastic but understanding.

Some talking, explanations of what, why, where she's headed to. Decide to get her help (find pain relieving drugs and/or safe way to hide the smell of blood, like tampons if they still exist).

Search isn't successful, it's dangerous (even come across feral or 2).

Eventually...Cooper offers a way to relieve her cramps and mask the smell of blood...he fingers her for the former, p in v for the latter.

[violetmuses]

Not Nice - R. Reigns 🖤

Title: Not Nice - R. Reigns 🖤

Fandom: WWE

Character: Roman Reigns

Pairing: Roman Reigns + Female Reader

Main Storyline: You catch Roman's eye out of nowhere during a match.

Author's Note: I'm so excited! Thank you for everything. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. - V. 💜 @trippinsorrows @persethegawd @blackgurlnhermoods @episodes-ff @lov3rla03 🏷

Part II

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2016

��Oh, what's going on?” One commentator pulled an announcement, struck as wrestler Roman Reigns locked eye contact with someone watching across the ring.

This large-scale audience yelled from all directions, awaiting Ro's next move.

Snatching this microphone, Roman cleared his throat as everyone else looked on.

“Like what you see, baby girl?” Nearly swinging long yet dark hair in stride, Roman walked toward you and leaned against the ring, biting his lip.

Noise of the crowd heightened and even camera angles zoomed in, showing off Roman's side profile.

You smiled and took this moment regardless of public view.

You're beautiful. Ro gestured his talented fingers, mouthing compliments.

Seconds later, Reigns stepped back and pinned down his opponent to lock an absolute victory.

The crowd erupted, making you smile all over again.

“A queen has been found and the moment will fuel Roman to take control again. Thank you for watching!” One last announcement pulled credit along.

Goodness gracious.