#also i think the finale will end in silence BUT we'll get some sort of skippocalyptic song before that perhaps | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alder-saan · 2 years ago

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The Path of Poisons

Shrubby everlasting (part 3)

Larissa x gn! oc

the Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]

Words count : ~2.1k

Larissa Weems opened her eyes and closed them again just as quickly, blinded by the white light she saw above her. Was this heaven? She couldn't quite remember what had happened. Marilyn, a syringe, she had fallen… She had seen Wednesday above her, shaking her, and then she had seen nothing, only heard. Sounds of a struggle… Someone talking… Nothing.

A black hole.

So she was dead, eh?

A stupid death.

Her first thoughts went to her school, and to all the children and teachers who would now have to manage without her. All because of her carelessness…

She opened her eyes again slowly, letting the light reach her eyes through a small slit between her eyelids, which she opened more and more. When she got used to it, she saw white walls, a white ceiling, a white floor, and medical equipment. So she wasn't dead. She was in the hospital. She had survived. The door opened wide and several people, probably nurses and doctors, entered, probably one of the machines could detect whether she was awake or not, and it was relayed to another room.

"Mrs. Weems, welcome back," said a woman, smiling.

Still a little dazed, she said nothing.

"We've got some tests to do now that you're awake. Don't worry, nothing too serious. Do you remember what happened?"

"One of the teachers at the academy attacked me and stuck a needle in my neck."

"It was belladonna, you were very lucky to get away with it. Do you have any other memories afterwards?"

"A student leaning over me, some noises, and then nothing."

"That's normal. I'll take some blood and we'll get you some food."

Larissa nodded. The different nurses took her arm to draw some blood. The principal felt her head spin and closed her eyes.

"How long have I been here?"

"Oh, four days. You can thank the student who saved you."

"A student saved me?"

"Yes, he had the reflex to inject you with physostigmine before calling for help. Normally we don't recommend this kind of thing if you are not a doctor but it saved your life. The blood test is done, we'll bring you something to eat right away. Any special diet? No meat? No salt?"

"No, I can eat everything."

"Good."

The little team left the room, leaving her alone in her silence. Larissa let her eyes roam the room, curious. Several bouquets were there. A huge bunch of various peonies, hawthorns, and then a small bunch of marigolds and shrubby everlasting. There were also a lot of letters, which she reached for. She had tears in her eyes when she realised that they were words from the students. She who had no family left, who thought that no one cared about her anymore, felt loved. She felt like reading everything, and started with a note written on light blue paper covered with multicoloured wolf stickers, written in glittery pink ink.

"Get well soon, Mrs. Weems! By the way, you haven't seen me I've finally wolfed out" Followed by small hand-drawn smileys "Enid."

She put the little card down and picked up another. Dark grey paper, black ink.

"The next time I involve you, I'll take Calabar beans with me, to counteract the poison. But in my book, you won't live again. I think it makes a better ending. And a character's death is a good development for the protagonist. Wednesday."

Larissa wiped away a tear with a small laugh.

"You're silly…"

They entered her room, a tray of food in hand. The principal put Wednesday's card down and looked at what had been brought in. Nothing very tasty. Rice, some sort of fishy-smelling pâté, salad and compote. Well, that's that. She would have to make do with hospital food. She ate slowly, a grimace hanging on her lips. The rice was undercooked, and the fish was overcooked. Even the salad tasted bad. In the end, the only thing right was the compote.

As she had not been given any instructions against it, she stood up. She wanted to have a closer look at the bouquets. The hawthorns had a note signed by all her colleagues and Sheriff Galpin. The peony one was a personal note from Thalia Kedlan. As for the last one, the little one of marigolds and immortals, there was nothing. No words at all. She looked at him, intrigued by this gift without a sender. Who could give her immortals and marigolds? The marigolds, she understood. They were recovery flowers. But the immortals…

Their meaning was much more vague, it could mean so many things. Nevertheless, she imagined that it had to do with the fact that she was not dead. A bouquet without a name was still troubling. Maybe it was Wednesday. But she wouldn't have given him yellow flowers. Maybe Morticia, then. No, it probably wouldn't have been that kind of flower either. Her thoughts travelled back in time.

"Rissa? Is it really Gomez you like?"

"Of course it is. Who else?"

"I don't know. I just… I thought you preferred girls…"

"Ugh, what do you take me for? It's disgusting!"

Poor Ava… Larissa thought she had been stupid on this one… She should have dealt with her feelings. That was probably the biggest regret of her years as a student at Nevermore: not being able to understand that loving women was normal. She hoped Avareida was okay. She'd obviously bought her book as soon as she'd seen her name on the cover, but had never tried to contact her again. Out of shame, no doubt, and then to say what? It had been thirty years… It would have been weird to come and say "Hi Ava, I'm not sure if you remember me. I'm sorry for being a horrible homophobe and telling you all that. I'm actually a lesbian too, haha".

She sighed. Why was she thinking about her now?

Probably because she was the only person who had ever truly loved her without an ulterior motive and without betraying her. No, Larissa had betrayed her first. She began to dream that she was the bouquet.

Ava…

The memory of her friend made her smile. She wasn't tall, Ava was 8 inches shorter than her, at the time. And then she had this joy for life. She didn't care what others thought of her, Ava just did what she liked. Larissa never had that strength. Even now, everything she did was to maintain a good image for herself and the academy. Avareïda had undoubtedly become an incredible young woman…

The next day, several of her colleagues came to see her, with a bunch of daisies and a huge cake. She felt a bit ridiculous, bedridden and in a white shirt, while everyone else was well dressed. Elizabeth Kinswelt, the divination teacher, groped for the chair they had brought her, helped by Thalia Kedlan, the history teacher. There was also Jean Lafon, the French teacher, and Amil Donove, the telekinesis teacher.

Thalia took her in her arms and gave her a warm hug.

"Welcome back!"

"Welcome back! Amil and Jean rejoined at the same time."

Larissa returned his embrace.

"Are you crying, Larissa?"

"No, Jean, it's the dust."

Thalia stepped back a little, watching her principal wipe away tears.

"I wanted to tell you, Larissa," Thalia began, "we're really glad to see you alive. The Academy wouldn't be the same without you. And you are a dear friend to our hearts."

"Stop it or I'll really cry."

"Aha, okay."

Amil put the bouquet next to the others.

"By the way, do you know who gave me these marigolds and everlastings? There's no word to go with it."

Thalia smiled at Larissa.

"A friend of mine who has just moved to the area. We met the day before yesterday morning, and as I had to come and see you, they came with me. They bought you this because they felt bad about coming without anything."

"Oh… will you thank them for me?"

"Of course I will."

"I heard that many students came to see you?" Amil asked

"Yes, I received dozens of notes. I didn't know they liked me so much."

Elizabeth, who had been silent until then, spoke up. Larissa liked her voice, always very calm. Her completely white eyes, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, gave her a gentle, wise look that the principal had always liked.

"Larissa, expect many people to tell you how much they love you."

"Is that a prophecy, Mrs Kinswelt?"

"No, Mrs Weems. I know this phenomenon. I almost died myself a long time ago."

"But it sounded like a prophecy."

"Come on, you know I don't share my prophecies. Especially not to the people most affected."

"Does that mean that you have seen things?"

"Interpret it as you wish…"

Thalia opened the box in which there was a red cake with some raspberries on top.

"It was Jean who baked this for you!"

"All this for me? Isn't it better to share it?"

"That was the idea," Jean smiled.

The car was driving along the main road. A storm was brewing and the first drops were falling on the roof.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth lifted her head from the glass. If she wasn't completely blind, you'd think she was absorbed in the scenery that was passing before her eyes on the way to her girlfriend's house.

"Yes, Dear?"

"Did you see anything about Mrs Weems?"

"Yes, I did."

There was silence in the car for a few moments.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I saw your friend. And Mrs Weems."

"Tell me more."

"You know I don't want to turn my visions into self-fulfilling prophecies."

"Come on, I won't tell them. Will you please tell me?"

"What are you offering me in exchange for this information?"

Thalia smiled, without taking her eyes off the road.

"There's not much I can do right now, but as soon as we get to my place, I'm yours."

"I saw them kissing."

"Whaaat?"

"It can mean nothing, too. It was just a kiss. Promise me you won't say anything to them or try to push them together."

"It's going to be hard, but I promise."

"Thank you, Thalia. Let them live their lives, so you won't be disappointed with the outcome."

Elizabeth rested her head against the glass. And then she saw light. A new vision was coming.

She was in the greenhouse of Nevermore. She knew it, though she had never seen it. It smelled the same as when she had gone there. On the floor was Mrs. Weems, lying there, staring into space. Elizabeth ran towards her as the door opened. She saw someone enter. Black hair slicked back, as if it were wet. All black eyes, dressed in brown. She knew it was Rei. They stopped above Mrs Weems and crouched down. Mrs Kinswelt saw the intruder check her breathing and heart before taking something from their jacket and injecting it into Larissa's neck. Then they got up and quietly went to the back of the greenhouse to steal the manchineel tree.

Then everything disappeared.

"Thalia?"

"Yes?"

"Your friend, when did they arrive again?"

"I don't know exactly. They told me it was four days ago at night. Actually, a little after the events at Nevermore. What was that for?"

"No reason."

She knew what she saw. They were the one who saved Mrs Weems. So why hide it? Because of the manchineel thing?

#gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems #larissa x oc

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caffeineivore · 9 months ago

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Terminal

Liminal spaces Pt 4, M/K, PG13-ish? The end...?!

That the flight is re-routed to Detroit for the weather is unwelcome news, but not a complete surprise. Flying anywhere in the northern United States in January meant rolling the dice with Mother Nature, and Kane Grantham can do little but grumble as he disembarks with the rest of the passengers into the deserted terminal at DTW at the indecent hour of 10:29PM. To add insult to injury, the airport is perforce their port of entry into the country on the flight from Heathrow, and not only does the airline not provide hotel and transportation reimbursement for the weather-induced flight delay, but he and everyone else has to drag themselves through Customs and Border Protection at roughly an hour to midnight.

Naturally, everyone is testy and tired, which just makes the process drag on even longer. By the time Kane is declared not-a-terrorist and his personal effects are returned to him, it is twenty minutes to midnight and outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the snow is falling steadily. Kane opens up the Uber app, and even with the unholy late-night premiums, there are no drivers available. A search for hotels is equally unpromising. Jet-lagged, hungry and wearing a non-blizzard-grade peacoat over his suit and wingtips, he sinks down into one of the seats in the terminal with a sigh.

"Well, this sucks, doesn't it? And I was so hoping to get home and indulge in a bubble bath with a glass of wine."

The melodious female voice sounds next to him, the tones friendly and the accent vaguely American. He glances over to see the trim blonde figure of a young woman wearing the navy blue skirt suit of a flight attendant complete with a jaunty red ascot that precisely matches the ribbon in her hair. She's seated one chair away from him, the only other person in the terminal, and gives him a wry yet cheerful sort of grin. "Oh well. It is what it is, hmm?"

That's an Americanism that he doesn't quite understand, so he settles for a shrug and a nod. "You're stranded too, I take it?"

"Honey, we're all stranded until tomorrow, but might as well make the best of it." She stretches out a pair of very slim, very nice legs (not that he's paying them any mind) and kicks off her stiletto heels with a sort of forwardness that he's not accustomed to, but then again, who the deuce could blame her, at this hour? Certainly, he's dying to get comfortable himself, and he's not the one freezing his arse off in a knee-length skirt. That done, she rifles in her bag, and pulls out several packets of those ubiquitous airplane biscuits, offers him one. "Hungry?"

"I am, rather. Thank you, miss."

"You'd think I'd get tired of Biscoff, but it never fails in a pinch." Somewhere, somehow, she also procures two mini bottles of water, a few slightly-squashed granola bars.

The two of them eat an objectively unappetizing dinner at the hour of midnight in the cotton-wrapped silence of that snowy airport terminal, and yet it's satisfying in a way that Kane doesn't quite understand. She's rather beautiful, despite-- or perhaps of-- the lateness of the hour. The sort of woman that one took to the ballet and bought flowers for, back home. But he's never been a ladies' man even in broad daylight, in a raucous pub. Certainly not in the middle of nowhere, in a town that both of them had no business in, on a snowy night.

"Thanks for the bite to eat," he finally says, because it felt necessary to acknowledge her-- acknowledge SOMETHING. "I do hope you get home soon."

"We'll all be on our way in the morning, won't we?" She tilts her head to the side, gives him a smile with something strangely wistful in it. "You'd best get some rest, sweetie. You're stuck here with me tonight."

