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hunnylagoon · 5 months

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Birthday Girl

A/N This is my first tumblr fic. I’m a retired Wattpad warrior, I only wrote this bc the Ellie tag is over diluted by smut, we need some angst and fluff to balance it out. My credentials are that I used to write Game of Thrones fanfic and I was blocked by Noah Beck on Twitter. Apologies in advance for any spelling errors or confusing sentences, bc I was high off my ass when I wrote this.

Summary

Jackson’s resident Baker works herself tirelessly to take care of everyone on their birthday and ensure they get something nice to brighten their special day but who is there to take care of her?

Birthdays are like brilliant gems in the kaleidoscope of time; they are the times when life's symphony crescendos into a celebration of its children. As the sun circles the earth once a year, we are given a day to celebrate our own journey, a day that whispers stories of victories, laughter, and the sweet notes of resiliency. You had always loved birthdays, who didn't? The look of joy on someone's face when they open a gift you spent weeks looking for, the uncontrollable smile and pure serotonin that took over even the grumpiest of people. Everyone had a special day designated to them, of course, it was a cause to celebrate.

You worked in the town bakery with very few other people, from five am to twelve pm on Monday to Friday every single week you were hustling around in a humid bakery, hell, you ran it like the navy. Every morning, walking into the bakery is like stepping into a fragrant paradise where time seems to slow down to the sound of ovens buzzing to life. The first two hours were just for you before you let anyone in, The comforting routine of donning a flour-dusted apron and tying back unruly hair precedes the artistry of crafting pastries and breads. The almost therapeutic rhythm of kneading, rolling, and shaping becomes second nature: the soft crack of eggs, the calculated pour of sugar, and the clouds of flour hovering in midair.

There wasn't much creative freedom while working in the Jackson bakery, it really just consisted of making dozens of bread loaves daily and then carting them over to the 'Barbecue Place' Which was once a restaurant though it had been refashioned into Jackson's mess hall. However, you were able to dabble in some fun and were able to make cupcakes daily and a large batch of miscellaneous pastries every Friday. The cupcakes were very dear to you, you had to beg Maria when you were thirteen to approve the idea and eventually, you were green-lit.

As you step into the bakery you are greeted by the creek of wooden planks which are a testament to decades of busy activity; the dance of innumerable bakers has worn away at their shiny surfaces. The aroma of baked goods still hovers in the air from the previous day and all the days that came before, taking you to a more peaceful time. Sunlight streams through old lace curtains, illuminating worn, mismatched tables and chairs that have served eager clients for centuries though they no longer serve guests in the bakery. Deeply patinated wooden shelves support a variety of ceramic jars, each containing a treasure trove of hidden ingredients. Fading photos and yellowed newspaper clippings decorate the walls, telling the story of the bakery's illustrious past. There are copper pots and pans strung like time capsules on strong hooks, and an old-fashioned cash register sits on the end of the counter past the empty glass displays, it no longer serves a purpose but you have fought bravely to keep it around as it makes you think of what life had been like before the world fell apart.

You look at a beat-up calendar on the walls, sitting in the place of an old picture frame that had been knocked down and shattered by none other than yourself when you were fourteen and had the bright idea of having you and your friend toss a bag of flour at each other to see who was strong enough to last longer in the odd game of catch. Surely, Ellie threw the five-pound bag a little too hard, you ducked to save yourself but it smashed into the framed photo of the family who ran the bakery before the apocalypse. It not only was smashed into little fragments but the bag of flour exploded and covered the dining room of the bakery as well as yourself in white powder, it looked like it had snowed inside. The calendar you were checking held the birthday of every person in Jackson, it was messy and hard to read as you usually had to cram several birthdays into a single day which was only a small square, it was hardly legible, there was almost no one else who could read it. Every day when you walked into the bakery, the first thing you did was check the calendar to find out whose birthday it was, then you began your bread dough or carried on with the sourdough started the day before, while the dough rose, you made cake batter, adjusting the recipe according to how many you had to make. After finishing work for the day or sometimes when you were midway through it, you would give each person a cupcake to celebrate their special day.

Even if no one else remembered their birthday, you were always there to make it a little bit better.

Today there were two birthdays on the calendar, Sean Casey, a man who was turning sixty. The second birthday marked down in the little square was yours.

That's what made that day so special, you were ecstatic to see what your friends had planned for you later. Last year Ellie promised that she would go above and beyond for your next birthday and you were going to hold her to that. There was already a nice start to your morning by having your dad wake you up with breakfast in bed which you found truly impressive as he usually slept in till at least ten, on top of that he had scavenged a stand mixer for the home. You grabbed your apron off of the hook putting it over your neck and tying it tight around your waist. Everyone had a couple of designated aprons to rotate through throughout the week, yours consisted of two plain white ones, a red gingham pattern, one of forest green, and another made of a fabric covered in hyacinth flowers, their colours diluted like paint. Today you wore the apron your father gave you last year on your birthday, it was your favourite colour and the neckline was embroidered to say '(y/n)s kitchen'. You could tell your dad did the embroidery himself, the stitches were loose and uneven in some areas while being extremely tight in others, that's why you loved it so much, it was the thought and care behind it.

With a gentle hand, you pulled each of your necessary ingredients along with equipment out to begin your day. You preheat the ovens and in the quiet pre-dawn hours, the bakery comes alive with the hushed sounds of industrial mixers. The heady scent of freshly milled flour dances in the air as you measure the precise alchemy of ingredients, your hands moving with practiced grace. Kneading the dough becomes repetitive, muscles working in harmony to transform a mound of humble ingredients into a soft elastic texture. As the dough rests and rises, the anticipation builds—the promise of crusty loaves and soft, pillowy interiors. You slipped the pans of dough into the industrial ovens, the heat attacking you the second you opened the door; making sure to place the pumpernickel, rye, sourdough, brioche and wheat loaves all sorted on different racks in the respective ovens.

By the time you put the loaves in ovens it had been two hours from when you began, even with preparation the day before and dough starters, it was a process. You quickly washed your hands before unlocking the door for Juno as well as anyone who wanted to come in to visit.

The clock read '7:09', because of the passthrough you were still able to look outside via the glass storefront, you could see people walking along the streets heading to whatever job they worked to contribute to the community, no one got paid, it was a commune after all, you couldn't imagine a world where everyone was so dependent on money and so obsessed with over-consumption. Part of you was waiting for one of those people to come in and wish you a happy birthday, but you shook the thoughts from your head.

You began to make the small portion for two of cupcake batter, remembering distinctly how four years ago you sat next to Sean at the Fourth of July party and he went on and on about how much he hated vanilla, it seemed like one of those crazy old man rants but you found delight in it. Never had you seen a man so passionate about cake flavouring. He said vanilla was nothing special, flavourless; you had come to learn that he was a chocolate man, every holiday event filling his pot belly with chocolate, when you had brought assorted sweets for a Christmas party he dove straight for the brownies. So it was easy for you to make up your mind on what flavour of cupcake to make.

After years of this cupcake tradition you had memorized each ratio to make, a double serving of chocolate batter consisting of 1/4 cup of flour, 2 1/2 tablespoons of white sugar, 1 tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1/4 tablespoon of baking soda, a dash of salt, 2 tablespoons milk, two tablespoons canola oil, 1/4 tablespoon vanilla extract. You treated baking like it was a science and recipes were your formulas.

As for the frosting, you had a stockpile of plain buttercream that you took small servings from and flavoured according to said person's preference. All you had to do was whip it up and add some cocoa powder to make it fluffy and creamy again.

The bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of someone, you looked up to see Maria. "Hey, there," You smiled, turning off the stand mixer so you could hear her.

"Hi, (y/n)," She greeted and you quickly wiped whatever was on your hands onto your apron before coming around to the service counter to speak with her. "I have something to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"I know you already do your little cupcake thing but we are throwing a surprise party tonight for Sean and I was hoping you could make a cake for him?"

You nod with a smile "Anything for the town chief."

"Great, then how about a simple vanilla cake?"

"Sean doesn't like vanilla," You answered quickly.

"Okay, well I trust you with it, his party starts at eight tonight in the town square and he's turning sixty so it's a big one, I'll see you there around then?"

"Definitely," You grinned at Maria, waiting for her to wish you a happy birthday and reveal that she was only pretending to forget but she didn't. She thanked you and walked out, leaving you in a flour-covered apron with a tinge of hurt in your heart. It wasn't like you weren't close with Maria, you had Thanksgiving at her house every year.

Nonetheless, it was only a blip in your soon-to-be perfect day. Just as you had frosted the two cupcakes, putting chocolate chips on Sean's and breaking half of a double fudge cookie and sticking it into the thick icing. Rainbow sprinkles cascade like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the miniature confection. The bell rang again calling for your attention, this time you didn't leave the kitchen instead just moved to look at whoever it was by the passthrough.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tommy greeted, clad in a red flannel tucked into blue jeans. He walked into the bakery as comfortably as he would his home.

"Howdy, Tommy," You said, moving out of his sight for a quick moment to put the two cupcakes in the fridge to prevent the buttercream from prematurely melting.

"So, it's Sean's birthday today and I was wondering if you could bake a cake for his party-

"Maria was already in," You answered "Don't worry, I'm on it."

He smiled "Of course, you're always so on top of it," He leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get a look inside the kitchen via the passthrough "Say, have you got anything back there for me?" You opened the box of double fudge cookies you made the day before and scooted around the passthrough to hand him one, boots clattering on the ground. Tommy loved to visit the bakery as you always had a sweet treat for him and he would never get sick of the aromatic embrace of fresh bread. "Thanks, kiddo, I'll see you around."

This was the moment you were almost convinced that they were planning a surprise party for you, sure Maria could forget about your birthday, she was a busy lady but there was no way Tommy would. He was good buddies with your dad and was over at your place for beers a minimum of once a week. You always baked for him when he came over and he constantly joked about you trying to fatten him up.

The bell sounded again though you didn't bother to look up, you knew who it was by the time of the clock, Juno was starting her shift. As usual, she tied her mousy brown hair into a sleek ponytail then grabbed her apron and stuck a baseball cap on over her head so there was no chance of her hair coming loose. "Good morning," She walked into the kitchen, heading over to the sink to wash her hands.

"Mornin'," You answer.

She looks you up and down with a slight smile "You're wearing your favourite apron, must be a special day."

“Sure doesn't feel like it."

♡

Your birthday wasn’t panning out great but you didn't want to lose hope.

You had walked over to the greenhouses after your shift to find Sean, he loved the cupcake, he even hugged you which was nice albeit a little odd. You walked through town a bit after you had stopped and talked to everyone on the street for not a single one to say the words you've been pleading to hear all day. Taking it as defeat, you grabbed a sandwich for lunch from the mess hall and began the desolate walk home.

Nestled at the end of a peaceful, tree-lined street, the charming but battered house had a certain charm that cut through its worn yellow exterior. Tentacles of ivy wrapped about the crumbling outside walls, their green tones infusing the dilapidated building with a hint of the natural world's tenacity. The worn-out yet friendly doormat and weathered rocking chair on the porch told of years spent taking in the changing of the seasons. The wooden frames of the windows, adorned with faded drapes that seen innumerable sunsets, spoke tales of laughter and time passed.

The house's coziness unfolded inside like a time capsule, with worn-out rugs covering creaky floorboards and a fireplace in the living room that was adorned with vintage tiles that were mismatched and provided warmth in more ways than one. The rooms had a lived-in comfort despite the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint, and each mismatched piece of furniture seemed to tell a story of its own. Despite being tatty and ragged around the edges, the house exuded a calmness that invited guests to enjoy the beauty concealed in the flaws of a place that had aged gracefully and with character like most homes in Jackson. The living room was always your favourite, there was a spruce bookshelf pushed behind the gray, L-shaped couch, and the rug was once a maroon colour though it's clear that it's been well-loved over the years. Pillows and throw blankets were carelessly scattered over the couch from when you and your dad had watched '21 Jumpstreet' the night before, he kept saying it was a shame the outbreak happened before they got to make a second one, though many of the jokes didn't land with you, you loved to see your dad laugh so hard he snorted. The room was illuminated by a warm glow from the fairy lights overhead that your dad scavenged years prior, a small stack of books piled up on the coffee table which had been hand-crafted by Joel.

You popped 'Mean Girls' into the DVD player, just to have some background noise and went to the kitchen and started on Sean's cake. As much as you loved the bakery, you wanted to be somewhere a little more close to comfort.

As you measured each ingredient with care, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that lingered in the air. Sifting the ingredients into the bowl, you had wished your father was home from patrol duty, all you really wanted was a hug but instead, you slaved away at a black forest complete with layers of moist sponge, decadent frosting, and a profusion of vibrant decorations.

As you delicately frosted the cake, your mind flitted between thoughts of the celebration and the poignant fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked your own special day. The kitchen, usually a sanctuary for you to escape to, now harboured the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart, though excited for Sean to get a nice surprise on his Birthday, held an unnoticed longing for acknowledgment.

The aroma of the baking cake filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of disappointment that you couldn't quite shake.

As the cake took shape, you couldn't help but think back to the calendar at the bakery, where the date circled in red seemed to mock you. Your own birthday, usually a day filled with surprises and the warmth of laughter, had slipped through the cracks of everyone's awareness. Though the night was still young and Ellie had said that she was planning something incredible.

Finally, nine was about to roll around, you changed into some clean clothes that hadn't yet carried the memories of your disappointing day, just a white top and some jeans. The sun had set, and your dad wouldn't be home for a good while so you walked over to the town square alone.

There was a table full of food and a long banner that read 'Happy Birthday Sean!' strung between two street lamps. There were twinkling fairy lights illuminating what would have otherwise been a dark night.

"There she is!" Tommy smiled, doing that awkward little dad jog over you. "Wow, that cake looks incredible, mind if I take it off your hands?"

"Go ahead," You held out the cakeboard. Tommy gingerly took it away from your grasp, his forearm underneath to support and his other hand held the side of the board for balance.

"I owe ya' kiddo," He winked before taking the cake away to show a group of adults.

You stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself. You turned your attention to the moon, wanting to believe that it shined so very bright just for you, because the moon, unlike everyone else recalled how important this day was to you-

"SURPRISE!" Everyone erupted in cheers as Sean walked up to his party, his daughter had her arm linked with his. He had the biggest smile on his face it almost made you forgive everyone for forgetting because at least Sean got something thoughtful.

"Lord, I was thinking everyone forgot my birthday!" Sean laughed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.

"(y/n)!" Dina yelled, you turned your head to follow her voice. She was sitting at a long picnic table beneath an awning with some friends "Over here," She motioned for you to sit down and you obliged, taking a spot between Ellie and Laila. "What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"That's because you haven't," You said with an awkward smile. "I've just been baking, like always."

"You're always working so hard, I swear you live in that bakery and when you aren't in there your busy busting your ass around town to make sure everyone gets something on their birthday," Dina sat across from you and put a hand onto yours "You look out for everyone, but who's looking out for you?"

