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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 5 months

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Yuus Food Truck

In which Azul loses his mind over a grilled cheese.

Content stuff: short, one sided enemies to lovers, Azul being a loser, general cringe.

Posting Reqs like this for a bit until Tumblr lets us edit asks. I had a request for Enemies to Lovers with Azul, so I came up with this.

That goddamned Prefect was the bane of Azul's existence. For the past few weeks, he has been gripping his leg in absolute rage within his office as he stares at his weekly reports. Practically frothing at the mouth at the mere mention of you.

Recently, the little Ramshackle prefect has begun a new business venture. A simple food truck on campus selling only grilled cheeses for a singular madol. That's it. He found the idea a bit funny, he'll admit, but he was far from worried.

Surely after a month it would shut down, or at the very least get so few customers it wouldn't impact his business. I mean come on, how much money are you really making from selling grilled cheeses for one dollar? You must be taking a loss!

He was wrong. So so wrong.

Not only have you somehow been profiting from your little side project, but you have taken all of his customers. He is looking over his lounge, nowhere near as full as it usually is. He grits his teeth and heads back into the VIP room. The twins should be here any minute now.

On cue, the door creaks open, and in come those rowdy twins both with their usual smirks. Azul jerks up, staring up at Jade from his desk. His hand shook ever slightly as he gripped the feather in his hand.

“Well? Did you get it?” The mer asks, gaze steely. Floyd speaks for the both of them through mouthfuls of grilled cheese.

“Mmmhmm yeah, we got you a cheese, here you go. Mmmm.” Floyd took another bite of his as he tossed the wrapped-up grilled cheese onto the desk.

“Hey watch the merchandise– Are you eating their food?" Azul stared at both of them. Floyd stuffing his face with the one in his hand and Jade elegantly nibbling on his own. He was shocked, betrayed by his own staff. “You guys gave them more money— ugh. I would have expected this of Floyd but you too Jade?”

“The prefect saw me ordering and put some mushrooms into mine that pair well with the cheese. Free of charge as well. How thoughtful of them. I must commend their customer service.” Jade wore a shit-eating smirk on his face as he took another bite, making a show out of it. He seemed to relish in Azul's misery.

“Free of charge?” Azul was flabbergasted. Not only were their prices ridiculously low but they were adding things for free? They might as well be handing their money away at that point.

“Right? I say they should have charged Jade for all he's worth for putting those damn things on. Yuck…” Floyd wrinkled his nose as he side eyed Jade, who just continued to eat blissfully.

He needed to figure out just what was so good about the damn things. Gloved hands carefully lifted up the wrapped delicacy with such fragility as if it would break from a gust of wind. The wrapping was done well, nice and neat as he peeled it off to reveal what was inside.

Crisped and perfectly brown buttered white bread. It glistened in the light with its heavenly beauty. The cheese was ooey and gooey and so thick that it ran down the sides. So far the presentation was beautiful, but it was pretty damn difficult to fucked up a grilled cheese. He tried to hold back this drool from the smell alone.

Carefully, he took a bite and closed his eyes. His mouth was blasted with flavor. As he savored that magical bite, a gust of wind swept through the room, causing the curtains to dance dramatically. The cheesy aroma lingered, creating an ambiance fit for a culinary masterpiece. This grilled cheese has unlocked secrets of the universe with how much it expanded his mind. This mere sandwich has him on the brink of tears

Azul has to hold his expression. He's not gonna be impressed by some measly sandwich. He's better than that. Though he thought that maybe by tasting it he could be able to figure out what your secret ingredient was, it's clear that isn't the case… This is a simple grilled cheese. He would have to go undercover to discover your cooking secrets.

***

“Heyyy Prefect!” A wry voice hums near the truck, belonging to no other than Ruggie. He knocked on the side of the window and Yuu poked out their head.

Azul watched from the distance, narrowing his eyes as he hyper-focused on the conversation. He admits the front of the Ramshackle dorms was a great location. Close to the botanical garden, close to the main building, not as far as Octavinelle either, and had most of the foot traffic. It's why he had his eye on it for a second location.

“Well if it isn't my number one customer, what can I get ya, let me guess a grilled cheese?” Of course, Ruggie would be their number one customer, which makes sense given his financial state. Figures. Maybe if he introduced a dollar menu…

“You know what Ruggie, you're cool. For you, it's 50 cents. Two for one if you will.” Ruggie pauses for a moment before smiling again. “Awe really? Sweet, can't up a deal like that shyehehehe!” The hyena cackles and you get to work. The window for the truck is fully open, allowing Azul to see in.

You aren't even hiding your cooking technique?! You're just giving all your secrets away like that?! Ohh you foolish fool… This would be easier than he thought.

He must get closer, to see what sort of fuckery is at play here. However, walking up and just watching you cook work is suspicious. As much as he hates to fund this little project… sacrifices must be made… He will have to order a grilled cheese…

Ruggie slinks off, tail wagging happily as he munches on his food. This was the perfect opportunity to approach. He stood up even straighter and approached with determination hidden poorly behind his attempt at a straight face. His scowl dared to seep through but he managed to smooth it out into his sickenly sweet facade.

“Hello, dear prefect!” He watched Yuu perk up through the window as they wiped down their workspace. They glanced over at Azul, completely unaware of his evil plot. “Heya Zuzu what can I get ya?”

Zuzu? That's awfully bold… whatever eyes on the prize…

“I'd like one grilled cheese please if I may…” Hell yes. Smooth operator. He's so good at this.

“Mkay, coming right up.” Azul leans in closer as you get to work, memorizing everything you do… You just make a grilled cheese… Nothing special. It's just simple bread and cheese you cook in butter. How the hell? Was it the oven perhaps? Did you somehow know of his intentions and we're trying to conceal it?? Ugh, whatever maybe he can sucker you into another deal.

“... You know Prefect, if you just raised the price a bit you'd be bringing in more profits.”

You shrugged as you pressed down your creation with your spatula to make it sizzle more. “Yeah, I know how money works.” Azul paused and blinked.

“So why don't you do it?” You shrug again. “It's funny.” Azul was perplexed, bamboozled, perhaps even smeckledorfed perchance. You were doing this for fun?! Starting a business for fun. Not for profit which would be beneficial given your situation, but for fun.

“Fun? Really? But prefect– wouldn't you– shouldn't you consider raising the prices even slightly? I mean after all Crowley hasn't been paying you well and if anything—”

“I should shoot you for the mere suggestion of raising the grilled cheese prices. The price is firm. It's never going up even by a cent. Hell, I'm so offended I may lower it.” You pulled the cheese off the grill and started to pack it up, swaddling it with such delicacy and love reserved for newborns.

Azul's mouth hung open for a bit before closing it. “Are you serious? Prefect— Yuu at this point I'm not even mad about the competition I'm– hrk!”

“You need to relax a little Azul, for your own sake.” You shoved the grilled cheese out the window a bit more forcefully than you intended, making the unwrapped part hit Azul's glasses. The melty butter left grease marks on them, and through the blurriness, he could see your expression. His heart skipped a beat and sucked in a breath. Oh no.

He was in love.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #crack #food truck yuu #this is so cringe

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sunflowersteves · 11 months

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hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse

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stevebabey · 2 months

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hi rubes!!! i was curious on ur thoughts on what a lazy sunday with steve would look like? esp if its one that like both ur day off and its smth that hasnt happened in a long time

hi angel!! sorry i sat on this one for awhile, i hope i made up for it by making it sooooo lovey dovey <3 0.8k, gn!reader

By some miracle, you're the first awake.

Steve is like a kind of sheep dog— he requires frequent exercise and so, he usually slips a run in the morning before you're even close to awake.

And also because of the shaggy hair and the way he seems to wag an invisible tail when all his favourite people are gathered in the same room, even going around and rounding them up, checking on everyone— Okay, you get the point, analogy over.

Actually, point is, you getting up before Steve like never happens.

Scratch that, you and Steve getting a day off to sleep in on the same day never happens. And even more, Steve very rarely skips his morning run because, y'know, sheep dog and all.

Basically, you figure this whole morning is a wondrous crafted little miracle. You have no plans to waste it.

Peering across your pillow, you watch the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he sleeps, your softened gaze roaming over his face gently. He looks younger in his sleep, pillowy lips parted lightly. His moles beg to be kissed. His hair is a mess. It's lost all its volume, lying flat against the pillow and urging you to run your fingers through it.

You ignore the urge in favor of slipping out from under the comforter. quiet as you can.

Steve's annoyingly good at spoiling you and is less than receptive to letting you return the sentiment. With one last glance back at bed, you let out a soft sigh, a honeyed noise, and head to the kitchen.

Steve's favourite mug is this wonky one that Dustin made once upon a time, some pottery class at one of his camps. You stare at it, glazed eyes taking in an alarmingly amount of detail on the cup, as the coffee brews behind you. Its scent wafts through the room. You've woken a dozen times to it, when it's Steve up and about, fixing a beverage for you.

It's cute, you think, that he still uses Dustin's mug for his coffee. By cute you mean, you can't think about it for too long or you'll stamp back down to the bedroom and kiss your boyfriend til your lips are blue and—

"Ooh, coffee?" Steve announces his presence with his words, partially garbled by his loud yawn. He halfheartedly covers his mouth, the hoodie he's haphazardly chucked on misaligned enough that it hangs over his hand adorably. He shuffles into the kitchen tiredly and despite his introduction, he heads right to you.

You can't resist a pout. Steve takes a moment to notice it, too happily distracted sidling up and worming his arms around your middle.

When he does, he tilts his head to the side. "What?"

"You couldn't let me bring it to you in bed?"

He grins. "I'm sorry. Was that the plan?"

"You know it was." You mumble grouchily, not upset at all. You push a hand into his chest, giving him a little shove. "You're always doin' this stuff for me but you don't ever let me do it for you."

Steve softens unbearably, his grin getting all gooey at the sides. He looks a little lovestruck, messy hair and all. It takes immense will to continue your upset facade. You nudge his chest again, your head inclining towards the bedroom.

"What?" His eyebrows jump, expression a mixture of incredulity and affectionate. "Y'want me to get back in bed? So you can come bring it to me?"

You smile, nudging his chest again and grinning when he starts to take a couple steps back, heading towards the bedroom. "Yes. Exactly that."

"You're absurd."

You poke your tongue out him. "You love it."

Steve moves forward abruptly, his hands cradling your face gently as he leans and steals a kiss from you. He retracts just as fast, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Yes, I do," He agrees, still wandering backwards. He disappears into your bedroom and you're left standing there with your own lovesick grin. God, you love him. Your heart feels like spun sugar in your chest, airy and sweet beyond relief.

To which Steve is no help at all when you walk into the bedroom, carefully holding the mug so it doesn’t spill. He's tucked back in bed, pretending to be asleep, only to wake with the grace of a Disney princess at your footsteps.

He faux yawns and pretends to jump at your presence, scampering to sit up in bed so he can accept the coffee from you. "Oh wow, what a surprise this is!"

"Shut up. You think you're soo funny, huh?" you mumble, handing the coffee over. Your aching smile gives away just how funny you think he is.

"Mmhm," Steve hums as he takes a sip. You've made it just the way he likes it. He parrots your earlier words. "You love it."

You lean in, mindful of the mug, and kiss him sweetly. He tastes of coffee and cream and he chases your lips for a second kiss when you pull back. You aim for tiredly amused but the words come out devastatingly sincere anyway. "Yeah, I do."

#ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve x you #i've recently learned that only the first 20 tags apply to the tags so im doing all my rambling at the end LMAO #im honestly treating these as writing exercises <3 #where i just sit down and do them all in one go #perfect timing for the oscars party photo of jk to come out #Thats my vision of bf steve <3 #enjoy!!!

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hitlikehammers · 3 months

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whole wide world

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, teacher! Steve, gooey-clingy-heart-eyes Eddie needs his Stevie ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, amateur musicals, steve needs to stop using a ladder unsupervised because nothing bad happened this time but eddie is concerned that is the love of his life, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day thirteen: Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️ (@steddieas-shegoes)

look who's back, just like every other day, it's the rockstar husbands from je ne regrette rien being their codependent, desperately-in-love selves again! ♥️

“Goddamnit,” Steve curses the staple gun, the dry-rotted wood he’s trying to use it on, the acrylic-covered tarp masquerading as a backdrop leaving little crackle-dust everywhere every single time it fucking falls because the wood’s shit, the staples are shit, his co-advisor’s kid’s sick with the flu, the kids are in the band room rehearsing the opening number and Steve really cannot fucking believe he got roped into this to begin with, actually, like, how the fuck did the middle school guidance-counselor-slash-study-hall-monitor get conned into helping with the high school drama club, just because one of his JV soccer players landed the lead and bemoaned loudly enough during laps how they didn’t know if they’d be able to make the performance even work, because the choir teacher’s on maternity leave and the band director’s kind of a dick, and the needed more help—

Steve only is even in the high school for the goddamn athletics office. For, y’know, the equipments for the athletes.

Yet: here he is. Standing on a rusty fucking ladder that probably needs a spotter, to be honest, and if Steve’s admitting that then yeah, it definitely needs someone holding the goddamn thing, but here he is, already two hours after the final bell, trying to stick a painting of mattressesin a stack that only vaguely looks like mattresses so thank god that’s in the show title—

The ladder wobbles a little when he tries to catch the tarp-thing again but he can’t reach far enough without risking a long way down to a very hard stage floor, so the backdrop’s sacrificed back to the ground—a-fucking-gain—as he shifts his weight to steady the steps and it’s a close thing, he’s about ninety-seven percent sure he’s aimed the teetering feet of it back to solid ground okay but he glances around quick just in case, tries to figure if there’s anything he can grab for and let the ladder go on its own if need-be, and—

“That’s fucking dangerous, big boy,” a deep, and deeply unexpected, voice trails up from the floor, clipped with stress, with fear because Steve fucking knows that voice, and the ladder’s suddenly fully steady so he can turn and look and—

“Gonna give me a goddamn stroke or something, finding you up on one of these all by your lonesome,” Eddie’s staring up at him, and the words could be teasing, and Steve thinks maybe they intend to be, but: those eyes are too big. There’s a pulse Steve can count in that throat, even from seven-feet-up.

