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stufftippywrote · 3 years

Text

not an astronaut

This is based off a personal experience. Tw for fat-shaming, homophobia, and general assholery from an asshole kid.

The bell rings cheerfully as Bitty steps through the doorway. This was one of his favorite places when he was younger. The eclectic curios, every shape and size and color, packing the shelves were an endless source of fascination for young Eric Bittle, and the owners were friends of the family, so they knew Bitty well and didn't freak out when he picked up a ceramic pepper shaker or glass figurine and held it in his hands like an ancient treasure.

He walks through the store with that same sense of wonder now, 30 years later, and brushes his hand reverently over the shelves. They’re not looking for anything in particular today, but Bitty has told Jack about this place so many times, he simply couldn’t help but visit. Besides, you never know when you might find the perfect accent piece for the new home.

Chicken-shaped serving bowls, a porcelain figurine of a girl dancing, a set of silverware in a dusty wooden case. Bitty is spoiled for choice. As he browses, there’s a movement at the back of the store, and he catches a glimpse of someone hauling boxes through a door. He wonders who runs the place now. The sign still says Thompson’s Antiques, but he knows Mrs. Thompson passed and Mr. Thompson is getting on in years. Could it be that…

A prickle of fear runs through him.

The figure in the back drags the box to a nearby aisle and starts unpacking it, placing items on a low shelf. Bitty’s curiosity overflows. He moseys into that aisle and begins to speak, but the man raises his head before he can get a word out. He has to catch his breath all over again.

The man’s face goes slack. “I know you,” he blurts.

Eric puts his hands on his hips and gives a bright smile. “Davey Thompson. So you’re here after all!”

~~~

“Davey, this is Eric. Eric, this is our little boy Davey.” Mrs. Thompson’s smile is bright as she urges her son forward. “Why don’t you two go play at the playground while Mommy and her friend talk?”

The kid is tough-looking, with ruddy cheeks and a thick build. Eric reaches out his hand to lead Davey along the way. The minute they’re out of earshot, Davey snatches his hand back like he’s just touched a hot stove. Eric turns, surprised.

“You’re fat,” Davey says.

Eric blinks.

“You look dumb,” Davey adds on. And thus a quote-unquote “friendship” was born.

~~~

Davey stands up. He still has the same tinted cheeks and stocky build that Bitty remembers, but his face is sunken somehow, and he’s built up muscle where baby fat used to linger on his arms and shoulders. He’s got a tattoo on one arm – a Japanese koi fish, mid-splash.

“Nice ink,” Bitty comments.

And Davey Thompson, for possibly the first time in his life, smiles at Bitty. “Thanks.”

“The shop looks nice,” Bitty says, surveying the shelf like it’s his domain. “Hasn’t changed much since I used to come here.”

“You’re – you’re Eric Bittle, right?” Davey says, sounding almost scared of the answer. “From school?”

“From way before school,” Bitty responds. “You’re looking good.”

“Uh. Thanks. Same to you.” Davey looks uncertain, almost sheepish. There’s a moment of awkward silence. Davey tries to break it. “Um. So. What are you –”

He doesn’t seem to have the strength, or the will, to come up with the rest of the sentence. Bitty picks it up. “I’m a pastry chef,” he says. “I have a bakery and I cater, and I’ve put out three cookbooks. Can you imagine that?”

Davey looks kind of stunned. “Wow,” he says slowly. “Good for you. Where’s the bakery?”

“Up in New England. Providence, Rhode Island, to be exact.”

Davey snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you went to college up there. For hockey, wasn’t it?”

~~~

Bitty takes a swing at the ball. He misses, and it goes tumbling behind him into the net.

“Hah, you’re the worst goalie,” Davey says.

Somehow, Bitty finds the courage to say, “Let me play forward.” But his words are swallowed by the passing of a car on the cross street.

“What?”

“You be goalie.” Bitty gives the phrase all the menace he’s got in an eight-year-old body.

Davey laughs, a cruel laugh that sounds like ripping paper in Bitty’s ears. “Why? I can score on you all I want. That’s why we made you goalie.”

Resentment simmers like a low sun in Bitty’s gut. He wants to challenge Davey to play him on actual ice. He knows Davey can’t skate. As bad as he is, Bitty can’t possibly lose to him there. But the words stay stuck inside, plastered to the inside of his stomach, making him feel sick.

“Worst goalie ever,” Kevin chimes in.

“The worst, the wooooorst,” all four of them sing to him.

Bitty crouches low and is glad they can’t see much through the oversized goalie mask. Someday, he thinks, someday I’m gonna get them.

~~~

“Something like that,” Bitty answers easily. “And you’ve been here running the store?”

“Pretty much.” He doesn’t look very proud of that fact.

“I remember you used to say you were going to be an astronaut.”

“Ah, well –” The rose tint on Davey’s cheeks grows a shade deeper. “We were kids. I figure I missed my shot to make something of myself.”

All of Bitty’s nurturing instincts come alive. “Don’t say that. You’re doing well. Doing good, honest work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nah, man. It was just the easiest thing to do, once Mom got sick. I had to be here for her, and I … just stayed.”

Bitty gazes at him. This isn’t the attitude he expected from Davey Thompson, not in the slightest. He seems so defeated, as though Bitty’s arrival has reminded him of everything he isn’t. Bitty doesn’t want to be that for him, but he doesn’t think he has a choice in the matter. He quashes the small, self-satisfied demon that’s cackling in the back of his head. He’s not that kid anymore, either.

Just then, the chimes jingle at the front of the store. The babbling voice of a young child brightens the room. “Ah,” Bitty says, “there they are. He had to keep them outside a while before they calmed down. Little kids just work themselves up into a dither sometimes.” He offers an apologetic smile to Davey and retreats down the aisle toward the front of the store.

Suze is quiet, but it’s clear she was crying her eyes out earlier. She hangs on to her Papa with a fierce fist. Robby’s eyes are bugging out at the sight of the store. “What’s that?” he keeps asking, tugging on Jack’s slacks. Jack himself looks a little the worse for wear, but happy. That kind of tired-happy that they see in each other’s faces every night once the kids are in bed.

“Come on, Rob,” Bitty says, holding out his hands. “Want to see Daddy’s favorite store?”

Robby holds out his hands to be picked up. Bitty obliges, despite the warning creak of his back. He turns to take Robby further into the store and sees Davey standing there, staring them down.

He points. “I know you, too.”

“Ah, here we go,” Bitty says with a laugh.

“Were you in school with us? I don’t think that’s right, but—”

Jack holds out his hand for a shake. “Jack Zimmermann,” he says. “And you are?”

“My old friend Davey,” Bitty fills in. He can’t help but put a pointed emphasis on the friend part.

Davey clasps Jack’s hand but doesn’t seem to want to let go. “You’re Jack Zimmermann? The hockey player?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Davey pumps Jack’s hand about four more times before finally letting go. “It’s – it’s good to meet you.” He looks at Suze, still curled up in Jack’s other arm. “And these are your kids? Or—” He turns to Bitty, face contorted in confusion. “Are they your kids?”

“Both,” Bitty answers cheerily. “Davey, meet my husband.”

Davey Thompson very nearly has a coronary right there.

~~~

“Hah, you’re just small all over, aren’t you?” Davey says with a pointed glance at Bitty’s crotch.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” Bitty retorts, but he pulls up his boxers right quick.

“Yeah, some people are just born stupid,” Davey agrees. Bitty instantly regrets replying at all.

Kyle whispers something in Davey’s ear. They both laugh.

“You’re right,” Davey says. He turns back to Bitty. “He’s right. They do say things about you.”

Bitty’s heart drops to his stomach. “W-what things?”

“You know! That you’re—” Davey flaps his wrist.

He doesn’t seem to have the nerve to say the word, but he doesn’t have to say it. The others in the locker room laugh.

For not the first time, Bitty is tempted to just ask, “So what if I am?” But he can’t. Not to these people. This isn’t how he wants his coming out to happen. So he just turns away and pulls on his sweatpants, ignoring the rills of laughter that echo against the lockers, and feels small. Small all over.

~~~

Davey recovers from his shock and nods his head rapidly. “Oh, I get it. Uh, congratulations. Uh, Bittle, could I talk to you a sec?”

He has that sheepish look again. Bitty watches as he retreats into one of the side aisles. “Gimme a sec,” he tells Jack, setting Robby down, and follows Davey.

When they're isolated, Davey turns to him sorrowfully. “I, uh—” Davey looks at the floor. “I was pretty mean to you in school.”

It isn’t what Bitty expected, not at all. To be honest, demons in the back of his head aside, this sort of thing doesn’t bother him so much anymore. Why should it? He’s married with two kids and a brand new home. He doesn’t spare a lot of time thinking about the distant past. “Um,” he starts, suddenly terribly embarrassed.

“No, let me—” Davey raises a hand. “Just let me. I said a lot of nasty things to you back then. I’m really sorry about it. I think about it a lot, and I’m just – I’m really sorry.”

There is a piece of Bitty that’s happy, even smug, at hearing this apology. But mostly he just pities Davey at this point. What a thing to carry around your whole life. “We were kids,” Bitty says. “Kids say dumb things. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Still.” Davey says.

“I can’t say it didn’t hurt me,” Bitty goes on. “But I turned out okay, don’t you think?”

Davey laughs grimly “Yeah, look at you … and look at me.” He shrugs.

“You seem to be doing all right,” Bitty says charitably.

“I’m not an astronaut,” Davey says.

Bitty laughs. “Neither am I. We’re all good.” He pats Davey on the shoulder. A moment passes between them, silent, as they both listen to the sound of the past giving way to a new, kinder present.