"My dad?" You glance at Ellie who isn't tuned into the conversation in the slightest, she has her arms crossed in front of her on the table and her head resting on them.

"Aw, that's sweet-" Kayla moves to look at you but in doing so, she spills a glass of juice onto you. "I'm so sorry," She slaps one hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing. Kayla stood up from the table, her ginger curls rustling with the breeze "I'll get a cloth or something-

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off "It's just clothes, I'll grab some napkins." You push yourself away from the table, walking over to the table adorned with food, you see a small stack of Christmas themed napkins (it must've been hard for them to come by regular ones) and grab a handful, bunching them up in your hand in an attempt to soak up some of the juice that had already indefinitely stained your clothes.

You feel some eyes on you from the other side of the table, to look up and see Joel, he doesn't say anything though his lips are pressed together tight.

"You're back," You say, a spark of happiness rekindling inside of you "So my dad's back from patrol too?"

Joel nods "Too tuckered to come out, said he was just heading home," He uses tongs to put a couple cuts of chicken onto his plate "Oh and happy birthday, you've probably heard that a whole bunch already, lord, it's all your old man would talk about on our last couple of patrols."

"What did you say?" You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if he said what you really thought.

"I said happy birthday, shame you've stained your clothes on your birthday," He absentmindedly added some mashed potatoes onto his plate. The words hung in the air, a moment that transcended the boundaries of their usual exchanges. You, momentarily taken aback, met Joel's gaze. It was a simple, earnest wish, uttered with the spontaneity of someone who had remembered a small yet significant detail in the whirlwind of festivity.

"Thank you, Joel," You replied, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and gratitude. In that fleeting instant, the isolation that had surrounded her seemed to dissipate. A connection, however tenuous, had been forged in the acknowledgment of her existence amidst the collective celebration.

"No problem, kid, I'll see you around," He left with his plate leaving you to stand alone at the table. You continued to dab at the juice on your white top, and though you knew it wouldn't come out you proceeded to rub it; the best exchange of your day, no more than eight sentences suddenly turned from joy to frustration. The only two people who remembered your birthday were your dad and a fiftey-eight-year-old man who practically raised the girl you had spent years crushing on, not the girl herself, but her father figure. However, you thought, maybe if Joel remembered, Ellie had aswell and she actually did have something planned.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter that reverberated through the night, you stood in the midst of flickering candles and colourful decorations, your eyes cast down to the ground. The atmosphere of celebration enveloped her, but a palpable sense of solitude hung in the air like a heavy mist settling upon your shoulders. It was a birthday party, yes, but not your own. Forgotten and overlooked, your heart echoed with a quiet ache, the irony of your situation casting a shadow over the festive scene.

The square was adorned with streamers and balloons, a tapestry of colours that seemed to dance in rhythm with the joyful voices around her. The community gathered, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fairy lights and street lamps, each one caught up in the merriment of the moment. Yet, for you, the celebration felt like a distant spectacle, a scene from which you were detached.

It was your birthday too—a fact that no one cared enough to recall. As Darla (Sean's daughter) calls guests toward a decadent cake adorned with candles, which you had made, you couldn't escape the bitter irony of the situation. You watched as the room erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," the song meant for another soul, another moment of joy. You joined in, lips forming the familiar words, your voice harmonizing with the collective melody. But within the depths of your being, the celebration rang hollow, a stark contrast to the cheer that echoed around you.

Throughout the evening, you navigated the party with a forced smile, concealing the invisible weight of your emotions. Conversations buzzed like bees in your ears, no- it grated like a fork in a blender, but you found yourself on the outskirts—a silent observer amidst the numerous connections. The laughter that erupted like fireworks, the clinking of glasses, the embraces of old friends—it all seemed distant, an echo from another realm where she once belonged.

The party unfolded as a series of snapshots: a group photo with smiling faces, a toast to Sean, and the opening of gifts that weren't meant for you. Each moment, though vibrant and filled with the warmth of shared camaraderie, magnified the silence that enveloped your own celebration, forgotten and left to dissolve into the shadows.

As the night carried out, seeming like the celebration would never cease, you cut yourself a slice of cake, grabbing one of the half-melted candles that Sean had already blown out, they sat in a frosting-covered pile next to the cake. You took your favourite colour out of the rainbow assortment of candles and stuck it into the piece of black forest cake.

With your cake you sat back down by Ellie at the picnic table where she still returned to after conversing, everyone else had gotten up to dance. You reached for the lighter in your pocket and struck it to ignite, sparks flickered around the end of it, you struck it again and a flame arose, you carefully brought it to the wick of the partially melted candle.

The flickering flame cast a subtle glow as you made a silent wish for understanding, for the beauty found in selflessness, and for the recognition that sometimes the most meaningful celebrations are the ones we craft for others, even in the quiet echoes of our own unacknowledged birthdays. Ellie turned to look at you as the candle's flame danced in the darkness, before you could blow out the candle to solidify your wish a little girl climbed up onto the bench and blew it out, you looked at her and all she did was smile up at you, the gap in her teeth prominent, her deep chocolate hair braided so intricately you had to believe that it must've taken her mother hours.

As much as you wanted to deck that little girl in the face for ruining your moment, you didn't because it would be wildly inappropriate. "Do you want this?" You sighed, holding out the plate to the girl, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically, taking the cake and scattering away "Hey, Ellie," You pushed back tears in your eyes, forcing a smile on your face "Got any plans later?"

“Yeah," She said, short

"Oh, what are they?"

"Not to sound like a cunt but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I had a shit patrol and all I want to do is go home, smoke a joint, watch a movie, maybe read a comic, and pass out on my couch, the only reason I'm here is that Dina dragged me out and Joel said I need to be more involved in the community."

Your smile dropped, you couldn't hold it in anymore, realizing that this wasn't the elaborate setup of a surprise party but Ellie genuinely forgot it was your birthday. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what's happening today?"

"It's Sean's birthday," She gestured to the party around her.

"You're fucking serious," Any amusement that had been in your tone was gone, replaced by a subtle anger boiling up inside of you

"Are you going to cry?" Ellie gave you a weird look "What are you so mad about?"

"I can't believe you," You laugh bitterly "Actually I can, this is so like you, I need to stop building it up in my head that you're going to surprise me with something great. But hey, at least you never fail to let me down."

"Jesus," She scoffed "There's always something going on with you, can you go one day without finding some irrational reason to be upset?"

"Irrational?"

"Yeah, irrational," She reiterated "You always come to me when something sets you off in the slightest then your problem becomes everyone else's. You're so fucking draining and I'm sick of it."

"Fuck you, I hope your comic catches fire from your joint and you burn your place down." You stand up from the bench, wiping tears away from your eyes. Your boots clattered against the cobblestone. You stormed past the dancers, some stopping to look at one another with concern. Dina leaves Jesse to ask Ellie what happened.

The walk home might've been the loneliest you had felt in your life, the harsh wind of the night bit at your nose. The feeling of the sticky juice soaking through your clothing was borderline unbearable, were just about ready to scream. There wasn't a single person out and about as everyone was either at the party or cozied up in their own homes.

Arriving at your doorstep, you fumbled with the handle, the metallic clink resonating in the quietude that enveloped the house. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer, still no surprise. Why do you still think there is going to be a party? No one is coming.

You wandered into the living room, the TV was lit with the options screen for 'Mean Girls' that you had put on hours earlier.

Sinking into the worn-out couch, You let the weight of the day wash over you. A single tear welled in your eye, and as it escaped, a floodgate of unshed sorrow burst open. The first teardrop traced a silent path down your cheek, leaving a glistening trail of heartache in its wake.

The tears you cried weren't silent and dainty but violent sobs that burned your throat each time you cried out. As you wept, it felt like someone had stabbed your gut with a thousand needles, you cried and cried, to no one in particular, maybe the moon glistening outside the window though the moon seemed to absorb your tears, offering no solace in return.

The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet room, marking the strike of midnight, your birthday had ended. There was no secret party or a prank where everyone was only playing an act, only the emptiness of the house echoed the howls soaked in your tears.

The oak staircase creaked, and your dad turned the corner, peering into the living room. "What's wrong, honey,?" He shook the sleep from his mind, focusing on what was important, he sat next to you on the sofa. "I thought you said you were going to be out all night with your friends?"

You shook your head, breathing shaky breaths alone, hardly able to get a word out "They forgot," You felt the harsh sting of desolation hit you all over again "Everyone forgot," You grabbed his grey t-shirt burying your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you gently like you were a child who had just scraped her knee not someone who had just turned nineteen, "Except for Joel, so be nice to him, please."

"I'm sorry, baby, it was probably just a mix-up," He rubbed one hand on your back to comfort you. "I should've been there with you, I'm so sorry."

You couldn't get the words out of your mouth, all you could manage was to shake in your father's arms with sobs until you cried yourself to sleep.

♡

"Happy birthday, Jasmine!" You smile brightly, presenting a lemon-raspberry cupcake to the woman. She was serving breakfast in the mess hall, the early morning light streaming through the many windows, blinding those trying to enjoy their meals.

"Aw, thank you, love" She took the cupcake "That's real sweet," She wore a hairnet, despite having short cropped hair. "I just realized I don't even know when your birthday is."

"It was yesterday, actually."

"Aww, how was it?" Jasmine smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.

"It was nice, it was quiet too, I just spent it by myself."

A frown replaced Jasmine's smile and she lowered her tone "Did your friends drop the ball?"

You wave off her question "Oh no, loads of people remembered, I just wanted some time to myself, it was nice."

You could tell Jasmine didn't wholeheartedly believe you, she was at Sean's party last night and saw you rush out with tears building in your eyes "If you say so," She shrugged, taking a bite of her cupcake "This is really good."

"Thanks," A small smile plays on your lips.

"God bless you, sweetheart, you deserve the best." She said, every bit of truth behind her words. She took another bite of the cupcake, savouring the sweet and sour taste "And I mean that."

You were too caught up in conversation to notice Jesse ahead of you in the service line right away, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser, trying to play cool and not have your attention drawn to him. With a shaky hand, he put the glass on his tray and hurried over to the table where Ellie was eating with Dina. "Guys, something not that great just happened."

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows looking from Dina to Jesse "What?" She asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, she swallowed them down and spoke back up "Please tell us what terrible thing has happened in the time it took you to walk to the service line, get your food and come back?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"We forgot (y/n)'s birthday," He said quickly, Ellie and Dina looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking back to the night before and the way they had both behaved. Dina was extremely ignorant and Ellie got into an argument with you, though Jesse didn't speak to you at all.

"We're awful friends," Dina says quietly, scraping her mind for any way they could salvage the situation and play it off like they hadn't forgotten. "We could change all of the calendars in town and make it seem like her birthday is actually today."

"Be serious, Dina," Jesse said, though he was considering her idea. "I think the only way we can fix this is by making it up to her."

"How would we do that? We can't make it up to her, she remembers every single person's birthday in this town and gives them a cupcake, even people she doesn't like, do you remember how she planned all of our birthday parties for the last four years and has never let us down?" Dina and Jesse nodded "And how we always scramble something together last minute? Like last year, we only remembered two days before and we threw her a subpar movie night, we watched Star Wars and she doesn't even like Star Wars."

Dina sucked air through her teeth "Yeah, not our best moment."

"You think?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. "And Ellie didn't make it any better by yelling at her yesterday!"

"You yelled at her? You told me you didn't yell at her," Dina whipped her head to look at Ellie, the smallest glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "Shh, she's coming!"

You were making your way to the exit lugging the cart that had held loaves of bread on it before you dropped them off to the kitchen, still in your flour-covered apron, hair pinned up messy, baby hairs flying away. Clad in jeans, a green T-shirt and beaten-up boots, clacking against the hardwood floor, you still looked beautiful to Ellie with red eyes and a puffy face from crying all night. "Watch this," Jesse murmured to the group before turning around and flagging you down. "Hey (y/n)!" He smiled brightly, his words catching your attention "Did you enjoy your birthday, yesterday?"

"Jesse, I know you heard me talking to Jasmine." You said and Ellie couldn't bear the disappointed look on your face. At that moment, the guilt hit her all at once. You had been the first kid her age that she warmed up to when she arrived in Jackson, trying your best to include her in everything. You invited her to hang out with your friends even though she didn't particularly get along with them, she went anyway because she just wanted to see you. On her birthday the previous year, you had scoped out an old comic store hours away just to bring her there for one day.

Jesse's smile fell and you had walked out the door before he had the chance to push a lie through his teeth. Last night's conversation echoed through Ellie's head over and over again, she cringed at the memory, god, why did she even say that?

Dina reached over the table and gave Ellie a harsh smack on the arm "Why did you even say that?!"

"Ow," She flinched, rubbing the spot that had been assaulted by Dina "What are you talking about?"

Dina looked at Ellie like she was just about ready to scream "What you said to her last night, what was going through your head?"

"Not much, apparently," Jesse answered for her, earning a death glare from the Auburn girl.

"I'll just apologize and it'll be water under the bridge," Ellie said, leaning back.

"That's not going to work," Dina replied quickly.

It, in fact, did not work. Ellie had shown up at the bakery where you promptly ignored her. "(y/n), I'm really sorry I forgot your birthday and said those things to you." Nothing Ellie said could get you to even look at her.

She had later stopped by your house, it was your dad who answered the door and Ellie sheepishly asked if you were home. He called for you to come down, the moment you saw Ellie, you shut the door in her face. There was no way she could defend herself, she couldn't say that she said those things because she had a bad day (even though she did), and that would just make her seem pathetic. She really wanted to say that she was scared of how much she liked you, she didn't want to ruin a good thing, you both had spent years playing the role of each other's best friend until Ellie started to distance herself from you and you ended up enwrapping yourself with work to distract yourself from the fact that she was drifting away.

Ellie didn't know what to do, if she didn't act fast, it would be too late and she was going to lose you.

♡

One week later

The sun was just beginning to set as you were already preparing to settle into bed and read a book, just about to change out of your floor-length sundress and into one of your dad's old shirts. However, your plans were interrupted when you heard your dad screaming downstairs, it was blood-curdling. You dropped everything, pulling your bedroom door open and rushing down the stairs, tripping on a step and stumbling before quickly regaining balance and moving with haste "Dad?" You called out, worry running through your head.

"SURPRISE!" People practically screeched, the volume so loud that you jolted back in fear. The chatter only grew as you looked around you and realized what was happening, this was your belated birthday party.

You were pulled in suddenly for a hug, squeezing you so tight you thought your eyes would pop out of your skull was Tommy "I'm so sorry, kiddo, I was being a real shithead on your birthday."

"It's okay," You choked out, nearly gasping for air. Much to your relief, he released you and you took a deep breath.

"Happy belated birthday!" Dina sang, placing a fat box in your arms. Many people followed after her, piling gifts on top of the initial one, you were quickly losing balance, so you stumbled into the living room and put the gifts onto the coffee table. There was so much life in the living room it was almost hard to believe that just a week before you had been crying alone, bathed in moonlight.

There were streamers strung throughout your house and odd dangly decorations that hung from the ceiling. Some balloons were taped to the walls while others bounced around the ground.