So he does what any man in love with his husband would do in the face of said-husband in fear, and for him: Steve climbs down careful, but quick, with Eddie’s hands scrambling to make sure of the ‘careful’ part as soon as he can reach, and then he turns, and then he lands on solid ground again to pull Eddie in and thank every colleague of his he’d been cursing in his mind for leaving him alone to do all this shit, because alone is the reason he gets to kiss his lover hard, and full; wrap around him and let him squeeze Steve to the point where it aches, where it creaks in his bones, like proof.

Lets Eddie attach his lips to suck a bruise, possessive and needy and protective all at once along his throat, and yeah:

Exactly like proof.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks when they pull apart just the slightest bit, because he wasn’t expecting Eddie to be home until probably close-on to midnight, let alone at the school well before five.

“Thought you could maybe use an extra set of hands,” Eddie shrugs like it’s a casual thing, showing up just to help out when he’s on a press cycle, and it’s evident even in his attire that that’s the case, if you know what to look for: more chains from his jeans, thicker soles on his boots just flirting with being platforms, at least two rings on every finger—save just one.

One has a ring, and a carefully-preserved and repeatedly-reinforced bread-bag tie: both serving the same purpose in very different points in their lives.

Point being: Eddie was wading through photoshoots and magazine spreads and radio spots and every fucking thing, and no matter how high he’s raising his eyebrow in a clear calling out of how he found Steve atop a shaky ladder as being obvious evidence of having use of an extra set of hands, the fact remains:

“But you’ve got the interview—“ the big ass interview with that shock-jock guy Steve kinda hates, but that’s a big fucking deal, and was the precise reason Steve wasn’t lamenting giving up his afternoon and evening to the at-least-halfway-to-lost-cause of the not-even-an-actual-full-fledged-theatre department: he wasn’t going to have Eddie home before bed anyway.

And yet: here stands the man.

“The boys have got it,” Eddie shrugs, like he actually doesn’t give a shit, and that’s…he does give a shit, he had sounded excited about it last night when they’d talked about their plans for the week over dinner, when Steve had bemoaned the travesty of this fucking production of Once Upon A Boxspring or whatever, and Eddie’d told him he was pretty sure he was going to be able to say fuck on the show even if they’d edit it, like he wouldn’t get in trouble, and he’d looked like a kid in a goddamn candy shop about it so yeah: Steve thinks he kinda did give a shit.

But he’s…not there.

“Gareth’s been itching to take the reins after he won out the final track list,” Eddie offers as explanation; “cocky bastard.”

And they collaborate on all the writing, music and lyrics, they’re not even the slightest bit competitive about it which would be hard to believe if all you saw of the members of Corroded Coffin were their goddamn shenanigans during a campaign; but the one think in their music that they docompete over?

Whose title-idea gets the opener on a given album. And Gareth did end up scooping them all when the execs came back with a shuffle. Steve had watched it unfold in real time; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a grown man crow like Gareth had, and he is married to Edward fucking Munson.

So that’s saying something.

“Eds,” Steve tries to prod a little at the point of it all though, because Eddie’s got press, and this is a high school, and probably Eddie could get to the studio in time to catch the end of whatever, it’s prerecorded, he knows that much, they could squeeze a live interview in so they could probably do Eddie at the end and just shuffle it around, right, it’s easy, and that’s so much more important than this because this:

“Eds, it’s just a—“

“It’s the spring musical, baby,” Eddie says like he’s announcing the arrival of the president, of the Queen of England, then his eyes soften a little as he flicks at one of the real mattresses that will, presumably, be props for the actors if the show’s title isn’t a fucking lie: “you know that’s where my DM throne had its humble origins, before I elevated it to greatness?”

Steve did know that, not least because they’d smuggled Eddie in to DM a few special sessions before the gremlins graduated, and he’d taken his seat with regal aplomb every time, and Steve had learned that yeah, they used the random storage room that was mostly drama shit for Hellfire.

And the way he’d learned that was by sucking Eddie off hidden by some very ratty but very conveniently poofy ballgowns from a production of Cinderella.

“I missed you.”

Steve turns to him and blinks; Eddie’s eyes are on the mattress, his stance almost a little shy.

“You saw me this morning,” Steve doesn’t ask, exactly, but he…he’s not sure he’s following, is the thing.

“I was,” Eddie sighs, and flops to sit down on the mattress which, thankfully, is a mattress and gives a little, bounces under him.

“I was just feeling, I dunno,” he gives a shrug that fades into something like a shiver, and then Eddie’s arms come around too hug around his middle as he ducks his chin and, oh no.

None of that.

“I thought about you being, you know, you,” and Eddie gets to gesture at the mess of the stage only halfway before Steve’s catching his hand, lacing their fingers and pulling Eddie back up to standing, then back into Steve’s arms here he leans heavy, sighs deeper this time; relief instead of something shallow.

“Just you doing all this when you don’t even have a horse in the race, y’know?” Eddie muffles into the side of Steve’s neck, burrowed in tight. “And I was supposed to be in the zone about press and shit, and it just,” he shakes his head, which is more like the brush of his lips back and forth against Steve’s skin; “it wasn’t clicking at all, like I posed and did the looks and whatever,” and oh, Steve knows the looks, Steve has about half those looks printed out and framed in various parts of their home or tucked safe inside his wallet, whereas the other half he takes great joy in recreating at random to the chagrin of his darling husband, love of his whole goddamn life.

“Then Jeff asked if I wanted to duck out,” and Eddie smiles up at him, a little sheepish; they both know the boys can see right through Eddie feeling needy, or lovelorn; Steve’s grateful as shit for Eddie’s bandmates, their friends, for knowing when Eddie just needs Steve.

“I didn’t even think twice, just,” Eddie swallows hard, a little, peeking up through lashes and bangs as he exhales:

“Just wanted to see you before the middle of the fucking night.”

And what can Steve do in the face of that, really? He can’t argue it. Wouldn’t ever fucking want to.

“I love you,” he frames Eddie’s face and kiss the bridge of his nose, then soft between his brows as he breathes out with his whole heart: “so goddamn much.”

“Can you promise me you won’t do the,” Eddie tips his head behind them; “the ladder thing, at least not by yourself?” And Eddie’s eyes are so, so big again. “Like, pretty please, don’t do that again?”

“I won’t,” Steve swears it, and kisses him firm to seal the promise: “thanks for coming to the rescue.” Because there was a three percent chance Steve was going to wipe the fuck out from very very high, and he’s have survived it, but he’s not twenty anymore, and it would have fucking sucked, probably for a while.

“Always, baby,” Eddie murmurs, still tight against Steve lips before he straightens a little, and this time he’s framing Steve’s face, but more holding him still in place, emphatic:

“Actually, amendment,” he says seriously, eyes darting between Steve’s a tiny-touch frantic: “next time you need to be on a ladder, you call me first,” he damn-well declares it, rather than asks; “so I can hold it steady.”

“My hero,” Steve breathes against him with a smile, and there’s not even a hint of teasing in it.

“I don’t trust any other hands to catch you, baby,” Eddie tells him, a little too raw; full sincerity bleeding from him all the sudden as he caresses down the cheeks he’s still cupping: “no one else in the whole wide world appreciates what you’re worth.”

“And what’s that, exactly,” Steve scoffs a little, playful where he’s held in Eddie’s arms but Eddie: Eddie’s holding him tight, now, and his heartbeat’s heavy where he’s moving to crush Steve to his chest, and there’s a little wavering pitch of something in his voice when he whispers:

“The whole wide world,” and oh.

That’s the answer.

It’s Steve’s answer, too, to the same exact question, but hearing it said so plain never stops feeling like the ending and remaking of the whole wide world, every time.

So yeah, Steve has to take a minute to swallow through the tightness in his throat, and maybe he does that with his forehead bowed against his husbands so they breathe each other in as a rule just in the course of living in the moment, together—and when the straighten up Steve steals a kiss first, quick but hard, with feeling, before he cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the scene that’s settled around them.

“Help me try and figure this out to hang?” Steve kicks at the tarp-tapestry, and Eddie walks its perimeter critically before frowning up at Steve.

“Think it needs some touch ups,” he pronounces solemnly, and fuck, yeah, all the color-dust from the useless staple-holes and the falling. But his husband’s actually really good with details, and matching colors, and using a brush, and fantasy settings—

“Paint’s in the back,” he says with a lilt of suggestion and Eddie lights up and grabs Steve’s hand to drag him toward the promise of painting, like maybe all he needed really was just…this.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

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cupids-chamber · 11 months

Text

| Overblot!Azul Ashengrotto x Reader — “ COLD INK “ Commissioned by an anonymous user Commision me here_

Gender Neutral Reader (You/Your prns), Suggestive themes (No outright sex scenes, but suggests and/or implies it, depends on the reader), Possessive behavior/Yandere content (Do not romanticize this sort of behavior in real life), Bdsm? (No sexual scenes, just implied arousal/excitement from pain), Implied consent/Dubcon? (Reader doesn’t explicitly consent to Azul’s actions, but doesn’t mind it), All characters are aged up (This is due to the fact, that depending on how you read the story, it can imply certain things), Do not try this at home.

Carefully you traveled throughout the halls of what was once the Octavinelle Dormitory. The entire environment and surroundings of the dorm and the beautiful violet halls were much darker than before, gloomy.. Leaking and doused with ink, the walls stank with the putrid smell of it as well. You tried your best to walk into a safer area, careful steps, trying not to make much noise and most definitely not to slip and fall given the ink that surrounded the halls, were slick and slippery. One wrong move, and you could’ve gotten caught in God knows what. You took a deep breath, going through the intercrete and lavishly made dormitory, a part of you feared the overblot's, and hence why you're hiding out in here. You had figured that it would be much easier to hide indoors, rather than outdoors, where your housewarden was, in all his glory.

You still remember the piercing blue eyes as he glared at you and then grinned, while you ran into the dorm once more, running as far away from him as you could. The sickening stench of ink that drowned the walls of your once glorious dorm, only reminded you of the horrifying sight you had witnessed—It was abnormal, the transformation, and how the entire dorm had followed in the steps of it's very own housewarden converting to a more corrupt mindset as his negative thoughts overruled his positive ones.

It had been a good twenty minutes or over, as you roamed the halls, each hall growing more and more darker and ominous, as you’re reminded of the hazy image of Azul in your head. You had long since taken off your shoes, to stop yourself from leaving a trail of ink in a path that led back to you...

Your thoughts had blurred quite a bit, as well.. The putrid smell melting your thoughts and consciousness, it was getting harder to breathe and if you hadn't known any better, you were sure the walls were closing in on you, as if they were guiding you somewhere. The space itself was suffocating, as the image of Azul’s wicked smirk replayed in your head, like a broken radio, the way he looked at you and then smiled.. The scene replayed in your head so many times, until eventually it began to blur and you couldn't even remember how his overblot form truly looked, only colors and a blurry vision of the same little clip that kept replaying in your head for the past hour.

It didn't take long for you to grow tired, and nauseous. The smell of rotten ink was suffocating you, heavy breathes left your mouth. You felt sick, your gut turning and twisting, and the ink made you feel completely out of it, it was as if the ink was all over you, it wasn't. But you could feel it all over you, practically taste its spoiled flavor all over your tongue. The disgusting and revolting black gooey substance haunted you at every corner of the dorm, and for a moment you began regretting coming in here, praying for a way out... But there was no way out, hours of opening doors and finding no exit, no safe place, no area uncovered, without a speck of ink.

It wasn't long till your legs had given up on you, you were tired. Your breathing was unstable, eyes struggling to keep open, as you tried your best not to fall asleep amidst the messy halls, somehow attempting to crawl into a safer area, somewhere... anywhere, where the revolting scent and sight of rotten ink didn't keep threatening you.. And that was the last thing you really could remember, your heart thumping harshly in your chest, body threatening to give up on you and then.. pitch black, deep into slumber, and you couldn't even tell where exactly you had ended up by the time your consciousness had left you.

You slowly blinked, vision blurry and distorted, you couldn't see anything yet, your eyesight failing you once more. There were large tentacle-like things that had been wrapped around you, on your legs and hips, holding you in place. Their grip wasn’t as tight as one would expect, lightly holding your tired body in place. Your entire body ached, soar from the physical strain of the events that had occurred right before your slumber hit—especially your back, which was flushed red and pained, from the awkward position you were forced in during your slumber. You could only assume how much your unconscious state was pushed around.

Your mind hadn't yet registered just how much of a dire situation you were currently in, your mind felt numb as if still recovering and registering all the events that had led you here.. before you fainted… Until you felt something cold, yet soft, slither up your thighs.

Your lips parted slightly as your mouth opened a bit, on display. Your breath hitched as the sudden dryness in your throat had hit you, causing you to let out a hoarse noise. Your vision was still blurry, and your heart began to thump loudly as there was a sharp ring in your ears, but somehow— you were still able to register that soft laugh.

Azul chuckled a bit, hands traveling up your thighs, the larger tentacles that had once held you in place were gone, just a smaller one holding you firmly in place, by your upper waist. Azul’s hands softly gripped your hips, the harsh marks, the tentacles that had previously gripped and forced you down, left a raw and fresh bruise, that his nails happily dug into, causing you to harshly hiss through your gritted teeth, eyes growing a bit wider than before. His mouth grazed over your neck, "Did that hurt?", he whispered, feigning innocence as his breath ghosted over your sensitive skin. — You remained silent, which only caused him to dig his nails deeper into your bruises, harshly digging through your flesh— So close to drawing blood, yet he’d stop right before that.

Azul smiled as he watched your facial expressions change, the way your mouth remained slightly a-gaped, he moved one of his cold hands, slithering up your body before lifting up your chin, he looked directly into your glossy eyes, hazed while tears threatened to fall from the torment.

"This won't do", he murmured softly into your ears, before harshly biting down onto your neck, leaving a bright mark. His teeth dug into your soft skin, blood dripping out of the fresh wound that had been formed from the sudden onslaught, causing you to whimper as tears began to fall, the pain affecting you more than usual. — He grazed his tongue over the new wound, licking off the blood, which only resulted in you letting out involuntary noises. He hummed softly, as your eyes began to roll back from the pain and maybe even pleasure.

Azul only giggled watching you wither and squirm, dragging his nails through your back, leaving long strides of nail marks and bruises, his lips ghosting over your own before he dragged you into a soft kiss, that became all the more forceful. — You could practically taste and feel the raw ink on his tongue, cold and unsavory, but his movements turned soft as his hands grazed over the bare bruises he had left on you.