After the moment passes, Bitty grins “Come on, I’m going to introduce you to my kids. Do you have kids?”

Davey flushes. “Yeah, I got a teenager. A real smartass. I wonder where he learned it.”

“Pictures!” Bitty declares. “Get that phone out, I demand pictures.”

Davey struggles to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. This time, he flushes with pride. He narrates the story of each photo as they walk back toward the front.

#i hate writing endings: a novel #check please #omgcp #omgcp fic #omgcp ficlet #zimbits #but more really about bitty himself #stuff tippy wrote

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Heartbeat

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 6.0k

[ ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] bitta fluff, mostly smut oop

themes : doctor/healer!reader x pro-hero!shouto, mild temp play (quirk use), confession, dirty talk

bio : You ditch your boring dinner date to tend to your favorite coworker’s latest battle wounds... though upon healing him swiftly, you find an excuse to stay.

author’s note : this is for bnha bookclub’s bingo event, for which i can now cross off the “hero x doctor” slot ;) bingo masterlist here! special thanks to @fanfic-me-up & @savagetrickster for beta’ing! tysm lovelies <3

side note: this fic is dedicated to my special peony @shoutodoki for her birthday!! val honey i love you so much. you’re my oldest friend in this fandom and every time we talk you fill my day with sunshine. please wish this sweetpea a happy birthday!!!

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Sparkling droplets of rain run off the plastic of your umbrella and onto the marble floor in the hallway. Setting the drenched thing against the wall, you wipe the soles of your shoes against the doormat. Stretching your lungs with a fresh breath of air, you push the handle until the door opens soundlessly, allowing you entrance into the shadowy apartment. None of the lights are on; the only source of luminescence is from the soft glow of the street lamps shining through the downpour on the sidewalk far below. The silence of the seemingly empty place is only interrupted by the steady rainfall outside, and you fidget with the strap of your purse on your shoulder, suddenly feeling like you shouldn’t be here. Sure, you’ve been to Shouto’s apartment, but it’s always been daytime before, and somehow the storm outside makes you feel even jumpier than usual.

A soft groan rips you away from your overthinking, and your feet immediately slip out of their shoes, taking you toward the source of the noise without hesitation. As you round the entryway corner, you can see his figure slumped on the end of the leather sectional. He’s bathed in a gloomy grayish-yellow hue from the dim light that pours through the ceiling-tall windows, red and white locks looking tousled and hero suit plenty disheveled.

“Shouto!” you gasp his name when you register the scarlet on the front of his jacket, your body moving to kneel before him without so much as a thought.

The pro-hero Shouto coughs as he tries to sit up, a large hand clutching his ribs when he starts to sputter out a greeting. You hope he cannot see the flush that blooms in your chest and cheeks as he murmurs your name, his voice gravely and low, as if he hadn’t said a word in hours. How long has he been sitting here like this— how long has he been waiting for you? Before you can talk, he forces himself to speak. “It’s not my blood,” he says, meagerly attempting to comfort you.

His eyes are barely open, squinting at you through what must be quite some discomfort— his face is contorted into a grimace and his hand still covers his side, his breath ragged. His fingers feel cold as your hand lands on top of his, thumb stroking across the surprisingly soft skin on his wrist. “Let me help you,” you whisper, and he nods, your locked gaze sizzling as he takes your hand in his.

Shouto bites back a whimper as he moves his other hand to burn off the material of his hero costume, head falling back onto the cushions of the sofa in pain. His palm is cool atop yours as you examine the purple and red tainting his pale skin, a frown forming on your lips.

“It’s not broken, so that’s good,” you say quietly, fingertips dragging along the tight muscle. When you prod the flesh along the top of the bone, he sucks in harshly, which only causes him to yelp, his fingers tightening around your wrist. “It is bruised, though…”

He exhales an icy breath, nodding at you when you give him a look for permission. Placing your palm on top of his battered skin, you close your eyes and concentrate. You let yourself envision his healed body, the pale muscle of his obliques rippling on his healthy physique. The image makes you feel hot, and you try your best not to let the thought of his naked body distract you from the task at hand.

Meanwhile Shouto watches you work, his gaze glued to you as your eyelashes flutter on your cheekbones, your lips a flat line in determination. There’s a soft, golden glow beneath your hand, bathing his flesh and your face in an heavenly light. Shouto wonders if you know what you look like using your quirk— if you know that you look simply angelic while illuminated in gold and tending to his wounds, taking away his pain. It’s over swiftly, and he’s not sure if he’s more relieved that the pain has stopped, or reluctant his time with you is over already.

“You could’ve gone to the hospital, you know,” you sigh, the light from your palm fading as you lean back, nails brushing against his abdomen before you take your hand away.

He frowns as your touch leaves him, sitting up and breathing deeply. His lungs stretch and empty without any pain, and his lips curl into a thankful smile. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see you.”

You wonder if he notices the effect his choice of words has on you— if he sees how you bite your lip and turn away, too flustered to look at him in all his handsomeness. You don’t need an excuse to see me, you think, hands folding together in your lap.

It’s then that Shouto notices your appearance is even more gorgeous than ever— your earrings dangle and sparkle in the moonlight, your dress hugging your figure snug and hanging just low enough to show a stretch of cleavage. Your collar bones stand out against the thin, plum-colored straps, and your hair falls perfectly on your shoulders. Wow, is he glad he called you tonight.

“Speaking of, you look… stunning. I thought you looked cute in your white coat and everything at work, but this is really something else,” he comments, eyes trailing down your chest to stop on the gemstone pendant shining brightly between your breasts. He feels heat rise to his cheeks, tearing his stare away and instead examining your bashful expression. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your evening.”

You laugh at that, a short sigh falling from your lips. “Don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting much of anything,” you say, playing with the sparkling bracelet on your wrist. You chance a glance up at him to see him looking at you, curiosity shimmering in those captivating, mismatched orbs. “Date was a bust, the guy would not stop talking about microbrews the whole time, and then— get this— he ate my lava cake when he said he didn’t want dessert!”

Shouto laughs at your clear display of upset, a hearty, rich chuckle sounding from deep inside of him. The sound causes butterflies to flurry in your stomach, a grin conquering your pout as you watch his laughter come to an end. “That’s definitely a red flag,” he smiles, pink lips turning up and warm eyes falling on you once again. “The lady has to have her own dessert. Shame on him, screwing up his chance with you.”

“He never had much of a chance anyway,” you mumble, your gaze tracing the shadows stretched across the salt and pepper rug in faux interest. Before Shouto can ask what exactly you mean by that, you cut him off, standing up and brushing off your thighs, smoothing out your dress. “I’m glad you’re okay, though. You don’t feel any more pain, do you?”

“No I’m—” his lips part before he closes his mouth, brow furrowing before he sits upright, hand coming to land over his chest. “Actually right here is a little tight, do you think you could look at it for a second?”

You blink owlishly as he moves, lithe fingers unzipping his shirt and exposing his chiseled torso to you. Desire stirs between your legs at the sight of him, half naked and gazing up at you expectantly. If you didn’t know any better… you’d think he’s trying to make a move on you. Hesitantly you sit on the edge of the couch cushion, reaching out for him. The muscles on his chest jump when you make contact, his flesh warm and smooth beneath your skin. “Here?”

Shouto watches your eyes widen as his other hand slides around your waist, pushing your body toward his. His fingers wrapping around your wrist, he steers your stretched palm across the expanse of his pecs, stopping when it’s positioned on top of his heart. “Here,” he replies, feeling the muscle start to move rapidly underneath your caress.

“S-Shouto, I—” a part of you wants to believe he really is coming onto you, while the other side of you knows that first, you two work together, and second, he could have any woman he wants— he would never choose you. “What are you..?”

“Is it supposed to beat this fast?” He tilts his head, expression earnest, his fingers dipping into your flesh through the silky fabric of your dress. “I always feel like this when you’re near.”

You don’t know what to say— you don’t know if you can even speak at this point. It’s so hot in here, and his gaze, his touch— the frantic thumping of his heart beneath your palm— it’s all completely overwhelming you, so much to take in.

“Is something wrong with me?” Shouto asks, and his arm around your waist tightens, causing you to tumble into his chest. Your soft breasts press up against his firm chest, both your hands splayed open on the expanse of his pecs. You can feel his heart pounding underneath your hand, leaping in his chest like it’s trying its best to reach you. It’s the exact same as how your own feels at this very moment.

You start to tremble in his arms, your face so close to his. You can see each shade of blue and gray in his eyes, every freckle and scar on his skin. He’s never been so close to you before, and you can feel your composure melting away rapidly, his flames licking your body and warming you to the bone. “No, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Then he’s leaning into you, cologne faintly wafting off his throat. His head is tilted slightly, eyes dropping to your lips— oh god, he’s going to kiss you. “So this isn’t all in my head, then, is it?” His voice is low, so low— as if he fears he’ll scare you off if he raises it even just a hair. “The lingering glances, the touches, the flirting— you want this, too, right?”

His hold on you finally breaks through the layers you’d built so carefully, your hesitance slipping away like smoke in the wind. There’s only a brief moment that the two of you stare into each other, questioning if you really want to cross this line or not. If you’re ready to drop the charade, the game of cat and mouse.

There’d be no going back once even just one toe sneaks over that threshold.