The lively hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the melodic strains of birthday wishes filled the room as the party pulsated with energy. Colourful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was charged with the festive spirit.

You had the biggest smile on your face while everyone joked and jeered. Shoving their gifts into your face, trying to get you to open them first. It had made you forget about how awful your real birthday was, though you did try to dodge awkward apologies of people fumbling over their own words to make up excuses as to why they missed your real birthday.

"Happy birthday to you-" A voice began singing, and soon enough the entire crowd joined in, harmonizing into an off-key rendition of the birthday song. They made way for the person carrying the cake which had been none other than Ellie herself. The song ended off and Ellie placed the cake in front of you on the coffee table. "Make a wish."

You blew out all of the candles, and no punchable little girl around to steal your thunder, the room erupted into applause. The celebration continued with the living room becoming a dance floor, laughter echoing through the corridors, and conversations flowing freely. The cake itself reminded you of the embroidery your dad had done on your apron, it was sloppy and imperfect but you could tell it was made with love, the icing had been put on prematurely and had partially melted off the cake. It read 'Happy birthday' with 'Sorry for being a dick' written smaller beneath the first bit of text.

"Thank you, Ellie," You smiled softly up at her.

No one else was paying attention to you anymore, aside from those who wanted a slice of cake. Ellie nervously fumbled around with her hands "Do you want to dance?"

Ellie invited you to dance as the opening notes of the song floated through the air and she held out her hand. With a gentle smile, you accepted and you moved into the middle of the living room to form a makeshift dance floor. The soft aroma of fresh flowers blended with the scent of vanilla candles created an ambiance that enhanced the moment's sensory magic.

To the gentle beat of the song, your bodies moved in unison. Your hand settled comfortably on Ellie's shoulder, and her hand wrapped around your waist. Your bond transcended the material in the living room dance, an unspoken language of mutual feelings and unknown depths.

You both danced, recklessly, so much so that you were nearly a hazard for the swaying couples drifting around you, moving faster and not hurriedly as the tempo picked up. With each step, the living room's walls became silent witnesses to a romance that was developing on the plush carpet under their feet. The muted rustle of your clothing and the melodic notes of the music were all that could be heard to your ears.

The two of you took great pleasure in the dance's exuberance, laughing at the imperfect nature of it. In the noise of the living room, your eyes, locked in a dance of their own, spoke volumes. You were embraced by the dim lighting's vulnerability, which freed you from the burdens of the outside world to fully enjoy the moment.

Ellie guided you in a soft spin as the song went on, your moves were not fluid and elegant but Ellie could've sworn that looking into your eyes made it feel like there was liquid sunlight coursing through your veins

You and Ellie drew closer in the song's last moments, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that went beyond the material. As the last notes of the music faded, they held each other for an extra moment, relishing the warmth that they shared and the unspoken promises that danced between them. You wished that you could've stayed in Ellie's strong embrace for centuries.

You let go of Ellie, taking a step back with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?" You tease, almost out of breath.

"I didn't know I was," She grinned, taking the sight of you in. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair had become messy, she thought you to be beautiful all the same, if not more. Her eyes raked over your body, your floor-length sundress and mismatched socks "And here I was thinking it was too late for sundresses."

"It's never too late, Ellie."

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #slow burn #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #Ellie Williams X reader angst #angst #fluff #ellie x fem reader #mean!ellie #tlou #super slow burn

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fairy-verse · 6 months

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Ill-tempered and bitingly cold is what winter is often seen as, with blinding snowfalls and wicked winds that cut into your skin, yet there is also an eerie silence that accompanies the thick blanket of snow that covers the island itself. If you stand still near the winter fairies mountains, then you will hear nothing, for the mountains themselves shield the winter fairies from prying eyes, but shall you somehow find your way to go all the way west on the Firstborn Meadow, then an eerie song will echo in the distance. The sounds are sometimes deep, and sometimes loud and sharp; and always so jarring and cold. The waters on the lakes are freezing solid, and it is the only way the Firstborn fairy of winter can let his own voice trail and form into uncanny songs far too strange for any Big Folk to understand.

Error holds nothing secret during his winter. It is the time of year when you’ll see and know him as ancient and ethereal, and the sounds of his songs will not falter… until the winds of spring are near.

You’ve succeeded in portraying the otherworldly nature of this darling fairy of winter, @aoi-kanna. Error is definitely the strangest looking of the Firstborn fairies, and though they all are so incredibly different and mystical to even other fairies around them, Error certainly has always possessed that special unique appearance; beautiful and terrifying, just like his beloved winter. Wonderful work!

Error by loverofpiggies

Fairyverse Error design by Lunnar-Chan

#aufairyverse #utmv #fairy!error #error sans #the spooky spirit of halloween and deadly winters definitely seeped in here #I just like the idea of Error not being able to sing “normally”#when he sings the lakes freezes over and so that is the only way you'll hear his “singing voice”

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ramp-it-up · 16 days

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II Most Wanted Pt.I: And I don't know what you're doin' tonight…

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: The feeling and flashbacks you get when you saw your high school boyfriend Jake Syverson at your 20 year reunion was quite the unexpected twist in your orderly life.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, body image issues, flashbacks, horny teenagers doing horny things (over 18 tho) heavy petting, fingering, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of breakups, teenage mean girl behavior, the Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, mentions of drug abuse and difficult childhoods, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Explicit description of sex acts. Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the first installment of II Most Wanted. This is also my first fic in nearly half a year. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

June 2024

The visceral reactions started as soon as you entered the parking lot. There it was, Sy’s 1978 white Ford Bronco. Not thinking, you pulled into the space right in front of it, wanting to look inside. You almost lost it when you saw the old charm hanging from the rear view mirror. You couldn’t believe he still had that.

Especially with everything that happened since you put it there.

April 2004

“I claim this ancient truck as my throne!”

You were lit and in love, parked with Sy at the lookout. You were also silly and giggly from smoke and hormones.

“Mmmmm, careful Buttercup.”

Your boyfriend growled in your ear, making you shiver against him. His attempt at menace was thwarted by the smile you felt against your neck, where he was busy marking you up, a sure sign later for everyone to know who you belonged to.

Sy was known for making bloody the face of those who expressed hate for his beloved Betty Bronco. But you had him whipped.

“It’s a classic, but I’ll let that slide...”

He wished that you would let him slide, but you were adamant that you weren’t ready to be a parent. He was adamant that that didn’t have to be the outcome, but beneath the red blooded country boy was a gentleman. Sy would never do anything you didn’t want to, not that it stopped him from trying to convince you to admit that you in fact, wanted it as much as he did.

He wasn’t wrong.

You sighed as you placed the Powerpuff Girl necklace you got from Hot Topic on Sy’s rearview as you sat on his lap, giving him a treat. He had you in his grip by the hips and he was subtly moving you against his boner. The attraction between you two was heady, and he almost got what he wanted plenty of times. But you were a romantic and wanted it to be special. You promised him prom night, and Sy couldn’t wait.

“..Driving me crazy, Baby. You can put anything on my rear view as long as you let me get your rear view in the back seat….”

You giggled.

“You’re so corny, Sy.”

You whispered as you turned your head and kissed him over your shoulder.

“Hmmmm. And you’re so sweet.”

Sy’s sea blue eyes gazed at you as he licked his lips.

He was crazy for you. And you were for him. You felt it. And you just knew you’d be together forever. You grinned as you climbed over him into the back seat. Didn’t hurt to fool around a little, even if you weren’t gonna give him the p that night.

——————

You shook out of the memory as a warm June breeze whipped your short skirt around your thighs. You pulled on the yellow and white designer dress as you contemplated driving back to your hotel and changing. This dress was not a good idea. The triumphant feeling of serving looks when you appraised yourself in the mirror was replaced with anxiety. The dress was too short and you were not the same size you were in high school. Thighs you considered pretty and thick in the mirror just an hour ago seemed massive and you tugged at the deep plunge of the neckline without a bra.

You sighed as you tried to center yourself. You told yourself that you were growing out of negative self talk, especially in the last seven years since your divorce. You were reminded of your promise to never care about the, male gaze again. It just wasn’t worth it.

But you hadn’t been under Jacob Syverson’s gaze in 20 years.

——

Sy posted up at the bar, blue eyes taking in the scene of his former classmates reuniting. He downed his two fingers of Maker’s Mark and asked for another. His heart rate was up as he scanned the room, eyes going back to the door again and again. He was waiting for you. No use in denying it to himself. He wanted to see you again, and more. It was his one objective. An objective he was unsure of attaining.

He was more nervous about being in a hotel ballroom tonight than in Afghanistan.

Christ, he felt like that 17 year old kid again who first laid eyes on you.

——-

August, 2003

Sy knew what he wanted the moment he saw your face.

You stopped the world when you first stepped into his British Literature class the first day of senior year. He was seated and talking with his best friend and wide receiver, Jeremy Atkins, when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He let the conversation about which route they should run at the scrimmage that afternoon slip as his eyes lighted on your face. You were anxious, but trying not to let it show. Those eyes held fire, and your lips…

…well your lips besides being everything he dreamt of, he just knew the words that came out of your lips would light someone up as well. He could tell you had spirit by the way you carried yourself.

Your hair was wild and shoulder length, bangs swept aside for vision, and you couldn’t hide that body under your baggy clothes. He lasered in on the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath your graphic tee, and power that the strip of skin between your shirt and your baggy jeans was not lost on him. He was a 17 year old male, after all.

Sy shifted in his seat as he leaned back and grinned to himself when you scanned the room, glaring at anyone who looked askance. He tapped his pencil on the desk to try to get your attention but you just ignored him as the group of seatless students surrounding you dwindled. You were left alone under the scrutiny of soulless cretins, otherwise known as teenagers.

You gave each one brazen enough to stare at you a side eye, but you stopped when you finally noticed Sy smirking at you. You stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to choke on a chuckle.

Becca Ferguson, Sy’s girlfriend, kicked him in the leg after noticing that not only Sy, but Jeremy were openly staring at you. Shit, he’d forgotten about her. He caught the way her eyes cut over to you, and he knew what came next. He tried to distract her with a flip of the shelf of his blown out curls and a smile, something that had worked many times before.

But you were a threat to Becca now; she had to do something about you.

You raised your head high as you walked to the seat that Mrs.Beatty pointed out. You passed down the aisle between Sy and Becca, who scrunched up her face as if she smelled something bad. Sy got a whiff of you and you smelled divine, like that Sweet Pea bath gel stuff that he played off sniffing when he went to the mall with Becca.

His head turned.

Becca glared at him and he turned toward the front of the room, where the teacher had started to pass out the syllabus.

—--

June 2024

Just like lunch on the first day of school at Central High all those years ago, Carla and Tiffani engulfed you and took you under their wings when you walked into the Marriott, the venue for your reunion. They crowed over you; your hair, your dress, your glow. You forgot any anxiety that you were feeling about how you looked. These were your best friends. Your Bubbles and Blossom.

These women filled the gaping place in your heart torn open from attending 10 different schools from K-12, following your mother’s loves and whims when she didn’t take her meds, or when she self-medicated. They were your soul sisters. And you still kept in touch even though distance separated you.

Carla had that grin on her face while Tiffani expressed her excitement that you were in town.

“Girl! I am so glad that you made it!”

Tiffani was the gentle one.

“Yeah, I owe Tiff a c-note, because I was sure you’d chicken out.”

Carla laughed at you while you scowled at her.

Tiffani tskd at her bestie, and took your arm while Carla took the other and they ushered you through the doors of the ballroom.

“Well, she has a new job in town and everything, she had to come.”

“Yeah, she had to come to town, but coming tonight is a wholeeee different story.”

You laughed.

“I don’t have the job yet, Tiff. Interview is Monday. And why wouldn’t I come tonight?”

The familiar banter was back, as if 20 years was no matter at all between you and your girls.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you and Carla peered over her shoulder and then smirked at you. She jerked her head back.

“Because of that.”

You looked over your shoulder, smiling right before your stomach dropped.

There was Jake Syverson, all grown up, and staring at you as if all this time hadn’t happened.

—-

Sy saw you enter the ballroom and he almost wanted to run away. Being in country on a dangerous mission was nothing compared to the thought of actually facing you again.

At least he was trained for war.

Love was another thing entirely.

He took a deep breath as he focused on you. You had always been beautiful, but now, as a grown woman, you were absolutely gorgeous. Your hair was sleek and your face was perfectly beat with makeup that accentuated your natural beauty. You were glowing and that smile was…everything.

As he leaned on the bar and scanned the rest of your body in that dress, he took another drink. Sy indeed felt 18 again, because his body was reacting as if he were a randy teenager. Your body was everything he remembered, and more. More of everything he remembered loving and lusting over 20 years ago.

“Damn.”

He said it out loud and the bartender replied.

“Agreed, Brother.”

Sy looked at the young man admiring you who couldn’t be over 25, and threw down some money.

“Watch it, kid.”

That little bit of jealousy fueled Sy’s bravado, and he found the courage to step to you.

—--

You froze like a deer in headlights.

Over the years, you imagined seeing him again, in all different kinds of scenario, and you thought you could handle it, but the reality of the situation just about knocked you on your ass. Time stopped as you stared at him.

Sy was more handsome with age, if that was possible. His eyes, his shoulders, his hair! His gorgeous curls were short and a shock of hair was growing from his chin. Your body reacted as your traitorous brain instantly thought of how his beard would feel on certain parts of your body. He looked good in a suit, but he was massive. You had on heels, but Sy seemed bigger than you remembered. He wasn’t the lithe high school quarterback you remembered.

You unconsciously walked closer.

He was taller.

But he was also huge: bigger muscles, thicker limbs; his body seemed more powerful all the way around.

Heaven help you.

And the way he was looking at you as if he still owned you, as if all everything that happened hadn’t happened. As if all these years…

Your arms went out to Carla and Tiff beside you for some support, but they were gone, and you stumbled a bit. Sy grabbed your arm quickly as you laughed to play it off.

“Hey Buttercup. You good?”

Goodness, his voice!

How could that damn drawl be deeper and sexier than you remembered? And his touch on your skin felt familiar, yet strange, like a touch from a dream. What was happening to you?

“I need a drink.”

Sy was silent for a bit as you got your drink and had a sip. The way you licked your lips made him want to fall to his knees and beg.

—--

May 2004

“Please, please, please Buttercup. Just let me put the tip in. I promise I won’t move. It wouldn’t really be doing it…”

Sy was whispering in your ear and you were mute, waiting to hear more as your pussy pulsed in your jeans, the grind against his crotch delicious torture.

“I dream about it, Buttercup. I feel you, Baby. So fucking wet for me. I just know that it would feel so, so so good. I’d slip right in.”

It was midnight on your 18th birthday and you were in the Bronco, letting Sy feel you up under your panties for the first time. Your head was thrown back and your eyes rolled at how good it felt. You didn’t know how you would hold out. But it was just three weeks until Prom.

You were sat on his lap and he had one hand down your jeans and one up your shirt.