When Azul had finally felt as if he had done enough, he stopped. You weren't sure if any part of your body was left unmarked, unbruised.. eyes glossy and red, from the amount of times you had cried, your throat was aching and in pain, it was dry from the lack of water, yet any noise that had left you made it worse. Azul lifted your chin up, gently pouring water into your mouth—It was cold, just like his touch. A bit of the water drizzled down from the corners of your mouth, from his careless movements as he fed you.

You could barely speak nor move, when he had picked you up, hands gently gliding over the bruises and wounds all over your body, causing your breath to hitch, and your eyes shut tightly.. Without a single care, he harshly pressed down on an aching wound, causing your eyes to water as you let out a shaky loud gasp, as he laughed softly at your state. "Are you hurt?", he asked apologetically, feigning guilt— you would've believed him had he not been smiling, ".. I'll get you something to eat.. after all, you'll have to get used to this'', he whispered the last part, humming softly, and you couldn't quite hear it over the harsh thumbing in your heart and ears.

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moldycantaloupe · 9 days

Text

Mushy May Day 14

Silly baby talk

Pairing; Swiss/Rain

Cw; very minor injury (it is a splinter)

Notes; thanks as always to @forlorn-crows for the prompts list!

By some force of nature, Swiss and Rain were paired together on organizing the tool shed for spring cleaning. No one would blame Mountain for choosing Rain over Aether, the earth ghoul usually tied up in a million other things, but Rain wasn’t the happiest to be spending the warm day in a musty shed rather than being out by the lake.

Swiss rummaged through the shelving under the work table and Rain stood beside him, rummaging through the paint closet. Mountain gave the two of them a sheet of paper full of things he’d need for the greenhouse while they cleaned, and so far they were a quarter of the way there.

Swiss gasped loud enough for Rain’s ears to twitch and pick up. They looked down with a puzzled expression as he emerged from under the bench, his finger outstretched before him.

“What happened?” Rain blinked at him.

Swiss turned his finger in examination. “Think I got a splinter.”

Rain exaggerated a pout and bent down with him, their knees quietly popping in the process. They joined him in examining the finger, their head tilting side to side.

“Swissy got a splinty?” They cooed quietly.

Swiss snorted with a nod. “Yeah, Swissy got a splinty.”

Rain clicked their tongue and Swiss’ smile grew wider. They took his finger into their hand and with careful eyes and fingers, managed to find the splinter. The end was just barely sticking out.

“Aw, my poor baby,” they continued to coo in a grating voice, “I’ll fix you right up.”

Swiss’ body shook with quiet laughter as he watched his beloved mate pinch the offending wood between their claws and carefully pull it out. He sighed when it came out, relieved he wouldn’t have to hassle with it later.

“You’re amazing, Rainy.” Swiss muttered.

They flicked the piece away and held his hand in both of theirs, caressing it like it was given to them by the gods. They bent down and placed a careful kiss to his finger, eyes locked to his behind their lashes.

“All better, baby?” Their voice was still pitched in a way that made Swiss chuckle again, leaning down himself to place a kiss between their horns.

“So much better, Rainy.” He mimicked their tone and they smiled up at him.

Rain smiled and stood back to their full height, a silly smile across their face.

“Glad my baby is all better.” They went back to the closet, head and arms buried deep. “Cause Mounty will kill my baby if he doesn’t get all the tools he needs in the next hour.” Their gooey voice shifted back to its monotone self.

Swiss blinked and slid right back into the depths of the work table. His finger did feel better, at least.

#lou writes #mushy may 2024 #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #swiss x rain

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 10 months

Note

okay. hear me out. Kappa belittling you while you cry and whimper over the size of his cock🙁🙁 mean dom kappa has my heart I swear

This is my meal. I call it 🌟guuuuuuurl diiinnnerrrrr🌟

Mating Season

Summary: In which Kappa is using you as his personal fleshlight 😗

Pairing: Kappa x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Content Warnings: Nothing But Filth 18+!, Mean!Dom!Kappa Being A Menace, Doggy, Ovulation Hornyness, So Much Cum, Straight Up Breeding (It's Not Just A Kink Anymore, Y'all 🥴), Resulting In Possible Impreg, Refractory Period? We Don't Know Her Around Here, Overstimulation (Reader Is Completely Gone At This Point), Very Primal, Petnames, Manhandling, Spanking (That's Prolly The Most Normal Thing In This Fic)

A/N: We all know ovulation hornyness is actually diabolical 👀

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @roryculkinsbf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @b4sementgrl @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess

Come play my game, I'll test ya

Psychosomatic, addict, insane

Come play my game

Inhale, inhale, you're the victim

Come play my game

Exhale, exhale, exhale

- Breathe By The Prodigy (Remix)

You felt it slowly trickling down the inside of your thighs, the accumulated gooey amalgamation of ejaculate, sweat and the slick of your countless orgasms sticky against your skin. Single dollops of it practically flew through the air, splattering onto an already damp mattress and all over Kappas crotch repeatedly whilst he fucked into you from behind with relentlessl fervor.

Lewd, straight up filthy wet sounds echoed from the decrepit stone walls but not really cutting through to you anymore. You, with your head pressed against the sheets, your hair nothing but a mess all over and around your face, drool leaking from between your quivering lips, were a goner.

Not a single thought crossed your fogged mind, all that was left was to simply feel and that you did for sure.

With each heavy roll of Kappa's hips against your already spanked and bruised ass, you felt how the angry tip of his cock spearheaded into your sore cunt that was clearly overflowing with bodily fluids at this point. You felt how your walls clenched and tightened around him, how your body betrayed you like this and failing to realize that Kappa had been hammering himself into your abused pussy like that for hours now. For some wicked reason, your body still craved more, getting increasingly cockdrunk with every time you felt him stroking his girth over that especially sensitive spot of yours.

The point where your muscles couldn't take it anymore was long overstepped already, but you just froze in the position you were in, with your ass raised up high on trembling knees and your front pinned to the mattress, blacking out the pain in devout submission.

With your eyes closed, all senses turned inward, you only knew the pushing and shoving, thrusting and pulling back of his throbbing cock deep inside of you, making you see stars sparkling on the black of your eyelids. Time and place rendered into obscure concepts that didn't apply to you in any way right now.

"Hey, you still here?" Kappa barked out in a breathy, low laugh before the flat of his palm swung down onto the round of your behind.

The answer you gave to that was far from some carefully articulated word and but a meak whimper that snaked its way out of your mouth upon impact.

"There, there…I was worried about my sweet, little cum bunny for a moment." Just for good measure, he struck down on your ass again, successfully leaving a glowing red imprint of his hand next to countless others.

You felt the pain shooting through your weak body yet your worn out nerve endings couldn't be bothered to even do so much as flinch.

"Oh, you're so far gone, aren't you?", Kappa mocked, pushing himself into you again, splitting you open from the inside out, "Don't worry, babe, I'll make sure to finally fuck a baby into you. Fuck, you take my cock so good. Such an obedient slut."

The words reached your ears, your fucked out brain trying to comprehend in a fruitless attempt. The last thing you knew was essentially begging unto him to touch you, to fuck the hornyness, caused by your monthly cycle, out of you and to ease the throbbing need between your legs with his body. Kappa more than gladly took you up on that invitation.

"Yeah, I'm gonna get you pregnant, fucking finally. Do the very thing none of those Replicas could ever do and actually procreate.", He rambled on in his deranged train of thought, "Can't wait for your belly to grow and swell with the human life that I father right here."

It seemed as if he talked himself into a delusional spurt, picking up the pace in which his thighs slapped against the brutalized skin of your ass, not even fully pulling out anymore before shoving himself into you again.

It had the tiny rest of your still haphazardly functioning brain short circuiting as your weak fingers searched for support by digging into the sheets. It was to no avail, your tear-soaked cheek chaffed over the fabric with each thrust, most likely turning sore by the time he'd eventually be done with you here.

"Shit, fuck…", It seeped out of his mouth in a guttural groan, " 'M gonna cum again just by thinking about getting you knocked up, bunny."

Although your brain was nothing but a fucked out puddle by now, you recognised how his rhythm faltered like the plenty of times before, his pulsing cock turning rigid inside of you before a new, hot and tacky wave of his seed flooded your already full to the brim insides.

You sensed how his load pushed past your walls and exuded out of your sore cunt, smearing down the insides of your thighs just like the last and the one before that.

"Gosh, you're such a perfect, submissive breeding slut for me. Fucking love you and your pussy when you're so needy for me like that. Gonna make sure that I fuck all of my cum into you nice and deep.." With that, Kappa inhaled sharply before rolling his hips against your behind again, pulling a weak whimper from your lungs.

"Might as well just do that all night long."

#asks are appreciated #asks are always open #rory culkin #kappa #kappa black mirror #black mirror #black mirror: beyond the sea #kappa x you #kappa smut #kappa x fem!reader #kappa x reader

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

Text

Flight Deck // Bob Floyd

-> Prologue: Conspiracy Theories

Summary: In an attempt to prevent Bob from running for the hills believing you’re a murderer. You sit him down to discuss your past.

Warnings: Mentions of Death of a loved one. Mentions of house fire. Bob Floyd x F!reader.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author Note: Day Twenty Four of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Disowned by Family, Oxygen Deprivation, Silent Treatment. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Flight Deck Masterlist

The cafe was closed. The flashing open sign that signaled to patrons that premium coffee beans were ready to be freshly ground and a plethora of pastries, toasted sandwiches, crumbly but oh so gooey cookies and massive muffins were fresh and ready to be devoured, was switched off against the window.

The awkward silence that filled the atmosphere was almost too much to handle as Bob sat across from you in the book nook. There was a flat white with one sugar and a macaroon sitting on a small tea plate before him. He didn’t like macaroons, but there had only been a few items left to choose from come closing and his favourite apple and cinnamon muffins had all but vanished from the menu.

It was his fault really, he’d been caught up in his own insecurities for far too many weeks to realise the damage he’d unintentionally caused. You didn’t deserve to be ghosted like he ghosted you. The silent treatment was a poor representation of the man he wanted to be. He never should have believed you were capable of such things. The rumors he had heard about you had a nasty bite. They left a sour taste in Bob's mouth—sometimes he wished he’d never listened, and especially the Jake fucking Seresin of all people. What Hyde saw in him Bob would never truly know.

“You don't owe me an explanation—“ Bob began as he looked down at his hands that rested between his thighs under the table. He’d been picking at his cuticles for the past ten minutes as you shut the cafe down to other customers and locked the front door. It was one of those rare occasions where your son, five year old Oliver Lipscombe, was at after school vacation care.

“You’ve already heard the rumours.” You replied, there was a sadness in your voice Bob couldn’t miss. He knew he’d hurt you. It was never his intention, but his fight or flight response had kicked in and his immediate reaction was to avoid you at all costs. It was his brain's defense system telling him that he was in danger, to run as far away as he possibly could so that he wouldn’t be hurt.

He grew up doing that, running away from any situation that could have caused him any kind of pain. Emotionally or physically. Bob Floyd was a runner, a flight risk of you will.

And that’s exactly what the Weapons Systems Officer who had started to fall in love with you did, despite his heart screaming at him to stick around and just ask you what the hell was going on and why there was a rumour:

A rumour that you’d killed your fiancé and burned your house to its very foundation to hide the secrets you kept close to your chest.

“I've never talked about this with anyone besides my lawyers before.” The zucchini and corn fritter that sat on the tea plate in front of you had gone stone cold. Usually you looked forward to a treat after you closed up.

But sitting across from Robert Floyd, the first man you’d ever bothered to look at let alone entertain the idea of beginning a new chapter of your life with, since your entire life was turned upside down, you hardly had any appetite.

“It’s always stayed with me—and it’s taken me three years to push it back from this cortex part of my brain.” You point to your head, hopefully explaining what your therapist had told you to Bob. “To the frontal part of my brain, the memory.” Again, you pointed to your head—only this time your finger touched your forehead gently. “It took me three years to just put him somewhere else in my mind with the help of psychiatrists and the clinicians.” Bob could tell you were already becoming visibly upset, the teary look of numbness and pain lurked behind your gaze as you looked towards him, but not at him. It was like you were looking right past him as he sat before you. “They helped me move him around so that he wasn’t going to be in my mind's eye in the daytime or in the night time—or any time.”

Three years ago your entire life changed. Just shy off three months ago you thought the missing pieces to your very traumatic puzzle were coming together again. When you first met Bob you were a little weary, afraid to put yourself out there. But he lingered. His presence was welcome and soon enough you found yourself making unapologetic advances towards the reserved but gentle man who adored your apple and cinnamon muffins.

But six weeks ago, Robert Floyd took you and your son, Oliver, out for dinner at the Hard Deck and he never returned your texts after. He didn’t call or stop by. Your apple and cinnamon muffins began to rot and go stale in the display. Turns out you really were just making that particular recipe for him.

“The human body, or the human mind, Bob—isn’t perfectly equipped to deal with trauma despite our very need to believe it can handle everything life throws your way.” That’s what your therapist had told you when the nightmares wouldn’t go away. That’s what she had told you when you could smell the smoke in your room when you laid awake at night. That’s what your therapist had told you when you had been named a person of interest.

Bob sat quietly, watching and listening to you speak like you were on autopilot, like you were reciting an analysis done by some professional who had assessed your physiological state of mind. Still—your eyes remained trained on him, but you were looking right through him. It was eerie, to say the very least.

“The brain can't be positioned to deal with the tragedy of another human being being murdered, it just reminds you that it could’ve as easily have been you or someone you love, and when it is someone you love, when something like that happens to someone close to you—the brains just doesn’t know how to exist with that kind of trauma.”

“So—“ Bob spoke up in the lingering silence as you dropped your eyeline down to the cup of tea that was now lukewarm that sat beside your fritter. “What exactly does the mind do?”

You let the silence echo off the walls of your humble cafe. The Flight Deck as it was appropriately called for the Navy Town that had taken you in with open arms. Accepting the stray you were like you had done with your cat, Oreo, that was older than some of the Admirals that frequented your caffeine corner. You let the silence go for as long as you could—until it was thick and all consuming and you had to remind yourself to breathe again. It was always that burning feeling, your lungs igniting from a lake of oxygen that reminded you to breathe.

“It starts to play games.” You sighed as you tried to let go of the pressure that had built up in your jaw. Anxiety laced your nervous system as you spoke and Bob could practically smell it. “It starts trying its best to process the grief, the loss, the pain.”

It made sense in a way, Bob had truly never stopped and looked back at his own past, he’d never tried to process his sorrow or his own feelings about what had happened to him during his early childhood and teenage years. He just repressed the rage, the anger, the feelings of betrayal and despair that he felt and ran. He ran as far away as he could and never looked back.