Kane is reasonably certain that he'd never been called 'sweetie' ever before, not even once, in his whole life. Certainly not by a pretty blonde with her bare feet propped up on top of her suitcase, assiduously unpinning her cornsilk hair in a way that is far more distracting than it was ever meant to be. At this distance, it smells faintly like the types of windblown, summery wildflowers that grow far away from London's prim streets. Had he been smoother, more clever with his words, he might have come up with something flirtatious to say in response. But it's so quiet, and the terminal is rather like a different, tiny world where no one else existed and time meant very little, and he feels his eyelids grow heavy as he slouches down in his chair. The last thing he recalls himself saying, as he settles into the folds of his coat, is a mumbled, "I don't mind."

It's the sound of luggage wheels on the buffed floors that snaps him awake, and when he opens his eyes, the sun has come up. The terminal, though still empty, is showing signs of returning to life as a nattily-dressed gate agent takes his spot at the podium. Kane's suitcase and messenger bag are still right next to him, precisely where he'd left them.

Tucked securely around his shoulders, slightly scratchy but warm and fragrant with a delicate whiff of wildflowers, is an airline issue blanket, navy blue, the colour of her skirt suit. The girl herself is nowhere to be seen, and he wonders if she's on her way home already, to that bubble bath and glass of wine. He wonders where 'home' is, for her.

He wonders, for the first time in his staid and orderly life, if he's going mad and imagined the episode last night, then dismisses that as a laughable notion. Certainly the world wasn't so cruel, so terminally hopeless, that a woman so lovely only appeared in one's dreams.

#fanfic #senshi/shitennou #writing #m/k

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butterflyintochains · 4 months ago

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Of All They Survey

A sequel of sorts to 'The Power Couple Contest'. When last we left our four chaotic hockey men in that story, the team were first in the Metro division by a country mile, and fourth in the league overall. Partly because of four unhinged nutcases with a point to prove. So, naturally, they've made the playoffs! Having beaten Carolina in five in the first round, and gotten through Washington in the second.

We pick up the story in game six of the Eastern Conference Final. And, we go forward from there.

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Today has been the longest day in the team's lives so far, and it's only eleven in the morning. They so wish they were at home so they could hang out at PPG Paints all day. But, they're in Toronto, sitting on a 3-2 series lead in the Eastern Conference Final, and desperate to just get on with this last game. Currently, the core are just back from a gym session, and are watching some footage in a media room at the practice rink they're using. Kris is taking notes like a college student, so is Sid. Erik watches his last shift with Marcus again to see how they pulled off an assist on Bunting's goal. ''Can we see that clip of Drew's goal too, Sid?'' Geno asks.

Sid nods, and scans through to that play. They take notes on that, spotting a breakdown in the communication between Beavillier and Acciari that led the Leafs to score the game winner. ''Ah, there it is, wondered how we let that last goal by us.'' Erik says.

Kris asks, turning his wedding ring on his finger. ''When do we start tonight?''

Sid checks the schedule on his phone. ''Half past six, six hours to go until we hit the ice.''

At loose ends as to what to do for the rest of the day, they grab lunch, and keep on strategising together with Sully and Quinn. Then, it's an hour of ice time with the boys. That takes them until three thirty. Sully orders his boys back to the hotel to sleep for the game, and no one refuses their coach. Kris and Erik lay out their suits, and collapse into bed together. ''You think we'll do this, sweetheart?'' Erik asks as they nod off.

Kris kisses his husband, a promise in it. ''I do, I'll get you your cup, darling, I promise.''

Erik chuckles, and lightly corrects his other half, the eternal martyr that he is. ''We will get us our cup, Kris.''

That evening, they're bussed down to Scotiabank, and suit up while chatting as a family. Sid has instated a 'no silence in the room' policy, it's screwed them over far too often. So, if there's no chatter, someone has to play music. If there's no music, everyone is to talk to each other - even if it's about something silly. Sid and Geno talk to Rusty about their pets. Kris and Erik discuss the latest Arsenal news. Completely ignoring the Prince of Wales trophy in the building somewhere.

The first period goes swimmingly by all measures. Ned performing his usual net magic to withstand the storm. Marner nets a late goal, but Rusty and Bunting keep them ahead 2-1 going into first intermission. Kris is acutely aware of their last Conference final, he can't not be, but, one look to Erik is all he needs to calm down. The second period also goes smoothly, the core taking over for this stage, Geno assisting Erik for a goal to put them up 3-1. Then, minutes later, Sid assists Kris for 4-1. Tavares notches a desperate breakaway to try and salvage the game.

In the third, Knies opens proceedings, and there's a ten minute goalless stint. But, a late one from Lars sends them into the cup final. Carolina, Washington, now Toronto - gone with their 5-3 win. The trophy is brought out, and presented to the core. Sid, as usual, lifts it. It's worked in the past, so why not now? Sid kisses Geno as soon as they're back in the room. Erik, into his first ever cup final, wraps his arms around Kris, shaking like a leaf. Kris presses his lips to Erik's neck, reminding himself that Erik isn't going anywhere. ''Well done, boys, but, the work has only started. We head back home tonight, then, get ready for either Colorado or Vancouver.'' Sully says.

The game puck goes into the board, Ned gets the helmet. And, after press, it's off to the airport.

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They're getting a Battle of Nova Scotia for the cup final. No doubt the media are salivating over this one, Probably the most demanded cup final since the old Colorado/Detroit days. But, the team aren't concerned with that, they're concerned with not having home ice advantage to open the series today, having had it all through this miracle run. To just about everyone's surprise, Erik is the calmest one of the core, newly granted an A on his jersey for the playoffs. He and Kris come in for training in Denver, hand in hand, deep in conversation about something to do with Le Mans. Something about how Ferrari bungled a strategy call. Sid and Geno share a look, whatever keeps them calm. ''How's it going, captain?'' Kris asks, putting his ring on its chain for training. ''Good, happy to be over the hump a bit.''

Erik asks his brother-in-law. ''Excited to face Nate?''

Sid shrugs, some part of him is, the other is just going to get on with it. ''It's just another game, Karl. That's what I'm telling myself.''

Lars asks. ''What's in the team notes for this game tonight?'' Sully says to his troops. ''I've heard that Bednar's starting their secondary goalie. So, I'm putting in Jars for tonight. The five of you are our powerplay and overtime unit as usual.''

With that, they head out for training. Working hard to get this first game under their belts tonight. They all know that if they don't, Colorado will run away with this series. Quinn puts them through endurance drills, they'll have to outskate the Avs as well as outscore them. ''Well, that sucked.'' Geno says, leaning on the boards.

Sid is catching his breath, resting his head on Geno's shoulder. ''Yeah, that sucked a lot.''

Kris downs some gatorade, and says. ''Now you know how Erik and I feel.''

Erik nods, and tosses his stick aside for a second. ''We've run those types of drills during summers since 2013 or 14.''

The game does indeed go their way that night. Not having Home Ice doesn't seem to affect them too much. Tristan performs daylight robbery on both Rantanen and Makar in the second period while they're leading 2-1. And, Rusty nets a pair of goals in the third to settle the game at 4-1 going into game two. ''Hope Flower saw that tonight.'' Tristan says as they board the bus back to their hotel.

Sid assures him, sitting himself down next to Geno. ''He did, he just texted me, actually: 'tell Jars I'm impressed with him.' He was watching.''

Tristan says, putting his head back. ''Thanks, Flower!'' Erik sits next to Kris, and says. ''Three more of those, please.''

Kris nods, and laughs, knowing full well the climb that awaits them. ''One game at a time, darling.'' The bus shuts up at that, Kris looks around, confused as hell. ''What'd I say this time?'' Erik laughs, and says to his husband. ''Well, sweetheart, I'd say the english nicknames are no longer secret.''

Acciari says. ''Oh, wow, that's cute. You two have petnames in english too?''

Erik says. ''Yeah, and now we've opened ourselves up to even more teasing!''

Ned proposes, in a way only a goalie can. ''Ooh, distraction tactic! Use them on ice!''

Kris, ever one for some scheming, especially with the recent Power Couple Contest, raises an eyebrow. ''Y'know, Ned? Good idea.'' The bus finally arrives back at the hotel. One down, three to go.

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The series is sadly tied on return to Pittsburgh. The team have a couple of days off to recover from the jetlag of flying from the mountains to the east. As usual, the core get together at Sid and Geno's place for breakfast the morning of their return. That 3-2 overtime loss sucked, but, it's not over until it's over. No need to press the panic button yet. ''So... the petnames, huh?'' Geno asks, smirking over his coffee mug.

Erik rolls his eyes, they've not heard the end of that since they got on the plane last night. ''Geno... we told you that's between us.'' Sid flashes them a shit eating grin. ''No, tell us, come on.''

Kris says, resigned to having to tell his brothers yet another story they'll get all mushy over. ''The big ones, that's all you're getting, just the big ones we use all the time. Cool?'' Sid and Geno nod. Kris carries on. ''I think I started calling Erik 'mon amour' just after we became official in 2012. We were just on the phone, and it... slipped out.''

Erik smiles softly. ''As for me calling Kris 'hjartat mitt'... he got all insecure over himself when he saw me with Victor at some event, and that was my way of getting through to him.''

Sid and Geno have glossy eyes, Sid says, a big smile on his face. ''That's really sweet. And, like, seeing how happy you are to use them, and hear them, it's just... nice, y'know?'' Erik and Kris share a soft look, for all the roughness on ice, they're always soft for each other. ''Yeah, it is.'' Erik says.

Geno adds. ''How have you two been handling this run? New territory, right?''

Kris says, helping Sid tidy the table up. ''I think we're doing okay, just living one game at a time.''

After their breakfast, they head down to the arena. The glass cabinet where the team's five cups sit pride of place stare the captain and his three alternates in the face. Erik notices the melancholic look in Kris' eyes as he looks up at the 2017 cup, and silently holds his husband's hand. He'd give anything to rewrite that horrible night, kick his own ass and demand the old him apologise right away. But, they're here now, right where they belong. Kris takes a deep breath, and kisses his husband's cheek. ''Got lost for a second, amour.'' He says.

Erik smiles, and squeezes his hand. ''I know, and it's okay, hjartat.''

They go to a media room, and get on with some game study. Reviewing the first two games, taking notes, and discussing strategies for the home games ahead of them. Sid has is calculated in his head that they'll be in Colorado if this goes to seven. So, they must be ready for that. It's worked three times in the past, they've never won a cup at home.

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Game three is at home, PPG Paints is full to the brim with home fans all clad in black and gold. The core arrive together, as they always do for home games, and walk in together. For most teams, this united front would be mostly for the optics, not in this city. Geno talks to Erik about a story from his days with Metallurg as they walk in. Sid and Kris talk about a big game they played against each other in their QMJHL days. Val D'Or beat Rimouski 6-5 in a massive overtime period. Once out of their suits, they split up into their stalls in the dressing room. They suit up to some music, and Sully gives the read before they head out.

Sid stares down against Nate on face off, Nate looks somewhat intimidated by the sea of black his team are surrounded by. Kris locks eyes with Makar. The kid's good, really good. Nate and Cale are good together, but they'll never be Sid and Kris. Sid wins the faceoff, and it's off to the races. Midway through the first period, Acciari gets them on the board 1-0, with a massive breakway goal. Just a couple of minutes later, Bunting gets a sneaky Michigan goal. ''Good job, boys! More of those!'' Sully shouts from behind the bench.

The second period is mostly Colorado. With Nate and Devon Toews getting two goals to level the game at 2-2 going into the second intermission. ''Alright, this game is very winnable, we stick together, stay calm, and take it one shift at a time. No panic buttons anymore, boys.'' Sully says.

The third period is crazy, Geno opening scoring right off the jump, Rantanen fighting back to tie it 3-3. ''Crosby unit, you're all up!'' The top unit take to the ice, and leap on the offensive right away. Drew putting them back ahead 4-3. However, late in the third, Nate scores a one-timer on the penalty kill to take them to overtime again. The overtime unit get to work right away. Lars gets the puck, and feeds it to Erik, who scans the play once, and says. ''Sweetheart, give them hell!''

Kris takes the puck, ignoring the urge to kiss Erik, he takes the shot, and ends the game 5-4. Then, he pulls his husband in for a kiss in front of the whole arena, who go absolutely crazy for it. ''Hey, get a room!'' Lehkonen chirps them. Not to be outdone in his own arena, Kris fires back. ''We have one, you're in it!''

After the game, a journalist asks Sid. ''Did Kris and Erik plan that kiss beforehand?''