He pistoned his hips up, causing your back to arch against his chest. You could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.. Sy’s voice lowered to a whisper.

“‘M Gonna taste my fingers, Buttercup. Watch.”

You opened your eyes as Sy pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth. You whined when he closed his eyes and moaned. You throbbed. It had never been like this before.

“You are so delicious… Need more…”

Sy pushed his hand back down into your pants to get you to do that arch again. It sent him feral to see that for some reason.

His fingers found the source and circled it, causing your body to tense up and your fingers to grab his arms.

“Oh my god! Sy!”

You’d come close to this feeling before just grinding with him on the back seat, but this was incomparable.

Your fingernails sunk into his forearms, creating marks for sure. This fueled him even more as he continued his ministrations at your core. He toyed beneath your bra and your mouth opened to seek oxygen as the feeling in your belly continued to tune you to a fever pitch.

“Yes…. Baby….. fuck… You gonna cum on my lap?”

“Hunnnh, hunnh, hunnnh!”

“You’re so fucking hot… I’m about to jizz in my pants… cum for me, Baby…”

Sy grinded against your bottom, and you stiffened while the world’s most wonderful feeling washed over you. You cried out as Sy pinched your nipple and you came, feeling as if the Bronco was caught up in the Wizard of Oz Twister. The world was certainly now in color when you could open your eyes.

Sy held you, watching your beautiful face as you pouted and came back to earth. When you did, your smile was worth all the gold in the world to him. He kissed your temple and slipped his hand out of your pants, sucking your juices off of them again.

You were about to jump him, but Sy interrupted your thought.

“Now that you’ve got a preview of Prom night, let’s get you home, Buttercup. Gotta get your beauty sleep for the festivities later on tonight.”

—-

Sy cleared his throat after staring at you silently for a solid three minutes. The way you licked your lips clean and focused on him was some powerful magic.

“So. How have you been, Sy? How is the family?”

You tried to keep any bitterness out of your voice. The fact that Becca Spurgeon ruined your prom (and your relationship with Sy) by announcing that she was pregnant with Sy’s baby after she was crowned Prom Queen and he Prom King was something you’d tried to get over for 20 years.

Sy straightened up and looked over your shoulder. You glanced in that direction to see Carla and Tiffani hovering protectively.

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

——

If you like it, hit Reblog!

Next part here.

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hitoshiyoshi · 2 years

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devotion | todoroki shouto

synopsis ↬ shouto will do anything for you to join the todoroki bloodline

warnings ↬ BARELY EDITED, arranged marriage, yandere, implied virginity loss, noncon/dubcon? (consent is implied but not said), cheating? (the reader isn't dating but is talking to someone), manipulation, quirk use, dr*gging (aphrodisiac), the reader has a quirk (dual or half-water half-fire), mention of past child abuse, bribery, bride-price (?), you have an ill parent, slow burn with important details in the buildup, mild bakugou slander, orgasm denial, choking, creampie, let me know if I've forgotten something

pairings ↬ yandere!pro-hero!todoroki shouto x f!reader (she/her pronouns used)

word count ↬ 13.4k

Anxious footsteps pace throughout your family's home for the entirety of the day. Nearly every room had been refurbished and decorated with new exquisite objects; vastly different from the usually peaceful and simplistic setting that you were used to. Expensive paintings and unique ornaments are strung along the walls, refining your home while, in the process, making you feel out of place. Various cleaners were brought to help tidy the house while other drastic measures were taken for one 'special' day. Your mother meticulously scrutinized every detail, checking to make sure each nook and cranny was spotless. It took days of countless trial and error for her to feel a sense of security in the newly renovated home. However, while your mother was satisfied with the results, you strongly hated them.

The home you first entered as a newborn and took your first steps into adulthood had been uplifted and changed before your eyes. Of course, your mother wouldn't listen to any of your whining or complaints. Always shutting down your questions or ignoring you when you try to inquire about her strange decisions. By now, you were used to her being dismissive about each of her design choices. When she asked you to assist her in the final preparations, you weren't fazed by her skittish demeanor; she'd been acting like this since the beginning. The whole day was spent cooking and finalizing the decor of your home until your mother could breathe a sigh of relief.

When asking your mother why the preparations were so intricate and time-consuming, as she sliced some vegetables for a stew, she replied:

"The Todoroki Family will be coming over tonight for dinner." She explained her desire to make your home welcoming for them. It had been some years since you had seen the entire family together, specifically the patriarch, Todoroki Enji.

Natsuo and Fuyumi became familiar faces in your family home over the past few months. It was a kind gesture; they would always make sure to stop over and greet your parents after making a brief stop in your town. The eldest brother, Touya, would write you letters despite being detained in Tartarus. After all these years, you had forgotten his face. It wasn't until you saw his arrest on the news a few years ago that you realized how deeply you missed him. Seeing his reappearance made you emotional but after receiving some of his handwritten letters, you felt more at ease although haunted by his actions. Finally, he paid the unfortunate price for his villainous crimes.

The only member of their family you were excited to see was Shoto.

Years have passed since he graduated from U.A. High School and was now working as a pro-hero and sidekick for his father, Endeavor. Patrolling and training seemed to take a toll on his ability to see you. Being an understanding best friend, you decided not to bother him about his busy schedule since it was something he did not have control over. The time he couldn't spend in person was made up with your late-night calls that would continue until the early hours of the morning. Often, you would fall asleep while still on the phone with him and the dulcet sounds of your snoring lulled his tired body to sleep.

He always gave you updates about every detail of his life. From the villains he captured, to some shenanigans with his buddies from high school. Rei, his mother, seemed to adore you the most out of all the family members — besides Shoto, of course. On one of the last moments you spent with him, he invited you to visit his mother at her new apartment after being released from the hospital. Upon seeing you, her whole face brightened as she beamed a smile and embraced you in her arms. Pinching your cheeks and commenting about how much you've grown since she'd last seen you, Rei was ecstatic. It had been many years since you witnessed her smile, and your heart warmed at the loving woman.

Lately, Rei has been scheduling friendly dates with you in an attempt to get to know you better. You felt a bit guilty for not contacting her while she was hospitalized, but she didn't seem to mind. She would always drop subtle hints about Shoto's affections for you; how his eyes would light up whenever she mentioned your name, how he loves to boast about you to others, or when he becomes saddened when thinking about the little time you two have spent together. To anyone, it seemed like she wanted you two to eventually date but you always brushed it off. Thinking it was her being overly friendly or sharing some light banter, you quickly ignored her ideas. The son of the number one hero could have anyone he wanted, why would he settle for you?

After finishing the preparations, your mother waited patiently by the front door. Occasionally checking her wristwatch while fidgeting anxiously, sometimes pacing back and forth throughout the room. There were only a couple minutes left before the time was nine o'clock. As you watched her, you decided to ask her how she was feeling.

"Is everything alright, Mom?" You asked as you sat only a few feet away from her in a nearby chair.

"Yes. I'm just happy to see an old friend again." Yet, as you examined her demeanor, it was quite clear that she was not 'happy'. In fact, she seemed to emit a sense of dread with her strained facial expression. You decided it was best not to question her too much. After wiping her sweaty palms and checking her watch, she ushers you to stand next to her by the door.

Soon, the ringing doorbell brings you out of your thoughts. Your mother exhales a tense sigh before unlocking the door. Your parents' former employer and close friend Endeavor, along with three of his children, greet your mother. She shyly bows and welcomes the family before stepping back to allow them inside. You can't hear some of the words exchanged between her and Enji, a bubbling excitement of seeing Shoto overpowers your senses. You courtly bow to their father who only responds with a few words of acknowledgment. He's dressed surprisingly formal for a friendly meeting, donning a navy blue suit and tie.

Looking back at the preparations, this had to be more than a light-hearted reunion of old friends. As you moved toward his children, your mother announces something to their father.

"Enji, I'd like to discuss something in a separate room." Your mother says, again fidgeting with her sweaty palms.

"Of course." Leading Enji to another room, your mother soon disappears and leaves you with the task of interacting with the siblings.

You try to give Natsuo and Fuyumi casual hugs after they've removed their coats and shoes. Fuyumi peppers your cheeks with sisterly kisses before handing you to Natsuo who eagerly wraps his arms around you and engulfs you in a strong hug. Lifting you off the ground and spinning before placing you on your feet. They soon maneuver to your living room, since they've both practically memorized the layout of your home; knowing the routine of your family like clockwork.

Next, you move to Shoto, failing to see his twitching brows and deadpan expression as he watches his overly affectionate siblings. You give him a big embrace which he eagerly returns. He chuckles to himself as you have to stand on the tips of your toes to hold him properly; he's grown so much since your last visit. "I've missed you so much..." you whisper into his chest. Pulling you tighter and nuzzling his face into the crook of your shoulder, he could feel his warm heart swell with happiness once having you in his arms again — he's missed your hugs.

He pats your head before letting his hand trail down your lower back, "I've missed you too." After whispering in your ear, he pulls you away, wanting to get a look of your beauty after all these years.

Shoto has been your best friend since you two were children. Always training together and even attending the same school for a brief period of time; you two were inseparable. Shortly after Enji became a hero, your parents began working under his agency. In fact, it was his father who proposed the idea of having you two practice with each other, to which your parents happily agreed. Although you're grateful for Enji's suggestion, the pain he caused Shoto was something you could never forgive him.

Vivid memories replay of Shoto being forced to endure brutal training until his poor body couldn't handle the pain anymore. He soon collapsed on the ground, vomiting up whatever bile was left in his stomach. Enji couldn't spare an ounce of compassion for the son he forcibly groomed into a hero, he left the room as if nothing happened. You rushed towards Shoto, cradling the boy in your arms and trying to keep him from going unconscious until aid arrived. Shoto doesn't remember too much from that day, only waking up in your arms after you nursed him back to health; the angel who saved him, what he thinks of you.

Making his cursed life tolerable with your presence. Your existence brought him peace of mind from that day forward. Drunk on a strange blossoming feeling that made his heart ache whenever you were gone. The years had been cruel to him and the sound of your voice could only do so much. Shoto has been thinking about this day, picturing it in his head before he dozes off to sleep.

Your father, one of the first of many sidekicks under his agency, had a fire quirk. One that easily surpassed Endeavor and could compete with Touya's. While your mother had a strong water quirk, although she was not a pro-hero under his agency and instead dealt with the paperwork. After they married, you weren't aware of this, but Enji was strongly encouraged to find someone with a similar quirk to your mother. Inevitably, he settled with Rei, ice that could compliment his fire.

Perhaps it was a competition to him, your father could've exceeded Enji. Having an ice quirk was no match for a water quirk. He must've known that his place as the number two hero could've been taken by your father — or anyone for that matter — and needed to have strong offspring to compete. Although he was overly excited with Shoto's quirk, once learning that you also had a very similar dual quirk, his joy soon dissipated; half-fire and half-water. Enji needed his legacy to live on and he could sense imminent failure for Shoto. Training together allowed him to observe you and mold his son to defeat you in the future, he thought.

Enji's dominant ways became a nuisance and within a few years of training with Shoto, you decided to abandon your hopes of becoming a hero. If it meant witnessing never-ending abuse and torment, you did not want to call yourself a hero. Although you were young, you were aware that no person could think of themselves as a 'hero' while inflicting pain on their family. You couldn't associate yourself with such a bad influence. That was something Shoto admired about you; never tolerating his father and uplifting him when he was weak.

You knew that Enji was trying to rekindle things with his broken family. Yet seeing the two of them act content with each other was shocking to you. Especially after hearing Shoto continuously demean his father on the phone, even on the night before this meeting.

"How is your father doing?" He asks once his arms are completely off of your body.

"Oh, he's been well. His health is improving, he's doing a lot better than before." Although you tried not to show your emotions, it was quite painful for you to talk about your father.

One year ago, your father was left bedridden after a fight with a villain. Ultimately leaving him unable to move and with some injuries that weakened his ability to use his quirk, forcing him into early retirement. Your mother quit her job as a secretary for Enji, claiming that she needed to spend more time at home with your father and take care of him. While you dealt with college, you weren’t able to dedicate time to help him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you often since your father became ill.” Shoto apologizes while hanging his head low in pitiful shame. “I promise I’ll make it up in the future.” You gently caress his arm to reassure him.

“Don’t worry about that too much. Let’s focus on tonight, okay?”

“I suppose…"

Reaching for his hand, you usher him to your living room where Natsuo and Fuyumi have already made themselves comfortable. Walking in the stiff clothes your mother forced you to wear is proven to be quite difficult. The white garment flows past your thighs and stops at your ankles. You nearly trip in the tight shoes, making Shoto reach out and hold you before you embarrassingly fall. Although you've grown accustomed to joining your parents in certain arrangements, you've never worn clothing like this before as they are usually reserved for more special occasions. Pins and accessories poke your scalp uncomfortably. Your hairstyle makes you nauseous; an old-fashioned style that no one your age is still wearing. Of course, you weren't allowed to complain.

After meeting his siblings in the living room, you sit on the end of the sofa with them. Shoto eyes Natsuo, who is relaxing in a seat dangerously close and adjacent to you. His older brother seems to read his scowl perfectly, moving away to allow Shoto to forcibly sit next to you. Time seems to flow fast as the four of you chat about nonsense and random memories. During the whole conversation, Shoto's firm hand mysteriously finds its way to your lower back again — wrapping tighter once he felt Natsuo coming too close.

Before you could question him, your mother appears with Enji. Puffy, bloodshot eyes and a wet face ruin her perfectly done makeup. As you are about to inquire about her appearance, she begins to speak.

"Sorry for the delay. We've prepared some food for you all to enjoy, follow me." She turns towards the direction of the dining room with Enji trailing behind her. The siblings all raise to their feet and soon accompany your mother to the room.

"May I hold your hand?" Shoto, who is still close to you, inquires while peering down at you with a sharp gaze.

"Sure," Nodding before intertwining your figures with Shoto, you watch as he smirks brightly. Soon stepping in front of you and leading you towards the rest of the group.

The large dining room table is covered with different Japanese dishes, most you've never seen your mother make before. You could recall helping her cook some of them and the endless hours it took before you completed everything. While the family took their seat, with Enji sitting in your father's position at the head of the table, you try to choose a seat next to Fuyumi. Until Shoto courteously pulls out a chair beside him and stares at you with full expectation. Not wanting to deny his chivalrous acts, you thank him and sit.

During dinner, his older siblings gleefully engaged in another conversation about old times. Reminiscing over every detail and their plans for the future. Natsuo landed a job as a nurse practitioner only a few weeks ago while Fuyumi shared stories about her students. Enji and your mother were quiet, only interjecting when necessary. Your mother's plate seemed to stay full as time passed, only picking at the food. This was unlike her usual behavior at dinnertime. Shoto was the same, except happily eating and staying content with your presence beside him. Only a couple times would he speak, and his replies were short. You weren't fazed much, he was the type to only speak when spoken to or if he had a lingering thought in his head.