Now? He was sitting in a small but beautifully designed coffee shop owned by the most beautiful woman on the planet, listening about how the mind isn’t equipped to deal with trauma. Ironic isn’t it?

“Sometimes if you’re lucky your brain just decides to block the memory all together, but sometimes it begins to create scenarios.” You reached out to rip a little bit of your fritter off as Bob remained still, he was just trying to soak up everything you were saying. “It starts to question the ‘who done it’s’ and the ‘how comes’ and the small intricate details that could have been avoided to avoid the disaster and the choices made that ultimately led to it.” You paused for a second, taking a small but satisfying bite of the cold fritter to stop your stomach from doing backflips. “And when none of that helps? It looks for a different angel, conspiracy theories are born, it’s the very reason why the whole ideology that the Bush administration was responsible for September Eleventh came about.”

In your book nook there sat a book that had always caught Bob's eyes. Ground Zero by Alan Gratz. He could see it behind you just off to the left, shoved between an array of true crime, fiction and biographies. The books were communal—like a library built on a trust system. You take a book, you bring it back and if you have any old books at home you’d like to share? They always have a spoke on the oak shelves.

“People need answers to help them process the utter magnitude of such a tragedy, and when they don’t find it internally, and still can’t process the facts laid out in front of them, the brain searches elsewhere.” Your sudden chuckle caught Bob by surprise as you wiped away tears that streamed down your cheeks. “And you always think conspiracy theories are wild and far-fetched and exactly what they are—theories designed to help people’s minds deal with trauma that their brains can’t comprehend.” That’s when you really took a deep breath in for a moment and looked up at Bob through watery lashes and deep sorrow.

“You always think that conspiracy theories are fake and aren’t grounded in any kind of truth or reality until you're suddenly in the middle of one and your brain is running a million miles an hour trying to understand what the hell is happening.”

Bob knew that your name was shrouded in rumors he never should have believed. He felt so guilty for allowing his own personal issues with trust and loyalty to alter his perception of you. As he sat across from you and watched your tears fall freely, he knew he should have just asked sooner, he never should have grown distant, tried to back away, he should have just asked what happened.

“My fiancé was murdered.” You explained as quickly and as calmly as you could. “We’d been arguing earlier that same day about some upcoming bills that were due to be paid towards our wedding.” It seemed so arbitrary the more you said it, whenever you did think about it you caught yourself wondering had things been less heated that morning, you wouldn’t be sitting here—defending yourself in front of a man that had broken your heart before he even got a chance to officially be anyone beyond the title of ‘Close, sometimes we have sex, my son thinks you’re his best friend, friends.’

“He decided that he was going to go for a run around the estate.” You had to pause for a moment as Bob raised an eyebrow your way. It wasn’t the mention of murder that got his attention—it had been the mention of an estate. “The Lipscombes are old money, estates, luxury homes, cars, hotels, restaurants, you name it.”

“What was his name?” You hadn’t been asked that question ever. It took you a moment to process as you just stared at Bob in shock. “Your fiancé? What was his name?”

“Harrison—“ A little over two years had passed since you had said his name out loud. “He liked Harry.” Bob saw a genuine smile creep itself across your face, he adored it. It was one of the many things he admired about you—your infectious smile. It didn’t last long however. “It was such a petty argument and I spent a lot of time wondering if we had just paid what the photographer wanted then he’d still be here.”

“Can I uh—“ Through a nervous croak Bob cleaned his throat and shifted in his position. “Sit next to you?” It was a simple question really, but the weight of it was truly something else.

Bob really did like you, he’d just made a horrible choice in judgment.

You nodded in response silently as your bottom lip trembled with a sorrow all consuming. Bob was quick to move from sitting across from you, to beside you with an arm slung up and around your shoulders to draw you into him for comfort.

“He never came back.” You continued explaining your past through tears that seeped into Bob's flight suit. He’d come straight from work to the cafe with another bunch of apology flowers. He was as unrelenting as he was endearing. “And I can still remember that feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, that feeling that something was wrong, Ollie was only young, he doesn’t know that his dad was killed, he just knows that he died.”

“What happened?” Bob asked tentatively as he held you, your face was pressed into the comfort of his shoulder and chest as you slid down the booth a little.

“It’s still unsolved.” It gave Bob the chills. “But after three days of searching the property we found his body in the shrubbery that led into the forest, beaten up, stabbed, he was unrecognisable.”

“Oh my gosh—“ It was pretty confronting to hear, but as Bob held you close and guided you through what he could only describe as remembering the worst day of your life, he knew that the more he knew, the more he understood, the easier it would be to move forward.

“Yeah, he was the love of my life.” You didn’t want it to be a secret. “Besides the odd argument, which just so happened to have happened before he died, we were good.” You could remember quite easily what it was like to be loved by someone. “We loved each other so much, there was no malice or spite or secrets.” That’s when you paused and sat up out of Bob's hold to take a sip of your tea. The lukewarm liquid soothed your throat, calmed your nerves and grounded you in reality.

“So when I was being asked to come in for questioning a few days after his body had been found I didn’t know what to think.”

“The police thought you were the one who killed him?”

“Them and the entire town.” You nodded as you pressed your lips together. “Trial by judgment doesn’t leave a hell of a lot of room for innocent until proven guilty.”

“What about his family?” Bob was invested now, not that he wasn’t before. But the more you spoke and the more you told your story the more Bob felt himself understanding. “What did they think?”

“Oh—“ You had to laugh through the painful memories, Bob just pulled you back into him when he saw you shake your head in defeat. “They were the first ones to point blame, someone killed their baby boy and the only possible person who could have done it was the soon to be wife.”

The Lipscombes were old money, which meant they had a hell of a lot of assets to protect. It made sense why they turned on you so quickly when their son turned up dead after an argument with his soon to be wife. But what didn’t make sense was how easily they portrayed you as a woman with ill intentions.

“I loved him so much, with all my heart for five beautiful years Bob, and those people who I considered family, who are my son’s family, decided without any hesitation that it was my doing, that I was capable of murder.”

But the worst part of all was still yet to be told. You had never spoken to anyone about the events that took place the night before you decided to run and never look back.

“Family isn’t always forever.” Bob understood better than most just how easy it could be for the people who were meant to love you the most could turn their backs on you. “And I gotta say, if they were so quick to ostracize you then they weren’t good enough to be a part of your life.”

“Little hypocritical coming from the man who thought he was going to be my next victim don’t you think?” Okay, Bob deserved that. He took the hit but instead of pulling away to sit in his own shame, he leaned in and gently tilted your chin up. For a second he hesitated, wondering if he was crossing some invisible line. But when your teary, water filled eyes trailed between his baby blue orbs and soft lips that tasted of spearmint gum, he knew that it was safe to gently press his lips against yours.

The kiss was fleeting, but was well received. You didn’t hesitate to kiss Bob back in your moment of weakness. Talking about your late fiancé’s death in your cafe with the man you so hoped would love you with all your baggage in toe seemed like something right out of an episode of the twilight zone. But, you pulled away and continued telling your story. You wanted everything laid out on the table for Bob to access and decide if he could handle it.

If he couldn’t? You wouldn’t blame him. You’d be all alone again but at least that meant no one could hurt you.

“Eventually the police dismissed me as a person of interest, they had no evidence to support that I was involved and the security footage from the front and back doors all showed I didn’t leave the house in the timeframe the coroner determined the time of death.”

You could smell it, the burning smell of smoke that deprives you of oxygen. It lingered in the air around you as much as it did in your memories. You hadnt smelt it in years—the smell of your entire life burning down around you.

“Logan, one of Harry’s best mates since high school had come over to help me clean up the house, he cooked dinner and I put Ollie to bed and said goodnight and I ended up just crashing on the lounge.” Bob knew what was coming next, he remembered Hangman telling him when he was on his high horse.

But knowing the rough outline never came close to the actual details.

“It was the smell.” You sobbed as Bob held you tight. “I couldn’t breathe.” Oxygen deprivation was something you’d never experienced to the degree you did that night. “The smoke was so thick and consuming, I woke up coughing and couldn’t see.”

“The house was on fire.” Bob mumbled against the top of your head, he was just trying to process everything you were telling him. And you were trying not to spiral back into that moment.

“HELP!!” The house was full of thick black smoke as everything went up in flames. “HELP ME! SOMEBODY?” You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face as you shot up from the couch. “OL—“ Allconsuming smoke filled your lungs as you coughed and splattered and tried to cover your mouth. “OLIVER!”

“I crawled my way over to where I thought the stairs were and raced up to grab Oliver from his room.” You remembered it all too well, the feeling of not being able to breathe, the smell, the fear of losing your child after losing his father. “I was practically hanging him out the window by the time the fire brigade arrived, the neighbours who owned the estate across the way were up and saw the orange flames.”

“Do you know what caused it, the fire?” Bob asked as you calmed a little in his warm embrace. The next two words that left your mouth sent chills down Bob's spine. He thought maybe you left a candle burning, that maybe the oven was on? That perhaps there was an electrical fault or lightning stuck somewhere.

While Bob was searching for an explanation, he could still smell the smoke. All the oxygen from your body had been absorbed and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t see. It was like you were being totally consumed once again by that deprivation. That all consuming smoke that nearly killed you. But when you felt Bob's hands in yours? Suddenly—you could speak.

“It's still undetermined.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober mastelist #flight deck // bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd angst #top gun bob #top gun fan fiction

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goosewriting · 2 years

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One last chance (rottmnt Leo x reader)

summary: after sending Casey through the portal back in time, Leo ends up accidentally falling through it as well. he comes face to face with y/n, who had died in his time.

relationship: Rise!Leo x GN reader (established)

warnings: fluff, angst, comfort. mention of character death and the krangpocalypse. based on the start of the movie but doesn’t follow the plot 100%

word count: 3.5k

A/N: inspired by this post by @jasontoddisbest. as i went back to get the link i realised i actually read the post wrong lmao i might do one for that if i feel inspired and people like this one,, for now enjoy this one. (it‘s my first time writing a fic and english is not my first language. please be kind ;;v;; constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

Navigation: Part 1 (you‘re here) | Part 2 | Part 3

— — —

„And do me a favour” Leo said to Casey, grabbing him tightly by the shoulder. “After you’re done saving the world, grab a slice!“ he shouted as he flung the unsuspecting boy through the portal Mikey had made moments before. As Casey's body passed the gateway, he disappeared in yellow zaps and flames.

Seeing the last of his brothers be consumed into nothingness in front of Leo's eyes started weighing in on him after Casey was no longer in view. He tried to convince himself that Mikey‘s sacrifice wouldn‘t be in vain. Jumping to the side to evade a Krang laser, he chanted ‘find the key, stop the Krang‘ in his mind over and over, hoping it would get through time and space to his protegee and give him the necessary strength.

Several Krang minions attacked at the same time, jumping onto Leo. With the handle of his sword he started smacking them away. A heavy knot set at the base of his stomach as Leo realised there was nothing more he could do for Casey or the world now, for he was the last one. His brothers, smack! his father, thwack! his friends, kick! his love. All gone.

With a side jump and a roll Leo evaded yet another laser; this time it had been too close though as the light had burnt a slight gash into his arm. He hissed through his teeth and was about to direct some profanities towards the last Krang monster still fighting him, when all of a sudden it turned on his heels, scurrying away. The ninja was about to use that as his chance to flee, when his eyes followed the path the little pest was heading towards. His blood ran cold at the sight of the portal still open and zapping. The alien was about to go back in time as well!

“Oh no, you don’t!” Leo yelled as he charged at the gooey creature with his sword, slicing it in half, causing it to give a high-pitched screech. With the last remnants of its life force, the alien decided to avenge its own death by biting Leo in the ankle. He managed to lift his leg just in time, evading the sharp teeth, but the unforeseen action made him lose his balance, and he stumbled backwards, accidentally falling through the portal.

His shell was met with hard concrete, and the New York night lights blinded him for a second, even though it was a welcome change from the constant red, fire and misery he had seen and lived in the last decade.

“Oh no, no no no-“ he cursed at himself for being so careless, quickly standing to his feet and picking up his sword. The sounds of cars, the city bustling and music somewhere far off filled his ears. It was so very tempting to turn around and take in a breath of the city, to let his eyes go over the masses of people and the skyscrapers still standing. Luckily the portal had opened in a dark alleyway away from curious eyes, not that the average New Yorker would stand and stare anyways. They had always seemed untroubled by most very not normal circumstances. This thought put a little smile on his face, which quickly turned into a frown. He wasn’t meant to be here. He didn’t know how long the portal would stay open either, so he had to get to the other side and stop anything else from coming through. With newfound resolution he was just about to leap through the gateway, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

— — —

Since you hadn’t heard from the turtle brothers all day, you decided to go pay them a visit. None of them had seen your messages, not even your boyfriend Leo. But Donnie not seeing them was even stranger, since he basically carried all his tech around with him at all times, even more so his phone. April had gone radio silent too. The last thing you knew is that she was on some sort of self-proclaimed mission to unveil the mystery of the chemistry department at the university. Since your texts weren’t even going through to her, you supposed she had run out of battery, like many other times.

You looked up at the sound of echoing footsteps and the panting of someone with what seemed to be a mask and a hockey stick, running into the streets and getting lost in the vast ocean of people. He had hurriedly come out of an alleyway a couple metres ahead of you. Stuffing your phone back in your pocket you decided it would be best to cross the street and not get involved in whatever is going on in that alleyway. Meanwhile you made a mental note to get April a powerbank sometime soon, as you didnt’ like it when everyone ignored you all at once. Especially today when you’ve been having this weird queasy feeling all day that you couldn't shake off.

The night breeze suddenly blew some leaves and papers over you, making you grip your hoodie tighter around your neck. You turned away from the street slightly, smoothing out the fabric over your shoulders. You were just about to continue making your way to the turtle’s lair again when you heard a zapping sound next to you. In the alleyway shone a bright yellow light, suspended in the air, and on the ground underneath lied some sort of creature. It rose to its legs and picked up a- wait, is that Leo’s sword? Taking a better look, the creature did look turtle-esque. Just much taller than the ones you knew. This piqued your interest and you silently approached from behind. Being closer and with the yellow light illuminating his frame, you concluded that that was indeed Leo’s sword, albeit much more tattered, and you also noticed the familiar yellow stripes on his uncovered arm. Just as familiar as the blue mask wrapped around his head.