But it doesn’t matter, because just like that, you’re kissing him, a muffled moan sneaking out from between your lips and reverberating through his. Shouto kisses you back with fervor, eager hands gathering your body closer to his— fingers kneading into your flesh and rubbing over your dress. Your lips slot together perfectly, his soft and plush as they move in synchronization with yours. When you push, he pulls— and when you moan, his tongue roves over your lip before dipping inside your mouth. You’re panting, fireworks exploding underneath your skin with every caress, mind and body completely drunk off of him. Your heart is pounding furiously in your chest, any inhibitions good as gone. Todoroki Shouto is kissing you, ravaging you on his couch in his apartment— and he’s shirtless, and he’s touching you, and he’s holding you so tight and so close that you can barely even think to kiss him back.

Shouto breaks away from you, breathing slightly labored as a bright grin morphs his mouth. “I’ve wanted that for so long,” he confides, pressing his forehead to yours. One of his hands wanders up and down the curve of your spine, smoothening the fabric of your dress. His bottom lip shines with a mixture of your saliva, glistening brightly in the dimly-lit room.

“Shouto,” you whisper his name, cautious not to shatter this perfect moment. You take a second to gather your courage before you secure your arms around his neck, your thigh slipping over both of his as you position yourself above his lap. Shouto’s eyes are wide as you shyly meet his gaze, tingles zipping through your limbs when your panties brush along his muscular thigh. “I can’t… I can’t pretend that I don't want you for another second…”

You can’t bear to look at him, so you close your eyes and press your lips flush against his once more, your fingertips twirling in his messy locks of red and white. There’s a temporary pause, Shouto laying still beneath you as you kiss him, petting his chest and his hair as your legs tighten around him.

And then you’re on your back, hair fluffed out on the pillow behind you as Shouto hovers over you, his strong arms holding himself upright as his lips attack your own with ferocity. He’s in between your legs, a large hand cupping your jaw and guiding your face so your lips can dance flawlessly, tongues swirling together with ease. A wave of lust crashes over you, Shouto’s hand wandering beneath your waist, your spine curling to arch your chest into his. He groans as he feels the plushness of your breasts against him, hugging you tighter as his tongue traces the bottoms of your teeth.

“You dunno how happy I am to hear that,” he pants, tracing the wet muscle along your jaw and down your throat. He starts to suck on the sensitive skin there, and your hips jerk up into his instinctively, a strangled whine tumbling from your mouth. He kisses your neck messily, trailing down to the soft skin at the neckline of your dress. “So responsive,” he purrs, and you can feel your pussy clench tight beneath your lace thong, excitement gathering between your legs. “How long have you wanted me?”

You close your eyes, swamped with anticipation as you feel him shuffle between your legs. His hot mouth nips at more and more of your skin, shuffling the dress down so your tits spill out of the ensemble, nipples stiff and begging for his attention. “So long, Shouto,” you moan as his warm mouth engulfs the pebbled bud, the tip of his tongue rolling around it easily. He sucks gently, and your legs twitch together, your thighs desperate to create some kind of friction to relieve the wetness gathering in your panties.

Shouto smirks at you, lazily lapping at you as a hand wanders down the front of your dress. He takes your nipple between his teeth teasingly, cool breath only making the poor bud harden even further. His fingers gather the bottom of your dress at your hip, pushing the fabric up so your cunt feels the cool breeze of the air conditioning, your thong not offering much protection. “All that time, I could’ve been touching you like this,” he sighs, fingertip running along your slit through your underwear. He tugs at your nipple when he pulls his hand back, rubbing the ample, sticky evidence of your need between his fingers.

You squirm underneath him, flustered and impatient, sinful embarrassment surging through you at how slutty you must look in his eyes. “I— I’ve thought about you… l-like this, on so many nights,” you squeak out, your cheeks bursting with heat from the mortification. But you need him to know that you’re only like this for him… because of him.

He groans in response, letting your nipple free before he moves to devour the other one. His hands grow impatient, fingers looping under the sides of your panties before he slips them down the length of your thighs, flinging them off into the darkness of the apartment as soon as they’re around your ankles. Immediately he cups your dripping folds, peeling his digits apart so you’re left completely exposed to him, revealing your glistening hole and puffy clit. “You touch yourself and think of me?” he reiterates, a dangerous tone lacing his low voice.

He slips two fingers vertically between your folds, coating them in your ambrosial slick, and rubbing the pads of his fingers over your twitching entrance. His mouth suddenly turns cold, and he grins as he feels your hole quiver violently in response. “Yes,” you breathe out, the word slipping through your lips like a snake. “Oh, yes!”

Shouto slips the fingers inside, each two knuckles deep as his fingerprints rub along your shivering, slick walls. He washes the bud in his mouth with his searing tongue, his quirk tossing you left and right in the throes of pleasure. He allows you time to stretch, casually pushing his fingers out and then back in, never going deeper than that initial thrust. It’s not long before you’re gasping, your body trembling underneath his, and aching for more of his touch. Your tits fall from his face as he cranes his neck back up to look you in the eye. “And did you ever make yourself feel this good?” he queries, and before you can answer, he thrusts the digits all the way inside of you, his knuckles grinding against your quivering entrance.

Your eyes roll back as he begins to move his fingers, the tips of them reaching places you’d never been able to reach yourself. He’s so long, and thick compared to the equipment you’re accustomed to; his genetics blessing you and filling you better than your own hands ever could. “N-Never— oh, god— Shouto!” you cry, just as his lips capture yours again. You whimper and whine into his mouth, legs switching between spreading wider and tightening around his ass, trying to pull him into you. His tongue dominates yours, claiming your mouth as his own. You let him lead— too lost to try and fight him— happily submitting and allowing him to guide you through the pleasure. His fingers work diligently inside of you, alternating between pumping into you, curling to press into your spongy walls, and sliding out all the way to tease your sopping hole.

His mouth leaves yours as he moves to kneel on the floor, gathering your frame to sit upright with his free hand. His slender digits still pressed deep inside of you wiggle, and you bite your lower lip as he begins to kiss along your inner thighs. “Did this tight little pussy cum around your fingers, wishing they were mine instead?” he asks, words rumbling against your skin.

Your thighs shake as he holds them open, his wide shoulders pressing against one and the other in his white-knuckled grip. “Yes, yesyesyes,” you mewl as he ducks down, lips pressing a sweet kiss to your throbbing clit. “I imagined you between my legs, ah!— f-filling me so many times!” Your confession seems to be exactly what he was waiting for, for his mouth sucks in your clit and he starts to shower it with attention— licking and rubbing the flat of his tongue up against it for complete stimulation. You cry out, his fingers continuing their assault on your tender walls deep inside, bending to put pressure against just the right spot.

“Come on then,” he gasps for air, your clit buzzing as his cool breath washes over the aching pearl. His lips shine in the low lighting, glossed with a generous film of your essence while his dual-colored gaze burns into yours with fiery determination. “Don’t you wanna cum for the real thing?”

He attacks you again, this time less merciful than the last— his fingers pummeling into your gummy insides with determination, his tongue lashing over your clit and sucking on it so hard that his cheekbones stand out on his handsome face. The intensity of it all is too much, your body feeling electrified by another’s touch— it had been so long since you’d been satisfied by a man. And this was no ordinary man, not to mention— it’s Shouto who’s pleasuring you— the man who makes your heart race and your stomach burst with butterflies. The pressure heightening in your stomach, your walls flutter against him, attempting to suck his fingers even deeper. You’ve wanted him for so long; gazed at him from across the conference table or tended to his wounds with extra care, even spent who knows how many lunch breaks by his side. Now that you have him, here between your legs, here for you to touch and hold and kiss, your body falls apart for him. Just for him.

Shouto moans as your orgasm ripples through you, the tip of his tongue twirling your sensitive pearl as his digits press against your slick, quivering walls, only delivering more pleasure to you and intensifying your climax. His cock throbs along his thigh, wondering how heavenly you’ll feel wrapped around his length and clamping down around it instead of his fingers. You’re still entranced by your orgasm, ecstasy coursing through your veins like fire and ice combining explosively, just like the quirk of the man who had caused such a phenomenon. When your grip on his disheveled hair finally unfurls, he pulls his fingers out of you, mouth making quick work of kissing your dripping, twitching cunt all over. With one last kiss to your pulsing clit, he moves back onto the couch, hovering over your fatigued body.

Your head already clearing of the static, orgasmic fog, your fingers slide around the back of his neck, underneath the cool fabric of his hero suit and along his broad shoulders. The muscles adorning his back are firm beneath smooth skin, the heat of him radiating through and greeting your fingertips pleasantly. Shouto gets the message, sitting back and shrugging off the jacket. Just as he does so, you make your move, pushing his shoulders back just hard enough to get him off balance, falling back onto his ass with wide eyes. Instantly you take your place before him, your knees hitting the carpet as your hands travel up his slender thighs, sinew twitching beneath your caress.

He doesn’t say a word as he watches you undo the top of his pants, your lips trailing along the prominent contours of his abdomen. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the outline of his cock struggling to be freed against his inner thigh, aching to be released and touched by you. You share a heavy look with him as your hands pull down his pants, his boxer briefs going with them. His length springs out of its confines, standing thick, long, and deliciously hard against his pelvis. You can’t help but stare at it, your tongue wandering out to wet your lips as you take the sight of him in before you.

When you glance up to catch his expression, you’re shocked to find his cheeks slightly darkened, his brow furrowed as he gazes down at you. “Y/N, you don’t have to—” he gasps as your mouth envelops the head of his cock, the hot, wet suction enough to steal his breath away. “F-Fuck…” Shouto sighs as you begin to slide even more of him into your mouth, your tongue gliding against the underside of his throbbing length. You make it halfway down his length before you lean back, pressing a chaste kiss to the very tip of him, just as gently as he’d kissed your clit moments ago.