Before your time comes to an end, your mother excuses herself and travels to the kitchen. Lost in laughter, you and Fuyumi giggle as Natsuo recounts a particularly embarrassing moment from Shoto's childhood; you eagerly listened to the story as it was a rare moment that all the siblings spent time together. Only after you begin to relax do you notice a frown spread across Shoto's lips. You were dismissive. It was only playful teasing between brothers, right?

"I'm sorry for being busy." Shoto suddenly says after he's finished his last bite of food.

"It's fine, you don't have to keep apologizing. Look at the bright side, we're making memories now. We can always make more in the future." The future, he thinks. The only future he can think of is the one that always replays in his lovestruck mind. Smiling to himself, you assume he's already beginning to feel better.

Your mother emerges from the kitchen, placing a large plate of cold soba noodles in the center of the table — right in front of Shoto. Despite being full, he eagerly tries the noodles while the rest of his family waits for him to taste them first. After all, how could he reject his favorite dish? You helped your mother prepare the noodles after Fuyumi insisted on teaching you Shoto's favorite dish. She claimed it would be a nice welcome present for him after he was away for so long.

With every bite, his face lights up the more he consumes it. Soon, his siblings gladly take bites of the noodles as well while Enji and your mother watch.

"What do you think, Shoto? (Y/N) made it all by herself." Your mother announces loud enough to catch his attention and makes sure to enunciate her last sentence.

"W- Well, I was only following Fuyumi's instructions. She deserves all the credit." Trying to act humble didn't seem to work on his persistent sister. You could notice your mother making a face at your words.

"Nonsense!" Fuyumi chirps, catching you off-guard. "You're such a wonderful cook and Shoto loves it too. Right, Shoto?" Her head turns to her younger brother who has finished his plate of your noodles already.

"I do. You did a great job, (Y/N)." He nods along with his sister before softly grinning at you. "It tastes perfect,"

"See? He loves it! You made it the way he likes. Just for Shoto..." Behind her glasses, you could see her eyes darken as she finished speaking. Only for her to innocently smile at you before tasting your noodles and exclaiming more praises. "It's so delicious. Try some more, Natsuo!"

"O- Oh... Thank you, Fuyumi," You turn your head towards her younger brother. "And Shoto..."

As the two siblings initiate a conversation with your mother and Enji, you could notice Shoto begin to shift toward you. He reaches for your chopsticks before collecting some of the noodles between them. He calls your name and raises the food to your lips. As you take a bite, you smile up at Shoto who returns your gesture while watching you eat. Once you've finished chewing, he takes a napkin and dabs the corners of your mouth while gazing down lovingly.

The longer your night continued, the more heads grew tired. After dinner ended, Natsuo helped your mother clean and tidy the kitchen while Enji excused himself. Fuyumi followed him to the front door and urged Shoto to come with her; although, he seemed more agitated that he wouldn't have any alone time with you. The time is nearly eleven o'clock, and soon you start to wonder when they would return home. Enji announces that he is leaving for the night after his chauffeur hands Fuyumi, Shoto, and Natsuo small suitcases bags.

As the siblings talk, you grow more and more confused. They didn't seem too bothered by the ticking clock and stayed still as if they had no intention of leaving. Shoto's hand moves from your palm to your lower back; you've grown accustomed to his touchy gesture and you decide to ignore it.

"U- Um... Is your father coming back to take you guys home?" You ask but all the siblings, besides Shoto, stare up at you in a confused manner.

"No, we're staying over tonight. Didn't your mother tell you? It was her idea, she kept insisting." Before Natsuo could reveal too much, Shoto interrupts him.

"Natsuo, you-" He glares up at his older brother while you feel his fingers clench around your skin. The clicking of your mother's heels makes him pause his sentence.

"My apologies for the wait. The rooms are ready, right this way." Your mother motions for them to come with her. As she walks up the staircase, she begins to speak again. "There are two extra rooms. Fuyumi, you will take (Y/N)'s room for the night. Natsuo and Shoto can have the other two rooms."

You tried to fathom her directions, but they didn't make any sense. If there are two extra rooms, why would Fuyumi need yours? Couldn't Natsuo and Shoto share while Fuyumi has the other? Perhaps the brothers want their own space, you didn't mind being with Fuyumi anyways. But as your mother reaches the top of the staircase and opens the door to your room, you realize that you are mistaken.

Although your room maintains the same orientation, all of your personal items are missing. The essential products that you use almost every day are nowhere to be found. Most of your decorations have been removed, leaving the walls bare and empty. Any of your medication, skincare, and some other sentimental belongings are gone. Either changed or disappeared. but they were here when you woke up this morning. Almost as if your room was ransacked while you were busy.

Before you could ask, your mother leads Fuyumi into the room. She sets down her suitcase on the ground before making herself comfortable on your bed. Soon, your mother closes your bedroom door before taking Natsuo to his simple guest room next door. The older brother thanks your mother and locks his door as well.

She ushers Shoto to another spare guest room next to Natsuo. When opening the door to Shoto's room, you notice one unmistakable detail — there's only one bed. Logically, this meant you had to share a room with Fuyumi, right? Your mother wouldn't dare allow you to sleep in one bed with any of the brothers... right?

The room is decorated with a few potted plants, dim lamps, and a small desk area. You're reminded of his dorm room when he attended U.A a few years ago. Except, his futon is replaced with a king-size canopy bed. White and gold sheets cover the mattress while a see-through curtain drapes over the frames. Fluffy silk pillows entice your heavy eyelids.

"Shoto, this will be your room. Wait here and get comfortable, alright?" Shoto seems pleased with the scenery. He nods at your mother before entering and closing the door.

Turning away from your mother, you walk towards your room — or Fuyumi's room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Snapping your head around, you see your mother clenching her fists with an unreadable facial expression, but you could tell that she is angry.

"I'm sharing a room with Fuyumi... aren't I?"

"No." Harshly grabbing your wrists, she leads you to your walk-in wardrobe before shutting the door. You're too dazed to process everything, barely noticing where she has taken you until it's too late.

So, you're not sharing a room with Fuyumi. There was no way you were sharing one with Natsuo or Shoto. Perhaps you would sleep on the couch? Or in your parents' room? Although your father always hated letting you see him in such a weakened state. She forcibly removes your clothing and shoes off of your body and hastily throws them in a pile of clothes that covers the whole room. Your mother isn't usually this disorganized, and her disheveled state warns you that something is wrong. The pestering feeling that you've tried to ignore can no longer remain quiet.

"Where will I be sleeping?" You meekly ask as she finally finds the piece of clothing that she has spent the whole time searching for.

"In Shoto's room." She holds up a long cream-colored, sheer négligée to your body and imagines how the clothing would fit before slipping the thin fabric over your head.

As you stare in the mirror, you can't help but gasp. Thanks to your brassier and panties, most of your 'sensitive' areas are covered but your arms and legs are exposed to the unusually cold air. A state of panic ran through your veins. You were expected to sleep in Shoto's room wearing this. A room with only one bed. The worst possible outcomes began to fill your head, it sounded sick and nonsensical. Although he was your dear friend, you knew that your mother would never agree to do something like this.

"Isn't this a bit too revealing to wear around him?" You were met with an unwavering silence that caused your heart to beat faster in your chest. "Mom... you've been acting strange all day. Please just talk to me. This- This doesn't make any sense... Why are you doing this?"

"Why can't you just cooperate for once and stop asking questions?" A scowl forms across her face, slowly getting annoyed. Your lips press together, you want to trust your mother... but you can't.

As you scan her face through the mirror, you realize that she is hiding more than anger behind her emotions. Tears swell in your eyelids but you aren't sure why. Her actions couldn't soothe your never-ending anxiety. She begins working on your hair, removing the pins stuck between your strands before giving you a simplistic style. After finishing, she lightly sprays some sweet-smelling luxury perfume. Your mother seems nearly done with her odd preparations, you unclench your jaw and start to speak.

"I know you're stressed about something, you can tell me. You're not acting like yourself..." You begin to think she will ignore you again when she checks your attire once more. Until she responds.

"I'm fine. We will be fine. Go spend the night with Shoto, please... Just one night." A brief glance at her and she seems to be pleading with you as you hear the strange tone of her voice. "I will talk to you in the morning."

After looking over your clothes one last time, she forces you out of your underwear and into a lace fabric that leaves you even more anxious. Brewing with embarrassment, you realized that your mother wouldn't offer any comforting words to soothe you. Instead, she checks her wristwatch before furrowing her brows and releases a stressed sigh.

"It's time. Now, go to Shoto's room. Don't run off." She turns her back away from you before motioning you towards the exit. You grab a velvety thick robe and throw it over your shoulders before she could see and leave.

Her hands clasp over her mouth as she holds back pained cries. However, she couldn't stop tears from cascading down her cheeks. Praying to whichever God could hear her for forgiveness. Your mother is deeply sorry, she didn't want this to happen. She hopes you'll be more understanding and forgive her in the morning.

As your feet touch the mahogany flooring, you can’t stop the impending feeling of doom that courses through your veins. Sighing heavily, you contemplate dashing to your room to share it with Fuyumi despite your mother’s warning. Yet, you couldn’t dismiss the idea of his sister knowing why your mother seemed tense. The look Fuyumi gives you during dinner replays in your mind. Perhaps the whole family knew and you were the only one left in the dark. Your hand lingers on the doorknob of Shoto’s room, and you quickly suppress the idea of running away.

Unlocking the door, you tiptoe into the bedroom quietly. At first, you don’t notice him — the bed seemed tidy as if it hadn’t been touched. Gazing around the space, you see Shoto sitting at the small desk while scrolling through his phone. He stops and watches your frame enter the door, eyes widening once he takes in the sight of your attire. His clothes are changed now, a loose white t-shirt and long navy pajama pants.

“Please don’t stare… It’s a bit embarrassing,” Once you finally enter the room, you wrap the robe tighter around your clothes.

“Sorry, my apologies.” Shyly looking elsewhere, he refocuses on his phone again.

You quickly move to the end of the canopy bed, drawing back the sheer curtains before sitting on the plush sheets. Shoto is barely visible through the drapes but his phone light illuminates brightly in the dimly lit room. You were thankful for the fleece robe covering your shoulders and arms, the harsh cold air made goosebumps arise on your skin.

"So... How will we sleep?" Breaking the silence in the room, you ask him after a few minutes pass. Shoto shifts in his chair and the white light from his phone suddenly disappears but is replaced by a lamp.

"Are you nervous about sleeping in the same bed? We've been friends for so long, it won't be a problem for me." He says, you can see his head turn towards you through the curtain.

Normally, you wouldn't care too much about staying in the same room together. He was right, you two were close friends. Yet, as you glance down at your clothing and remember the words of your mother, the tension of the meeting is hard to dismiss.

"I guess I don't mind either but I still feel weird about it," Pausing for a few brief seconds, you release a sigh before continuing. "My mother has been acting strange today. Well, not just today... for the past week." As you speak, Shoto rises from the desk. He moves the curtain out of his path before sitting next to you on the bed. You don't notice his movements until a sharp coldness reaches your skin. "I just feel a bit uneasy, sorry..."

"Don't be," His fingers softly caress your arm, an act you always did to comfort him. "She's probably stressed about seeing my father again."

"I hope..." Your mother did mention being 'happy' about The Todoroki Family visiting. You want to believe his reassurance, but your gut feeling tells you otherwise.

The night seems to fly fast as the two of you talk for a while. Shoto seems more eager to initiate a conversation without worrying about the stress of his nosy siblings. He shares some details about his life after graduating from U.A., most of which you already knew. Immediately after becoming a Pro-Hero, he joined his father's agency and accompanies him on patrol. Most of his free time is spent resting at home during the night, usually when you two would call. On the days he didn't have any work, he would typically visit his mother with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

Various topics are brought up and soon the clock reaches midnight. Shoto seems to have some energy in him, and you decide to continue despite your drowsy eyes. He mentions that he's been feeling lonely because of the mountain of work that has been pushed upon him. Your smile and promises to share your time with him are meaningless to him. He knows, one way or another, you will live up to your words.

"Don't you have someone special in your life?" Your ears perk up as you await his response to the question. Shoto's eyes trail off in the distance as he searches for an answer.

"I do..." He mumbles quietly, initially thinking that you haven't heard him until you happily congratulate him.

"Really? Who is it? Is it someone I know?" Throwing questions at him only made Shoto's smile widen across his lips.

"Don't worry. I'll tell you in the morning," Before you could protest, he speaks again. "And you?"

"Oh... I'm not in a relationship right now." Feeling his heart skip a beat at your response, a weight lifts off of his shoulders... briefly. "But, there is someone that I'm talking to." His amiable demeanor seems to shift as he listens, eyes piercing your frame. "What's wrong..?"

"Nothing... Who is it?"

"You know him, it's Bakugou." Of course Shoto knows who he is. They were once classmates and soon began working at his father's agency together.

"I do, we work together on occasion." His fingers nervously tap against his thigh, trying to release whatever pent-up stress is building in his system. "How long have you been talking to him?"

"Only for a couple weeks. He works at Endeavor's agency, right?" Shoto gives you a small nod to answer your question. "Actually, the first time I met him, I stopped by Musutafu to look for you but he said you were on patrol with your father. We talked for a bit... and got to know each other." A warm heat spread across your face as you felt the temperature of the room begin to rise.

"I see..." Shoto uttered yet a sharp pain in his chest made it difficult for him to speak. He made sure to ask your mother beforehand if you had any other suitors, to which she strongly denied. "Have you two..?

"Have we..?" He peers up at you, hoping that you understood his implication. "Oh, we haven't kissed... or done anything else. I mean I've been too busy with college to be in a relationship." You tried to excuse yourself past the embarrassing situation, but Shoto seemed at ease with your responses.

"I understand. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He apologizes as you move to rest your back against a pillow on the bed's headboard.

"It's fine. I don't usually visit too often, just when I'm passing through..." You go on to tell him about the small dates you would arrange with Bakugou during his breaks.

Making him and the other sidekicks bento boxes for lunch, on the same days when Shoto was away. Practically boasting about the trinkets and presents he gifts you, saying that he was reminded of you when buying them. On days when he was free, Bakugou would invite you over to his apartment to cook with him and show some new recipes he was currently trying to perfect.

As Shoto listens to you gushing over his coworker, a spark of anger consumes his entire spirit. Neither Bakugou nor any of the sidekicks he was acquaintances with mentioned you; listening to you ramble about the time you spent with them had shocked him. How did you even manage to befriend Bakugou?

Although his poor temper gradually improved over the years, he wasn't the easiest to approach. This wasn't right, it didn't make any sense. Shoto thought he had done everything to keep a watchful eye over you despite being so far away, only for you to be right under his nose. His temperamental 'friend' wasn't worthy of you, he should be the one in Bakugou's place.

The slow approach he decided to take wasn't successful, someone captured your heart — the place he comfortably resided for many years — and he wouldn't allow himself to be dethroned.

A flicker of flames in the dim room makes your rambling end, you watch as Shoto stares off in the room with his head looking away.

"Are you okay..?" You inquire while watching some of the flames nearly burn through his clothing.