For a moment you considered you had actually fainted or inhaled some gas leak somewhere since you were clearly hallucinating. But there was just something pulling you to him, he seemed so real, so familiar, there was something about him that just made him unmistakably-

“Leo?” you questioned more towards yourself than the figure in front of you. You saw the creature slightly jump at your voice, his shoulders tensing up. He slowly turned around, and as his body fully faced yours, you concluded that this giant turtle in front of you was indeed Leo but much… Taller? Rougher? Older? He’s still looking fine though. You mentally smacked yourself for that last one. This was no moment for thoughts like that. This was clearly a Leo from a different dimension or something. You were however unsure what to do or say. What if in his world, you two are enemies? What if he has no recollection of who you are? What if… you had never existed in his life at all?

That train of thought came and left within a fraction of a second, disappearing just as quickly as it formed, after having his eyes meet yours and seeing how the rugged features softened into that smitten yet somehow cocky look Leo had when looking at you, which you had grown to love.

He let go of his sword, letting it fall to the ground with a clang that echoed through the narrow alley you stood in. Taking a couple steps he came to stand in front of you, towering over you even more than usual, but you didn’t cower away or step back, in fact you met him halfway. Without a word, he simply fell to his knees and hugged you so tight yet so full of care not to hurt you, and with such emotion, that you felt tears pricking behind your eyes. You hugged him back to the best of your abilities. Even on his knees his face was almost level with yours.

“What happened?” you started questioning him in a soft voice. “Where did you come from? You know me, don’t you?” He didn’t exactly look in a mental or emotional state to answer your questions but your curiosity was starting to win over.

Just as you were formulating your next question, he let go and leaned back a bit to look you in the face, bringing up his massive hands to cup your cheeks. He softly stroked your cheek with his thumb, stroking up your temple and settling his hand at the nape of your neck, pushing you forward slightly to rest his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

“I can’t tell you much, and I don’t know how much time I have.” His other hand snaked down and around your waist to press you against his chest, stressing the urgency he spoke with. His voice was soft, he spoke quickly but not in a hurried way to stumble over his own words. More in a there's so much I want to say and I don't know where to begin kinda way.

“Where I’m from, I lost you." is what he decided to go with. The turtle in front of you trembled ever so slightly, and you could tell there were a million things going through his brain right now. You silently waited for him to continue, but he didn't. He looked at you in a way that you could only describe as resignedly heartbroken. It tore you apart from within and you barely held back a sob. You wanted to comfort him somehow, tell him that you’re right there with him, but you didn’t know how. Your hands came up to hold his face, but he was already standing up, leaving your palms on his plastron, which was rougher than expected.

The light behind Leo zapped and flickered lightly; he took it as his cue to go. He turned back to you, slightly bending down to kiss your forehead. Without removing his lips from his kiss, he whispered into your skin. “I love you y/n. Always have. Always will. Take care of the guys for me, will ya?”

And with that he harshly turned, leaving you standing confused and inexplicably sad. Leo picked up his sword in a swift motion and turned to you one last time.

“Oh and say thank you to Mikey, for the goodbye gift!” the turtle exclaimed, winked at you, and disappeared into the light. It flickered and zapped a couple of times, then disappeared with a ‘whoosh!’, leaving you alone in the dark alleyway.

— — —

Your brain could not comprehend what just happened. Your legs seemed to move on their own, as they hurriedly carried you to the sewers. You were in full automatic mode, while in your head you kept replaying the scene again and again. Was he really from a different dimension? Does the multiverse exist? If you died in his world… could your Leo be fated to die in yours?

Your thoughts kept spiralling into a very negative, very dangerous zone. The more you tried to understand the occurrence before, the more your vision started tunneling towards one goal only: find Leo and make sure he’s safe.

“I can explain!” sounded a voice you didn’t know through the halls of the turtle’s lair. That made you snap out of your very dark thoughts back into reality, which is when you noticed you had already arrived at your destination. Only now did you realise how out of breath you were; you must have come running full speed. Clutching your hoodie over your crazy beating heart, you made your way into the living room where everyone seemed to be gathered around a guy tied to a chair, which was hanging from the ceiling.

Raph was the first to notice you and was about to greet you but you pushed past him without a word, bee-lining towards Leo. You basically tackled him into a hug, making him go “oomph!” from the impact, and he hugged you back.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked. But you refused to look up and buried your face between his shoulder and his neck, sniffling. Oh great, you thought, now I’m gonna cause a scene here in front of everyone and that guy- who is that anyways?

“I was just- and you were-“ you said between muffled sobs. “and I was so scared something had happened!”

Finally you looked up and your ache was transformed into rage as you turned around abruptly, looking at the other turtles.

“Why did none of you respond to my texts?!” you said angrily at no one in particular, tears running down your cheeks. “I was so worried, and then I had the weirdest meeting ever with-“.

“y/n?” A voice interrupted your rambling. You looked up to glare at the boy tied to the chair. You felt like you had seen him before somewhere. Then you noticed the mask and the hockey stick, and that’s when you realised it was the guy from the alleyway.

“What is he doing here?” You asked somewhat derogatorily, pointing at the hanging prisoner, as Donnie cut the rope and pulled the chair back up with one of his robotic arms.

“And more importantly: why do you know their name?” Leo questioned the boy, throwing one arm over your shoulders to squeeze you reassuringly.

“Because you told me stories about them!” Casey said, directed at Leo, and took a deep breath. He proceeded to explain how he came from the future, which made everyone break out in laughter, except for you. As his explanation of an apocalyptic future invaded by aliens went on, your earlier meeting made more and more sense.

You were about to ask more about your relationship with future Leo when Splinter started retelling the legend of the Krang. Casey said they had to retrieve a key, but as it turns out, they had been on a mission today where they already failed to take that key and the Foot ended up snatching it. At least that would explain why no one had answered your texts all day.

The turtle brothers started making a plan on how to get back the key from the Krang, exiting the room. Except that they left Casey tied to the chair. He asked if anyone would untie him into the room, and you approached him.

“Master y/n” Casey spoke with a smile. “It really is you! All of you! I still can’t believe it worked. Master Michelangelo…” he trailed off at that last part, his smile replaced with a sad grimace. He shook his head as if to shake the thoughts out of his head, and redirected his attention to you. All the while, you had been untying the ropes on his chair. Loosening the last knot, you got back to your feet and planted yourself in front of Casey, whose name you still didn’t know, and crossed your arms over your chest.

“So who are you again?” you asked in a demanding tone. “How exactly did you get here? And why did you come alone?”

At the last question, he looked pained again and his gaze shifted to the side. As he stood up you noticed he was taller than you so he looked down at you and set his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m Casey, but there’s no time.” he urged. “We have to go get the key. I’ll answer your questions on the way.” Casey moved to follow the group but you grabbed him by his cape and yanked him back. Your fist clenched the fabric so hard your knuckles were going white.

“No.” you said without meeting his gaze. Instead you were looking down at your hands. “You’re going to tell me why I met an older Leo in the same alley you came from, and why he looked so heartbroken and why he said he lost me. I’m right here! What did he mean? Am I gonna-“

“Y/n, stop. Please.” Casey spoke softly and took your hands in his, to signal you should let go of his cape. You didn’t. He sighed, looked back to check that no one else was within listening range, and turned back to you. He lowered his head a bit and spoke almost with a whisper.

“All I know is I’m here and we have a second chance. That’s all that matters. What happens to me, to you, to any of us, none of it matters if the Krang come here and devastate everything. What difference will it be to you if I tell you what happened? Will you treat Master Leonardo differently? I don’t think he’d want that.”

He did have a point. What would you win knowing what happens in the future, to you or any of the turtles for that matter? You would live every moment in fear and anxiety, and you already had enough of the latter to last several timelines.

You tilted your head thinking it over, and decided that he was right. “Fine.” you finally said looking up at him. You wanted to add something else to that, you weren’t even sure what exactly, but Leo appeared from around the corner and saw you basically holding hands with Casey.

“What’s taking you so long, Padawan o’ mine?” he asked Casey and nonchalantly pushed his hands away from yours, taking them in his instead. “Let’s go! We know where the Foot is. Let’s go get that key. Again” Leo mumbled that last part.

As Casey made his way to the group, the turtle faced you fully.

“So what was that earlier? Is everything okay?” he asked cupping your cheek with one of his hands. “You looked pretty shaken.”

You noticed how his hand wasn’t quite as big as the one from older Leo, and thinking that maybe you wouldn’t be there to see him grow, both physically and as a person, made you tremble and there were the tears again. You placed your hands on his plastron and bit your bottom lip, not being able to meet his eyes. Should you tell him? Casey said maybe it’s better if he didn’t know at all. He would definitely go into over-protective mode and never let you leave his side if you told him there was a chance you might get hurt, or worse. You didn’t even know what happened or when or where.

“Hey” Leo placed his hand under your chin and slightly pushed your face to meet his gaze. He was starting to get worried. With a slight nod he urged you to talk. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You decided that it would be best he never hears of this encounter. You’d just spend every waking minute making sure he knows how much he means to you.

Without a word you grabbed onto his face and kissed him hard, trying to convey all of your feelings. He reciprocated, placing his arms around your waist. You broke the kiss to pepper his face with little kisses instead. On his cheeks, his nose, his neck, anywhere you could reach. This made him chuckle and he lightly swayed you from side to side.

“You know I love you right?” you asked him.

“I do, and I love you too. Very much-“

“No, no. I mean it. I love you.” Again tears were forming at the corner of your eyes. Your voice became but a whisper against his neck. “Please promise me you’ll stay by my side forever.”

“Y/n where is this coming from?” You only hugged him harder to get an answer. He hugged back just as tightly. “Of course I will. I promise. I love you so much y/n. You’re never getting rid of me.”

The last comment made you smile through your tears. You pulled back to kiss him one last time and ran your hand through your hair, sniffling. With the back of your sleeve you dried your face and Leo’s as well, as you realised you had stained his cheeks in your tears. As you brushed over his cheek, he looked at you with the same love-struck face you had seen on older Leo not long before, just not as… sad. Things will be different, you told yourself. They’ll be better. I’ll be better. I’ll make sure of it.

“Alright then” you said with newfound motivation. You took Leo’s hand in yours, him already wearing his signature smirk. You pulled him to where the group was already waiting for you two. “Let’s get this bread”.

— — —

Bonus:

A couple of days after defeating the Krang, Mikey found a home-made cake on the counter when entering the kitchen. Tucked underneath the plate was a note, which read “Thank you. -Leo”, but he clearly recognised your handwriting. The orange-clad turtle chuckled at that.

“Mystic hands!” he exclaimed, wriggling his fingers in the air, trying to telepathically get a fork out of the drawer.

You observed this while standing around the corner of the kitchen, hiding behind the door frame, only to see Mikey actually manage to rattle the cutlery drawer for a moment, the sound of clanging metal filling the room. Mikey gasped loudly and looked at his hands in awe.

“Thank you”, you whispered, on behalf of a turtle who, against all odds, got to see you one last time.

#goose feathers #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #rottmnt x reader

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morningstarwrites · 20 days

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i just want to say that OSAS has me by a chokehold. i can’t even list everything i love about it, but maybe the thing i love most is how creative and impressive it is how you use the written medium to your advantage to do incredible things with formatting. the way it manipulates the way us readers actually read and understand and feel the content of a scene is absolutely breathtaking and i constantly think about it. i have sung its praises to every one of my fellow fic readers and it’s even working as incentive to get my friend to actually *watch* hazbin hotel, especially when i sung the praises of how amazing your characterization is to. i am so envious of how well you have nailed character voices, esp with someone as complex and mysterious as alastor, without anything feeling clunky or unaligned with their personality. i have been waiting all week for the newest update and was so invested that i read it all during my lunch break and forgot to actually eat (dw i’m still going to eat but i was just amazed that i completely blanked on eating bc i was far too invested in OSAS). i want to constantly go back to the beginning and reread everything bc it’s so detailed that i forget the little things and i want to be awed by your sentences and formatting all over again. i feel very lucky i saw one (1) art piece from you that encouraged me to read it because your fic is the first in a long time to give me those gooey warm feelings again after several really stressful months and i really needed that. thank you ♥️

OHHHHH thank you!!!! I'm so happy you like my writing style. Wait - you got your friends to watch Hazbin so that they can read my fic?? That's really cute!

Oh HAHA this whole message is like really sweet I love it. (Which art piece was it btw?)

I hope you got to eat in the end, and I'm so pleased that my writing could help you feel better in any way. It's just really nice that something I made can be comforting for someone. Thanks and I hope you'll like my updates in the future!

#radioapple #ao3 fanfic #ask

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bluginkgo · 2 months

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Debunking Old Theories

As a fun way to see what was wrong and what was right, I decided to go back to all of my old theories and see which ones are the craziest XD

Spoilers duh, oh and gore warning? Kinda?

I mean... that scary *ss mother facking thing towards the end- you know what I'm talking about if you watched the ep 😅

This theory was me going into a long chat about who the double x'ed eyed person could be on the poster that was teased waaaay back when. Although I did not out right say who it could have possibly been, I did notice I had some interesting thoughts going on.

"What if the double x'ed character is someone we already know... but is dead? A character that is confirmed/somewhat confirmed to be dead can return back to life, and their body forced to move by the absolute solver."

So the idea was sort of there. That the solver basically took the body of someone presumed dead and forced it to move.

I suppose it kind of works. Tessa, at this point, seems very much so dead. And her skin was used to get a drone through the security system.

This theory was made in a random fit of craziness I think. And basically talked about how Uzi's admin program could allow for DDs to tap into the Absolute Solver powers without becoming fully corrupted (based off of @/jazzstarrlight's concept art). Thus, turning into Uzi and Doll with solver powers. Although this might happen in ep8, I'm highly doubtful. But I was right about this:

"Uzi did SOMETHING, who knows what at this point, but her switching the admin program is important. Given that N and V haven't turned into the gooey flesh monsters quite yet like we see in Home, I'd say absolute solver string is still blocked to a certain degree."

And sure enough, the admin program holds out. Preventing the Absolute Solver to corrupt DDs and force them to become mindless murder drones that they were back on Earth.

This theory was taking a jab at the figure we saw in ep4.

And I attempted to reason as to who made the image. First shot was Doll, and that's a hard no lol. Second shot was the double X'ed person and well...