Sid laughs, his best friend and brother-in-law are schemers, but not like that. ''No, I'd say that was very spur of the moment. Can't say I'm all that surprised, though, with how they are backstage.''

Erik shouts over from his media scrum. ''You love us, Croz!'' Sid shouts back. ''Yes, I do.''

Another journalist laughs, and asks. ''Are they down bad for each other?''

Sid nods, grinning ear to ear. ''Oh, yeah. You'd never know it's been over a decade since they got together, they're like teenagers.''

Once back in street clothes, dinner is served to the team at the arena. A 2-1 series lead, almost there, but it's not over until it's over. Sid, of all people, knows fine well what lies ahead of them with this series. A decade of friendship with Nate have taught him well what to expect. The core debrief while they eat. ''What did Lehky say to you two?'' Rusty asks Kris.

Kris chuckles. ''He told us to: 'get a room'. I told him: 'we have one, and you're in it'.'' The team burst out laughing.

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Game four is another win for the Penguins, a simpler 3-1 home win with amazing goals from Rusty, Lars, and Jesse. They fly out this evening to Denver for what could be the cup winning game.The media are still ruminating over the ''Game Three Kiss'' - as it has been labelled. But, the defence power couple have mostly gotten on with it. But, during a final home skate before they fly out, Beauvillier says to them. ''Hey, why not do that for the next game too? Y'know, kiss to put the Avs off their game.''

Geno remarks. ''It worked then, might work now.'' Erik laughs, the contest still fresh in the team psyche, only now it's been inflicted upon their opposition. ''They'll be expecting it, Tito, we might bust out the nicknames, though.''

Bunting says, sounding excited. ''Oh, please do! I feel like we've heard one percent of the repertoire, and I'm fascinated now you say nicknames, plural.''

Kris smiles, and rolls his eyes. ''Thank you for opening Pandora's Box, mon tresor.''

Erik leans over to kiss his cheek. ''No problem, skatten mitt.'' They tidy up, and hit the showers. Then, it's into suits for the flight to the game that might just end all of this. It's almost too good to be true, one more game, and it's over. But, one thing at a time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Game five is a bit of a clusterfuck, a dramatic 4-3 overtime loss to the Avalanche sends them home to Pittsburgh angry. No one is more pissed about this than Kris is. He's wanted to win a cup with the love of his life since he can remember. He promised Erik that they'd win this thing this year. And, the fucking Avalanche just had to ruin everything, didn't they? It takes Erik putting his hands on his shoulders as they get to their stalls at Cranberry, to bring him out of his head. ''Kris, sweetheart, talk to me. What's going on?''

Kris takes a deep, but ragged breath. ''Game five, Erik. I just want to get you a cup so much, and then, they had to fuck it all up for us. I'm just... pissed off.''

Erik nods, he knows Kris better than Kris knows himself. They even discussed this on their first night back home this season. So, he goes to the tactic he employs to calm Kris down. ''Okay, Kris, what facts do we have right now?''

Kris says, taking another deep breath. ''We're married. We're both Penguins. We're 3-2 up in the final. We're in this together, we love each other. And, we got here together.'' Erik nods, pressing a kiss to Kris' lips. ''Good, feel better now?'' Kris nods, leaning his forehead on Erik's. ''Jag alskar dig, alskad mitt.'' He says.

Erik says. ''Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur.''

The rest flood in, surprised at the sight of Erik calming Kris down from something. They don't pry, instead just get suited up for action. They could very well win the cup tomorrow evening, and nobody is going to be caught slacking off now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Game six is a close affair, and a physical one at that. Geno getting the team's only goal late in the game, not that it salvages it any, they're forced into a game seven with a 2-1 loss. They've got three days off between game six and seven, Sully has them on rest orders for the first day off. Sid and Geno use the day to bake and relax with Sam and Maverick. Kris and Erik use it to re-watch some stuff from their four happy All Star Games, Tampa doesn't count. ''Forgot how good you looked that weekend.'' Erik says as they watch the 2016 All Star Game.

Kris runs his fingers through Erik's hair, finally at that length he loves it at. ''I prefer us with long hair, like in 2019.'' Erik laughs, and adjusts his head on Kris' shoulder. ''Me too.''

At the Crosby-Malkin house, Sid leaves a sheet of cookies to cool on the counter while Geno packs them up for the final flight to Denver. Sam is curled up on the couch, fast asleep in the sun. Maverick curled up with her. Geno comes down with their stuff. ''Done, could not find your Nova Scotia tie, found it in the sock drawer somehow?'' Sid kisses his husband. ''Great. We'll have loads of cookies for the flight too.''

They could so easily disobey Sully's rest orders, heaven knows the four of them are off their collective rockers, especially with a massive game seven looming large over their heads. But, Nate's boys flew home last night, they'll be tired too. Best to rest up for the long term. Over at the Letang-Karlsson house, they pack up for the flight, Buddha helping them wherever he can. Kris has promised Erik another dog at some point, hopefully a husky. ''Alright, darling, looks like we're set to go.''

Erik asks, an eyebrow raised. ''Did you remember your meds, sweetheart?''

Kris chuckles, and kisses his cheek. ''I remembered my meds, darling, yes.'' Someday, the boys will stop worrying about him, but he guesses that is a further flung time than he estimated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The big day finally comes, the entire team arrive at the enemy arena wearing matching suits in black, white, and gold. An idea Kris and Erik proposed at the start of the series. If Sid is honest with himself, which is always, the idea was a stroke of genius from his brother and brother-in-law. This is cemented when they see some of the Avalanche guys arrive all in different suit colours. One team are in harmony, one are not. They get in, change and eat, and suit up. Sully gives the speech, the cup in this building somewhere going totally ignored. ''Alright boys, just like always, we go in together, we stay calm, we go in patient. This is just another game, ignore the noise.''

Mario gives the read. ''Up front we've got: O'Connor, Crosby, and Rust - Sid and the kids!'' The room applaud. ''On the blueline: Letang and Grzelyck.'' PO took over from Gravy as the third pair leader, the room cheers for them. ''In net: Jarry!''

The team file out to the corridor. Sid says in a quiet moment with the core. ''Wanna score a goal each tonight, boys?''

Erik nods, looking determined. ''Sounds great to me, captain.'' Geno smirks, and says. ''Da, davai.''

Kris takes a deep breath, focused on winning this for his husband. ''Let's fucking do this.''

They take to the ice for the game, just another game, and here they stand, all united against thousands tonight. The Penguins against the world, just as it used to be. Five minutes in, Nate takes a dumb penalty, and Sully deploys the Veterans Unit. Sid gets the puck, and shouts. ''Geno!'' Geno receives the pass, and fires a wrist shot past Georgiev's ear to put them up 1-0. ''Spasibo, Sid.'' Geno says, a beaming smile on his face.

That proves to be the only goal of the first period, the defence ticking like a clock and Jarry performing saves Flower would be very proud of. They get some music on during intermission.

The second is a bit more eventful. At six minutes in, Kris reads a play quickly, and says. ''Darling! Do it!'' Erik takes his pass, and hammers it home as soon as he gets it, 2-0 with goals from half the core. In the dying minutes of the period, Sid makes off with the puck from a scrum in the corner, and, catching Georgiev unawares, scores what could be the one to end this whole thing 3-0, with Kris' goal still to come.

Sully gives a very short address to the team during second intermission. ''Good job so far, boys, let's keep this going, the finish line is in sight, we keep blocking the noise out, they're not liking this, but that's okay.'' He turns to the captain. ''Sid, anything to add?''

Sid nods, and just says. ''Kris, mon frere, it's your turn to score next.'' Kris just smiles, that knot of doubt still lingering in his chest, slowly untying itself. Erik squeezes his husband's hand.

They get back to work, the crowd growing angrier with them as the period ticks down to its last half. Geno and Erik watch the final minutes from the bench, helpless while their favourite Canadians are on the ice. In a momentary lapse of focus, Lehkonen passes the puck to Kris. ''Davai, Legenda!'' Geno shouts.

Erik calls to his husband, in french, in the language he learned all those years ago for him and him alone. ''Allez, mon coeur! Allez!'' Kris is patient, skating end to end with the puck, waiting out Georgiev, and scoring a gorgeous goal. They're up 4-0 with a minute and a half left. For which Sully deploys the Veterans Unit. Sid between Geno and Lars, Kris and Erik side by side. The quintet patiently wait the last minute and a half out, before the bench goes empty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The team mob each other, first in the Metro division thanks to four living legends creating a reality show for their teammates. Now, cup champions yet again, with just four remaining from the last time they were in this position. Sid pulls Geno down for a kiss in full view of Nate. Fighting through the crowd, Kris finds Erik, and wraps his arms around him. Erik cries into his husband's shoulder. Sixteen seasons, and his name will finally go on that cup. ''We did it, mon amour.'' Kris says. Erik kisses him. ''I love you, Kris.''

Kris kisses him back, and runs his fingers through Erik's damp hair. ''I love you too, Erik.''

The core celebrate with their team, before the two final trophies are brought out. Sid, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, is awarded the Conn Smythe. Then, the Stanley Cup. Which goes to Erik after the captain's lap, Kris is in tears at the sight of the love of his life with the Stanley Cup. ''Hjartat, you next!'' Erik passes it off to Kris with a kiss for his lap of the rink. After which Kris says. ''Geno, I'm coming in hot!'' He passes the cup up to Geno.

Once all of the quartet take their laps, they sit and watch the rest of their team take their laps. Sid and Geno are pulled up for a photo with the cup. Kris fishes his chain out, and removes it so he can put his wedding ring back on. Erik does the same. ''Kris, Erik - your turn.'' The photographer says.

They pose with the cup in their arms, their golden wedding rings proudly on display against the silver. Flashing triumphant smiles down the camera, over a decade, and they've finally won their cup together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They spend a couple of days resting off the game and their hangovers from the dressing room party. But, they have to go home at some point. They're up late in the morning, pack up for their evening flight, and get on the plane to Pittsburgh. The cup with them on the plane, safely kept in the seat next to Sully. Sid happily rests his head on Geno's shoulder, both glowing with the fourth cup win. Kris, radiant but tired, engages Lars in conversation about Denmark. Erik is also glowing, and texting Victor about the win. Kris' phone buzzes, he answers it on speaker. ''Bonjour, mon chum!'' The whole plane shuts up, Flower is calling them from wherever he is.

Flower says. ''Felicitations, mes amis!''

Sid says from his seat. ''Thank you, Flower!'' Flower asks Erik, the first time cup winner in the family. ''How does it feel, Karl?''

Erik beams from his seat next to Kris. ''Only finding Kris felt better, Flower, I've not stopped smiling for two days.''

Flower says, laughing. ''I can imagine. I'll let you guys sleep, I'm coming into town soon, so I'll see you all soon.'' Kris smiles, clearly missing his favourite goalie. ''You're staying with us, Erik and I will get the guest room ready for you.''

Flower says. ''Got it, I'll see you soon, boys!'' They hang up, and finally get to sleep. Geno has a feeling they're not going to be sleeping much for the next week or so. It's going to be chaos as soon as they get home, so, he wants to savour the flight home as much as he can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flower arrives in town the day before the parade. Retirement looking very good on him. He may not have retired with this team, or with this cup. But, he's etched into the fabric of this team. He immediately embraces his three brothers, and gives Erik a massive hug as well. Then, he says to the two goalies. ''You two are absolutely incredible, you know that, right?''

Tristan says. ''All because of your example, Flower.''

Flower asks the core. ''Thinking of joining me in retirement now?'' Sid shakes his head. ''Not even a little bit, no. We're nowhere near done yet. Our contracts are still active, so we'll play them out.''

Someone shouts over to the quartet. ''Captain and Alternates, the head car awaits!''

The core pile into the back of the lead truck, the cup and Conn Smythe sitting between them. Once everyone is situated, they roll out into the streets, lined in their home fans, decked out in team colours. The team have never won a cup at home, maybe that's for the best, no feeling beats coming home for the parade. Instead of sitting around waiting for it to happen. ''We did it, Sid.'' Geno says. Sid nods, that typical doe-eyed look in his face. ''We did it, G.''

Kris turns to Erik. ''Well, here we are at last, alskad mitt.'' Erik nods, and dries his eyes again. ''Here we are, mon coeur.''

Sid asks Erik. ''Was it everything you wanted it to be?'' Erik nods, fixing his hair again. ''Everything and more. When do we get our rings?''

Geno says. ''Start of next season.''