"No, I'm not." His fists clench together before releasing as his body seems to relax briefly.

"What's wrong?"

"Bakugou isn't the type of person you should be dating." Suddenly, his gaze shifts to you with a serious, deadpan expression.

"What do you mean? If you're talking about his anger, it's not an issue. He's been really kind to me."

"No, no... That's not what I mean." Shoto inhales sharply and closes his eyes for a brief moment. "I'm telling you this because you are my closest friend and I deeply care about you," You watch him intently and prepare for his response. "But I've seen other girls at the office with him. Some old classmates, a few sidekicks. He's always flirting with them. Trust me, he brings a new girl over every week."

His entire statement is nothing but lies. The gullible expression on your face tells him that you believed his dishonesty. There was no reason for him to make up stories, you thought. Bakugou isn't 'close' to any of the other sidekicks, at least to his knowledge, Shoto has been the only one he considered a friend. His classmates have visited their agency, but only for work-related business.

Bakugou never mentioned seeing someone, never said your name, or showed you off. So when Shoto heard his name leave your lips, he was obviously shocked. He didn't care too much, Bakugou would never be considered his 'friend' or 'colleague' anymore — it was time for him to be disposed of.

"But... But if that's true, why didn't Moe or the others say anything?" Your features changed from a look of disbelief to pain and denial in a matter of seconds. Shoto truly felt bad, he really did. Yet, he knows you'll feel better in the morning. Call him sadistic, but watching your heartbreak turned him on. He would replace your sadness and bring never-ending joy.

"Knowing the type of person my father is, it's inevitable that his employees would be the same." Perhaps that wasn't valid for the other sidekicks, excluding Shoto.

He was truly elated seeing you become more and more distraught. This was his intention; play with your emotions, leave you fragile and ready to accept him. He didn't mind having to exploit the evil of his father knowing that you disliked Enji as much as he did. Your lips and eyes began to droop, forming a visible frown. Maybe because it was your first petty heartbreak, that's why it felt so bad. You always told yourself that you could overcome meaningless relationships, but the smiles you shared with everyone seemed to hurt the most. It was nothing but a facade and a waste of your time.

"I feel like an idiot..." A few teardrops escaped your eyes and trickled past your cheeks. God, why are you such a crybaby?

His warm side of his body pulls you in closer and embraces you in a smoldering hug. Shoto wasn't exceptionally affectionate, but he hated seeing you cry — especially over other people. He tried to hush your soft sniffles, you were quite pathetic to become emotional over Bakugou since you two weren't even dating. Unless there was something else you didn't share.

"It's okay... It's okay. You don't need someone like him. He wouldn't have treated you right." Your head nuzzles in the crock of your shoulder as the heat from his body washes over you.

As you begin to stop, he peels away from you before gently placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. The salty liquid coats his tongue as you melt into his touch, assuming it was only platonic affection. Of course, it wasn't. The feeling of your skin against his lips sparked something inside of him that he had been waiting patiently for so long. Wanting to be bold and explore further, Shoto trails his light pecks down to the tip of your nose and hovers over your lips. Once you feel him trying to steal a kiss, you push yourself away.

"Sorry, you must be overwhelmed." He removes his arms from your sides, watching as you nod and accept his apology.

The room soon quiets down and the air begins to fill with warmth. Yet, you begin to miss the feeling of his body against yours. Shoto lifts himself off of the bed and disappears to the desk he was originally seated in. You can hear the tapping of plates and metal and soon Shoto appears by your side of the bed. Pushing the curtain away, he reveals a tray of light food in his hands.

"What are these for?" You ask, but he only offers a vague answer.

"In case you become hungry or thirsty. I'll sit by the desk to give you some privacy." He places the tray on your lap before moving back to the desk.

"Oh, thank you."

Shoto takes his phone out of his pocket and begins scrolling aimlessly again. You can see the white light through the sheer drapes, and for a brief second, you wonder what Shoto is busy doing. His fingers dance across the screen, frantically texting his father that he wants Bakugou to be fired by the morning. Speaking of the hothead, your mind runs across him once more. It's still hard to believe Shoto since Bakugou seemed so genuine. Alas, you've only known him for a short time and it is hard to trust someone fully.

You'll talk to Bakugou when you wake up.

While you think about what tomorrow has to offer, you start to feel a strange need to drink. The room starts to fill with immense heat; although half of your body can handle it, thanks to your fire quirk, the other half becomes unbearable. When did it get so hot? The robe on your shoulders starts to feel uncomfortable on your now sticky skin. You remove the clothing from your body, not caring that Shoto would see your lingerie if he was close. For now, you need to cool down. If only he was beside you...

Your eyes peer down at the tray: one glass of water, a cluster of grapes, one pomegranate sliced in half, and a whole apple.

Reaching for the glass, you bring it to your lips and sip all of the liquid. The cup gives you relief from the heat; inside are a few jagged ice cubes. Taking one in your mouth, you finally begin to relax again. When you finish, you place the glass on the tray and scan the contents again. A wave of hunger urges you to eat something, anything, on the plate. You choose the pomegranate, plucking some seeds from the inside before eating them.

Unbeknownst to you, Shoto's eyes have been on your frame since the moment he heard your body shift on the mattress. Smiling to himself once he sees you consume the food he's gifted you. He places his phone down on the desk and rises from his chair.

Before you could finish the fruit, you sense Shoto's presence near the bed. You look up but it's too late, an icy cold grip on your wrist halts your movements. As you stare up at him visibly confused and dazed, he says in a low hushed tone:

"You stole from me, so it's only fair if I take something from you."

"Take something from me? What do you mean..?" You ask, yet he only responds by leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

This time, his hand restrains your neck and coaxes you closer to his body — making it difficult to reject him. The familiar flavor of pomegranate coats your taste buds as you feel his tongue slip inside your parted lips. His teeth nip at your flesh until it becomes swollen and a strange metallic sensation mixes on your tongue.

You feel the tray moving on your lap until it's placed elsewhere in the room. Your hands instinctively move to his shoulders as if trying to keep a predator at bay. Shoto's arms envelop your torso, further deepening the kiss until he feels your nerves relax under him. Grazing his tongue across your lips, he soon kneels on an open space in the mattress.

Submitting to his touches, your hands soon trail down to his chest until a hard, rhythmic pulsing of his heartbeat throbs in your palm. The overjoyed hero's body became restless as he felt your contact with his skin; he'd been waiting for this moment for as long as he could remember. To share a kiss with you, his first and he hoped yours as well.

Separating his body with yours, his arms untangled from your body as he placed light kisses along the underside of your jaw to your neck. Ignoring the light hums and soft noises you made from his actions, Shoto's fingers clawed at your flimsy sleepwear that would surely tear off if he wasn't careful. His head nestled atop your shoulder, breathing in your scent and silently cursing your mother for dousing you in nauseating perfume.

"Shoto..." You mewled out weakly as his face presses further against your skin.

"Sorry," He mumbles in a quiet whisper. "I just couldn't hold back anymore..." Sitting in an empty space beside you on the bed, Shoto is reluctant to remove you from his hold as if he is afraid you will flee.

His fingernails stab sharply into the fabric of your clothing and nearly scrape into your flesh. Then, his breathing becomes rigged as he murmurs a few incoherent words. It takes a few minutes for you to understand; the words slipping out of his mouth are endless apologies. Before you could inquire about what was wrong — you weren't angry with his overly affectionate demeanor, only confused — he raises his head, now quiet as his lips tremble as he tries to form some words in his head.

"This isn't the way I wanted it to happen, I was hoping to court you first." You feel a burning sensation on your cheeks, as you peer up at him you notice some flames blazing from the red burn on his eye. Shoto faces you now, however his stare is cast down to your hands which he soon intertwines with his own. "But... I was too late. Now, you're thinking about him, not me... Is there something wrong with me?"

"W- What..? No, Shoto, I think you should calm down." His grip on your hands doesn't falter, instead tightening. A hot tingle from one of his hands engulfs yours, so painful that you're sure it will leave a scar if he doesn't move. "Y- You're hurting me..."

Upon seeing the flash of heat on your hand, he flinches away and begs for your forgiveness. He soothes your pain with his ice and pulls away once you're calm.

"Am I not worthy?" As you try to remind him of his value and deny his acts of low confidence, he stays unfazed. "Then, why haven't you noticed? Do you not think of me the same way?"

"Noticed... what?"

"My love for you, but I suppose you've never felt the same way." It would be a lie for you to claim that you haven't experienced a romantic attraction to him... somehow, you've forgotten after the years passed. "It's my fault, I should've been more direct." He brings your wounded hand to his lips before kissing at the marks. "I've always felt this way since you saved me. We were made for each other, don't you see? I've been gone for too long, perhaps you've just forgotten, right? Let's make up for all our lost time..."

Before you could fully comprehend his words, Shoto's hands move to your shoulders and knead into your muscles; soothing your strained body in order to get you to relax. As some time passes, you begin to slip away into his touch as your head becomes heavy and fills with fog. He releases a pleasing hum, thinking to himself that the profession of his undying love finally swayed your heart — that was not the case. The more you calmed, the further his hands would dip into untouched territory on your body as you succumbed to his caresses.

His knees cage either side of your body as he hovers above you, pressing firmly into cushioning. His warm breath tickles the hairs of your neck, sprouting goosebumps throughout your skin. He stops his hands over your chest to feel your rapidly beating heart; the rhythm nearly matches his own. Whatever ounce of cowardice or fear leaves his tainted spirit. Shoto is certain that now is a perfect time; everything he'd ever wanted was coming true, and the option to retreat is gone. Unfortunately, you are forced to comply with the same sentiments.

Swiftly maneuvering his hands to the hem of your nightwear, Shoto easily peels the fabric off of your body. Coaxing you upwards, he lifts the garment over your arms and head before neatly discarding it elsewhere in the room. His palms tenderly squish the flesh covered by your bra while you instinctively hold onto his wrists. His eyes lovingly glimmer with a look of pure adoration; Shoto takes his time, slowly basking in the feeling of your body in his hands. Your hold on him loosens with every timid touch he gives you.

He leans forward, pressing another breathtaking kiss to silence any protests, which are now nonexistent. The thought of pushing him away is buried by the sense of desperation that emits from his hold and his kiss. His fingers travel behind your back and play with your brassier before unclasping it. Hooking his fingers over your lace panties, both undergarments soon disappear to an unknown location in the room. As you lay bare and exposed to the fluctuating temperatures of the room, he raises himself off the mattress and positions himself behind you with your back resting on his chest.

Stroking your plush thighs, he chuckles after he hears you gasp when his hands graze too close to your opening. His thumb circles around your clit as his other hand travels to your bust and fits perfectly around one, caressing your pebbled skin and teasing your bud. Shoto rests his head perfectly on your shoulder until your cheeks are pressing closely together. You can't see him — too focused on the movement of his arms — but he intently watches your body writhe. Your legs threaten to close once you feel him stroke your hood.

"You know... I've never done something like this before," He barely breathes out as his voice makes a chill run down your spine. There's something in the tone of his voice that sounds abnormal. "You're doing so well..."

Your fingers dig sharply into Shoto's hands, leaving indents in his skin as his thumb meets your sex at an agonizingly slow pace. He seemed to take pleasure in it as you could hear the echo of his soft laughter directly in one of your ears when you became too frustrated.

"Sho... Sho- Can you... faster, please?" Your slurred speech and submissive behavior would have been embarrassing if you were in the right state of mind, but alas that was not the case.

"Hmm? You want me to move faster..?" Upon hearing your hum of approval, he deepens his press against your clit. Partially lifting your hood and exposing your swollen nub to the air. Smiling against your skin, he says, "You're so perfect, just for me... mine."

His middle finger ghosts around your folds, and your core trembles practically begging for him to enter and offer some relief. An immense heat erupts from your body despite none of your quirks being in use. Although Shoto's body is warm, it provides you comfort. There's a need for you to be next to him, to touch him. Your fire quirk is not active, but you feel like you're burning. A small glance around the room and you see no flames erupting from his left side. Your hands raise from his wrists and slide up his arms to push your body closer against him.

Teasing your unnaturally wet slick, Shoto thanks himself for slipping an aphrodisiac inside of the water. Parting your folds with his index and ring fingers, he sinks his middle inside your warm walls soon groaning as they clench around him. "so wet for me, only me. never for anyone else..." He wishes he could feel you tightening on his cock. Unfortunately, you haven't noticed it stiffening behind you. His finger nudges upwards into a gummy section of your walls, eagerly exploring inside.

He leaves kisses and small nips across your nape. Harshly sucking and sinking his teeth into your skin that your mother would surely question you about in the morning. His fingers pump in and out of you; the rhythm is erratic before he nestles in a region of your walls that you seem to enjoy. Stretching you out as much as his thick fingers can, he reaches deeper inside with each thrust. As he grazes across a sensitive area, your feet bury into the duvet.

Trying to swallow your moans proved to be pointless, expletives and slurred mewls of pleasure begin to echo through the walls; a symphony to Shoto's ears but a nuisance to the others inside. One of his hands trails to your exposed breasts. He sharply exhales at the flesh in his palm, tugging on your sensitive bud. Your eyes screw shut when Shoto's thumb rolls across your sensitive clit again, drawing your body nearer to a release. His hand soon moves from your chest to your throat.

Squeezing lightly against your veins until you start to feel dizzy, he pulls you even closer to him and whispers, "call me yours" "say you'll never leave me" "tell me you love me" "say it" "just say it... please". Shoto starts chanting more demands in your ear, hoping in your disoriented state you would listen — even if it was just for tonight. However, he can't perform miracles and his use of power could only take him so far. He released his hold as your lungs began to fill with air again. His fingers move to tightly gasp your chin.

"Sho- Shoto... I..." You stutter before pausing at a sudden pool of warmth rushing to your lower tummy. You want to answer him truthfully, but the new sensation of pleasure on your bottom half overtakes you — or maybe that is what you try to convince yourself.

Feeling your walls begin to spasm, Shoto senses that you're close. A pool of your wetness begins to leak into the duvet and stain the sheets. As your core pulses and contracts around his fingers, you grasp onto his arms. You try to urge him deeper, getting lost in the sensation before you feel him pull away. His finger slips out easily and his thumb disconnects from your clit, denying your climax. A wave of pleasure washes over you as you spasm in his arms even more aroused than before, but it soon fades with his fingers gone.

"Why couldn't you answer?" He surprisingly asks as if the hand locked on your throat gave you any chance to replay. "Do you dislike me that much? Am I so repulsive?" You always knew his esteem was low after he was burned, but you assumed he overcame it. When you try to deny his insecurities, your words are unintelligible with your rapid breathing. He looks away before responding, "Nevermind."

Shoto raises your body and moves from behind you. His demeanor seems agitated, but no less determined than before. He was certain that he would walk out of the room knowing that you adored him the same way he did. It wasn't in his plan to go this far, yet the restless feeling in his chest wouldn't dissipate. You rested backward on the bed, unable to support yourself after sitting up for so long. He peels his clothing from his body revealing his well-toned and sculpted frame from years of hard work.