I guess I was right? The thing that Tessa is now, is just a solver drone wearing human skin. And she has all the solver drone powers, being able to call forth the claws and teleportation powers seen with the Absolute Solver. So for her to create the image, or it IS the entity wearing Tessa's skin, is not too far fetched. @brookiedaaroacecookie I saw your tag, and realized I had attempted something similar a very long time ago... 😅

This theory had me going crazy over solver's laughter. Easily debunked. It was aesthetic choice. Also the line "Hahahaha, thanks for giving me the planet. Fricking idiot." Never made it into ep7, but I will not put it past Liam to use this in ep8 instead! Addressing either N or Uzi.

N: Thanks for giving me yet another planet. You unintentionally lead Uzi straight into her demise, and thus set off the second core collapse.

Uzi: Thanks for giving me the planet. You dummy who jumped in to sacrifice yourself and save N.

This theory had me going in to how Tessa was suspicious. Debunk this little sh*t real quick, most of this was wrong :3 J was sent out to "mind the ship" to destroy the escape pod that Uzi has been working on. It's still unclear to me whether J is siding with Tessa entity because she believes that's the true Tessa, or simply because she knows that it is the Absolute Solver wearing skin of a human. Something I did notice as well was I mentioned Tessa's hand injury. It never came up in this episode. But you know what my crazy brain did? Made another theory!

So the Absolute Solver did tell Tessa "You will not have to discard your pets, and I will not discard you." But hang on a second. The Absolute Solver appears to have skinned Tessa and used her, how is this not discarding? To back this up a little, the solver did in fact keep its promise. It allowed the main DD trio to keep their personalities. The "pets" were not discarded. Now as for Tessa, she was not discarded either- Ginkgo you crazy idiot, she's dead, that's her skin. But that's exactly it. The Absolute Solver, like any good villain, is capable to playing with words. It never specified what "discarding" meant, or to what degree. Just like with the DDs, Tessa was also not discarded. She was repurposed. Her skin used to further the Absolute Solver's plans just like the DDs were. Could I be wrong and could this skin actually not be Tessa? Sure, there's always that chance! But with how Tessa entity looked and acted, I'll stick by the idea that she's very much dead.

Back to the hand injury though, here's the theory I came up with. The Absolute Solver may or may not have kept Tessa alive post the gala massacre.

After all, the image is still redacted, and we do not know if by then the solver already had used her to create the monstrosity that is 1001. But if the solver did keep her alive, it kept its promise. Tessa was not discarded. But perhaps a condition of hers caused her body to slowly wither away. In a fit of fear, she might have gone to the solver for help. So the solver gave her purpose. Crazy idea? Yup, nothing new here XD

This theory is also very out there XD The summary of it is that I believe Cyn is on the good side. Because why send out DDs with a way of blocking out the Absolute Solver instead of fully corrupting them? Why send out DDs to a hub that had two very powerful solver drones? I'll put this theory to rest I believe. Because at this point, Cyn appears to be very much so dead. Whatever corporal body she may have had back at the manor is now gone, basing it off of the massacre that was on Earth. Another quote that made me realize that this was all just the Absolute Solver playing around was this:

N was the main reason that the Absolute Solver allowed the DD trio to keep their personalities. This means that the administration CYN was in place to keep the solver from corrupting the trio just to keep their personalities. All of this just because the solver enjoyed watching the trio run around believing like they can do something to fix this huge mess. Now, are there chances of Cyn still reappearing and helping the gang? Sure! I don't see why not. And I'll be pleasantly surprised if Liam does pull that route.

This theory has Cyn! To summarize this one, I basically took another attempt on figuring out how Liam's drawing of Cyn in the sea of red could be relevant. Of course, it did not show up this time around, but I noticed a couple things that I said kind of lined up.

"I can imagine it, N and Uzi fighting whatever the thing is in the Cabin Fever labs. Uzi somehow ends up either being knocked out or full possession occurs, either way, her subconsciousness is transported into this realm of red." Well uhh...

Not quite red... but somewhere!

"This might be the place where all the hosts' minds connect- the hive mind/cloud based system. Here, Uzi might meet Cyn and even Nori- I know I'm stretching it, but this is just me rambling my own thoughts. And keeping on with my belief in good Cyn theory, Cyn might help Uzi out. She might tell Uzi the origin of the absolute solver- how the AI error came about. Uzi might end up chatting with Cyn or directly with the Absolute Solver, all the while her body is posessed by the said Absolute Solver. She'd be going on another rampage, probably fighting N."

So we do find that Nori is still in fact alive, though after getting punted like a ball into the Absolute Solver hole, I'm not quite sure. XD But I will keep this theory for ep8 for now. The idea that Cyn's mind may connect and chat with Uzi is still quite appealing to me. And well, I guess Uzi did fight with N. And I will keep that theory too and simply carry it over to ep8. We know the last mural is of N, and he will most likely be fighting the very last Absolute Solver form. Uzi's consciousness may connect with that form and work together with N from the inside to get rid of the solver on Copper-9 for good.

This theory had me going crazy about Uzi's core. Because up until now, we don't really get to see her core very well. Perhaps its the design, but at times when the angles are right, we ought to see the WD hat picture poking through... but we don't. There's two routes from here still:

Either its just an animation detail that is unimportant. This is just simply how she was designed

Something is still hiding there. This one, I'm quickly losing faith on. Because when we saw Nori, her symbol was normal- turned yellow when possessed of course, but that is understandable. There was nothing that was off about Nori, Yeva, or Doll and their cores. I do not see how Uzi's core will be any different. Instead, I wanna know WHAT THE FACK THIS IS XD

This theory was a chat about Tessa's three ships. And this one still stumps me. Because Tessa was there for the sole purpose of getting down into the lab, finding out how many more of the hosts were left, kill them, get the crucifix, destroy it, and maybe send Copper-9 off into another core collapse. If that's the case, and with how she has been engineered... WHY DOES SHE NEED THREE SHIPS??? Most of them were filled with junk, unless they do hold something important that we have yet to see. For now, this one is gonna be burning in the back. Because this was either a diversion and a way to make us believe that this Tessa may have been real, or they actually serve a purpose.

This theory was regarding the teaser and how maybe Uzi would have to go through an exorcism. Ahahaha, yeah, so there was exorcism! IN FORM OF SLAPS FROM NORI XD and uhhh... a "sacrifice" on Uzi's part ;w;

This theory was on the teaser that was released. And it is this one that will be the most FUN to gut >:3

First, the corridor with the sentinels never made it into the actual episode. Which makes me leave V as MIA still. Delusional? Perhaps, most likely. But like I said. I will not call her dead until I see a body or an eldrich version of her. The one that was in the cathedral was a mere hologram.

Concerned N... AHAHAHAHAHH I WAS SO WRONG LET'S GO!!! N was very upset, yes, but not about something he saw ahead, but about something the gang left BEHIND: V. That entire scene is gonna be on my mind for a bit too long.

The vortex around the cathedral took place during the flashback scene... but still doesn't really explain why there's RAIN in a CAVE. But oh well XD

So I was somewhat right about the sequence of events with "Dr. Chambers" and Uzi watching the tape. More so on the fact that whatever Uzi watched on the tape made her solver go haywire.

Welp, Tessa did help Uzi in this scene ;w; My poor soul, the NUzi angst is delicious but dangit it's still angst.

And I was wrong about Khan being there... KIND OF. Cause he still showed up XD But yes, the gravity did take a quick break because the Absolute Solver in the core is starting to act out.

Feral N was not killing Nori, at least not in this scene XD Man, that entire sequence had my jaw on the floor. It was amazing.

Uzi's eye did burst, from strain of using the solver to... *sobs* protect from N's mindless rage and attempts to clear the elevator. ;w; UGH that scene is gonna be stuck with me for a long while.

Well, the theory that Doll is fighting with Tessa did come true- but I also theorized using all the characters, so it wasn't quite fair.

Omg it's that math meme XD But hey, I had the Nori part! This was Nori and she was being contained in this manner because the new patch of the Absolute Solver was making her go haywire.

And finally this theory. "Now, as for the crack theory: I think the absolute solver is now the center/core of copper-9."

Well... Kind of I guess? But we don't get to see the extent of it. We simply shown how deep the hole truly is, and it can easily reach into the core of the planet. "But what if you take 10, or 50, or 100 corrupted cores and fuse them together? Sure, a single solver drone may not make that big of an impact, but we don't know how long the list of drones that were experimented on down in the labs was." Answer is at the very least 129 drones XD

Let me know if I missed any of my old theories. I've been doing nothing but typing out theories for the past 2 days straight. ;w; What hyper fixations do to you, am I right? XD But in all honesty, this was ridiculously fun. And kind of surprising that some of my stupid ideas did have bits and pieces that were right!

Want more of my stupid rambles? This has 3 other parts! ;w;

#murder drones #murder drones nuzi #murder drones uzi #murder drones n #murder drones nori #murder drones absolute solver #murder drones tessa #murder drones cyn #murder drones v #murder drones j #murder drones doll #murder drones ep 7 #murder drones episode 7 #glitch productions #murder drones theory #bluginkgo's rambles/theories #murder drones khan #murder drones thad #murder drones lizzy

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mirikitakato · 3 months

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[TRANSLATION] OWEN 4TH ANNIVERSARY SSR CARD STORY “TOGETHER IN A WORLD ADRIFT” AND CARD EPISODE “OWEN AND THE DOOR OF DAYS BYGONE…”

Owen, I feel like you can't stop mentioning Cain in everything you say lol I love it though

Characters: Owen, Akira (mentioning Cain)

Episode 1: A Sweet and Salty Moment.

Owen: Ha. It's been quite a while since I last had such a dull mission...

Owen: It's not merely a bit dull; it's being exaggerated to an extreme extent. You can just ignore it, you know?

The mission assigned to the Northern wizards that day was a result of the Great Calamity's influence, leading to a house cat turning aggressive.

Akira: It was utter chaos.

Owen helped a bunch by talking to the cat and calming it down.

Owen: Those guys are useless, I have no choice but to talk to it.

Owen: Well...the twins tried their best to act like super cute kids, but they were thoroughly disliked, Mithra and Bradley even got threatened by the cat. That was genuinely amusing and fun to watch.

Akira: Ahaha...Once the mission was over, everyone immediately disbanded.

Akira: I wished we could have gone to the shop together. You all came all the way here, but I couldn't offer anything as an apology. I'm truly sorry.

Owen: Doesn't matter. Besides, you don't get rewarded for being the first to run away.

Owen: Instead of that, don't you think you owe me for this mission? Take me to that store quickly.

Akira: Of course! Let me treat you as a token of appreciation.

Akira: That café is recommended by Cain. The decor is very stylish, and the atmosphere is great.

Owen: Heh...Is there a sweet treat that looks like someone's brain has melted and blended into a gooey, sugary snack?

Akira: Pr-probably...? The menu of that shop is very rich, and their most famous item is the baked sea salt cake.

Owen: Salt…? Cake with salt?

Akira: Yes! The salty-sweet combination is addictive.

Akira: You should give it a try...It should be nearby, I'll lead the way.

Owen: Hey... we've been walking for quite a while. Are we there yet?

Akira: Huh? That's odd...

Ten more minutes passed as we continued our search, but the desired café with its blue roof and round sign remained elusive.

Akira: With its blue roof and round sign, it should be easily recognizable...

Owen: ....

Episode 2: A Sweet and Salty Moment.

Akira: Owen, sorry for making you wander around like this. Are you tired...?

Owen: ...Not really.

I thought he'd be in a bad mood since I got him lost, but surprisingly, he wasn't unhappy, which confused me.

Owen: But, I'm thirsty. So, just continue looking for that store alone. Call me if you find it.

Akira: Eh? Ah, Owen!

Owen: Blue roof and round sign…

Owen: (I guess it's this one…)

Owen: ....

Owen: (I can see them clearly from the window seat. That person is still searching for this store in a daze.)

Owen: Amusing. Sir Sage doesn't have a clue that a camouflage spell has been cast on them, and they're still wandering around the same place over and over...

Owen: Haha... Let's just sit back and enjoy the spectacle for a bit.

Owen: (Although they occasionally gets angry, that person is surprisingly tough and won’t break easily. A very good toy indeed.)

Owen: ...Now you mention it, they said the sea salt cake in this store was delicious.

Owen: (Salty cake, but I doubt it's yummy...)

Owen:....

Owen: Oh well, just one bite.

Akira: This path isn't right either...ugh, so confusing.

I tilted my head in confusion and looked at the map in my hand. Still couldn't find the destination, I sighed countless times.

Akira: (It feels like I have been wandering in the same place since the beginning. I don’t even know where Owen went...)

While thinking this, I looked around again and turned the corner of a certain building, then...

Akira: Ah.........I found it!

A store with a blue roof and a round sign. The exquisite and lovely decoration is exactly the same as when I visited before.

Akira: Owen, Owen. I found the shop!

Akira: (He said to call him if I find it. Guess he didn’t go far...)

Akira: Ah...

Seated by the window in the café, Owen rested his chin on his hands, casting a look as if he was watching a show.

A sense of déjà vu washed over me; it felt like I had witnessed this scene before.

Episode 3: A Sweet and Salty Moment.

Akira: Owen!

Except for Owen, who was sitting alone by the window, there were no other customers in the shop. He slowly blinked his different-colored pupils, before casually directing his gaze toward me.

Akira: Great, you got here first. I have no idea why I've been lost for so long...

Owen: I know. I have been watching.

Akira: Eh? Have you been watching me? Since when…?

Owen: Right from the beginning, I used a camouflage spell on you to prevent you from seeing the shop and made you roam in circles, all while observing your bewildered expression.

Akira: So that's why!? When did you cast that kind of magic...?

Owen: Who knows. Thanks to this, I can see your embarrassed and stupid look.

I sighed, wiped sweat off my forehead, and saw Owen happily lift the corners of his mouth. His eyes, concealing their true meaning, formed a curve. It brought back the familiar sensation from when our eyes met outside the store.

Akira: (Speaking of which, when I first met Owen, I was searching for him too... I glanced up, and there he was, staring at me in the same way.)

Akira: (Gazing into those different-colored eyes that seemingly smiling, left a profound impression...)

Remembering the purple sunset on the castle balcony and the enchantingly eerie purple clouds from our initial conversation, I suddenly felt nostalgic.

Akira: (Reminiscing about our first encounter and now sharing afternoon tea like this...it makes me so happy...)

Owen: What's wrong with you? Why are you still laughing when I've obviously made you walk around in vain?