“I want to,” you murmur, your words reverberating against his hard cock, a coy smile curling the corners of your mouth as it jerks against your lips. “I wanna take care of you, Shouto,” you hum, your hand wrapping around the base of him and beginning to pump, “Let me taste you.” His head falls back onto the top of the sofa, a muffled groan trapped in his throat. It’s ripped out of him as your mouth descends onto him again, your spit allowing you to take him deeper and deeper into your throat. You do your best to keep a steady tempo, bobbing up and down on his cock as you suck in your cheeks, tongue swirling and massaging the bulging veins along his shaft. Beads of pre-cum stain your tastebuds, bittersweet and urging you to continue your ministrations. The head of his cock brushes against the back of your throat and he groans loudly, lithe fingers gripping your hair tight.

Shouto tenses beneath you, his abs straining as he holds your head flush against his pelvis, his cock sheathed deep into your throat. “You feel… so good,” he moans, pulling your head back and letting you catch a fresh breath of air. You take the opportunity gladly, wasting no time before you take his engorged length back into your mouth. Carefully you suck on the tip of him, your hand moving to jack off his length as your other hand cradles his balls, your thumb rolling them easily in your palm. The effect is immediate, Shouto’s laboured breath coming out in harsh pants as your fist slides along him flawlessly. He bites his lip, his free hand pushing his snow and scarlet locks off his forehead as he chokes out, “T-Too good— slow down, baby.”

When you don’t adhere to his instruction, he reaches down and touches your cheek, guiding your mouth off of him before he leans forward and pulls you into his arms, your knees dipping into the soft cushions of the sofa on either side of his hips. He wastes no time snagging your dress over your shoulders, leaving you completely naked on top of his lap.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he nearly whines, eyes raking over every curve, his hands coming to rest along the top of your hips before they wander around your back, cupping an ass cheek in either palm. He guides your body forward, your dripping folds dragging against his slick cock. Your hand lands on his wide chest, the other coming to rest on his cool cheek to steer his gaze unto yours. His eyes seem alive with passion, boring into you with unrestrained desire, filled with emotion as he whispers, “I want you so damn bad, Y/N.”

You smile and touch your lips to his, enjoying the moment of tenderness between the two of you, your bodies finally pressed flush against each other, with nothing to separate your skin from his. “Then take me,” you reply, voice hushed and gente, your thumb stroking against the edge of his scar, “I’m all yours, Shouto.”

A simultaneous moan overtakes the silence in the room as his cock sheathes completely inside of you, your sticky, velvet walls stretching wide around his intruding length. He’s so big, and hard— you can feel every single inch of him, all the way to his swollen tip that nearly brushes against your womb. Your pussy struggles to accommodate him, pulsing and clutching onto him as every time you think you’re adjusting to his size, more pleasure flows through you and you clench onto him again.

“H-Hot,” Shouto groans, face buried in your shoulder as his fingers dig into the plush of your ass. “So hot, and wet… and you— you’re so fucking tight.” He takes a few deep breaths before his biceps flex, and he pulls your body up slowly before he allows gravity to take it back down, your sweltering cunt swallowing him inside again.

His length pushing into you elicits a loud moan from you, the feeling of your walls stretching so deliciously around his width only causing further bliss. Not to mention how the head of his cock prods into a sacred spot as your ass meets the top of his thighs, his length disappearing completely inside of you as your toes curl behind you. Your body tingles, electricity zipping through your veins as you strain your thighs, pushing yourself back up so his cock slips mostly out of you before you fall back down, spearing yourself onto his waiting length. “S-Shouto,” you gasp, trying to find a tempo as you repeat the action, your slick dribbling out to coat his cock even further, “you’re so big, I— your cock, it—aha nnn— it feels so good!”

Shouto’s hands stray from your ass, traveling up your spine, your waist, your thighs, your tits. He’s examining your body, his lips parted as heavy pants tumble out between them, eyes soaking in every part of you and committing it to memory. A hand cups your breast, squeezing and flicking a nipple back and forth with his thumb. He notices how your cunt squeezes around his cock when he does that, and he licks his lips as he continues to toy with it, pinching and rolling the hard bud between his fingertips.

Meanwhile you can barely keep your eyes open, your jaw fighting the opposite battle and losing, quite frankly, as it hangs unhinged, choked moans tumbling out from the bottom of your lungs. Your hips fire relentlessly, his cock pushing in and out of your slippery walls as easily as a hot knife slipping through butter. With every meeting of your hips against his, his cock drills into your sweet spot, stars dotting along the corners of your vision. You’ve never been so full, your body nor your heart, certainly not both at the same time— nothing like this.

This is something else— incredible, ethereal.

You’re with Shouto, and he’s with you.

The lewd, wet slapping of your pussy against his pelvis fills his living room with noise, the sofa wheezing ever so slightly with every roll of your hips. You cry out when Shouto takes your other nipple into his mouth, sucking and tongue writhing against the perky bud mercilessly. Your fingers curl into his two-toned locks, securing a harsh grip while your other hand stays on his shoulder for balance, your body rocking itself onto his hard cock like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. You want to reach down and rub your clit, the pleasure already beginning to build up in your stomach.

Shouto can feel your cunt fluttering, your desperation to cum clear as day. You squeak as his arms envelop you, one curling around your waist and the other up your back as he plants a firm grasp around the bend of your shoulder. With his grip secured on you, he starts to thrust upwards, his cock slamming into your trembling pussy with vigor.

You cry out, his hips drilling into you from below faster, harder than you’d been able to provide. The brutal onslaught catches you off guard, leaving you breathless for a moment as you allow the sheer pleasure to take over. “Shouto! You shouldn’t— ohh, god yes!— fuck, y-you should— your ribs!” you try to say, but he doesn’t give you a second to think, nor to catch your breath. He just keeps hurling your body down onto his waiting cock, spreading your walls with his thick length and driving into your pussy without relent.

“That’s okay Doc,” he chuckles, sucking in a short breath through his bared teeth, his lips tracing along the column of your throat, “You fixed me up, so— hah, fuck— just… let me make you feel good t-too.” He begins to sloppily kiss your neck, marking your skin and stating his claim on you for all to see. His cock easily glides into you, despite your tightening walls as your impending orgasm draws closer and closer. The bouncing of your body onto his allows your clit to be stimulated too, rolling against the firm muscle of his pelvis as he thrusts up, meeting you halfway.

The inferno in your belly only grows more powerful as his cock continues to plunge into you, your pussy sinking down onto him willingly while your excess slick drips down onto his lap. You’re so turned on that the only thing you can focus on is Shouto, hammering away underneath you as he sucks on the fragile skin on your neck. Surely there’ll be hickeys there tomorrow morning, but you can’t find a single fuck to give, too occupied with the thought of being his and everyone knowing it. You find your pussy gripping onto him tightly at that, desperate for you to seal the deal, your months of yearning coming to an end as his hips stutter against yours, his fingers digging into you as he clutches onto you. You want to feel him finish inside of you, for him to coat your walls in his essence and claim your body as his.

Shouto seems to be on the same page, for his arms lock around your waist now, pressing your chest flush against his. Your eyes find his for a brief moment, all that pent-up longing shattering as you look at him and he looks at you. He closes his eyes as your lips meet, ragged breath mixing as your tongues ravel, and it’s then that you let out a sinful moan, the rubber band in your stomach snapping.

Euphoria floods through your system, every nerve in your body lighting up like the night sky on the fourth of july. Tidal waves of pleasure crash through you, your body trembling in his arms as your cunt wrings snug around his cock like a vise. Shouto groans against your mouth as your walls clamp and flutter, milking him for everything he’s worth. His own orgasm hits him too, his seed spurting into your womb as thick, white ribbons spray deep inside of you. Your fingers nestled in his hair, you keep your lips on his— the only anchor you can keep ahold of as your body is cast out to a sea of ecstasy. His hands slide down to cup your ass again, leisurely rocking your body against his as you both ride out your highs and cling to each other.

As you catch your breath, you lean into his strong frame, nose buried in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His palms trace your spine up and down, one cool and one warm. When you finally lean back to look at him, you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your lips, tired laughter bubbling up in your throat. Shouto smiles back at you, a large hand coming to cup your jaw and bring your lips to his once more.

You sigh into the kiss, content blooming in your chest as bliss from your orgasm still lingers, simmering on the backburner gently while you bask in his embrace. This kiss is sweet and short, unlike the ones from earlier that were all-consuming and overflowing with passion.

“Can I take you to that restaurant you went to tonight sometime?” Shouto whispers, words barely loud enough for your ears to catch, even though you’re right before him.

Blinking at him curiously, one side of your mouth quirks upwards at his proposal, your eyebrow following its lead. “What? Does it have to be the same one?”

Shouto frowns. “Yes. So I can order you your lava cake,” he states nonchalantly, expression completely serious. His biceps flex on either side of you, chest puffing out slightly. “I promise you can have every bite to yourself.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at his bluntness, unable to stop yourself from absolutely beaming at him, and shooting him your gooiest heart eyes. He feels his heart skip a beat, his cheeks flushed with pink at being the target of your affectionate gaze.

“If it means you’re taking me out… I guess I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

as always, thank you for reading <3 villain!denki coming tomorrow~

➥ masterlist

➥ BINGO masterlist

#todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shoto smut #bnha smut #mha smut #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto fic #bnha fic #mha fic #my fics

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bnha-mha-imagines · 5 years

Note

Okay, get this: a new lov member who’s really awkward and shy. Everyone thinks she’s just a normal gal but it turns out she’s absolutely out of her mind? /sigh/ I don’t even know anymore 😔 rip. I’m so bad at requesting it should be my new party trick. Anyways, I hope you have a good day and I love your writing!!