He kneels on the bed again but this time between your legs. He leans forward until he's eye-level with your pussy after straightening your waist. The first time he's seen your body so perfect and on display for him. Internally, he congratulates himself for saving your climax until now; a taste is better instead, he thinks.

His lips attach to your inner thighs as he kisses and leaves blue and purple marks against your skin. The pads of his fingers massage your flesh, occasionally making it tremble weakly in his palms. Every sensation that touches your body makes you crave Shoto more, you're certain that it is purely from arousal and not romantic emotions. It was obvious to you what he wanted by now.

His hot breath tingles your heat, smirking when he sees your slit spasm. Disappearing between your thighs, you feel him do kitten licks on your pearl before flattening his tongue and doing a long lap at your folds. Unable to hold back his pure excitement, he collects your essence on his wet muscle, so eager for a taste. A sting of your wetness and his saliva connect before breaking as he pulls away. Swirling his tongue on your clit, Shoto darts across your bud a few times before savoring whatever oozes out of you.

Noises inside the room are nothing but pure filth, you pray that no one can hear. His head peaks up to see your expression of pure ecstasy and bliss. When you lock eyes with him, you notice his chin and lips stained with a clear mixture of your juices. Tangling your fingers in his hair, your hand nudges him deeper towards his entrance to chase after a release as heat travels down below your tummy.

He focuses on your bud; sucking at the sex and repeating once he feels your fingers tug and scratch his scalp. Another thick finger soon enters again making your walls contract. As your back arches off the bed and your toes curl around themselves, heat emits from your body; expletives and moans leave your throat. You no longer cared about his family hearing, it was surely too late now.

His hands press your hips further into the mattress, trying to keep your shifting body still. Soon, a gush of your release leaks onto his tongue as he eagerly catches every drop; unwinding and finishing on Shoto's face. His lips glisten with clear sticky liquid as he helps you ride out your orgasm. While you pant and steadily lose your grip on his hair, he presses further into your mound and licks your slick clean.

Shoto pulls away from your lower half while you watch as he raises himself proudly. Peering down at you and grinning to himself, obviously happy that he could make you orgasm. He repositions his hips between your legs, easily parting your tired and numb thighs. You haven't caught a good look at his length but when you glimpse down, you see it. It's so pretty. Perfectly trimmed half-white and half-red hair and it seemed well-groomed for the occasion. Of course, this was all a planned meeting.

When he notices you staring, a pink blush spreads across his cheeks and ears. Shoto doesn't think it's much but you believe otherwise. Unsure what to do with your hands, you rest them over your heart until they are near to your face and chin. His tip glides over your opening, prodding over your hole gently and holding your waist as he starts to sink in.

His cock buries deep inside your cunt, swallowing him whole inch by inch. Cries of pain ring in Shoto's ears as his girth stretches you apart. Your eyes clench shut for a second and when they reopen his face is only a few inches away from yours. His hands hook under both of your legs, pushing them close to your chest while whispering something about how it will feel better this way. His eyes are filled with lust, twinkling before colliding his lips with yours. A taste of your essence still remains on his tongue. Trying to soothe your cries, he muffles them with his passionate kisses.

Slowly, he finally bottoms out of your warm region; only pulling away from your lips when you tighten around him. Your eyes close once again as you try to find subtle acts to suppress the pain. Shoto doesn't seem to approve of this, though.

"Darling, couples should look in the eye when they make love to each other..." Icy fingers wrap around your chin and forcefully tilt your chin until he is the only thing in your view. His eyes glisten with pure adoration while yours are unreadable. Perhaps it was the opposite — fear or disdain.

You aren't sure. Shoto, however, convinces himself that you have the same affections. The euphoric state of pleasure he's in from being with you clouds his mind. Couples? You want to question him but his hold on your jaw is tight and unwavering. It locks your mouth in place until you can lightly mumble one word...

"Shoto..."

He shushes you and nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he fills you completely. A deep sensation of pressure along your walls brings you nothing but discomfort. Soon raising his hips, his cock glides out of your slick-covered core as he thrusts gently. Massaging your walls, as his tip rubs along a sensitive spot a small feeling of pleasure comes — lackluster compared to the girth of his cock. It was much bigger than most you've seen or encountered in your life; you haven't seen it, but you're sure it's one of the few things he's inherited from his father.

As you wince in pain, he says, "i'll try and go easy..." It's clear and audible but spoken behind gritted teeth and nearly slurred like he's holding his composure. You needed to be molded perfectly, fitting in his arms like a lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Just for him. Just for the first night, at least.

He starts at a gentle, slow pace. Each thrust brings a gradual and deeper feeling of bliss that diminishes your initial discomfort. The grunts and low moans he makes directly in your ear coaxes you into enjoying. For a moment, you forget about your lack of consent to this. You envelop him so perfectly that it's hard for Shoto to hold back as he begins to hasten and deepen his sloppy thrusts inside your pussy. His arms wrap around your body, bringing you closer to him until your chests are pressing directly on each other.

"Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, princess..." A tone that sounds nothing like the Shoto you know. But then again, he seems so pussy-drunk, you aren't sure anymore.

As his pace becomes more frantic and desperate to release his own essence, you feel a familiar coil in your heart threaten to loosen. Your nails dig and claw at Shoto's back; you miss seeing his elated expression just out of the corner of your eye. You've finally marked him too and claimed him as yours, he thinks. His hips roll against your spot once more, making you moan and utter, "oh- fuck, sho- m' gonna..!"

"Let it out for me, don't hold back" His eyes never leave your face, waiting and watching patiently. "you wanna cum on my cock, don't you?" "jus' mine, only for me..." "you love my cock, you do...'

Nodding and responding with a muffled and pitched hum, "mm..!" You've succumbed to his wishes tonight.

"Say it, you love me..."

"I... I love you, Shoto." Staring up at you with full expectation, there wasn't any possible way for you to avoid him.

Pleased with your response, he returns with newfound vigor. Hungry lust for more is evident with his energetic thrusts; rutting deep and knocking the steel bedframe into the wall. Trailing his hand down to your clit, he massages the swollen bud until your walls flutter around and a warm gush of clear liquid covers his shaft. Panting into his skin, you suck him deeper into your entrance as Shoto savors the feeling and hopes for more.

He doesn't slow down, not even after you've calmed down from your high. Instead gripping your chin and forcing you to stare at him again. His eyes are now glowing differently than before as an eerie smile creeps across his lips. He's so happy to hear you say the words he's been waiting for since the start of the night. You were right before, this isn't the Shoto you know. The one you trained with, the one you spent your entire childhood with. The glimmer in his eyes soon turns dark and lovestruck as if you're the only being of importance.

"You... love me? You do... You do..." He chants more nonsensical words again but you're unable to pay attention with the overstimulation giving you too much pleasure after your high. "You do... Mine. My other half..." His speech nearly matches the rhythm of his thrusts, frantic and needy. Trying to speak does you no good; he can't hear you over his own voice, anyways.

Repeating his words in a sinister fashion as if he's doing some sort of ritual. His giddy voice sounds as if he's excited that you've reciprocated his love, finally. Shoto bites down on your neck until a metallic taste coats his tongue. Grunting loudly before his muscles seize up and his hot breath tickles your neck with his heavy panting. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he paints your walls white and spills his seed deep inside. He stays resting on top of your chest for a couple minutes to make sure nothing leaks out.

"You're always so good to me, (Y/N)... You've always loved me when no one else has." He says through his exhales. "I was a little rough," Finally, he sees the marks and bites scattered across your skin. "I'm sorry, I got desperate but I'm happy you can listen to me now."

As he pulls out, some cum leaks between your folds. He collects it with his finger and pushes it deep inside your heat. Shoto tries showing his finger covered in white essence to you, "look, this means we're united forever... no matter what happens, we'll always be together, won't we? you won't leave me... right?"

Your lack of response makes him brim with anxiety but when he looks at you, he sees how exhausted you are. Your head is tilted to the side as your eyes threaten to close. Soon, your breathing becomes steady and your hold on his body weakens. Shoto moves off of you until he lays to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck as you drift off to sleep.

"I guess it's wearing off... you'll be asleep for a while." He whispers while clinging to your body. "I wanted to talk about the future, our future. But I'll have to wait until the morning..." The soft sounds of your snoring soon echo through the walls. "Good night, my love."

Chirping birds at the crack of dawn. Orange-purple hues paint the sky's blank canvas. Finally, it's morning. You would've seen each of these scenic treasures if you waked up earlier. Instead, as if you didn't have a care in the world, you slept in. Far past the times you usually wake up when dealing with college. Shifting peacefully under the bed's white duvet, your body easily nestled into the soft cushion. You didn't want to wake up, at least not right now. It wasn't until the morning sunshine bled through the curtains and brightened the entire room, you didn't have a choice now.

Your arms felt around the space next to you only to discover that there was nobody there. As you lift your heavy eyelids, you realize that Shoto was missing; only an imprint of his body remained in the sheets. Trying to move only brought severe pains throughout your body: your arms, legs, neck, head, and in between your thighs. You didn't forget the events of the previous night, how could you? Each mark on your body was a reminder of that.

Sitting up in the bed, you tried looking for your phone but it was nowhere to be found. Did you even bring it with you when you stayed in the room with Shoto? You hadn't used it the entire evening. It was left somewhere in your room, but you had not seen it when your mother brought Fuyumi into your room. Perhaps one of them knew its location. You planned on calling Bakugou to ask him about the other 'girls' Shoto said he was messing with but you soon decide to do it later.

A nearby digital clock atop the dresser presents the time; it is nearly eleven in the morning. It was quite unusual for you to sleep so long since you've been waking up early for college. A head-splitting migraine brings you out of your thoughts, compared to last night you finally feel normal again but with pains in your body. Next to the clock is a note and clothing. You walk to the dress and hold the piece of paper to read it closely:

'Please get dressed with these and meet us in the living room.' Written neatly in Shoto's handwriting.

Under the note is a pair of wide-legged pants and a crisply ironed blouse. You get dressed in the clothes provided, not thinking too much about why they are here. You're only grateful that you don't have to wear flimsy lingerie. Before you leave the room, you check yourself in the mirror. You try desperately to cover or conceal any of the bruises left on your body and tidy up your appearance.

When you finally exit, you see Natsuo leaving his room with his belongings, ready to depart. He looks up and sees you, smiling widely before approaching you in a friendly demeanor.

"Good morning, Natsuo." You say, finally acknowledging him. He responds with the same greeting before continuing.

"We missed you during breakfast." Ah, you were sleeping for that long. "Shoto said you were really tired last night when I asked him."

"Yeah... I guess." You try not to do anything awkward but soon your face heats up as your face makes a guilty expression. "So... How did you sleep last night?" He chuckles to himself and seems to turn red.

"I slept fine, but... You and Shoto... Made a little too much noise." As if your morning couldn't get any more embarrassing. Natsuo's eyes shift to exposed marks on your skin.

"I'm so, so sorry..! I didn't mean- We didn't mean to disturb you..!"

"It's fine, really. You two are newlyweds now and it was your first night together, right? You guys really couldn't wait, huh?" Wait... newlyweds? Maybe you misheard, or it was some old-fashioned way of saying you were dating Shoto. You didn't want to think that, but then again, friends don't do things like that and keep the same platonic feels. "It's getting late, everyone is leaving soon." He checks the time on his phone before lifting his things. "The family is waiting for you downstairs. I can walk you to them if you'd like."

You shyly nod, not wanting to seem rude. As you and Natsuo walk down the staircase, you can hear the chatter of people in the living room. You can recognize your mother's voice amongst the sound. Natsuo reveals that Fuyumi is waiting outside, but he thinks it's best if you meet Shoto first. When you reach the end of the stairs, you see your mother, Enji, and Shoto nearby in the living room.

"I have to get going, but I'll see you soon." He smiles brightly at you and waves before heading for the front door.

Turning your head, you see the three of them sitting on the couch. Various papers cover the large coffee table and Enji writes his signature on one of the papers. Shoto is given the pen from him and begins to sign on another free space, just under his father. Other signatures are written on the page. As you approach, your mother notices you and quickly stands. The two men seem alerted by her sudden movements and halt.

Shoto and his father watch as she pulls you out of the room and down the hall, away from everyone.

"Why is Enji here?" You ask your mother, hoping that she doesn't ignore your questions for once. Of course, you're wrong. But this time she reaches out to clasp your hands tightly. You try to move past her and walk back into the living room; something isn't right. She blocks your view.

"Look at me." When you do, you notice her glossy eyes and trembling hands. Her grip is tight but every few seconds it seems to loosen as her lips quiver in a frown. "I'm sorry, I wish I could've told you sooner... I wanted to but your father didn't think it would be a good idea."

"You... You spoke to him? When?" Your father always hated letting you see him in his ill state. He always avoided you, limiting himself to their bedroom and only leaving when you were away. Your mother takes a deep breath and continues.

"That's not important. From now on, you will be living with Shoto and his family..."

"I- I don't understand. Why am I staying with them? I can't... I want to stay with you and Dad." Then, as if the gears in your mind finally start working, you realize. "Is that the reason why you brought them over? You did all this work to the house just to impress them? And then make me live with them?"

You were partially correct. This wasn't to impress the patriarch or any of his older children. This was for the youngest, who demanded everything to be perfect for this day. He chose this design, it was based on the home he prepared for you two to live in. Perhaps Shoto thought it was kind to let you experience your new life for one night rather than to throw you in blind. Remove all of your sentimental value from this measly home until it was unrecognizable, the only thing to conquer next was your parents. The torture from knowing your home was now a reminder of your absence seemed painful enough.

"Yes, it is. Recently, it's been hard for us to manage his medical bills. Nobody here is working, it was getting harder each day and his condition has been worsening for the past few months." If it was money, you could've found a job somewhere. It wouldn't be much but it would have helped.

"But... What does that have to do with me moving?"

"Please, forgive me. Don't be angry, okay? This isn't punishment." She waits for your hesitant nod and speaks again. "Shoto must've heard about your father's illness from someone close. I'm not sure, I've never told anyone. He offered to convince Enji to help financially. They'll cover the hospital bills and transfer your father to a better doctor. Except, for an exchange, your hand in marriage."

The rest of your mother's words seem to fade out of your ears. No, you didn't want to believe it but it all seemed to make sense. She knew, every passing day you spent in this house. She knew, but she never said anything. Instead choosing to ignore you out of fear you would run. She knew last night and chose to keep her mouth shut. That was why she was a hollow shell during dinner last night and her face contorted in disgust and guilt whenever you were alone. You couldn't find any sympathy for her left; at the end of the day, she probably only saw a price tag attached to you.

"You feel betrayed, I know..." She could sense rage emitting off of your body with your silence. Of course, there was no need for this situation to happen. "But I didn't know what to do. I was lost and confused, I only agreed because I thought it was the best thing for our family. You can understand that, right? They aren't bad people, you get along with them well. It's for the best."