They proudly and triumphantly present all three trophies to their city. The speeches are made, and their jerseys are handed over to go to Toronto. After eight years of worrying whether they'd get back here, here they are again. The rulers of all they survey once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer is filled with parties, team events across two whole continents, and each of their cup days. A blur of celebrations gives way to much earned rest. The replica cups sit in the Letang-Karlsson house with the Masterton and Norrises as soon as they're home in Pittsburgh. They get their rings on their first visit to Toronto before camp begins. The person in charge of the rings hands them out by number. Erik opens his box first, and says to his husband. ''God, it's huge.''

Kris laughs, trying his on his right ring finger, his left is taken by a more important ring. ''Yeah, that never changes. Try it on.'' Erik slides it onto his right middle finger. ''Heavy too, wow.''

Kris asks, only to be cheeky. ''Which do you prefer? That ring, or your wedding ring?''

Erik cocks an eyebrow, a glint of something in his dark eyes. ''Sweetheart, my wedding ring, of course. This is the pride of my career, you are the pride of my life.''

Kris melts again, how the hell has one person softened him so much over the last fourteen years? ''You're the pride of my life too, darling.'' Acciari asks, coming back from calling someone. ''Are the defencemen being mushy again?''

Bunting corrects him. ''Still, Cookie, are they being mushy still? And, yes, they are.''

Sid jokingly steps in, he knows how that first cup rush feels all too well, doesn't matter whether you're two forwards in their early twenties, or two defencemen in their late thirties. ''I think they've earned it, Noel.''

Nobody argues with their captain on that, too happy to bask in their victory, too excited for the upcoming season. No one thought they'd win that final, every single journalist had them taken out back and shot, how wrong they were. Who put any hope in all of the core scoring in game seven? Carolina couldn't stop them, Washington and Toronto all fell by the wayside, and they conquered Colorado in enemy territory. They've also got 29 to raise up soon, so that's going to be fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay! I think 'Rival Captains In Love' might have been usurped at last! This might just be my magnum opus for my beloved defencemen so far. Didn't think I'd ever dethrone 'Rival Captains' but, here I am. Little note: I fiddled around with some trades, and kept PO on the team instead of Graves. That was for continuity purposes with 'The Power Couple Contest' - to which this is a sequel! The most self-indulgent thing I've written yet, but that's okay.

Enjoy!

Also, here's my series summary for those into data as I am. Colour coded as it is in my notebook (which literally carried this fic)

Pittsburgh Penguins vs Colorado Avalanche SCF

Game - Home Ice - Score - Winner

One - Colorado - 4-1 - PP Two - Colorado - 3-2(ot) - CA Three - Pittsburgh - 5-4(ot) - PP Four - Pittsburgh - 3-1 - PP Five - Colorado - 4-3(ot) - CA Six - Pittsburgh - 2-1 - CA Seven - Colorado - 4-0 - PP

#tangerkarlsson #sidgeno

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eveandtheturtles · 2 years ago

Text

Donnie and a mermaid

Idk, I wanted a cute Little Mermaid-esque story, half way through the direction kind of derailed? Originally I was going to make it more violent and creepy but in the end that changed as well. Just weird shit going down in my brain. I don't think I like it but I'm still gonna post it, so.... Enjoy?

Uuuh, also I drew the mermaid, she's at the bottom of the fic.

Rating: Uh, I'll give it a strong T? Like be wary of the warning below but- yeah?

Warning: mind control.

tagging: @madammuffins @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @pheradream15 @dilucsflame33 @sharpwindow

What happened was just pure luck. They were patrolling the harbor. Making sure no Foot Clan wannabes were trying to move in.

The night was quiet though. It seemed no serious crime was going to happen that night. Donnie was somewhat relieved. He had some games and a project to get back to.

Suddenly they all heard a high pitched cry. It was not human though. If Donnie was to guess what it was it was closer to a whale.

"What was that?" Leo was immediately alerted.

"I think some whale got beached. I'll go check it out and alert the correct authorities," Donnie replied calmly.

"Alright, let us know if it's anything more serious," Leo agreed. "We'll probably be slowly heading out once you get back. The area looks clear."

Donnie nodded and jumped from a cargo container to cargo container trying to pin point the spot the poor animal was. It let out one more cry for help and that helped him finally find it.

But when he got there it wasn't a whale he saw. Humanoid from waist up and fish from waist down, barely reaching 5 feet in total lenght. It was green in colour from the top of its bald head to the tip of its tail. Gills on its neck and over the ribcage. Wiry arms with webbed hands, yellow eyes and sharp teeth. The tail could belong to a leopard shark species. It was beautiful in a way. There was a spear sticking out of it and the creature was wrapped in a fishing net.

"A mermaid," he whispered.

It's- her? His? Pointy, fin like ears twitched and the mermaid (or merman) looked up at him and hissed in warning, baring their teeth.

"It's okay, it's okay," Donnie said calmly as he carefully walked closer. He had his arms up. No weapon in sight. He hoped that it was universal enough of a sign that he meant no harm. "I want to help you." He hoped they knew human speech.

The mer-creature blinked slowly, confused with what they were seeing. They knew humans but this? This was new.

Donnie noted the nictitating membrane. Fascinating. Anyway. Task at hand. He decided to start first with the spear. The fishing net restraining them was probably better left on for now.

"I'm going to break this, okay?" He said out loud for the merperson to understand.

They tilted their head a little. They saw the hands reaching to the spear and the questioning expression on the strange land creature's face. They nodded. It still didn't make the pain less blinding when the turtle broke the shaft off.

The mer cried out and trashed a little, snapping it's jaw in Donnie's direction. He jumped back in time though. The mer creature made keening noises and his heart was breaking just a little for it. Them.

"It's alright," he tried to reach to them and comfort them.

She calmed down, shaking a little. She blinked slowly. He was helping her, he seemed sturdy and... kind. She opened her mouth and a song flew out of it. A sweet melody that soothed his mind.

He smiled. "Wow, that's magical..." He moved closer to her, entrance by the music.

Suddenly, Donnie's comm went off.

"Donnie, is everything all right over there, you have been gone for a while now!" Leo's worried voice broke through the tense silence.

The purple terrapin jumped up. He fumbled with the intercom, almost dropping it. "Yeah! Everything is fine! I'm good. I ah- am doing a bit of a rescue mission by myself," he replied.

"With a whale? Do you need help?"

"No, no! You don't have to! I got it! It's like a shark of sorts. Much smaller. It's just tied up on nets," he started explaining, trying to keep his brothers away. "You all should go home. I got this." He heard himself say.

Weird. He didn't want anyone else to know about them... Her. He looked at the mermaid. She was humming now, the music just for him. He knew it. It was so beautiful.

"I'll free you now," he said.

The mermaid stilled for him and he cut all the ropes. Once her binds were gone she rubbed her wrists. She looked at him, her big, fully yellow eyes drew him further in. There was a connection between them, he could feel it. Such a wonderful being she was.

He took her cold, webbed hands and marvelled at how smooth and soft they were. How small and perfect they were in his. "You're going to be safe", he assured her, "I'll protect you."

She hummed that beautiful sound again and he swore he couldn't be happier.

The next day Leo did a head count and was down one. He wasn't too concerned as Donnie tended to oversleep for various reasons (experiments, streams, working on gadgets). That was until he saw that neither the bed or the spot in the lab were occupied by the snoring purple turtle.

"Have you guys seen Donnie?" He turned to Mikey and Raph.

"Yeah, he was here for like five seconds," Mikey said, doing kickflips midair. "Grabbed a whole bunch of eggs and stuff from his lab. Said something about shark and then left."

"The nerd gonna open a full blown marine rescue at this point," Raph chortled. "I bet he's gonna install an acquarium right in the middle of the lair."

"Eugh, he better not," Leo sighed and pinched the bridge between his eyes. He let go of it now. Later he would come to regret that.

He didn't see Donnie for the next three days. Their dad was getting concerned. Leo expected this shit to happen with Raph or Mikey but Donnie? Logic driven Donnie? Like yeah even if he'd pull crazy shit (like jump out of an airplane with no shoot) he always calculated all the risks. His younger brother would never rush to things unprepared...

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Raph's yelling got him out of a morbid mood and his meditation.

"We all have been worried sick and you come back looking like a fucking ghost!!" Raph continued yelling.

Leo, with his heart in his throat went to see what the ruckus was about, although he already knew.

"Donnie," he said, relieved but also concerned and angry at the same time. "Where have you been? You turned off your locator."

"I'm fine," the tall terrapin mumbled.

Raph wasn't joking that Donnie looked like a ghost. He seemed exhausted, barely holding on his feet.

"I need to go back," he stumbled towards the kitchen. "Just get supplies," he droned out the words.

He looked sick, almost delirious. "I need to get back to her..."

"Her?"

"The fuck you do!" Raph placed his heavy hand on Donnie's shoulder trying to stop him but Donnie easily flipped him over on his back and knocked his lights out.

"Donnie-" Leo tried to say something but the cattleprod right in front of his face stopped him.

"I have to go back," Donnie repeated. "She needs me."

"Okay, okay." Leo raised his arms up. Something was so very wrong with Donnie. They needed to help him out. "You will go back. We just want to help, we are brothers. We help each other. That's what family does, remember?" He spoke softly trying to her his brother to calm down.

It was a wonder how did Donnie even got strenght to fight off Raph, while his arms trembled under the weight of his bō staff.

The purple brother hesitated. Okay, he was getting to him.

"You can trust us," Leo continued. The cattleprod was lowered. The eldest sighed relieved. "We're out of eggs so I'll call April and we can go all with you, okay?" Leo was talking as if to a toddler. Or Mikey. What a day.

He was lying though, they did stock up on the eggs when Donnie basically took everything with him. But if he could get Donnie to sit down and maybe nap a little maybe they could get some common sense and information out of him.

"I can't leave her..." Donnie's eyes watered up. "She's alone without me. What if something hurts her! I have to go back!" He spun on his heel, panic in his voice rising.

"Hey, hey, Donnie, Donnie!" Leo jumped to block his path but Donnie immediately jabbed him in his throat. "Donnie!" Leo choked and coughed. Damn, that was annoying. "It's broad daylight! Humans will see you." He managed to still grab him by the wrist.

"I don't care Leo! She is singing... I just have to go." Donnie tried to escape.

Who the fuck- Leo was so pissed off at whoever did this to his lil bro.

Unfortunately for Leo, Donnie had his bō staff, while he himself had nothing but his bare hands. He tried to find an opening in his brainwashed brother's defense but this was still Donnie. It was very hard and it seemed the Fearless Leader might lose.

Suddenly, something flew down and Donnie was knocked out unconscious.

"10 points to Michealangelo, whoohoo!!" Mikey spun around victoriously.

"Good job, Mikey," Leo praised him catching his breath. "Now help me tie him up."

Donnie woke up later with a splitting headache. When he tried to reach his hands up to cradle his poor noggin he found out he was tied up.

"What..." He whispered confused. Everything was so blurry and painful.

"Hey there genius."

Donnie looked up. April. She was standing in front of him holding a glass of water.

"Here, drink some. You look dehydrated," she said offering him the drink with a straw in.

The sight of it made him realize just how much of an Arizona desert was his mouth. That first sip had him almost moan in relief. He never knew water could taste so good.

April waited until he drank at least a half of the glass and took a break to catch his breath. "What do you remember so far?" She asked.

"I- ah," his browridge furrowed as he tried to recall what the fuck was going on. "The last thing I remember was... The docks. There was this animal," the last word he said almost like a question. A vague shape was forming in his mind. "A shark..."

Something was trying to break at the front of his mind. Something important. Something....

"It... She- she was hurt.." Suddenly everything hit him like a ton of bricks. "She needs me. I- I need to go!" He started fighting against the binds.

"Donnie, Donnie!" She tried to call back to him but the look he gave her was nearly feral. So she did the only thing she could. She slapped him. "Stay with me!" She commanded him.

There was a shock on his face as he struggled to keep his mind clear. Panic was rising in him and the irrational need to leave was trying to get a hold of him again.

"April... I- I can't-"

"Tell me, what is happening with you? Who is 'she'?." She tried to get as much information as she could while he was still aware.

"A mermaid," he blurted out. "There's a mermaid. She's hurt. I wanted to help." He spoke quickly but it was clear he was slipping again. "She needs me."

A mermaid? What? Then again she was talking to a mutated turtle... "I know," April said cradling his face between her hands. "I'll help you." She promised. "But I want to go with you, okay?"

He was reluctant and she didn't know how long it will take for him to listen to her. So she untied him. He almost raced down the corridors but at least he was going to where she usually was parking her car.

When Leo saw them leave the room they stashed Donnie in April just waved at him. There was no time and this had to be dealt with immediately.