Akira: Ah, no! It's nothing...Oh, Owen. Is this the salty cake?

There sat a small round cake in front of Owen, with some of its white cream already devoured.

Akira: You ordered it! How do you like it? In my world, this kind of dessert is quite popular.

Owen: Yeah. A salty cake, I don't know how to describe it...

Lifting up his chin, Owen thrust the fork into the cake in one swift motion. He then slowly brought the forked piece to his mouth.

Owen: ...But it's not bad.

Licking the cream from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue, Owen tilted his head slightly and shook his fork.

Akira: (Although there are times he is inconsistent and difficult to get along with, but I can feel that we are getting closer little by little.)

Akira: (It would be great if I could share more and more things with Owen like this.)

Owen: Huh?

Owen slowly raised his eyelids. Then, with a somewhat mocking look, he gently pointed the tip of the fork at me.

Owen: You can try it. But if it doesn't suit your taste, don't blame me.

This movement, along with the slightly narrowed eyes behind the brim of the hat, seemed a bit different from when we first met.

Card Episode: Owen And The Door Of Days Bygone...

Akira: I heard that on the shores of Borda Isle, there is a door that allows you to see the past.

Akira: Speaking of the past, when I first came to this world, I still had a lot of uneasiness in my heart. Once I recall a certain memory, I feel at ease.

Owen: A certain memory?

Akira: Yes. The memory of a trusted adult reading a book to me as a child.

Owen: Hmm, sounds dreadfully boring.

Akira: B-boring...

Owen: It suits you, though.

Akira: How do you usually comfort yourself when feeling lonely?

Owen: Think of you.

Akira: Eh...

Owen: I think of...

Owen: Your scream as a gigantic dog almost gnawed you to bits and your teary face when abandoned all alone...

Akira: Ple-please stop talking.

Owen: Don't like it?

Akira: I don't. If you suddenly decide to act on those thoughts, I'd be in deep trouble.

Owen: Exactly the kind of thing I'd do.

Akira: Is there nothing else? Ways to comfort loneliness…

Owen: Who knows. I've never known loneliness or anything of the sort.

Owen: If you don't want to feel lonely, why not just be with others?

Akira: Do you mean making friends?

Owen: Of course not. I mean toying with people for my amusement.

Owen: Because there are plenty of humans and weak wizards that can be treated like playthings.

Owen: Threaten them, watch them squirm in terror, and you won't be bored anymore.

Akira: That's too extreme...Have you really done that to someone?

Owen: Of course I have.

Akira: Who...

Owen: The owner of this eyeball.

Akira: Ah...

Akira: …But, you two are friends now, right?

Owen: As if!

Akira: But if you can begrudgingly become friends despite all this...

Owen: I said no. We won't be friends. Are you stupid?

Owen: I've always done things that Sir Knight hates. Same goes for you.

Akira: Eh...?

Owen: I only do nasty things to you. I won't do anything good in the future either.

Owen: Whether I'm alone or you're alone, what you said just now was incredibly stupid.

Owen: Can't believe you said that having someone read a book to you can alleviate your loneliness.

Akira: Ah…No. I mean it's a memory that can comfort…

Owen: Same difference.

Owen: Even without an adult reading to you, you'd still find comfort in an imaginary character within a book, right?

Akira: Eh?

Owen: ...Incredibly boring.

#mahoyaku #mahoutsukai no yakusoku #translation #Owen #Owen you do find comfort in your knight in the past

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thatonebirdwrites · 3 days

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This chapter is now Kara's turn to prepare for the date. (While other shenanigans happen). I'm a little slow on updating due to not feeling well. EXCERPT:

Kara hopped off the bus at its first stop in the San Jose Barrio. Nia followed close behind. “So it’s just up ahead.” She led the way down the street toward the Mexican market where she’d found the group originally.

Nia nodded and fell into step next to her. “I ran some searches on the names you gave me, but found very little. Other than a missing sibling, where the case was deemed a runaway. No follow-up.” Her messenger bag hung her shoulder, and she tugged at the strap, her eyes darting back and forth across the street. “You get the feeling we’re being followed?”

Kara took a deep breath and opened up her awareness to the full breadth of her superhearing. Sounds poured into her awareness — car wheels against pavement, footsteps against pavement or grass, claws scrambling up bark, the flutter of wings atop roofs — oh, someone had exited the bus right before it pulled away from the curb. Their heartbeat was fast, as if the person exerted effort of some type. Soon footsteps clipped against pavement in their direction.

She spared a glance behind them, but no one was there. She could hear the heartbeat and the footsteps still. She tipped her glasses briefly downward and squinted, but her x-ray vision on revealed the vague outline of a person. Some sort of energy masked them from view.

In her pocket, she had one of Lena’s warding vials— Lena wouldn’t let her leave home without it now — and warmth exuded from it. Far more than when Nia and her set out on this task. Which meant it warded against something. And the one thing Kara had no protection against?

Was magic.

“Yeah.” Kara pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned closer to Nia. “I hear their heartbeat, but they masked themselves with magic I think.”

“Magic?” Nia wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, that’s why I feel weird. Magic use always makes my nose itch. Except Lena’s. That makes me feel all warm and gooey.”

“Doesn’t it?” Kara sighed and smiled at the thought of her :zhao. Lena would definitely sense if this was actual magic or just some weird tech thingy right away.

Nia snickered. “You such a goner for her.”

Normally Kara would huff or blush and deny it, but tonight was the Date. One that Kara had meticulously planned. Explored the courting customs of all the possible cultures in America — speedreading had its uses — and Ireland, but in the end, decided to do as Lena had suggested a few days ago. Combine bits of Kara’s Kryptonian heritage with Lena’s own heritage. She had high hopes that Lena would love it, and it brought a smile to her face.

“She deserves the best, you know?” Kara sighed and kicked a stone down the sidewalk, one ear cocked for their follower. Who definitely was still tailing them.i Their heart rate had sped up, and their breathing sounded strained. Was the whole masking themselves hard to do?

“So do you.” Nia nudged Kara’s side. “You’ve worked hard to fix things between you two.”

Kara nodded. “The appointment is on Friday, you know.”

“Oh?” Nia leaned closer, her voice hushed. “That couple therapy?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what to expect. Lena hasn’t really said anything beyond the date and time.” Kara grimaced. She didn’t want to go into it blind.

Odd that their follower sounded like they were wheezing. As if running, but their footsteps still held the steady beat of a walk.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had couple therapy.” Nia tapped her chin. “But I suspect if you’re honest, you’ll be fine. I mean, how hard can it be? Just grab a shit ton of tissues just in case.”

That did not help Kara feel better about the appointment, but she appreciated Nia trying.

She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Follower struggling to stay masked. Let’s take a short-cut. Wear them down.” Kara ducked into an alley with Nia close behind. She wove around trash bins, out the otherside, and then into a shop.

They walked down aisles, past other shoppers, and waited until their follower had also entered the shop. “I’ll exit first,” Kara whispered. “Will head this many blocks south. You go north, then we turn east for this many blocks.” She held up three fingers each time.

Nia grinned. “Got it.” She snagged a bag of treats and took it up to the register, while Kara left the store.

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara zol el #kara danvers #nia nal #kelly olsen #cw supergirl #supergirl #supergirl cw #The date will actually be the chapter after this because I wanted to dig into Kara deeper beforehand #Yes this date preparations and the date itself is three chapters what of it?#I couldn't resist Nia being slightly unhinged in her Confuse Dey plans

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gingerbreadmonsters · 4 months

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peckish

or: darling, we've got company for dinner.

gn!reader, MASSIVE warnings for gore and cannibalism, ooey-gooey domestic bliss meets serial killer heaven. apologies to everyone who's new around here - i have to keep the property prices low somehow, you know? much love to the discord gang, the real heroes of the nightmare suburbia that is this fic. the spaghetti scene from lady and the tramp but make it monstrous. warden bobbing for adam's apples in just over 4400 words.

one more time so i know you heard me: warnings for cannibalism, heavy blood and gore, extended discussion of serial killing and murder, death and dead bodies, and emetophobia.

this fic contains graphic content that may not be suitable or appropriate for readers under the age of 18. reader discretion is heavily advised. dead dove: do not eat. as always, i encourage you to stop reading at any point if you feel as though you may become uncomfortable or upset. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. thank you.

series masterlist

Say what you will about Vega, he’s never fancied himself the type to settle down.

Settling down sounds boring, don't you think? It sounds like something dull and mundane, the rhythmic repetition of ordinary life. Wearing away at the facets of the mind, a stone washed and tumbled in the river, worn smooth and utterly featureless. Wasteful.

It’s not really the sort of thing he'd ever thought he'd want for himself, and besides, it's not really something demons do. Especially not when they're as old as him, and with such grand ambitions. You don't fracture universes and topple gods from a three-bed two-bath in the middle of nowhere.

Aria has no real equivalent, and the thought of a demon chaining themselves to the monotony of indefinite life in Elegy… it’s so awful that it doesn’t even bear thinking about.

A garage and a garden and a pool, a barbecue and a picket fence and two and a half kids. All these useless things that humans seem to obsess over - filling their lives with the inane clutter of their shallow world, lulled into the background of their own existence by the weight of their own avarice. Self-soothing. The closest he’s ever got to a gated community is a maximum-security prison, and neither are places that he’s particularly enthusiastic about seeing the inside of ever again.

The concept of suburbia is very, very human. Vega is not.

Oh, my.

Ah, well. Best laid plans and all that.

Having fun there, darling?

He laughs at your enthusiastic thumbs up, gaze lingering on the thick smear of blood that trails across your jaw, dripping down the side of your throat, threatening to soak into the collar of your shirt. It looks like you’re nodding as well, but from this angle it’s hard to tell - sort-of crouched but almost lying flat, sprawled across the living room carpet in front of him as he sits back in the chair.

He’s strangely reminded of a pet - maybe one of those little puppy dogs he’s seen humans walking around with, shaking its toy from side to side in its mouth. Cute.

You sit up with a gasp, lips glossy with spit and blood, delicate tendons snapping across your fangs as you tear yourself away. Fuck, you look good, eyes black with pleasure as your fangs flash in the soft sunlight, biting, chewing, ripping…

Did y-

Ah, ah. The tip of his tail flicks forwards to point accusingly at you in mocking disapproval. What have we said about talking with your mouth full?

That I’ll choke, you grumble, clumsily wiping blood from your cheeks and greedily licking it into your already-full mouth. Like you’ve ever been sad when I do that.

He shrugs, smirk pulling at his lips as you glare up at him. What can I say? It’s less fun when I’m not involved.

Chastened, if far from chaste - you scowl, even as your tail betrays you, swishing back and forth across the carpet behind you in gluttonous delight. The sound of your chewing fills the room, loud and delightfully sticky, and he watches all the lovely muscles in your throat flex as you swallow, again and again.

Sighing quietly in pleasure at the taste, licking your messy fingers and letting them go with a pop, shiny and clean. His little hedonist.

Mind if I…? When you’ve finished your mouthful, you gesture down in front of you with your tail. It’s really nice.

Asking for another go, like you need his permission. You really are sweet, aren’t you? He leans forward to hold your chin in one hand, carefully picking a stray piece of flesh from between your front teeth with the tips of his claws, before settling back into his chair and popping it in his mouth.

Of course, he replies, smiling indulgently as you eagerly bury your face back into the corpse’s throat for seconds. Eat up, my love.

The bright sound of tearing flesh fills the room again, sloppy and wet as you hungrily slurp blood into your mouth like a baby vampire, puncture marks littering the skin where your claws have dug too deep in your excitement. You’re just so adorable, curled over the body in the living room, elbow deep in gore and occasionally lifting your head to spit out a particularly sharp chunk of bone.

Munching away at your prize, shredded skin caught in your teeth. At this rate, you’ll have stripped the flesh entirely by dinnertime.

Drink?

You glance up at him inquisitively, still up to your nose in the human’s throat, and he knows that look. This should be fun. And anyway, it would be rude to refuse his pretty darling anything, wouldn’t it?

Oh, if you insist.

Gracefully, he slides out of the armchair and kneels on the opposite side of the corpse, mouth already watering in anticipation. You don’t seem to care much for grace at all, though - happily, you twist your fingers into his hair and pull him into a kiss, sharing your blissful mouthful of blood with a delighted sigh.

It’s dark and rich on his tongue, mixing with the familiar flavour of your kisses, and he laughs quietly in your mind as he feels you smile, the satisfaction of your full stomach mixing with the electric spark of his fangs digging into your lip.

It’s something of a double-edged sword, if he’s honest. Blood pours from your mouth as you grin, and he’s smiling too hard to really stop it, splattering all over your front, his hands, and the body on the floor between you. Your kisses get shallower and shallower, but no less hungry, until you’re practically licking at his face like an animal, desperate for the taste of the blood that coats his lips and his chin.

Obviously, he lets you. You’re having fun, and it’s very cute.

Definitely a puppy, he thinks.

Hmm? You’ve turned your attention back to your meal, scooping blood into your mouth with one hand as the other prepares to crack open the chest cavity. He prefers the softness of the stomach, the richness of the guts and the kidneys, but you do so love the challenge of the ribcage - the sweet lungs and heart and liver, waiting to be devoured. What did you say?

Oh, nothing, darling, he replies. Bones crunching, skin splitting, and Vega watches proudly as you crawl on top of the corpse, greedily burying your face in the split ribs and groaning in delight. Nothing at all.

The bloodstain on the cream-coloured carpet grows slowly but steadily around you as you feast, while he sits back up in the armchair and picks up the television remote. There’s a documentary programme this afternoon about one of his past experiments, and he’s curious to see what they make of it.

Long fingers pressing the little buttons, careful to keep his claws out of the way so as not to accidentally tear the rubber. The channels flick past, brief glimpses of other shows flashing on the screen before being replaced by another.

Learning how to use this stupid little controller had been very bizarre for him and you - it runs on electricity, with no magic at all, and manipulating the television with magic is really very difficult without making it catch fire. It’s not built to accommodate magical energy inside it, so you’d both had to just deal with the learning curve and figure out how to make it give you the programme you want.

According to you, it had been exactly the same when you had to learn to use a computer and a walkie-talkie at DUMP, so it had taken you a frustratingly short amount of time to figure it out. He’d been forced to ask you for help more than once, which had admittedly grated on him a little, but it hadn’t been all that bad. You’d been far too distracted by your reward to gloat, in any case.