Ahh thank you! :) I’m not sure if you wanted this to be cute or disturbing so I went with the latter because nothing I’ve posted so far is dark themed (all my stuff is like, fluff haha)! :0 Let’s get some well rounded writing up in here!

New LOV member who’s secretly insane

Warnings: DARK THEMES that include but are not limited to: Blood, dead animals, disturbing images, cannibalism, death, hearing voices, sadism/masochism, violence, mentions of self-harm etc. etc. You get the picture.

^^^Don’t read if you’re sensitive to similar topics. I went ham on this, yall.

Disclaimer: The reader depicted in this is chronically insane and is an extreme case. This is in no way a depiction of a person with a mental disorder. I don’t want to spread any misinformation, most people with mental disorders are lovely people and are not crazy/dangerous in anyway

Under the cut vvv

Tomura Shigaraki:

Look, he wasn’t a fan of the whole awkward-shy act, but hey, you were pretty hot and you had a quirk that the League definitely needed

So he let you in, figuring he’d just need to have that timid attitude of yours whipped out of you

But OH. It didn’t take long for him to realize you were completely bonkers.

Dabi was giving you shit like he did everyone, and all it took was a poor comment on his part for your usually pleasant expression to contort into one of malice and...joy? The way your face darkened and your eyes swirled with an unhinged gleam…

Maybe you’d be more interesting than he initially thought~ plus, seeing you threaten Dabi was definitely some brownie points in Tomura’s book

At times it gets frustrating because you can get out of hand, and he honestly couldn’t even handle the League WITHOUT another crazy added in the mix

But you were powerful and an important addition to the team, so you were stuck with this sorry lot whether you liked it or not

Kurogiri:

He was a little surprised, but pleasantly so, when Tomura recruited you for the League. You were actually...rather normal compared to the rest of the bunch, but he was far from complaining!

You were also modest and well-mannered, and Kurogiri especially admired that. The rest of the League was full of squabbling hotheads, so you were a breath of fresh air!

At the bar, he’d talk a lot with you seeing as you were one of the calmer villains, but overtime he noticed that certain comments would raise a few red flags.

One day you bring in the mangled body of a cat and...oh.

The way you casually set it on the bar counter and grin at Kurogiri happily while you ask for a kiddy cocktail… all the while your hands were still soaked in its blood.

Tomura’s decision made a bit more sense now. You were completely off your rocker! He treats you pretty much the same as before, but is usually the one who has to reel you in when you start to show your crazy too much.

Dabi:

When you first joined the League, he couldn’t believe it. Was Tomura fucking stupid? How could a shy, pretty thing like you possibly fit in with the baddest villain organization?

Needless to say, he was kind of an asshole to you. He’d make rude comments, blatantly say you didn’t belong here, condescendingly give you names like “princess”

For the most part you would bear it all with a grin, and though he didn’t exactly understand you reaction, he would scoff and roll his eyes. “Weirdo”

One day he happens to strike a particularly strong chord with you, and suddenly you’ve shoved him against a wall, hands wrapped around his throat

You choking him wasn’t what off put him. It was the demented look in your eyes and the lopsided grin overwhelming your face. You were practically begging him to insult you again.

“It feels soooo good when you call me names!” you giggle, fingers squeezing into his neck. “Maybe you can choke me next?!” Your eyes were excited at the sadistic thought.

He shoves you off rather easily after he gets over his initial surprise, rubbing his neck. “Crazy bitch…”

The fact that he didn’t ignite your crazy ass on the spot means you’d gained his respect, if in the slightest. Clearly you’re a better fit to be a villain than he thought. He still picks on you, but significantly less.

Himiko Toga:

She was excited to have another girl! She flocked straight to you and grabbed your sleeve right away!

“Aiiya! You’re so cute, look at you!” She poked your cheeks and you got a little flustered under the attention. She thinks you’re so shy and adorable!!!!

She makes it her mission to become your bestest best friend! But she can’t help but get a little excited from time to time.

“(Y/n), you’re too cute! Please, can I cut you up!? Just a few slices here and there! You’d look ten times cuter if I do!” And she’s grinning.

Her grin completely falters, however, when you agree. “W-What?” she didn’t expect it at all! She was used to getting brushed off.

But no...the crazed look in your eye at the mention of spilled blood… you were practically dripping with insanity.

Kurogiri stopped the both of you before you both had the chance to completely slice each other up, but from that moment on your were pretty much conjoined at the hip.

Crazy cuties flock together

Spinner:

When a cute, shy thing like yourself joined the League, he was a total flustered mess! You were absolutely adorable!

Like Kurogiri, you were a breath of fresh air, a nice change of pace to the usually colorful bunch that he got to hang around with.

You were nice to him, and he always gets embarrassed when you compliment him! So naturally he assumes that you’re the sweetheart of the bunch!

You’re talking, and finally Spinner outright asks you, “How’d you even get roped into villainy?” because it blows his mind such a normie like you are in the League

And, very casually and chipper, you describe how you murdered your family in cold blood. They hadn’t even done anything to upset you. You just wanted to.

“O-Oh.” He honestly didn’t know what to say...but he didn’t really get a chance to speak as you suddenly pull a necklace out from under your shirt. It was a strange looking thing, a shriveled black lump on a string.

“Look! I even carry a piece of them around with me!” His eyes widen, and you just giggle and tuck the petrified piece of corpse jewelry back into your shirt.

Twice:

Needless to say, Twice had some mixed feelings about you when you first joined the League.

“What the hell is such a prude bitch doing in the League?” “Aww how cute! Finally a fresh face! Happy to meet you!”

He’s honestly probably the first to realize you’re absolutely batshit because he’s always half doubting your sincerity

Let’s just say he isn’t surprised when you’re on a mission and you start gnawing and eating at a fresh corpse on the ground

“Wow, that’s fucking bad ass” “Ew!!! That’s disgusting, what the fuck!”

And hearing his voices go back and forth, you just look up, blood smeared across your face, a strange gleam in your eye and you grin!

“Hahaha! Twice, you always say the funniest things!!!”

After the mission he tries to avoid you as much as he can. Though your quirk and tenacity was something the League definitely benefited from, that didn’t mean he wanted to be anywhere near you after the shit he saw that night

You were fucking wild

Mr. Compress

After Shigaraki let you into the League, he was pretty interested in you. You seemed pretty average and you acted like a timid civilian, so what kind of quirk did you have? Surely something must have caught Tomura’s eye that he wasn’t seeing.

So he, being the man of charisma and mystery that he was, made it his secret motive to find out what you were hiding.

He took it upon himself to show you around the hideout as your own personal guide. Not that you were complaining! Compress is so flashy and entertaining that you were actually enjoying your time with him.

Not gonna lie, he was acting a little too charming and over-confident with you, trying to get you to slip up and spill a secret

And spill you did! Though not intentionally. It sort of all happened at once. Compress was moving ahead of you and all of a sudden he was thrown back against the wall.

He hits it with a grunt and slides down to the floor, looking up at you with a stunned expression. What the fuck did he do to merit that?!

But you weren’t even looking at him. No, you were whispering under your breath, staring at the ceiling and grinning like a madman.

“You’re right! That was fun!” you spoke to the empty room, pausing a moment before letting out a loud, crazy laugh. “You always were good at jokes!”

Slowly he rose and moved away from the room where you stood conversing with your imaginary voices.

Telekinesis was a pretty powerful quirk! Though it seemed your perks also came with some hefty flaws… very interesting!

Magne:

Magne was so excited to have another girl in the League! She loved Toga, of course, but at times Magne found her to be a bit...much

So when you first arrived, seemingly normal, she was so ecstatic! She wanted to do all sorts of girl things with you that she couldn’t really do often in the boy-dominated League

You were so cute and timid, she couldn’t help but want to have a girl’s sleepover with you and Toga!

Your true colors started to show, however, during the middle of a truth or dare game. Magne had asked you what your favorite crime to commit was, expecting something calmer like robbery or identity theft

Color her surprised when your face contorts into the craziest, most terrifying look as you narrate a violent murder and proceed to grab a pillow and rip it to shreds with your hands as a ‘demonstration’.

Cute AND violently psycho. She can roll with that.

#lov x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #bnha league of villains #bnha lov #bnha villain #bnha magne #bnha toga #bnha dabi #bnha twice #bnha kurogiri #kurogiri x reader #toga x reader #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #request

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Olly Olly Oxenfree (part five)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

im going to heaven with or without you

“Joan?”

Joan giggled in her daze, lolling her head back and forth across the sand. Except, the sand felt a lot harder than it should be...and it was so cold all of a sudden...and she couldn’t see the glow of the sunlight behind her eyelids.

“Joan!”

Joan’s body jolts awake for the second time that night. She sat up so quickly it sent a miniature gun salute popping and cracking up her spine.

“Joan? Are you okay?”

Cathy is kneeling beside her. She has her hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were deeply worried.

“You kinda- you kinda went weird for a few minutes.” Her sister said. “I thought I lost you.”

“No, I’m- I’m fine, Cath. Promise.“ Joan assured her.

“Nothing new hurts?”

“Nothing new hurts.”

Cathy nodded and stepped back, pulling Joan to her feet.

“What happened?” Cathy asked.

“I-” The words caught in Joan’s throat. The memory of what exactly went down flash through her mind. “I saw my sister again.”

Cathy’s eyes widen.