She let Donnie drive, while she prepared to meet the Hitchcock's version of Ariel. She googled mermaids trying to find something useful. Nothing but she saw reference to sirens and that gave her a clue. These bird like creatures would sing and drive men to jump into the ocean. Not very Little Mermaid friendly. Apparently only way to survive a meeting with them was to stuff your ears with wax.

April didn't have wax but she had stoppers. One useful thing coming from Casey's snoring.

"We're here," Donnie said. April quickly got the stoppers into her ears, hoping they would somewhat protect her and followed the terrapin out of the car.

The walk to the cave the mermaid was wasn't easy. A lot of rocks, tricky passage and broken concrete and a lot of water. April had to waddle in knee deep water, following Donnie who seemed to be on autopilot.

"She's here," he said softly, full of awe as they entered. April barely could hear him. "...Stay back," he added as if just remembering she was there too.

The cave was dark with just enough light coming through the entrance. There still was water in there but much more shallow, with few dry spots here and there.

"Holy Shit," April breathed out as the creature came into view. It looked nothing like the Disney certified being. Petite but definitely inhuman. Bald, in a wilted green colour, with markings on her body. No seashells on the androgynous torso. No singing crabs either.

April watched as Donnie knelt next to the mermaid, stroking her face. She chirped happily nuzzling his hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get you food," he whispered to her apologetically. "April," he called to her turning his head, "do you have food?"

The reporter was transfixed by the almost alien being, she barely missed the yell. It was so strange. The mermaid didn't seem hostile at all. Seemed young, but maybe it was due to her size. She hid behind Donnie as much as she could. April noted the bandages on the tail.

"I have a half a hot dog with me," she offered and pulled her uneaten lunch.

The mermaid looked at her warily but hungrily. Donnie took the food and handed it to her. She snatched it quickly, devouring it rather than simply eating.

In the meantime, Donnie went on to change the bandages on the tail and April winced. It was healing but the scarring would remain for the rest of the aquatic being's life.

April sat on a rock, closer to the entrance. She observed everything and realized the mermaid wasn't probably even aware she was harming Donnie. She seemed to have grown attached to him. She would follow Donnie with her eyes, want him close to her.

It only made April reel in disgust all the more considering that the responses from him were result of some strange mind control. It must have been the tune every now and then the mermaid would hum. It gave April headache.

Finally, the human stood up and walked up to the creature.

The sudden movement startled her, prompting Donnie to stand between them with his bō staff at the ready.

April tilted her head to look at the mermaid.

"I just want to talk with you," she told her.

A calming chirp and Donnie stepped to the side.

"Hi," April said. "I'm April." She put on her friendlies 'reporter' voice on. "I have never met a mermaid before."

The mermaid frowned. She didn't seem like trusting her a lot. April couldn't blame her for that considering the wound in her tail.

"I'm kind of Donnie's big sister," she told her. "Do you understand that? Sister? Family?"

A feeling of understanding washed over her. Ah, so that was how the mermaid was sentient and could communicate. Even if it was a bit dubious. The mind control must have been a form of self defense and probably a hunting method.

"Do you like Donnie?"

The mermaid looked at the turtle and a feeling of fondness reached April.

"That's what I thought," the human sighed. "You need to stop controlling him."

Alarm and fear.

April shook her head. "He offered his help freely did he?"

This time it was a nod.

"Why did you control him then?"

Frustration, uncertainty, pain, fear.

Ah. There was one more thing April was wondering about (there were more but those weren't urgent). "Can you read our emotions as well? Or thoughts?"

A negative headshake. So there was that. April sighed. Time to get to the main issue.

"You are hurting him, he needs his family, he needs rest. We can all help you better if you just let us. I know trust must be hard to come by but Donnie and his brothers protect people. I don't think they will hurt you if I explain everything and if you release Donnie."

The mermaid averted her eyes and was clearly thinking over what April said. She was obviously still on her guard but remained non hostile.

Finally she curled up in a ball, as if hiding and April a loud sound of a turtle collapsing to the ground. She turned around and Donnie was leaning heavily over the wall. His stomach grumbled loudly.

He blinked confused looking around. "April?"

April sighed with a smile. A victory.

It wasn't a surprise later that Donnie avoided the mermaid afterwards. They had her transported to the lair and she promised to not try anything. They all were wary of one another. Once everyone relaxed enough to realize no one meant anyone harm they started to try and get to know each other. Even started learning alphabet to communicate with them with more than just emotions. She was a surprisingly quick study and soon she was able to communicate with them through a whiteboard. They managed to even get a name for the being - Kara. She was very playful. Splashing water as pranks, swindling food from Mikey, and even trying to play shogi with Splinter. But every time someone walked in and it wasn't Donatello she looked disappointed and sad. She was recovering fast with proper care and was expected to be fully healed in two weeks.

April enjoyed coming over to talk with her. Kara liked telling April about her life in the ocean. The circumstances that got her to New York all the way from California. She wasn't going back there any time soon. She wanted to explore first.

Two days before her release Donnie finally came to visit her. At first he merely stood at the entrance to the room her tub was in. Then it seemed like he was about to leave, having changed his mind. She looked at him from over the rim of the tub. She didn't want him to leave.

"Ah!" She called. It was as far as she could go for spoken words. The whiteboard as in her hands and he paused. "I'm sorry." She wrote. "Do you hate me?"

"I... don't hate you." He walked up closer. "I wish you didn't force me to help you."

She nodded and tapped 'I'm sorry'. She felt like she might need it a lot. "I won't do it again."

"I know," he sighed.

"I'll bring you lots of fish," she offered and he snorted.

"Don't like fish, but thanks I guess."

She lowered herself into the water blowing guilty bubbles.

"You're doing the emotional bluetooth again," he said and the feelings stopped. "If it helps, I'm not angry at you either, it's not easy being around who manipulated your will like that. Do you understand?"

She looked like she wanted to understand and it was a start.

"Did April tell you about the concept of starting again?" He asked and she nodded.

He took a deep breath in. "My name is Donatello, Donnie for short," he offered her his hand.

Kara quickly recalled this human custom and extended her own hand. "Kara," she wrote then on the board. "Nice to meet you."

It was a better start.

Bonus!!

I drew her.

#eve scribbles #tmnt donatello #donnie tmnt #bayverse turtles #tmnt fanfiction

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thessalian · 1 year ago

Text

Astrid vs the Goblin Camp

But first, some Visitations

Rafael: Oooh, looks like you're in a spot of bother. I could probably help with that ... for a price.

Astrid: Um ... thank you for the ... very kind offer. And ... you know, the banquet and everything, though I've got a bit of a thing about powerful magical entities and foodstuffs after the Hag And Undead Husband Incident--

Rafael: ...Sorry, how am I hearing the capital letters on that one?

Gale: She insists it's fractional pauses between words. I still can't quite manage it myself. Perhaps it's a bardic talent.

Astrid: Anyway, I'm afraid we're a little full up on deals with beings from the various hells. I mean, still not really liking The Actually A Tiefling Incident very much--

Wyll: I did apologise for that!

Astrid: Not blaming you! I mean, I was pretty suspicious too until The Exploding Hyena Incident. ...Look, sorry, but I think we'll find a way that doesn't involve an open-ended bargain with a demon, or a devil, or whichever sort of entity you are because you're clearly on that end of the spectrum. But thank you very much for the offer, and have a lovely day.

Rafael: You'll be back. ...Though now I really have to wonder--

Astrid: You'll be The Demon Dinner Party Incident.

Rafael: ...Ah.

And again...

Spooky Whispers: Find the Prism for the Absolute and--

Shadowheart: FUCK. OFF.

Spooky Whispers: *do, in fact, FUCK. OFF*

Astrid: Okay, I think I've been really good about not asking about the whatsit so far. But now I kind of have to ask. What is the whatsit?!?

Shadowheart: Honestly not sure, but most of my memories are being held as collateral until I get it to Baldur's Gate.

Astrid: Oh. So ... when I asked a little more about you...

Shadowheart: Well, yes, that was mostly the memory loss, but part of it was trust issues. But if it helps, I like night orchids, and I can't swim.

Astrid: ...I will find you ALL the night orchids. And maybe teach you to swim. If you want. Might take less armour, though.

Shadowheart: *perks up*

Controller Person: *starts seriously rethinking romance choices*

And, because infiltrating a goblin stronghold is the best time for this

Gale: Okay, so draining magical artefacts isn't so much working anymore and if I don't do something about this really ill-considered gift to my last lover, I am going to explode.

Astrid: ...I'm generally willing to leave the past as your business, but I kind of want to know who your last lover was that a gift you gave her is enough to kerboom you.

Gale: Um ... Mystra ... as it happens...

Astrid: ...wut.

Gale: Also ... the explosion wouldn't just kill me. It'd take out an area about the size of Waterdeep.

Astrid: ...................How much do we need to have extracted from you?!?

Astarion: So ... Shadowheart ... you wouldn't happen to have--

Shadowheart: No! Unless that's something they made me forget, but ... almost certainly no!

Astarion: Well, there you have it. Either Astrid feels she couldn't possibly match up favourably to Gale's ex, or he explodes and takes himself out of the running.

Shadowheart: Shut up!

Astarion: Oh. Oh. You'd accept pining from afar if it meant she didn't have to feel the pain of someone she cares about dying! You, a cleric of Shar, no less!

Shadowheart: My greatclub could be sharpened to a stake, Astarion...

But finally, into the Shattered Sanctum

High Priestess Gut: So you wanted to talk?

Astrid: Ummmmmmmm ... not so much. *pulls lute; to the tune of The Sound of Silence* "Hello goblin, my new foe / You are a creepy so-and-so / Since you're making all the tieflings stressed / We've come to do the violence we do best / And your allies / Won't hear your cries for help / Not a yelp / Because I'm caaaasting Silence..."

High Priestess Gut: ............*mouthing obscenities*

Astarion: *critical-hit SHANKs her to death*

Astrid: ...Anyone else think it's kind of ironic that a spell that makes a Silence has verbal components?

And, a little further in

Minthara: Go burn down the druid grove!

Astrid: Oh, for-- how many times are we going to have to save it from you idiots?!?

Minthara: Owowowow!

Astrid: Whoops. ...Wait, what am I saying; I mean good! 'Scuse me, Astarion...

Astarion: Waitwut--

Astrid: *performs dive-bomb on lute and Thunderwaves Minthara right into the chasm, destroying the bridge in the process*

Shadowheart: ...I have to admit, that's a lot more impressive than "yeet".

Astarion: Yes, but I can't jokingly copy that one.

Astrid: *shooting at Scrying Eye* Slay now, praise later, please and thank you! There's going to be backup, and unless they have the jumping prowess of a turtle, the bridge being out won't keep them at range for long!

Astarion: Ah, yes, but two can play at that game. *leaps over chasm, grabs goblin, FEEDS*

Gale: You had to give him those boots, didn't you.

Astrid: I was very disappointed that they didn't give him bunny ears.

And, awhile later

Ragzlin: The mind flayer corpse won't talk!

Astrid: I could ask some questions, if you want...

Ragzlin: You're a bard; you can talk good. FINE.

Astrid: What ... is your name?

Ragzlin: ...What the--?

Astrid: What ... is your quest?

Ragzlin: ...I don't--

Astrid: What ... is the airspeed velocity of an unladen bugbear?

Ragzlin: Hey, waitaminit--

Astrid: *Thunderwave dive-bomb on the lute*

Ragzlin: *goes flying*

Astrid: No convenient chasms here, though. Shame.

Stabnation: *ensues*

And, during a really needed long rest...

Astrid: So ... I've talked to Wyll about the pact he really needs out of, Gale about the ... kerboom thing, and Shadowheart about her whole deal. Want to tell me about the monster hunter?

Astarion: My master in Baldur's Gate wants me back, apparently. And there's nothing we can do about it if he wants to take me, so I'm not even sure why I'm bothering to tell you this.

Astrid: Do you even look at the things I ask you to carry?

Astarion: *peers into haversack* Alchemist's fire and ... what's this?

Astrid: Holy water, or so Shadowheart tells me.

Astarion: What the f-- are you trying to kill me?!?

Astrid: No, I would have put it in your wine if I was trying to kill you with it.

Astarion: That ... is a singularly horrible mental image, but go on...

Astrid: Just because those things work against you doesn't mean you can't use those things against other vampires. And you have options he doesn't. Like, being out in the daytime.

Astarion: You are suicidally overconfident ... and yet all of that might work. Yes, I think I'll echo Shadowheart here: I fear you.

Shadowheart: I do not fear her anymore!