(Demons might not need to sleep, per se, but he’d certainly tired you out, poor thing. Soundproof wards are such a wonderful thing.)

Finally, he finds the right channel, garish adverts splashed across the screen before the programme starts. A disembodied human voice twitters blithely about some product or other it's trying to sell - some sort of little rectangular pills? - but he’s not really paying attention.

Neither are you, to be fair. Drenched in blood from horns to tail, you’ve moved on to the trachea, chewing away at the meat and sucking the cartilage clean before arranging it in a little pile next to you. There’s about seven or eight of the little C-shaped rings so far, and he smiles as you spit another one into your palm and add it to the collection.

Quietly, he makes one of those thin cardboard boxes out of magic, the red-and-white striped ones you insist on having when you watch films, and scoops the dripping stack of cartilage inside with a touch of psychokinesis. If you’re allowed to have a mid-afternoon snack, then so is he.

Music starts playing from the television, and he settles back into the armchair as the documentary finally begins. Shaky, poorly lit videos of gore-spattered - and clearly fake, just look at that awful artificial blood - crime scenes play under dramatic readings of newspaper headlines, and it's all very melodramatic.

To be perfectly honest, they're exaggerating a little. Or perhaps it’s more that whatever unempowered police force was wheeled out to investigate was absolutely terrible at their job. He’d been proud of this particular protégé, but he hadn't been that good. The kills were enthusiastic but rather sloppy, so although Vega had eaten well at every crime scene, the whole affair had been considerably more risky than it needed to be.

Humans simply suffer from a tremendous belief in their own immunity to wickedness - contrary to popular belief, it doesn’t take much to turn a human into a serial killer, especially not when you have as much practice as he does. To make a good serial killer is a little harder, but not impossible.

They need an affinity for death, obviously, and a fascination with their own mortality is always helpful. Manual dexterity is useful but can be cultivated, and depending on the method of killing, physical strength can be a bonus as well. Cleverness is appreciated, as is a propensity for lying.

But most of all, they need to love killing, the thrill of the hunt - their god must become murder, their worship becomes the unique pleasures of the kill. And make no mistake, pleasures is absolutely correct. You’d told him about some human saying or other - love your job, and you’ll never work a day in your life, and he really couldn’t agree more.

If you’re not having fun, you’re doing it wrong. The word spree sounds so joyful, don’t you think?

Now they’re playing a video of some armchair psychologist, ruminating about childhood factors and underlying conditions, and it’s almost ridiculous how wrong they are. Which, to be fair, is probably not their fault. If these unempowered humans had jumped to the conclusion that the man’s motivation for killing was an invisible demon secretly talking in his brain and persuading him to commit murders, in order to create the sadistic energy that the demon needed to eat to survive, it would probably speak more to their own conspiratorial leanings than his own breaking of covert.

Humans love to try and explain things they don’t understand. Trauma? Hardly. Neglect? Please. Illness? Well, now you’re just making him laugh. A child could figure out that there hadn’t been anything wrong with the man. He’d been perfectly sane before Vega got involved.

The screen shifts to a woman walking around in a street he vaguely recognises, talking about the life of the first victim - well, the one she thinks was the first, anyway - and he watches in amusement at the stilted story these ‘investigators’ have sewn together. Some things are right, but most things aren’t, and it’s admittedly quite funny to see how badly they’ve put everything together. Can’t anyone tell the difference between a carving knife and a chef’s knife anymore?

Idly, he curls the spade of his tail around into his snack box, picks up a loop of cartilage, and pops it into his mouth. Yum. Chewy.

After a little while, the programme cuts away to an advertisement break, and he sighs in disappointment as the narration about entry and exit wounds is interrupted by an advert for furniture sets. He takes a minute to sit up and stretch, noting the progress you’ve made on your little meal with pride.

The chest cavity is almost entirely empty of its organs, only the shredded remains of the diaphragm left in the space where the lungs used to sit, bitemarks in the muscle that’s been almost entirely torn away. Chunks of half-chewed fat have been spat out onto the carpet, but he’s pleased to see that you’ve eaten most of the alveoli - you can’t stand the taste of cigarettes, so he’d been careful to get you one that wasn’t a smoker.

Speaking of your eating habits, your initial frenzy seems to have worn off a little. The ends of most of the ribs have been shattered, clear dents in the bone where you’ve had to chew a little harder to get at the delicious marrow inside, others ripped out of the body entirely in your enthusiasm.

You must have got overexcited and tired yourself out, though - now you’re lying on the carpet next to the body, gnawing slowly at the wrist and slurping out the blood that’s still left in the muscle tissue. How unusual. Normally, you’d finish off a few more of the major organs before switching to one of the limbs.

Full up already, dear?

He’s expecting you to laugh, or at least bare your teeth at him, but instead you just groan weakly in response, squeezing your eyes shut. A painful stab of worry blooms in his aura, first like a needle, then like a knife - in a second, he’s leaning forward out of his chair, examining your body for injuries.

What’s wrong? What is it? You’ve been right here in front of him the whole time - fuck, what did he miss? The ward around the house pulses as he checks it, but it’s just as strong as ever. Magic builds in his core, power cracking and sparking beneath his simulated skin in an instant, needing to shield you, hold you, protect you-

Tummy ache. Hurts.

Belatedly, he notices your free hand rubbing little circles over your stomach, tail flicking in agitation as the balance of magic in the room tilts and sways around you. Oh.

Again? Relieved, he relaxes slightly, although it’s surprisingly difficult to let the magic go that easily. Darling, I told you last time, you ca-

I was hungry!

And you’ll be sick, if you’re not careful!

Will not, you huff, through a big gulp of blood. Got rid of it.

He has to fight not to smile at your adorable petulant expression, fangs buried in the forearm of a corpse. You’re so precious. Got rid of what, hm?

Gag reflex, you reply proudly. Finally found out what it was.

So that’s why… he muses, head tipping to the side as he looks down at you. I see.

Of course! That’s why you’d felt so awful last time he’d brought you a corpse. How could he have missed it?

You’d eaten so fast that you’d made yourself sick, looking up at him in alarm as your body revolted against you, before turning to the side and vomiting all over the kitchen floor. Neither of you had known what was going on - you’d both seen it happen to humans before, but never to demons.

Poor thing, you’d been petrified, sobbing and wailing in his arms as your body convulsed against your will. He’d been afraid as well - reflexively, he’d poured a panicked wave of magic into you, searching for the problem, but hadn’t found anything. If it wasn’t something magical, what could it have been - what could possibly have hurt you?

His body doesn’t have a gag reflex, but yours does - well, did. Most demons give themselves lungs and vocal cords, at the very least, when they come to Elegy. It makes it easier to fake breathing, and it’s more convenient than manually using magic every time if you need to speak aloud to humans - you’d got into the habit when you were at the Department, and you’d grown used to the weight of having organs inside you. Apparently, it’s comforting.

Vega?

He rarely bothers with having any physical internal systems, seeing as he only ever uses telepathy. If he ever needs to eat anything, he just lets it dissolve into magic inside him straight away - but you’ve told him that you like the feeling of having a pleasantly full stomach after a meal, so you wait until then to let it be broken down by the magic that fills your form. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you might have accidentally given yourself a gag reflex without realising.

Hold on. If you’ve had that sitting in the back of your throat the whole time, how come he’s never accidentally triggered it when y-

Vega!

Startled out of his thoughts, he looks down to see you pointing the tip of your tail towards the television. Your programme’s on again.

Oh - oh, yes. Thank you.

He sits back in the chair again, but his mind is elsewhere, one eye on the documentary and one eye on you. The amateur crime scene analysis doesn't interest him as much as you do, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and frowning when you realise that you’re only making it worse - your entire upper body is covered in blood and viscera, slightly tacky as it dries, and all you’re doing is rearranging it slightly.

Absentmindedly, he swallows. Oh, he’s going to enjoy cleaning you up.

It looks like you’re feeling a little more settled, or at least you’ve stopped caring if your stomach hurts. The voice on the television explains something about declassified documents as you grab the body by the shoulders and start shuffling backwards across the carpet, dragging it closer to the chair he’s sitting in.

Going somewhere?

You don’t reply, dumping your prize on the floor between his feet, before leaning your weight against his legs and flopping down across his lap. Luckily, long experience with your little habit kicks in - he leans back just in time to avoid your horns stabbing him in the stomach, lifting his hands out of his lap so they’re not in your way, replacing them lightly on top of your head.

Is this about the really old one, again?

He strokes one of your horns with one hand as you wriggle around on the floor, getting comfortable as you turn your face to the screen. There’s a quiet burst of magic as you think about reaching for the beanbag over by the coffee table, but at the last minute you go for the blanket lying over the back of the sofa instead, floating it over so you’ve got something a bit more comfortable to sit on.

No, that was last week’s programme, he replies. This one was only a few decades ago.

Your eyes narrow, gazing at the replica weapons onscreen. Really? That stuff looks pretty old.

No, no. It can’t have been more than fifty or sixty years…

Has it really been that long? It feels like only yesterday he’d been standing over the man as he stared down at his very first victim on the floor, shuddering with murderous ecstasy, laughing to himself as Vega drank in the delicious bitterness of his cruelty. How hungry they’d both been for him to draw blood - quite literally, in Vega’s case. How thrilling it had been when all that careful planning finally bore fruit, blossoming and blooming with each stroke of the knife, sweet and tart on his astral tongue.

Ah, time flies when you’re having fun. Upon reflection, maybe it’s been longer than he thought.

Hm. Perhaps you’re right. But only a century at most, I’m certain.

Apparently satisfied with that, you settle down against him to watch properly, draped against his legs all warm and happy. He relaxes too, absentmindedly stroking his claws over your shoulders and the back of your neck. It’s nice. Soothing, and he can feel that you like it too.

The documentary keeps going. After a few minutes, he hears something sticky from the floor next to you, like something soft and wet being pulled free. Then it happens again, and he feels your cheek start to move where it’s pressed against his leg.

Mm, thank you.

He takes the offered eyeball with a smile, plucking it out of your hand and putting it in his mouth. It bursts satisfyingly between his teeth, the sensation of it splitting making something thrum in pleasure deep in his mind as he savours the light flavour of the clear juice. Both of you like the eyes, refreshing and succulent, so you always make sure to share.

In return, he tips the box of cartilage towards you, but you turn your nose away with a huff. Not in the mood, it seems. Very well.

There’s about three-quarters of an hour left of the programme, and it passes in companionable silence, broken only by his quiet chewing and the slow swish of your tail over the bloodied carpet. Naturally, the humans who made this particular documentary don’t come to any new conclusions, but their outlandish theorising is amusing enough. If he’s honest, it’s starting to make him miss the whole routine - if there’s time over the next few months, he really ought to start getting back into serial killers. They’re the best kind of pet, once you’ve trained them well enough.

(Well, other than you, of course. But that’s a different matter entirely.)

It’s just getting to the end, credits music already beginning to play, when he feels it. Your claw digging into his side, the beginnings of a whine echoing faintly in his mind. He looks down to see you looking pitifully down at the body next to you, tail half-heartedly digging into one of the empty eye sockets. A pleading flash of an image rushes through his head - bone crunching and cracking, a spray of juice splattered across the carpet, the mouthwatering insides revealed.

Already? he laughs, even though he’s already moving to balance his foot on top of the corpse. Whatever happened to your tummy ache, darling?

You stick your tongue out lazily at him, delightfully long in comparison to your relatively human proportions. Hungry. Open it.

Oh, he really has to fight back the swell of affection that blooms in his aura - it’s so precious, when you try to boss him around. Like a little cat, climbing all over him like he’s a toy, sitting by your empty dish and yowling for your dinner like he’s not the one that fed you twenty minutes ago.

Alright, alright. Whatever you say, dear.

Well, it’s not exactly how he’d imagined spending his Saturday afternoons, all those years ago. If past-him could only see the blandly-decorated living room he’s settled in, the neatly-manicured garden outside the window, the mindless television filling the room with noise. Oh, he’d be furious - seething with rage at the adoring gaze future-him gives his demonic darling, form blurring with hatred at the sight of the ring sitting on his future finger. Everything he thought he’d hate forever, imprisoned in the trappings of this pseudo-human life.

He presses down a little bit harder, then harder still - until there’s a sharp crunch, and his foot meets the floor.

Ah, ah, he says as you lean eagerly forward, catching the collar of your shirt with one hand to pull you back, and then your horn with the other when you try to phase through the shirt. What do we say?

Huffily, you roll your eyes at him, but he can feel that you don’t really mean it. Hmph.

He pretends to look thoughtful, tapping his chin with the spade of his tail, and generously not mentioning that yes, he can see the gesture your hand is making at him from here. No, that wasn’t it…

Your bloodsoaked face, adorably grumpy as you try to squirm free of his grip. Magic fizzles between you, sparking off his skin, but he’s too strong - his hand keeps you upright even as you slump in defeat, baring your fangs up at him momentarily before thinking better of it.

Thanks, you mutter, like his demonic hearing won’t catch it. Sweet victory.

It’s tempting to feign deafness and make you say it again, but it’s fine. Truth be told, the sight on the floor by his feet is making his mouth water as well. And anyway, he’s more than happy to make you pay for your little bout of insolence later. He’ll get his revenge before long - you’re always more than glad to give it to him, again and again and again…

You’re very welcome, my love, he murmurs fondly, but doesn’t let go of your horn. Confused, you peer up at him as he tips your head back, his tail sneaking around your waist, his free hand reaching down to dig his claws into the mess between his feet.

An ordinary life is the bane of a demon’s existence. It’s the refusal of the call, trading the mythical powers and unlimited secrets of the universe for a playroom and a picket fence. There’s so much more to eternity than a 9 to 5 and two weeks’ holiday every year, and it doesn’t make sense. How could anyone willingly numb their mind like this, give up everything that makes existence worth having in exchange for something so - so boring?

Vega grins, lifting his hand to your lips, and your gaze fixes on the shiny, dripping mess of brains and blood that fills his palm. Gore trickles down his wrist, dripping onto what used to be a cream-coloured carpet, and he licks his fangs as he catches sight of the teardrop-shaped diamond on your finger, tacky with blood.

Nothing, nothing, a head full of dust. Human life is everything a demon should despise.

Oh, well.

Open wide, darling, he sings, and your black eyes sparkle with delight.

Maybe suburbia isn’t that bad, after all.

in the mood for more? here’s the series masterlist

main masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted vega #redacted warden #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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