“Holy shit.” She said. “Okay- okay- explain it to me. Can you do that? Will you be okay to?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joan nodded. “We were...we were on the beach on some random Saturday. Catalina was there. It was...amazing.”

Cathy got a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Was it good— I don’t even know how to say this without... I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

So many emotions were whirling through Joan’s mind- sadness, grief, closure, pain, misery, anger, longing. There was too much for her to process and it made her brain feel like it was going to burst apart in her skull.

“It was good to see her again,” She whispered. “It just— it sucks that she’s not- she’s not here, I guess. That’s all.”

Cathy gave her a quick, but tight hug.

“It’ll all be over soon, Joan. Don’t worry.”

Joan nodded.

Now that she somewhat had her bearings collected, she and Cathy began moving again.

They met up with Anne and Kitty at the bottom of the hill leading up to the field. Just a few yards behind them, the Lee Estate gate looms behind them.

“Great! You didn’t, uh, die!” Kitty said.

“Did it work?” Anne asked. “Did you get the key?”

“Yeah, we got it,” Cathy answered. “It’s actually a radio. Apparently it can open mechanical locks or something. Show’em, Joan.”

Joan nodded and took out the new radio. She walked up to the gate, seeing a small mechanical plate with three pieces of a pyramid on it. She began to tune in and, on channel 56, the parts of the pyramid lit up.

The gate swung open.

“Cool!”

“Wow.”

“Neat!”

Those were the chimes from the other three.

“Please have a boat, please have a boat, please have a boat...” Anne muttered as they all passed into the Lee property.

The salty tang of the sea was as sharp there as it was on the beach. Land broke away and became a wooden boardwalk, which creaked loudly with each footstep pressed against the boards. The black ocean churned loudly below the four of them. It sent spirals of anxiety through Joan, but she tried to stamp them down.

“A boat!” Anne cried in relief. “Oh, thank god. The keys are probably inside the house, which is HUGE by the way!”

She was right. The house was big. How some old woman got the money to pay for it was beyond all of them.

After finding that the door was locked, but had a tune in symbol, Joan took out the radio.

She didn’t like how much she was having to use it.

107.1

“That is a nifty gizmo.” Anne said as they all herded inside.

Surprisingly, it was quite warm inside the house, which was a relief because the temperature was definitely dropping outside. The four teenager scampered through the foyer and to the living and dining area, where they were hoping to regroup and maybe find someone to eat or drink (none of them had noticed how hungry they were before). However, all they ended up finding was a figure in one of the armchairs.

“There you guys are!”

“Oh my god!” Cathy shrieked. “You scared me!”

“Catalina!” Kitty rushed up to the older girl, nearly knocking her over in a hug. “Jesus! I was so worried about you!”

Catalina blinked and stumbled, slightly stunned by the sudden contact, but then she laughed softly and stroked the top of Kitty’s head. The girl nuzzles her face even closer, tightening the hold.

“I’m okay, Kitty. I promise.” Catalina told her.

“Wait—”Joan said. “How...did you get in? The door was locked. Did you have a radio?”

“No, I didn’t have a radio.” Catalina said, looking at Joan absurdly. “The kitchen window was open. I climbed in.”

“And the fence?”

“I jumped it. I’m not as dainty as you think, Johanne.”

Joan scanned Catalina over. The older girl has always been an amazing liar, but she didn’t seem to be hiding anything...at that moment. She nodded softly.

“Alright, Catalina’s here, great!” Anne said. “Everyone start looking. Find something and hope that it helps.”

They break.

Joan and Cathy went upstairs, finding a string for a pulldown ladder, which Cathy very helpfully called a “cat toy”. They climb up it, finding a musty old attic and a chest in the far back.

A chest with a padlock.

“Of course.” Joan sighed, then muttered, “Paranoid old woman...” She walked back down the ladder and made her way to the exit of the house. “Hey, Cath. How are you doing?”

“How are you doing?” Cathy fired back at her.

“As crappy as everyone else.” Joan said. “I feel like I just got run over by a truck. With acid wheels.” She paused. “If that makes sense.”

Cathy laughed. “I got it. I think everyone feels the same. We’ll make shirts when we get home!” She quickened her pace to walk right beside Joan as they stepped off of the front porch. She placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay.”

Joan can only manage a wry, barely-hopeful smile.

They walk down the front path and back down to the boardwalk. On their way to the basement, they stop by the boat docks to check in on Catalina and Kitty, who were having a friendly conversation to pass the time.

“Hey, Kit,” Joan said, walking up to the younger girl first.

Kitty smiled at her. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

“As steady as she goes.”

Kitty leaves it at that. Joan moves on to Catalina.

“Catalina.”

“Your Highness.”

Joan’s mind flashes back to the time loop in front of the tunnel, however she can’t muster up even an ounce of anger or rage. When she looks into Catalina’s eyes, so unloving, unlike in her flashback memory, any ember she may have conjured gets instantly smothered and replaced by freezing cold misery.

“For the eight hundredth time— and I don’t know why I have to keep trying to sell you on this, but here it goes— Maria wasn’t my fault.”

Catalina crossed her arms, and Joan prepared for a vicious hurl of flaming words, but she just sighed and looked dejectedly at the murky water. Maybe she’s imagining what it must have been like for Joan on that day.

“If that’s what you believe in, I guess.” She finally said.

There’s a momentary burst of flame, but a rock to the boardwalk from a particularly big ripple puts it out. Catalina looks upset, Joan realizes. She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she just turns and walks to the basement. Cathy trails quietly behind her.

“Find anything useful?” Joan asked, stepping inside the stale-smelling basement. Cathy goes to check out a desk as she speaks with Anne.

“Nothing yet, but the night’s still young.” Anne answered. She’s definitely calmed by degrees since the argument on the tower, but Joan can still see betrayal glinting behind her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Joan pressed. She wanted Anne to know she still cared about her. “Physically, I mean. Everyone looks like they’ve got the flu.”

They were all pale- too pale for it to be healthy. It as if their blood was slowly being drained from her body as the night progresses, leaving it blanched and cold. The only color that remained on their faces were their eyes, although very dull and void, like scratched gemstones, and the pink flush that dusted their cheeks. There was the shaking, too- the incessant trembling of their limbs, but they all knew it wasn’t from the cold. Not really.

“Why do you care?” Anne snapped. She marches past Joan to inspect a projector. “Seriously,” She whips her head around to look at Joan. “why didn’t you let me go with you to Main Street? Did I do something that bad?”

The hurt in her eyes returns. The pinch against Joan’s aorta does, too.

“I’m sorry, Anne. I’m sorry.” Joan said. “I just thought you needed a breather. I mean, an hour earlier you were literally possessed!”

“That-” Anne processes it. “-it true. That is true. But it was still annoying!”

Joan went to say something else, but Anne turns away to dig through a shelf. She sighed and regrouped with Cathy, who managed to find a padlock code in a desk, so they make the hike all the way back up to the attic and opened up the chest.

Inside were the keys, which made Joan’s heart leap in joy, but also a map of the caves.

“Tune into the signal.” Is what the page said and, as Joan was reading this as she and Cathy made their way back downstairs, a glitchy wave contorted the entire house.

Joan is back in the attic.

“Joan...”

That was Catalina’s voice.

“Oh, Joan...”

She was calling to her.

“Come down here please. We have something we want to show you.”

Joan didn’t want to move, she wanted to huddle up and hide in that attic until dawn, but she feared what would happen to her if she didn’t obey, so, slowly, she crept down the attic ladder.

Out of her peripheral vision, she notices two bodies- Anne in the study and Kitty in the bedroom. Joan rushes to her best friend first.

The spacebun girl is slumped low in a chair, her limbs completely limp and her head sagging.

“Anne, come on, babes! We got a boat to catch!”

Anne does not stir.

Joan goes to Kitty, next. The girl in sprawled in a position on the floor that looked painful. Her muscles were probably straining just to keep her in that form. Like she cousin, her eyes were shut.

“Kitty, let’s go! We gotta motor!”

Kitty does not move.

Joan hurried down the stairs. She found Cathy’s barely in a chair. Her legs were bent on the floor, and the only thing keep her body up was the way she was propped on the seat cushion.

“Come on, Cathy, I— I need you! Don’t blank out on me now!”

Cathy does not wake.

Joan backed up slowly. The thought that all three of them may have been dead hit her like a freight train.

“Ah.”

A voice from behind.

“There you are.”

Joan turned slowly.

There is Catalina, standing in the dining room. She almost looked normal. Aside from the glowing red eyes of course.

“Now, we imagine you’re a bit confused.” She said. “But don’t fret. This will be the final part of your training, Joan.”

“𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕤.” Chimed the radio in Joan’s pocket.

“Training?” Joan echoed. “I-I don’t want to be-“

“You signed up for this, Johanne.” Not-Catalina got her off.

“Ì§. Lêåvê. þð§§ïßlê.”

“So please,” Not-Catalina continued. “I cannot bear your excuses, offspring.” Her voice is flitted and splotched with stinging irritation.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Joan said. “How many times do you want me to say it? I had no idea what would happen!”

Not-Catalina held her hands up in a calming gesture, then set one on Joan’s shoulder. The touch was icy cold.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She said. “Trust us on that.” Joan doesn’t budge beneath her hand. She goes on: “The test is easy. We-”

Ninety-six figures appear all throughout the house, eyes glowing, bodies flickering in the darkness that holds them. They disappear as quick as they came.

“-will speak of something we see in the house and you will go and find it. See? As simple and good-humored as your mother’s apple pie.”

Joan doesn’t answer. Not-Catalina draws her hand back.