Astarion: Oh, nonsense you don't; you just worry that your devotion to Shar might get in the way of--

Shadowheart: *throws a half-rotted treacle tart at Astarion's head*

Astrid: ...I was wondering why you were carrying those around. Anywaaaaay... How about we get some rest because we still have to find Haslin down in the pits and we should probably rescue Volo too.

Astarion; Gale; Shadowheart; Wyll: Volo's an arse!

Astrid: Yes, but he's an arse that doesn't deserve to be rump roast for goblins, okay?!? They were cooking dwarf out there!

Astarion: Still, couldn't I just take a minor nibble?

Astrid: Gods, no. Stupid might be catching.

Gale: So you can be insulting about people when you're out of range?

Astrid: That or he has a really bad headache right now. Either way.

#Thess liveblogs Baldur's Gate 3 #Astrid the Bard #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

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welcome-to-amity-park · 2 years ago

Text

The Mirrors are Working

Be mindful of walking down these empty streets, not all shadows will let you step on them.

Welcome to Amity Park

Poltergeist: Hello listeners, we are so glad you were able to find our broadcast.

Revenant: We were pleasantly surprised to hear just how many of you wanted to hear our next one.

P: And we were even more surprised at the amount of questions and comments we received yesterday. Just how many leaves did you guys burn?

R: The answer is at least 23. Because that is how many leaves we received. However we know it is more due to the amount of people we saw writing on leaves.

P: Remember listeners, you must blow a kiss before you burn the leaves. Not after. We do appreciate all the attempts to reach out to us. Now, you're probably wondering where Spook is.

R: The truth is….we don't know. He muttered something about suspicious reflections and took off in the direction of the old mall. I'm sure we'll find out just what he has discovered soon.

P: I mean, we could always turn on his microphone and see if we can hear anything.

R: We can do that?

P: Yeah! Here just let me-

[There is a click, followed by what seems to be steady static. Suddenly there were a bunch of noises of what seemed to be twigs breaking and glass shattering. It ends in a hair-raising, inhuman screech before being cut off suddenly.]

P:....well….

R: He seems busy, so we'll get back to that in a minute.

P: How about some news! There was an underground emergency meeting of the members of the still unnamed dirt cult. The meeting consisted of the members trying to figure out how we knew about them, considering they weren't planning on being public till they had determined a proper cult name. There was also a brainstorming session to determine how to handle the influx of 'nonbelievers' brought to their door by our broadcast.

R: People should not join cults mentioned on the radio. That's how Amazon gets their employees.

P: Yeah, and it's generally considered disrespectful to true cults. Only join a cult if you believe in their message.

R: We also apologize to the unnamed dirt cult. We did not mean to draw so much attention to you.

P: Now let's hear a word from one of our sponsors: Phantom's nonexistent PR manager!

[There is complete silence for one full minute.]

R: Phantom doesn't have a PR manager.

P: Hence the nonexistent part.

R: *a heavy sigh* Anyways, during the break we received news from Spook. Apparently the mirrors are working.

P: Don't….don't mirrors always work?

R: The mirrors are working too well, according to him. And he is currently fighting himself. I do not know what that means. He'll call us later when he's sorted this out. So….be wary of mirrors. We do not know if this is a widespread phenomenon, or if it's specifically for the old mall. Either way, please be careful while we find out more about this situation.

P: In the meantime, why don't we talk about some of the questions listeners have sent in! Most of you sent in various phrases asking 'So who are you guys?'. We introduced ourselves during the first broadcast, you should know who we are. If you do not know who we are, then how did you send in your questions?

R: Many of you also sent in invasive questions about our lives, deaths, and personal relationships. First of all, stop being creeps. Those are not appropriate questions to ask. Second of all, we are minors, so please keep that in mind. And finally, even if we were ghosts, what makes you think it is appropriate to talk about their deaths?

P: Because of this line of questioning, we decided to go over some ghost conversation tips. It took a lot of trial and error for ourselves when we were learning to talk to ghosts. It also took some very helpful ghosts who were happy to explain things once they knew we genuinely wanted to learn about ghost cultures.

R: One of the main points we want to cover is a ghost's death. And honestly? It truly depends on the ghost. But in general, don't ask about or talk about a ghost's death as a baseline. If a ghost wants to talk about their death, believe me, they will talk about it all the time. They will talk about it so much it becomes awkward for you. They will never shut up about their death to the point where you regret ever deciding to talk to them.

P: In conclusion, do not talk about a ghost's death because you will either offend them into attacking, or you will never escape the conversation. I do not know which one is worse. Now, some of the final questions you listeners sent in concerned our schedule. We will always start our broadcasts on days beginning with suspicious letters, at a time containing an 8.

R: We also had a question from Stressed out Nerd, who asked us why they couldn't record our broadcast. We don't know. Poltergeist handled most of the equipment, which apparently included dipping our microphones into a glowing puddle while we were in the Ghost Zone one day.

P: Well, there were a few more steps to it, but yeah. I had to make the equipment both ghost proof and ghost accessible, which required a few extra rituals. The end result is our microphones being slightly haunted.

R: Oh! Spook is texting me! He says…..huh.

P: What'd he say?

R: Now is a good time for the weather.

P: Wait, what did he say?!?

R: Just play the ẅəąṭĥęř!!!

[Once the weather ends, there is the sound of furious whispering for a few moments.]

Spook: Hello listeners! Sorry I missed most of the broadcast, but the mirror problem has been taken care of! While the mirrors are still working a little too well, I found a way to take care of any situations that might arise. Firstly, everyone should salt your mirrors. Whether or not your mirror is a problem, it's better safe than sorry. Also, avoid letting them know your secrets. The mirrors see a lot, and they will use them äğæįŋşť ƴøü. And finally, if your mirror is working better than usual, salt it, cover it, and set it outside in the sun for a full day. The sun must hit it, otherwise it will not work.

P: Word of caution: do not break your mirrors. That will not get rid of the problem, it will make it worse. Đø ňôț ɓřęæƙ ṭĥëm.

R: And to the person that created the symbol of us as three little ghosts sharing headphones? It is cute and we like it. We're adopting it as our symbol, you will receive compensation for it.

S: Thank you, listeners, for staying with us. Remember to stay safe and

Goodnight Amity Park....

Goodnight

#broadcast #weather #cults #mirrors #amity park #welcome to amity park #unreality #poltergeist #revenant #spook #phantom's nonexistent pr manager

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bunnythechizzmozza · 2 years ago

Text

Here's some story to read

Title: "The Girl Who Stepped into an Anime World"

FADE IN:

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

We see a young girl, KAREN, walking down a crowded street. She's wearing a backpack and looks a bit lost. Suddenly, she stumbles and falls into a nearby alleyway.

INT. ALLEYWAY - DAY

Karen looks around, disoriented. She notices a strange portal glowing in front of her. Without thinking, she steps inside.

INT. ANIME WORLD - DAY

Karen finds herself in a vibrant and colorful world that looks like it's straight out of an anime. She's amazed by the sights and sounds around her.

KAREN: Wow, this is amazing! I can't believe I'm really here!

As she walks through the anime world, Karen encounters a young man, RYOTA, who is also exploring.

RYOTA: Hey there! You're new around here, aren't you?

KAREN: Yeah, I just got here. My name is Karen. What's your name?

RYOTA: I'm Ryota. Nice to meet you, Karen.

The two hit it off immediately and decide to explore the anime world together. They encounter all sorts of strange creatures and obstacles, but they work together to overcome them.

As they journey through the anime world, Karen and Ryota become closer and start to develop feelings for each other.

RYOTA: Karen, I know we just met, but I feel like I've known you forever. Will you be my girlfriend?

KAREN: (blushing) Yes, Ryota. I feel the same way.

Their adventure together continues, and Karen and Ryota's love for each other grows stronger with each passing day.

FADE OUT.

Part two

FADE IN:

EXT. ANIME WORLD VILLAGE - DAY

Karen and Ryota are walking through a peaceful village when they hear a commotion. They rush to the center of town, where they find the villagers in a panic.

KAREN: What's going on?

VILLAGER: It's Electra! She's come to destroy our village!

RYOTA: Electra? I've heard of her. She's a powerful villain who wants to rule the anime world.

KAREN: We have to do something! We can't just stand by and watch the village get destroyed.

RYOTA: You're right. Let's go!

Karen and Ryota rush towards Electra, who is wreaking havoc on the village. They try to attack her, but she is too powerful.

ELECTRA: (laughs evilly) You think you can stop me? You're nothing but weaklings!

KAREN: We may be weak, but we won't give up!

RYOTA: We'll fight to protect the people we care about!

Karen and Ryota hold hands and close their eyes. Suddenly, a burst of energy surrounds them, and they transform into powerful warriors.

KAREN: (amazed) What's happening?

RYOTA: We're transforming! This is our true power!

Karen and Ryota, now transformed, charge towards Electra. They engage in a fierce battle, using their new powers to their fullest extent.

ELECTRA: (surprised) How can this be? You were weak before!

KAREN: We may have been weak before, but we've grown stronger together!

RYOTA: And we won't let you hurt anyone else!

Karen and Ryota deliver the final blow to Electra, defeating her once and for all. The villagers cheer and thank them for their heroism.

KAREN: (panting) That was intense.

RYOTA: (smiling) But we did it. Together.

KAREN: (smiling back) Yeah. Together.

FADE OUT.

Last part

FADE IN:

EXT. ANIME WORLD VILLAGE - DAY

Karen and Ryota have defeated Electra and saved the village. The villagers are celebrating, but Karen and Ryota are sitting off to the side, looking sad.

KAREN: (sighs) I can't believe it's over.

RYOTA: (nodding) Yeah. It was a wild adventure.

KAREN: (looking at Ryota) I'm going to miss you.

RYOTA: (smiling) I'm going to miss you too, Karen.

They sit in silence for a moment, then Ryota speaks up.

RYOTA: (hesitantly) Karen, I know we only just met, but I feel like we've been through so much together. I don't want to say goodbye.

KAREN: (surprised) What are you saying?

RYOTA: (looking at Karen) What I'm saying is, I don't want this to be the end. I want to stay with you, and keep adventuring together.

KAREN: (smiling) Ryota, that's... that's wonderful. But how can we do that? I need to go back to my world.

RYOTA: (thinking) Maybe there's a way. We've seen some crazy things in this anime world. Who's to say there isn't a way to travel between our worlds? We just have to keep looking.

KAREN: (nodding) You're right. If there's a way to be together, we have to find it.

They sit in silence again, lost in thought.

RYOTA: (breaking the silence) But for now, we have to say goodbye.

KAREN: (sadly) I know.

RYOTA: (smiling) But let's make the most of our time together. We still have a little while before you have to leave.

Karen and Ryota spend the rest of the day together, reminiscing about their adventure and talking about their hopes for the future. As the sun sets, they walk back to the portal that brought Karen to the anime world.

RYOTA: (looking at Karen) This is it.

KAREN: (tearfully) I don't want to go.

RYOTA: (taking Karen's hand) I don't want you to go either. But we'll find a way to be together again. I promise.

KAREN: (nodding) Okay. I'm ready.

Karen steps into the portal, and it glows

RYOTA:bye bye Karen I'm gonna miss you so much

Maybe I'll do a second part of this if I had time 😁

#SoundCloud

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stardust-in-my-mind-blog · 4 months ago

Text

teeth of a vortex

I remember once waking from a dream

years ago on a cloudy day

maybe it was spring or autumn

maybe even a mild day of summer

there was a voice in my mind as my consciousness rose

from the morphing shadows of slumber

that voice was an ember of someone I knew

though I'd swear Id never heard it before

"I could have given you armies under your command"

said the voice, snarling like a forge full of swords

"I could have given you legions under your name"

and I remember yawning and rubbing my eye

sitting and reaching my arms out above and behind me

my shoulders cradled my head as I took a trembling breath

still learning how to breathe while not dreaming for the day

I sighed it out into another yawn and rolled my head

on my neck in a slow and lazy circle and ended the movement

of my waking physical body with a shrug of the shoulders

"why the fuck would I even want that?" I asked

I was met with silence which likely meant I was fully awake

there was already a million things to do for three children

I can't imagine how much caretaking labor an army needed

though throughout history that was what the brothels were for

humans love to watch blood and gore and the most violent death

then blush when they see two figures slowly disrobing each other

using the skin to touch and feel rather than tear and bleed

that sweet sort of intimacy is not something many of us

know how to tolerate without thinking about it

and when you think about it it can get uncomfortable

the discomfort is more soothing than a touch of love

or a gaze that sees everything you are and somehow longs for it

you look away from the power of love because it's so bright

when for so long all you've known is how to turn darkness to grey

neither eros nor psyche knew what to do with each other

and the trials were long and painful and both took moments

to pause and press their palms into their eyes and think

"why the absolute fuck am I doing this again?

the patterns are so obvious and I know them

this is exactly how I used to feel back then

was I somehow wrong about absolutely everything?!"