“Let’s start off with something easy.” She said. “I spy with my little eye...radiation.”

Joan jars out of her daze.

Catalina began to count down.

Joan started to search the house frantically. It was difficult having to pass by her friend’s bodies- she nearly tripped over Anne’s strewn-out legs.

Finally, as Not-Catalina hit three, she went with the only thing she could think of.

“Is it- are you talking about the TV?”

“Very good! Well done!” Not-Catalina praised. “Now, next... I spy...a knot.”

The countdown began again.

Joan searches, but she couldn’t find a damn knot anywhere in the house. It didn’t help that it felt like she was upside down again.

“One.”

Joan’s stomach coiled painfully.

“Johanne. What a disappointment you’ve turned out to be.”

A grandfather clock chimes loudly.

Cathy’s body began to shudder.

“No! Don’t do anything to her!”

But They didn’t listen.

In the blink of an eye, Cathy is gone.

“Aw, your new sister.” Not-Catalina cooed in pity.

“Bring her back!!” Joan cried. Tears edge her vision. “Right now!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear.” Not-Catalina said. “As they say- what’s done is done. And now, it’s time for the bonus round, Joan. Stay sharp. I spy a memory.”

Joan’s mind flashes.

She staggers away from where Cathy used to be and up the stairs. Not-Catalina is watching her from the study, by Anne’s body, as she hobbles to the bedroom and stairs at a photo on the wall.

“The picture.” She croaks.

“Very good. Very nice.” Not-Catalina purred. She appears beside Joan and pats her head like you would a dog. “That’s a picture of Margaret Lee and her friend, Anna. You see... you and your schoolyard chums are experiencing— well, this has sort of happened before.” She turned her head to photo. “Maggie and Anne tried to...sport with us many years ago. And, well...”

Images flash by Joan’s eyes.

“Only one survived.”

Not-Catalina turned and began walking back down to the living room. She seems to drag Joan along by an unseen force.

“But in the process, we discovered a way to return, so to speak.”

They both stop.

“It just takes a little time.”

“What happened to Anna?” Joan asked softly.

“Let’s just leave it at: the poor girl didn’t know what she was playing with. It doesn’t matter.” Not-Catalina answered. “The waves. It’s the waves, we think. And we will use those waves to absorb into your friends as sunlight blooms into flowers. And we will grow. And we will engulf.”

Joan’s entire body felt as if it were just dunked in arctic waters.

“You— you can’t do that!” She cried. “Think about what you’re doing!”

“We can do that, Joan.” Not-Catalina said. “And what has seemed to your parents as eighty years has been eons to know an existence without life.” Her words seep in before she begins again, “We tried it too quickly with Anna, but now we know to wait...and soak.”

Down down down- Joan is pushed deep into the ice waters. She’s frozen, unable to fight against this.

“We has to keep you here, on the island. It will be a great honor, Joan, really...to carry us through this life.” A wicked smile curls on Not-Catalina’s lips. “And onto the next.”

Joan backed away, but she knew running would do her no good.

“Please, just don’t do this,” She begged. “We’re— we’re not—”

“It’s sad, I know, to lose the facility to feel...” Not-Catalina said. “...to be, but...we have not felt anything for a very long time. And we’ll do whatever is necessary.”

Not-Catalina chuckles at Joan’s horrified expression. She kneels to her height and leaned in close.

“When our vessel dashed on the rocks we had until dawn.” She said. “So do you.”

She pulled back suddenly.

“We would spend our time wisely. And,” She smiled, “we thank you for your good service.”

Joan’s vision blurs and she’s back in the attic. She trudged down the ladder and found three tape players in the place where her friend’s bodies used to be. She sluggishly cranked the handle of the top two, her mind far away, but when she walked downstairs and passed the large mirror, her reflection shifted.

She froze.

“Let Maria go out on her own.” The Other-Joan said.

“Why— why does it even matter? She’s not— she’s not here.” Joan growled, but her reflection shifts again and it’s back to normal.

She sighed and went to the last tape player and cranked the handle.

Everything around her buzzed.

“Ugh...”

Kitty is on the floor in the foyer, with Anne and Cathy strewn out beside her. They all groan.

“I think I’m gonna be sick...” Kitty mumbled.

“Me first.” Anne said.

Joan wanted to leap into all of their arms, wanted to express how happy she was that they were no longer hollow shells of human bodies, but she couldn’t. She felt too dizzy, too nauseated, too scared to do anything besides slowly lower herself into one of the armchairs in the foyer. She propped her elbows up on her knees and held her head, letting everything that was said to her sink in fully.

They were going to die. Or maybe just become vessels for ghosts that will wear their skin like coats, and she isn’t sure what is worse.

“Did—” Cathy’s voice falters for a moment. “Did that just happen? With you and Catalina? That wasn’t a dream, right?”

“I wish it was.” Joan sighed. She raised her head, but found doing so more difficult than she expected- it was like her skull was now made out of the heaviest metal in existence.

“Catalina, she’s...” Kitty looked around. “Those weird nuclear submarine monsters took her to the caves. We have to go get her back!”

“Yeah, of course,” Joan nodded. “But how?”

“Maggie has a bunch of old military tapes in her basement,” Anne nodded. “I know there’s some slides on the tunnels dug all around this island. Maybe they’ll help?”

“Worth a shot.” Cathy said.

The four them walked out of the house and out the basement. The ocean was churning loudly, black waves rolling over one another like they were fighting for power over the sea. The boardwalk rocks treacherously, the boards practically threatening to cave in beneath the teenagers.

They all ducked into the basement and Anne went over to the projector while Joan grabbed a reel. They put it in.

The first slide to pop up was of two young women around their age or maybe in their early twenties reading a journal together. One has long, maybe brown hair (the slide wasn’t colored) and the other was dark-skinned with seemingly black short hair. They both seemed...happy.

“Oh god, if this is a prehistoric scrapbook...” Anne said.

“It’s cute! They’re learning!” Joan said. “But it doesn’t help us. So onto the next...”

The next slide shows the blueprints of a bunker up on the fields and the one after that is a sketch of the weird triangles.

“Woah, Maggie knew about those things?” Kitty said aloud. “That’s so weird...and creepy.”

They continued to search, eventually coming up with a plan: The bunker in the field leads right into the cave. To open it, Cathy and Joan would go into the Catbird Station in the woods and send a signal, then Kitty and Anne will wait for the door to open. Then, they’ll all regroup and the sisters would head inside and hopefully save the day.

It was a stretch, but it was all the got.

#olly olly oxenfree #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical #catherine of aragon #catherine parr #joan on the keys #anne boleyn #katherine howard #maggie on the guitar #anna of cleves

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dreamoftowers · 6 years

Text

The Shanghai Lady

hi uhhhh i posted this forever ago but deleted it bc i just didnt like it anymore, but i was recently looking thru old works of mine and i re-read this and was like “wow! this is p cool” so uhhhh i’m gonna post it again. i edited it a bit, but i hope yall like it maybe?

it’s my take on the shanghai lady’s character. this is a drabble that’s written in media res of a story that i’ll probably never completely write out. who knows idk maybe? *shrugs*

anyway it’s a bit Dark and Edgy or w/e but who cares. hope yall like it anyway!

tw: mention of character deaths / violence, yelling, crying

Sung struggled and squirmed about as two shady figures held tightly onto his arms and dragged him forward through the basement. Vivid neon lights shone from the ceiling, but it somehow still managed to be dark and dim down here, becoming increasingly darker the deeper they descended into the understructure of the place; though, Sung couldn’t even see any of this through the blindfold wrapped around his eyes. High-octane pop music blasted from the upstairs dance floor, becoming more and more faded the farther they walked.

After a few minutes of dragging, struggling, and stumbling, Sung heard a door swing open in front of him. As he was dragged into the direction of the door, he felt the atmosphere around him suddenly change. The air felt cooler, crisper, but heavier, somehow, much heavier in a way that Sung couldn’t quite understand.

He felt himself being thrown forwards, and his body fell face first onto the cold floor. As he lay there on the floor, the figures grabbed his hands, and held them behind his back. Sung felt icy cold handcuffs latch onto his wrists. Hands grabbed at his arms and yanked his upper body up from the ground, and they positioned him so that he was sitting on his knees. There Sung sat, breathing heavily as one of the figures untied the blindfold and ripped it off of his eyes.

The sudden bright neon lighting of the room stung Sung’s eyes. He groaned, and squinted until he adjusted to the vivid lights. He darted his eyes all around the room; again, somehow the room managed to be dim even though there were deep hues of pinks and purples and blues emitting from the neon lights scattered around the room. Decorating the room were ornate paper lanterns, indoor waterfalls and water fountains illuminated in colorful LED lights, and strange glowing plants and vines growing on the walls.

A large pool sat in the back of the room, glowing in alternating hues; and in the middle of it, a rectangular platform rose out of the water. There, the dusky figure of a woman sat cross-legged, her back facing Sung.

The Shanghai Lady.

Exactly who he was looking for- though, admittedly, he wasn’t expecting to meet her like this, sitting on his knees with handcuffs binding his hands together.

He couldn’t really make out what she was wearing, but the shape of it, from what he could make out, was something ornate, something flamboyant. She was surrounded by glowing waterfalls and hanging floral vines.

Sung breathed heavy breaths, taking in the oddly calming sounds of the area: the gentle splashing of running water, the quiet ambient music playing throughout the room, the soft remnants of pop music playing high above them from the nightclub. He was just awestruck from this atmosphere. Who knew that The Shanghai Lady had such a hunch for avante-garde interior design? For someone with as much blood, corruption, and destruction on her hands, one wouldn’t expect such contrastingly calm scenery for her lair.

A robotic female voice rang out through the room. It was shockingly silky, gentle, soothing to the ears, while also containing an eerie undertone.

“I would have never in a million years expected to see you here, Sung.” Her voice reverberated through the room.

An unnerved chill shot through Sung’s body. He frowned, and asked in a demanding voice, “What do you want from us? How did you find us? What did we d--”

The Shanghai Lady cut him off and continued to speak as though she hadn’t heard his questions. “You’re usually so elusive, caught up in your own little world. I was so surprised that you came here. Hmhm.” Her small chuckles seemed to echo and reverberate a bit more intensely than her sentences did. “Why the sudden change of heart? Did you fina--”

“WHERE ARE THEY!!?!” Sung suddenly exploded, his trembling voice roaring over hers. His breaths became just as shaky as his body was. “What did you do to them?!”

She didn’t answer. All she did was chuckle.

“ANSWER ME!!” Sung screamed out, his face turning red and contorted with anger.

“Oh, my.” She said in such a nonchalant tone. “Someone’s upset. I’ve never seen you like this before, Sung. It’s so… intriguing to see you at your breaking point already. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything different of you. You’re always gushing about your… damned bandmates. Friendship this, and- and brotherhood that.” When saying these words, her tone shifted to a slight hiss, as though the words were poison on her tongue. Her tone quickly returned back to normal. “Of course you’d be so concerned about them. Pathetic.”

Anger ran red hot through Sung’s boiling blood. Why is she talking like she knows him personally? Does she? He certainly doesn’t know her personally. Hell, he only knows her through rumors and myths.

“Stop talking like you know me,” Sung spat out through gritted teeth.

“I do know you, Sung.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“Hahaha, ah, on the contrary, sweetheart.” In her next sentence, her voice shifted to that menacing hissy tone again. “I know everything about you.”

Sung was shaking so much that he felt like he would explode from the rage burning within him. He balled his hands into tight fists. He couldn’t even respond for a long moment. He just stared daggers at the back of her head. “What… do you want…?”

“Do you recognize my voice, Sung?”

The sudden question stunned him into a brief silence. Bewildered, he furrowed his brows and furiously shook his head. “No, I don’t!”

“Not at all?” The Shanghai Lady asked in a mockingly sad tone.

“N-... No… I don’t- I don’t think so.” Sung began to think about this a little deeper. “Not a lot, it’s just… vaguely… familiar... agh, it-it sort of reminds me of someo-- WHERE ARE THEY?” He snapped again, shaking off the previous thoughts on his mind. She… did sound somewhat familiar, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. But it didn’t matter. He was going to find out where his friends were, no matter what distractions she threw at him.

“You were so, so close,” she said, ignoring his last question. “Still can’t figure it out?”

Sung said nothing in reply.

Suddenly, in the next words she uttered, her voice became dramatically different, but in a way that was somehow still vaguely similar to her original voice. It was much more robotic and monotone, much colder.

“How about now?”

Sung’s heart sank into his stomach. His face fell into immediate horror and dismay, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging agape.

Sung could recognize that voice anywhere.

He tried to utter something, anything, but no words came out. All that could escape his throat were failed attempts at words. “C…c-co…”

The Shanghai Lady chuckled again in her normal tone. “Go on, take your time. I’m waiting,” she said in a whispery voice.

Tight knots formed in Sung’s stomach. His lips trembled as he stuttered out, “Co...c-comp..uter… w-w...ife…”

“There you go,” she congratulated him in a mocking tone.

“No…” Sung muttered, shaking his head. “But.. but why?” Sung whimpered out. “What..--”

“You haven’t changed at all, Sung. A part of me isn’t surprised.” She slowly rose to her feet. The skirt of her dress, or shirt, or whatever she was wearing, swayed as she stood and turned around. Once she was facing Sung, the glow of her metallic amber irises pierced through the darkness. As she approached him, descending down the stairs from the platform onto the floor, Sung could only gaze at her in utter disbelief, utter awe. “You’re not-- you’re not her,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “Y-You’re not her, I know it, she- sh-she wouldn’t do anything like this, I…” He seemed to be trying to convince himself of this rather than telling her this.

As The Shanghai Lady came closer to him, the lighting from nearby lamps and waterfalls illuminated her figure, giving Sung a chance to gaze upon her. She wore a slightly loose-fitting black jumpsuit that had intricate gold designs printed on it. A black, armor-like shoulder mantle draped over her chest, and from the back of it fell a long flowing cape lined with gold. Her chrome metallic skin was pure white, like that of a marble statue, other than the dark green circuitry running down her face like trickles of water. Some of her detailing was similar to how she looked before she… left, and abandoned Sung. But others were so much different now. She looked like such a completely different person, but what scared him more was that she still did resemble her old self a bit. She couldn’t have been lying about being his compu--... ex computer wife. Even now, Sung refused to believe his own eyes.

Sung looked up at her as she stood over him, chuckling to herself and leaning over to gently caress his chin with her robotic white hand. The familiar, and yet somehow simultaneously foreign, touch of her hand sent unnerving chills through his heart. “Oh, Sung. Even with all the intellect and genius in the universe, you never did, nor ever will, understand your own finest creation. It’s a shame. So knowledgeable, yet so idiotic.” The Shanghai Lady suddenly gripped at Sung’s jaw, and yanked his head up further. “We could’ve been unstoppable, Sung. With your intellect and my vigor, we could’ve achieved anything we wanted. But you didn’t want that, did you?” She squeezed tighter onto Sung’s face. “No, you’d rather waste your talent building robot drummers and specialty instruments with all of the finest elements of our universe. Never focusing on the bigger picture. Such wasted potential.” She shoved his face away, and Sung let his head droop down.

Memories of their marriage flashed into Sung’s mind. Gradually, over time, the more sentient and self-thinking that she became, the more she would grow tired of him and his experiments. He noticed that she became distant, irritable, and, now that he was looking back on it, more ominous about her outlooks and views. That’s when the arguments began.

She was always urging him to do “more important” things with his time and energy, saying that his talents shouldn’t go to waste on such “trivial” things such as music, but Sung would always calm her down enough to where they could get back to their normal lives. But the arguments only got worse until one day, she disappeared without a word, without a trace, and the only thing she’d left behind was a goodbye note.

But this… how could she have done all of this? Making such a bloody reputation for herself, on Earth of all places? And… more importantly, how was she able to single handedly tear TWRP apart so easily, and take away all of Sung’s friends one by one? He still didn’t even know what she’d done to them yet, and as much as it burned him on the inside to be so ignorant, he had no choice but to listen to her. No words could escape him at this point.

The Shanghai Lady slowly walked away from him, then stopped and stood with her back facing him. “But no need to dwell on the past, right? Not without the proper actions, at least. That’s when you all came in to the picture.” She slowly turned her head to look back at him. Her eyes shone a sharp and intimidating glow. “You made it so easy, I just couldn’t resist exacting revenge on you. You all came running right to me.”

She took a brief pause, almost as though she were thinking about something. She chuckled loudly before turning her head away and speaking again. “You know, Sung, I’ve always been intrigued by the lives of organic beings like yourself. You all have limitations: physically, emotionally, psychologically. It’s so captivating…. watching how you all squirm and thrash about once you’ve reached your breaking point. Blood spilling, bones shattering, hmhm, even watching tears fall is fascinating. Thrilling, even. Such fleshy, emotional little things, you are!” She said this in almost a cheery voice. “I never would’ve guessed that little red one’s neck would break so easily. Or that the lion man’s psyche could be so easily shattered.”

Sung’s heart stopped. A paralyzing horror fell over him, leaving his blood running cold, his skin draining of color. No, no, she couldn't’ have, she wouldn’t do that…right? In just a few short seconds, his entire world began to crumble and fall, and the weight of it crushed Sung’s heart. He started to tremble.

Sung shook his head in disbelief, denial. “No..N-no… you…”

“Yes, the red one… so brittle. His neck just snapped like a twig. Oh, and the lion… he saw everything. He’s usually so calm and laid back.” The Shanghai Lady snickered. “Yet he broke down into such a demented state, screaming and sobbing out… and so quickly, at that. I was genuinely surprised.”

All Sung could do was listen as rage and dread rose within him, making him tremble and whimper. He hung his head and squeezed his hands into tight fists, each word she uttered sending more and more pain into his heart and soul.

“Even that robot broke much easier than I expected. I figured that another one of your creations might have stood a chance, but I was mistaken. He fell just as easily as the rest. The red glow in his eyes flickered away so… gently. It was almost peaceful to watch that heap of useless metal fall to the ground.”

In an outburst of rage, Sung cried out and tried to race over to her, but the two figures grabbed onto his arms and held him back as he kicked and screamed. He tried to struggle as much as he could, thrashing around and cursing and wailing about, but he eventually broke down and grew stiff, letting his body slump in their arms as he erupted into sobs and whimpers. The only movements he made were the violent shakes of his body as he cried, his chest heaving up and down in spastic breaths.

“And now, you…” The Shanghai Lady said, turning around with the same devilish smirk on her face. “Broken so easily, my sweetheart. You always were so sensitive. But I’m not nearly finished with you, yet.” She raised her hand in the air, and a strange golden orb slowly formed around it. It swarmed with electricity and circuit-like patterns.

She began walking over to him, taking her sweet time.

“No, no, I have more special plans with you.”

#tupperware remix party #twrp #doctor sung #the shaghai lady #*shrugs*#i know im not in the twrp fandom much anymore and idek what's going on anymore #but uhhh enjoy???? :0

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