I watch myself getting more restless and more reckless

I see how my impulsivity increases and my reflection decreases

I see how I start to try to connect things to mean others

I see it all and I remember to play my hand over my heart

and over my stomach and whisper to myself gently

prayer can be self care when you say it to your own body

"you only know and remember how it hurts

you're ignoring all the moments of joy and laughter

the delight of connection and understanding

and letting your nervous mind tell you that it's all just

the world closing in on you to finally take you out

but the universe doesn't work like that

and life doesn't flow like that

it just kind of seems to when you're scared

and something matters to you a lot

if it hurts it that means it was important to you

and that you're not indifferent and that you have desires

and hopes and dreams and aspirations you want to have

and every soul gets to have that and sometimes we get them

but we wouldn't go back or change anything

so that means we did a good job so far

so we'll keep making the best choices we can

and believe in love and try to act with itegrity

and also take no shit and cry if it releases us from confusion

we'll learn and dance and sing and surprise each other

and at some point we'll only remember the pain

as an exception in a beautiful connection

continue to learn the languages that bring us closer

and remember that trust is a process and not a rule

your definitions of loyalty and devotion have changed

so you won't make the same decisions as previous versions

nor seek out the same kind of relationships

or frankly take the same kind of shit."

I feel everything calm back down inside of me

my heart peeks back out from behind her stone and bark

and I can feel the world flow through me like the sea and wind

I am one with the force and the force is within me

today I believe in everything good for me

and maybe that will change in an hour or moment from now

but I got to connect with that peaceful source bliss

and believe it and feel it within me

and that's enough and I'll find it again

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teatroll · 1 year ago

Text

WARNING: lots of rambling + a bit of spoilers to jjk

First of all, chef's kiss, because yes, just yes.

Second, and i'm sorry for dumping it here, but, where's that joke about each fandom sharing one braincell? Because just yesterday i was like

"i want a sort of slow burn with sukuna that starts a thousand years ago when he was at his strongest and the reader was his favorite concubine who he enslaved, corrupted, broke, cursed and so on and so on but then the events of jjk happen and he gets trapped, the reader gets bodied but since they're cursed (+ Stockholm syndrome, so triple YES) they now have the power of reincarnation and they keep coming back in each era although (for obvious plot reasons) their memory is busted and only the presence of sukuna in this world (and i mean living, breathing and kicking, not just the fingers) can bring it back so flashforward to the events of jjk when itadori eats his finger and sukuna is back and it triggers something within the reincarnated reader and they get jujutsu powers, get drafted to school (maybe the different one for plot purposes) but then they get transferred to the one of yuji's and they finally meet-" *takes a deep breath* "they are unable to shake hands because some jolt runs between them, yuji jokes it out but then the reader sees an eye and a mouth emerge on his cheek and it starts rambling some weird nonsense saying they finally meet again and it's creepy as hell and yuji has to forcefully silence sukuna and it's embarrassing and the reader has no clue what is going on-" *another deep breath* "during one of the trainings the reader is paired with itadori and amidst dodging his attacks they manages to grab onto him and they see a flash, a memory from the past, a burning village, white snow painted in blood, a tall menacing figure in the distance, and the image is so livid all the blood-curdling sounds are vivid like it's happening right at that exact moment when in reality the reader just froze and yuji thinks they just got startled and tries to blow a hit thinking we'll dodge like all the previous times but he ends up smacking us across the face and sends us flying to the ground-" *another gulp of air* "and the reader is just laying there like a starfish and staring up at the sky with ringing in their ears as everyone gathers around to help and yuji keeps gulping sorrys and are you okays and as we get seated up and checked for concussion we see the same eye emerging on his cheek and just staring and studying, almost taunting and it's so confusing we have no clue what to make of it because it's sure as hell wasn't a hallucination because nothing can feel so real unless it's a memory-" *nearly faints* "and so the story goes on as the reader tries to make sense of everything and at first obviously hates sukuna's guts but (because i'm delulu, don't come for me) the story progresses in such a way that sukuna changes (a bit) and they also talk and the images keep flashing before our eyes (the smut part too) and it goes on for some time and the feelings grow and grow and if it happens to be Shibuya arc in the end (for angst reasons) then when sukuna basically demolishes everything we end up witnessing first hand that nothing has changed for him and dammit it hurts like hell and here comes a choice to let go and fight or stay and accept and god dammit if the kiss happens it's full of pain and suffering but it feels right-" *finally faints and drops face first into sukuna's boobs*

Anywho, dear authors, i have no power in me write something this enormous (be damned my depressed ass), but if you, yes, YOU, can, then i beg of you to make it to life because i will crawl on all fours and bark for you if you do so

Thanks for reading this nonsense, have a good everything, mwah~

>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

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#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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rendevousz · 4 years ago

Text

freak

avengers x teen!fem!reader

summary: you get captured during a mission and the team saves you.

warnings: language, violence, brief misogyny, torture, **NO sexual assault (because as i was proofreading, i only implied most of the torture scenes because i didn't want to write it in graphic detail and i realised the vague wordings might be misinterpreted as sexual assault which IT IS NOT, just clearing it up), and also again, my inability to write good endings

word count: 4589

notes: i just rewatched iron man 2 so that explains justin hammer LMAO also ooc justin hammer because even tho mans evil, he gets extremely um.. cruel here but anyways i hope you enjoy this!!

you were 13 when you first met the avengers and 16 when you officially joined. you grew up as one of HYDRA's experimented children and the team had found you when they raided the base that you were in.

a small, sickly-looking kid you were, sat against your cell wall, hugging your knees. 13 but you could probably pass off as a 10 year old due to how malnourished and miserable you were. burying your head in between your knees, you covered your ears as the loud gunshot noises filled the whole place. the metal door of your cell slamming open against the wall had you whimpering, hands above your head in fear.

every time the door slammed open, guards would come drag you out for more experiments so it was an instinct for you to cower in fear at the sound.

"last room in the west hall, i found a little girl."

you heard nothing because you were covering your ears, preparing yourself to be forcefully dragged by the guards to the experiment room. but it never came.

"hey," a soft voice called. you were violently shaking at this point, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down. "hey, it's okay." the voice called out again and you felt them touch your shoulders.

your head immediately jolted up, flinching away from the stranger's touch. your eyes met a blue pair as you backed away into the corner in fear. "i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to." the man apologised. you slowly looked up at him, observing him. he had on a full black outfit, a quiver of arrows slinging on his shoulder and he was holding onto a bow.

"don't be scared. i'm here to help," he states with his hands out, as if to calm you down. "that's what they all say." you hissed through gritted teeth and a tear-stained face, glaring at him even though that could've been a very wrong move had it been with an actual HYDRA guard.

despite the strange feeling of being safe around this man, you didn't let your guard down. that's exactly what those scientists said seven years ago. trusting kind-looking men got you into this hell you never thought you would ever escape from and you weren't going to make the same mistake again.

"clint," a red-headed female, also in all black, entered through the open door of your cell with her pistol up. at the sight of the weapon, you broke your glare towards the man. your breathing quickened and you went back to your original position before the archer came; body pressed up against your knees and covering your ears with your palms.

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'll come! please don't use that on me again," you whimpered, voice muffled as your face was hidden against your knees. the woman freezes mid-walk, looking at her friend with a bewildered expression.

"nat! put that away!" clint whispered harshly, eyes glaring at the pistol in nat's hands. nat's jaw dropped in realisation, a small gasp leaving her lips as she immediately put away her weapon.

she slowly makes her way to you and clint puts his arm out before she could get closer. he looks at her with a worried expression as he shook his head, as if telling her that she can't get too close to you. nat nods understandingly, crouching down a distance from you.

"hey," she spoke softly. "i promise you that we're not here to hurt you." you kept your face hidden from her, still hugging your legs tightly. nat sighs before sitting down.

"here, let's introduce ourselves. i'm nat and this right here is clint." you hear her speak and when you slowly lifted up your head, you saw the both of them sitting down in front of you, seeming to have made themselves at home in your pathetic cell. "what's your name?"

name? you had never been able to use your name before. you always kept your own name deep in your heart despite no one ever using it, afraid you would forget it if you stopped thinking of it. the only name they ever called you here was 'number five'.

"y/n," you whispered, still doubtful about these people's intentions. you almost burst out crying when you said your name out loud. that was the first time you introduced yourself with your actual name and not the number you were given ever since you were captured.

nat must have noticed this because she immediately spoke up, trying to distract you from your consuming thoughts. "y/n...that's a pretty name for a pretty girl like you. how old are you, y/n?" she asks again.

you contemplated once more but decided it was fine. you knew you were probably going to regret trusting these two strangers but what could be worse than what HYDRA has been doing to you for years?

"13," you muttered, looking down at your lap. you were now timidly seated cross-legged, playing with the tattered hem of your shorts. you heard a small gasp from one of them and looked up to see clint with his jaw dropped.

the two adults were both thinking of the same thing. how could you be 13? you were so small and sickly-looking, they didn't even think you were older than ten, let alone an early teen.

"i know you're scared and you have all the reasons in the world to be, but i promise you, we're here to help. we'll get you out of here, only if you trust us. will you trust us?" nat says. your mind was conflicted. you were either going to finally get out of this hellhole or you were going to be taken somewhere even worse than here. but could anywhere really be worse than here?

you decided to take a leap of faith and trust these two strangers. that decision had to have been the best decision you've ever made in your life.

you were now 18, an official avenger and you had the most amazing family you could've ever asked for. they were a bit on the crazier side but could you really have a normal family when said family consisted of superheroes? but you weren't complaining. you loved these people.

they were the ones who took care of you when you thought you had no one. having been a HYDRA experiment, you had abilities the normal human didn't. said ability being shapeshifting and healing. that's why you became an avenger. your shapeshifting ability was essential during missions where you had to sneak in and you being able to heal others was crucial when medic wasn't able to be there on time.

you pretty much came along to every mission despite the adults saying you don't have to. you knew they were only doing that to protect you from dangers of all those missions but how could you not when you had such abilities? they'd be much better with you helping.

that was why you were here, in bulgaria, fighting alongside the team. well, just steve, nat, clint, bucky and tony.

justin hammer had managed to get his hands on a type of out-of-this-planet weapon that tony was also trying to retrieve, and he had big plans with it. hence why the avengers had to come where hammer had wrecked havoc in; sofia, bulgaria. he had upgraded his robots with the tech used for the stolen weapon.

with evil robots attacking the whole city, it felt like you were living the story that wanda told you of what happened in sokovia before you met the avengers.

an hour passed before all of the robots had finally been taken down and you all knew you had to get to hammer before he activates more robots to distract you guys and uses the weapon for bad things.

"tony, have you located hammer?" steve's voice sounded in your ear through the comms. you had just finished healing the nasty gash on clint's side, nat's cut on her forehead and the bruises all over bucky. you were feeling significantly weaker now, from the amount of healing you did. you stumbled slightly when you walked and bucky immediately held onto your arm. "doll, are you okay?"

"i'm fine, buck. nothing i haven't dealt with before," you told him, gently removing his grip on your arm, walking back to the quinjet.

"no, absolutely not. we are not sending y/n right into a death trap. she's not even strong enough right now, she just finished healing us."

you were all back at the compound now and planning a second attack on justin hammer.

"it's not a death trap, buck. and i know you're worried but she's the only choice we got. y/n, all you gotta do is sneak in as one of his henchmen and provide entrance for us. once we get in, we'll take all his guards down and get that weapon from hammer and we won't have to worry about his world domination plans anymore. it'll be over as soon as it starts and she'll be back safe with us. sound good, y/n/n?"

"yeah, sure." you agreed, already having a person in mind that you were going to change yourself to.

the plan had gone just as steve wanted and they managed to raid justin hammer's building, tony stealing the very item that could've aided in the massacre of millions. justin and his henchmen managed to escape the building before the avengers could catch them.

"well, that was anticlimactic," tony scoffs, already making his way to the quinjet. "but good job, y/n. you saved the day once again."

he expected to hear a laugh from you, like you usually did, being the only one who ever responds to him after missions. but instead he was met with silence. "kid?" still no answer.

"y/n, where are you?" steve panicked, finally realising that you were the only one who hasn't responded in a hot minute. "y/n/n, this isn't funny." he breathed out.

"she's...she's gone."

"well, well, well," a voice spoke right as you woke up from your slumber. you squinted, noticing that you were in some sort of dark room with only one light bulb right above you. "what do we have here?"

a figure walks right in the light and you could barely make out justin hammer's ugly face with how dizzy you felt. "if it isn't the little freak." he states condescendingly, smirking down at your helpless position, both wrists and ankles cuffed onto the metal chair you were sat on. you struggled against the restraints, trying to get free but to no avail.

your breathing quickened, your current vulnerable state reminding you of your later years in HYDRA. they had started off experimenting on you on a metal gurney but as you grew older, you realised that what they were doing to you was bad so you started fighting back. that ended you up on a metal restraint chair instead of the gurney, strapped to the chair with cuffs on your wrists and ankles.

this felt like deja vu. the same panic you felt, the same breathing difficulties, the same amount of effort put into trying to get out of the restraints. "you should know, princess, that that doesn't work." hammer chuckled, a fake pout on his lips as he crouched in front of you, a rough hand on your cheek. you instinctively jerked away from his touch, to which he paid no mind to because he had expected that. he then grabbed your chin harshly, turning your head up towards him. you glared at him.

"you think i didn't know what you did? snuck in as one of my men using your freaky powers? not to mention useless. imagine having powers but not being able to use them to even escape from mere humans," he laughs in your face, harshly letting go of your chin, throwing your head backwards. "you tell me where stark planned to bring the weapon and i'll let you pretty little thing go."

"no."

before you could even comprehend, his fist came flying at your face and your head dropped to the side at the impact. your left cheekbone was throbbing and you could already tell you were gonna have a black eye. despite the pain, it wasn't something you weren't used to. you were an avenger, after all. getting decked in the face was practically in the contract.

he grabbed your chin once again, pulling your head upwards to face him. "you're gonna tell me where it is or i'm gonna make you regret it."

you looked up at him with a bored look. he punched you again. and again. and again. until you could taste the blood on your tongue. "think you wanna tell me now, sweetheart?"

"never. not to someone like you."

the man seemed to get a kick out of beating you up because he punched you again in the face. your whole face was pretty much numb now and the metallic taste in your mouth intensified. you smirked at the man before you, chuckling darkly.

"sure, beat up the helpless girl. that's the only way you can beat me, right? when i'm all tied up? what a man,"

his hand was around your throat within a second and he forced you to look him in the eyes again. "sweetheart, you're a girl. tied or not, you're still weak. not even with that useless power of yours."

taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, you gathered as much bloody saliva in your mouth before spitting it in his face.

it was very much the wrong thing to do because after he wiped off his face, he left the room and two men came in, various tools in hand for their fun with you.

"stark! my buddy! how's it going?" justin hammer's face appeared on the screen in the conference room, where the avengers were having a meeting about your possible whereabouts.

"where is she?!" wanda growled, standing up abruptly.

"what ever do you mean?" hammer smirked, feigning innocence. "you know what we mean. where is she?" steve spoke authoritatively, trying to control his anger at the sight of the man's face.

"i'll tell you where your thing is if you tell me where my thing is." he smiled wickedly. this caused wanda to get angrier. "y/n is not a thing! and the weapon was never yours in the first place!" vision held onto her to calm her down and it worked because she sat back down, though still glaring at the screen.

"oh she's not a thing? seems like it to me, though." he smirked and the team frowned, not understanding what he meant until they heard screams and justin's smirk widening at the sound. what a sick bastard. "what are you doing to her?!" bucky screamed, knocking his chair back as he stood up.

"i don't know, you tell me." he chuckles, and the screen changes to the live footage of you in the restraint chair with the two men in the room.

you were no longer fighting back now, just sat limply with your head dropped to the side. the first hour with them, you had been fighting back like you did with justin, despite the restraints, but now entering the second hour, you were too exhausted for anything.

your left eye had been swollen shut, you could barely breathe through your nose, your cheeks were throbbing like hell and your bottom lip was busted. your head was the only thing that moved freely when hit so the men seemed to find satisfaction the most when they punched you in the face. though that didn't stop them from inflicting pain on other parts of you.

"let her go, she's just a kid!" sam exclaimed, his grip on the edge of the table tightening to control his anger. peter and wanda were crying looking at the awful state you were in, clint, tony and bruce were silent in shock, steve and bucky were getting increasingly angry as the abuse continued.

"are you going to tell us where stark is keeping the weapon or have you not gotten enough?" one of the two men was heard asking, pulling your hair back to make you look up at him. you look at with your half-opened right eye, breathing heavily. "my answer's never gonna change no matter how many times you ask."

he scoffs, stepping back before the other man swings a bat right at your stomach. the air was immediately knocked out of your lung. the men laughed as you coughed up blood profusely. this caused wanda to get more hysterical.

"well, looks like she wants more. i'll call back when she's had enough. toodles," he waves his fingers at the camera with a sinister smirk before abruptly ending the call.

the room went silent after the call, save for bucky and sam breathing heavily from the anger they felt. bucky then turned to steve, pain could be seen on his face. "you said she would be safe."

"i–i'm sorry, buck. i didn't know he was gonna take her with him." steve was still frozen in shock, the image of you on the chair now permanently ingrained in his brain. in everyone's brains actually.

"guys, gear up, he's in colorado."

all heads turned towards natasha and she looked back at them with a 'what?' expression. "you were tracking him down the whole time?"

"um, duh? now come on, gotta save our girl."

you awoke to a stinging sensation on your inner forearm. after your bloody coughing fit, they proceeded to beat you up again and you were knocked out then. now you were slowly regaining consciousness but you were starting to prefer being passed out. your whole body was in pain and the fact that you couldn't even move made it even worse.

"oh, lookie here. sleeping beauty is up." you were met once again with justin hammer's ugly face. he was sitting on a chair perpendicular to your left side. you couldn't wait to get out of here so you didn't have to keep seeing his face every time you woke up. your inner forearm was stinging even more now so you looked down at it. you gasped at the sight.

"how'd you like my artwork?" he chuckled at your reaction. there on your arm, obviously carved out with the bloody knife that the asshole was so proudly holding on to, was 'FREAK'. carved out big and bold. on your skin. "pretty fitting, eh? freak? because, you know, that's what you are."

the blood was seeping out through the cuts and it stung even more now that it had been exposed to the air. the asshole moved his chair to your other side. "what should i write on this arm?" he feigns a thinking expression, looking up thoughtfully with his thumb and pointer finger on his chin.

"please, i–i don't know where tony put it. i really don't." you cried, tears now flowing freely down your face without a shame.

he looks at you with amusement. "what is this? are you...are you giving up already? can't take anymore?" he smirks and you sigh, closing your eyes. you just awoke but you were exhausted. so, so exhausted.

he takes out his phone, the smirk now permanent on his ugly face. "stark! kid's finally had enough. wanna tell me where the weapon is now or do you want to find her body at the bottom of the ocean?"

you couldn't even be bothered to react to his statement. the pain all finally registered and you were tired. tired and in excruciating pain.

"kinda busy right now, can you call back later?" you could hear tony's voice sound from justin's phone and the man beside you laughed. "i see you don't care for the girl. what could possibly be more important than saving her?"

"i don't know, you tell me." a voice said from behind you two and before you knew it, hammer was knocked off the chair he was on. you weakly turned your head just in time to see a metal arm force hammer up onto his feet before wrapping around his neck. "don't you fucking touch her again."

"y/n!" you heard wanda's voice as she entered the room with peter. more tears flowed down your face at the sight of them, stinging when they rolled past the cuts on your face but that didn't matter. your family was finally here to save you.

you saw the red mist of wanda's powers surround your cuffs before they clicked open. "oh, bubs, i'm so sorry." she cried, both hands hovering around your face, hesitating to touch you in fear of hurting you. her eyes fell onto the words carved out onto your skin and her mouth fell open before covering it with her hand. "i'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner." peter's voice cracked and you could tell he was emotional.

"it's okay," you told them, giving them a small smile, the biggest one you could give in your current state.

tony, sam and steve entered the room to see bucky relentlessly beating up your captor and wanda and peter standing by you as you cried.

"cupcake, we're here now. don't cry, you're safe now." tony came closer and despite knowing that you were because your family was finally here, you couldn't help but let out all the pent up emotions you've kept throughout your time of captivity.

sam had a go at justin once bucky was done and steve had to physically pry them both off of the sick bastard so that nat could cuff him and bring him back to the jet.

"y/n/n, i'm so sorry. if i hadn't–"

"it's okay, stevie." you cut him off. truthfully, you only did so because you knew he was going to giving a long-winded explanation justifying his actions and your headache couldn't bear to hear lengthy sentences. but you also didn't think it was in any way his fault so he didn't deserve to be beating himself up for this. shit happens, anyway.

"let's get you out of here, doll." bucky says, cringing when he sees the blood on the floor of your chair, as well as on your clothes. he quickly reaches to lift you off the chair but stops when you let out an ear-piercing scream of pain. "doll, i'm so sorry! did i hurt you?!" bucky questions in panic.

"y–you didn't, they did. it...it hurts everywhere," you cried, feeling hopeless that you couldn't even bear being carried by someone, let alone get up by yourself. their hearts broke when you said that. you never really cried much in front of them and you were known to withstand pain well because of how much shit HYDRA put you in as well as your powers being healing, meaning you had a higher pain tolerance than most people.

"it's okay, bubs. i got you. let's get you home, alright?" wanda's calming voice broke you out of your breakdown and red mist surrounded your whole body, wanda moving you with her powers. you were thankful of that because it didn't cause any more pain to your body.

maybe hammer was right. maybe you are just a freak with useless powers. wanda floated you into the jet and she set you down on the bed. "y/n, oh my god!" clint cried out once he sees you. you looked much worse than you did on hammer's camera footage during the call an hour ago. "kid, i'm so sorry."

"clint, take the wheel. bruce doesn't have all the resources needed. she needs to be treated ASAP." nat tells her best friend and he nods, taking the wheel and immediately taking off once everyone had boarded.

you were laid on the bed, right eye slightly open as bruce examined you. exhaustion hit you like a truck and before you knew it, you blacked out.

"how is she, doc?"

"pretty banged up but y/n, as i already knew, is a strong girl. lots of internal bleeding, broken bones, bruises and scars but she'll be fine. you can check her file later if you want," doctor cho tells tony outside of your room. "it's fine, can we see her?" he asks on behalf of the whole team standing behind him.

"yeah, of course! she woke up five minutes ago. i'll be off now, call me or my team if you need anything." she bids goodbye and left the group of superheroes.

steve slowly opens the door and there you were in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "hey, y/n/n," he greets sheepishly, feeling as though he had interrupted your alone time of blankly staring at the ceiling. the team trailed in behind him and soon your bed was surrounded by the avengers.

"hi, cupcake."

you looked away from the ceiling and turned your head towards tony. "oh, hey tones." you smile as sam helps you sit up while the rest sat on chairs all around you. "how you feeling, bub?" nat asks, eyes flickering down to the bold scarring of letters on your forearm.

"as okay as i can be." you answered truthfully, pressing your inner forearm closer to your body so the team doesn't see the letters carved onto your skin. you already know what you are, you didn't need the rest thinking so too.

"you're not a freak, bubs."

you look up at wanda. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to read your mind. but they were awfully loud. you're not a freak, y/n. and you're not useless too. that bastard may have carved out that word onto your skin but the scar will fade. it's not permanent. you know why? because that's not what you are." she tells you, taking off her jacket to wrap it around you because you felt self conscious of the scars all over your arms where the team could see.

"yeah, doll. you're an amazing person and your powers help us so much. i mean, you saved millions just helping us get the weapon back from justin hammer. if you hadn't, well, who knows what could've been happening right now?" he places a gentle hand at the side of your head, stroking your hair.

"yeah and who heals us when we get really hurt during missions, huh? i mean, if you hadn't healed that stab wound i got during that mission in new mexico, i probably wouldn't even be here at this moment." clint tells you and you roll your eyes at him. "you're exaggerating."

"i am not!" he laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes once again.

"y/n/n, i'm really sorry for—"

"i don't wanna hear it, stevie."

"but–"

"no. it's not your fault. shit happens." you brush him off. "lang–"

"you say language to me, i'll blame this shit on you even when it's not your fault. try me, rogers." you glare at the blond super soldier. he raises his arms in surrender, leaning back on his chair as the team laughs.

the team continue to entertain you and you couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of you. these were the people who would drop anything for you and were willing to dropkick any asshole in the face for hurting you. justin hammer never had a chance against your family to begin with.

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