"No, I don't understand." You swiftly pull your hands out of your mother's grasp and take a few steps back from the woman. "You could've spoken to me before deciding, but you chose not to. You've already decided that I'm not a member of this family anymore."

You turn your back towards your mother and begin to walk towards the exit. She tries to frantically call your name but you continue.

"I can find the money and I know Dad still has more left from all of his hero work." Your chest tightens before erupting in severe pain, but you decide to ignore it. "I'm not leaving. I'm not signing any papers. I'm not marrying anyone. I'm going outside for some fresh air. When I get back, I need all of them out of our house."

A freezing, numb sensation travels from your feet up to your calves. Your movements are slow before stopping completely, frozen in place. When you look up, you see him. Speaking of the devil. Coming towards you with an agitated expression, nearly freezing your mother who tries to intervene. You try to melt through the ice using your fire but burn part of your clothes. It's too late, anyways.

When you finally free your legs, he stands right in front of you. Your mother flees to a space nearby, too intimidated to confront him.

"Whether you want to come is not up for debate. Your mother has signed on your behalf." He says harshly, an undeniable chill runs up your spine from his presence. "Our family has connections, you do know that. No one will question the validity of your signature. Don't be difficult."

"How do you expect me not to be when you've paid off my own mother?" You say before trying to leave again, nearly slipping on his ice. His hand wraps around your forearm, he uses all of his strength and almost breaks your bone.

"You said it yourself, this isn't your family anymore." Shoto has waited far too long, he won't give up now. "You still love your father, don't you? Of course, you do. Should your dying father suffer because of your selfishness? Or be saved? It's your decision, but this isn't about you."

You look at your mother who silently pleads for you to follow Shoto. Then your mind trails to Enji who is listening to the whole conversation with his eyes shut tight as he wonders how he raised such a brute of a son. His hold softens, allowing you some freedom but you don't move.

"Shoto, you can't force me..." You want to sound firm in your words but they are uttered weakly. "We can find another way, but not like this..."

"I'm not forcing you. As I said this is your decision but if you know what's best, you'll come with me." Shoto's hand is completely removed from your forearm and extends out in a welcoming manner.

You glance around your childhood home that has been uprooted and transformed from top to bottom. You can't recognize it anymore, but there's no need to. This will be the last day you step foot into this house.

Cautiously, your fingers intertwine with Shoto's hand. His lips slyly curl upwards at your foolish decision. In the distance, you hear your mother breathe a sigh of relief.

"That's it, like an obedient daughter..." He turns around and begins instructing your mother about organizing a ceremony in the upcoming weeks. She eagerly runs off to celebrate the news with your father and other family members.

It was sickening to watch her demeanor switch in the span of a few seconds.

"You know," Shoto speaks again, returning his full attention to you. "I was beginning to think you forgot about what you said to me last night." His thumb massages gently into the back of your hand. "About how you loved me... That wasn't a lie, or was it?"

Not knowing how to respond verbally, you shake your head. Shoto softly whispers, "good, good" and kisses your hand. Truthfully, you weren't being dishonest. It was in the heat of the moment and if you were asked now, you wouldn't know what to say.

"You did make a promise to me, to spend more time together. In the end, it worked out perfectly for us." Another tightening hold on your hand sends a shock of pain through your arm. Briefly looking into his eyes and seeing him spiral, it's not Shoto anymore. "Now, we'll spend an eternity together. Til' death do us part..."

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improbable-outset · 7 months

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📂 𝐑𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 "𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡"

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4k (that wasn’t supposed to happen icl)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Kissing, PIV sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, virginal fingering, cum eating, oral (m and f receiving), prone bone position (sorry bruh, very self indulgent here 💀), Olfactophilia, slight jealous Miguel (if you squint), Spanish pet names. MINORS DNI🔞🔞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel unveils more about his enhanced abilities with you and the air is quickly charged with desire. Yet lurking beneath your connection, there is a sense of uncertainty about the implications of Miguel’s extraordinary powers.

𝐀/𝐍: The chapter title sounded more amusing in my head. I didn’t think this one would turn out this long, I went a little overboard. I had to break down the paragraphs bc I got carried away ;-; anyways hope you enjoy this filth <3

You turned the key and pushed open the door to your apartment with a mix of anticipation and thrill erupting inside your gut. Tonight had been a rollercoaster of emotions, and was very eventful. Despite Miguel’s huge confession that came crashing down on you like a bolder, the night still ended well.

Though, the thought of him being Spider-Man still lingered at the back of your mind and you couldn’t shake off the feeling of your ex-husband being a human mutate the entire time. Yet you still welcomed him inside the familiar confines of your home with a warm gracious smile, the door closing with a soft click behind. In the warm glow of your apartment, you made your way to the walk-in kitchen.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You asked, glancing back at Miguel as you placed your purse on the countertop.

“A glass of water would be perfect.” He replied, taking in the surroundings of your home. You were amused by the awe in his expression as you filled two glasses with cold water from your tap.

“Here,” you handed him one of the glasses.

“Thanks” he took slow sips while his gaze explored the connected living room. Your talent for interior design hadn’t gone unnoticed, even during your early days of your marriage when you both moved in together. You would always have a plan on how things would be arranged, and with a bit of trial and error, it usually turned out beautifully. Miguel, on the other hand, left the planning all to you while he would make sure you were still fed after your hard work.

It was a distinctive dynamic you had. Miguel would always make the best dishes from back home and you adored and savoured every bite. You even tried to make empanadas for him once as a surprise anniversary gift back when your relationship was still filled with warmth and closure before you grew distant from each other with him always coming home late at night, probably from his heroic duties that you were clueless about at the time. After you went your separate ways, you would try to replicate his dishes but it would only bring you pain of what you had lost. Speaking of food…

“That baked ziti was amazing.” You commented as you took another sip. It’s been a while since you went out to eat in a high end restaurant. There was never a special occasion or an excuse for you to go.

“Was the food the only thing you enjoyed tonight?” Miguel replied in a teasing tone. You watched his face over the rim of your own glass as he said that.

“The night hasn’t ended just yet.”

“Oh? Care to elaborate on that?” He responded, clearly intrigued. You didn’t give him a verbal answer, instead you put your empty glass down on the counter and took his hand, leading him down the hall and to your bedroom. The anticipation settled in the air as you settled yourself on the bed and gestured for Miguel to follow.

“We’ve got all night. So you might as well tell me everything about Spider-Man, all the details.” You purred, your gaze locked into his with excitement.

“What do you want to know?” He lied beside you in amusement and willingness.

“First of all, what was the first thing you noticed when your genes were altered?”

“You want to get to those details hm? Well, the first thing I noticed was my vision was enhanced, a lot. Along with my strength and stamina. Oh, and the spinnerets in my forearm.”

You hummed in amusement as you soaked in every word he uttered. You couldn’t believe this was where things had ended up between the two of you but you also couldn’t help but marvel at how far you’ve come. “Well, look at you. Brawn and brains. What else is there?” You noticed he was hesitant for a moment before he spoke again.

“I'm sure you’ve seen my fangs at one point.” Your body stiffened as you recalled those awful memories of your heated arguments. What you saw from his mouth was real. A hint of relief washed over you knowing that you haven’t lost your mind and Miguel had confirmed it himself.

“I have…and I thought I was just hallucinating.” Your voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t blame you. I should’ve been honest from the start.”

“It’s alright, we’re starting something new now.”— you paused— “So what else haven’t you shown me.” You watched as he lifted his hand and you noticed something unusual emerging from his fingers. You audibly gasped at the sight of his talons. He brought his hand closer to your face so you could get a closer look. It didn’t occur to you how intimately close you were until now, yet there was an undeniable thrill in his proximity. Maybe it was a default habit in your mind that was convincing you that you were still comfortable with Miguel being this close.

With agonising anticipation, he lightly trailed your jaw with the tip of his talons, leaving a tingling feeling in its wake. Your breath hitched, feeling how sharp and pointy they were on your soft skin. If he were to press any harder, he would surely pierce your jaw. Not that you were entirely against that; but you didn’t want to raise any suspicions at work the following Monday, especially in a facility like Alchemax. His face was mere inches from yours and you knew where he was heading with this. The air in the room thickened with each passing second.

“You want to see more?” He asked, his voice lowered to a sultry tone. You nodded, unable to form any words.

Miguel leaned in and closed the remaining gap between the two of you. Finally, you managed to seal your longing with an electrifying connection and a scorching kiss. His lips moved against yours passionately making your heart pound in your chest. Miguel must’ve retracted his talons because now he was cradling your face as your mouth moved in sync. However, you pulled away abruptly when you felt a sudden shift in the air.

“My God…” you mumbled, feeling the familiar bugle in his pants.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to get ahead of myself.” He said, though the strained desire in his voice was palpable. “I mean, you’re not on birth control, right?” He held his gaze at you. You could practically feel the desperation in his tone.

“No…” You leaned closer, “but I might’ve got myself the morning after pill from the drug store before this.” You were planning for this moment the day you asked him out and the way his expression dropped, you could tell he picked up on that too. You got them prior to this date and the rest of the night you spend trying to please yourself before your date while imagining yourself with Miguel in bed together. But you knew no matter how much you touched yourself, you’d never reach the sensation that Miguel could give you.

A sly smile played on your lips before you leaned in for another kiss. His arm snaked around your waist and pulled down the zipper at the back of your dress. Once it reached all the way he let the dress pool around you before tossing it to the side. He left trails of wet kisses around your jaw and down your neck, however you had other things in mind. You attempted to reach for his clothed cock as he kept kissing you and gave it a desperate squeeze, making him pull away immediately from your neck.

“That needy, huh?” He retreated off of you and removed his shirt before his pants along with his boxers— his cock springing out in its full glory. You didn’t expect him to stay at the edge of your bed and lean back slightly with his cock still standing on its end. You shifted yourself so you were now on your knees. Suddenly, you felt his hand combed your scalp before grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you close. “Don't just stare at it, cariño,” he tugged at you and brought your face closer to his crotch.

“Since when were you in charge?” You quipped, wrapping your hand around the length and swiped your thumb over the pre-cum that was already leaking from the tip.

“The second I realised how bad you want this by getting yourself the morning after pill. Now get to work.” You didn’t expect him to catch you off guard like that, let alone even give you an answer to your rhetorical question but now you could feel your mouth getting dry. Did he know how much of an impact he had on you with his words?

“You better not make a mess on my bed.” You joked but there was a hint of seriousness in your tone. Though you wanted Miguel to leave a mark in your bedroom the morning after, the last thing you wanted was a stained sheet to deal with.

“You realise that means you’re gonna have to swallow, right?” He cocked his brow. You knew he was right and you didn’t have anything against that. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t agree to do it at all, you wouldn’t even let them touch your hair like this; they could just fuck you and leave. But you wanted the night to last with Miguel so you’d do anything it’ll take.

The strong scent coming from his crotch mixed with the faint smell of his sweat was dizzying and ignited a fire deep in your gut. That might be the pheromones doing that. You planted small kisses on the surface as his cock twitched with anticipation and desperate to be squeezed. The stifled groan you heard from his throat made your cunt throb a little and coaxed you to keep at it.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around the tip and took his length in his mouth. You tried to avoid scraping your teeth on the skin so you wouldn’t cause him any discomfort— given the fact that his girth was taking up a lot of space in your mouth, it was difficult. You still remember the first time you sucked him off on your wedding night and he specifically told you not to do that. His length rubbed against your upper palate while your tongue wrapped around its surface. It was taking up your whole mouth and you struggled to maintain a steady rhythm while giving it some friction. It wasn’t the most pleasurable experience having your mouth full to the point where he was almost touching your gullet, but watching his reaction made it all worth it. You kept your focus on his moans and the pleasurable sound of your name on his lips. His lascivious noises were for you and only you and encouraged you to keep your pace.

That’s it, that’s it. Let me hear you.

You noticed the muscles on his thighs clenching now. It was all familiar to you, the way his body would react when he was close to his peak. Before you knew it, you could taste the ropes of his warm jizz spilling from his cock. However, you forgot how much this man could come and you bit off more than you could chew, throwing you completely off guard. Your mouth was starting to fill up more as he released and his cum was beginning to leak down your chin— your eyes watered from the intensity and you had to pull away so you wouldn’t choke. His cock was now slick from a mix of your saliva and his remaining cum. You felt his thumb wiping your mouth before he lifted your head up to look at him.

“You okay?” His voice was still hazy and eyes still half-lidded.

“Yeah…just forgot how intense you can be.” You answered, still trying to stabilise yourself.

“Let me make you feel good then.” He gestured for you to lay down on the bed. You complied and you watched how his hands reached for your panties. His thick fingers hooked on the loop before pulling them off completely. The feeling of the open air hitting your drenched cunt, that was trapped in your panties for so long, made you shiver. His index finger rubbed against the folds first. You could hear the slick sound of yourself as he kept rubbing you. Without warning he inserted his finger in your gaping hole leaving you squirming under him. His fingers were big, so big, and though you have felt them before, your body was still not prepared for the sensation.

You gulped when his finger was fully inserted with the heel of his palm pressed against the sensitive bud. He pulled out and started pumping his digit while curling them inside you. Your breathing became more shallow as he continued finger-fucking you. Part of you wondered how it would feel if he used his talons inside you. But you didn’t want to risk anything. Things were getting so good. You tensed when you felt another one of his thick fingers being pushed inside you and you couldn’t control the whine that came out of your mouth and the way your body convulsed.

The knot inside your stomach snapped as your walls clenched hard before spilling everything. He pulled out his fingers and stuck them near your mouth, his eyes instructing you to open. You did and started sucking on his coated digit, the mix of his salty cum mixed with yours on your taste buds. You released his fingers and he plunged them back in your hole. Even with them being coated in your spit, it was still dizzying taking in his fingers, especially now that your cunt was swollen from your release— it felt a little sore this time around but the pain was easy to subside with his palm nudging on your clit.

“Come on cariño, I know you can come on my finger again.” You knew there was no point protesting. Once he had his mind fixed on doing something, he would do everything in his power to get it done. It was another thing you loved about this man. “Can those other men you had flings with make you come with just their fingers?” Ah, of course he remembered you saying that. You wondered what was going through his head when you told him. Was he jealous? Maybe he wanted to claim you again? “Tell me, cariño” You didn’t say anything to him directly but it didn’t take long for your body to spasm again and your cunt gushed with another orgasm. That was all he needed to satisfy his query. You were a panting mess by the time he pulled his fingers out of you again.

You still had enough strength to register and watch what he was doing next. He left wet kisses around your stomach and licked the exposed skin. He lowered himself around your crotch and sent trails of kisses around your inner thigh before getting to your swollen core, still dripping from your last release.

“Miguel…” you breathed, still trying to maintain your composure.

“You thought I was going to give you my cock after that?” His breath brushed against your eager cunt that was still clenching onto nothing. He was definitely doing that on purpose. “You scratched my back so I’ll scratch yours. That’s how it’s always been with us, remember? I saw how you were struggling so I thought I’d reward you for your work.” Sweet fuck, you loved this man. You chewed on your lower lip to suppress your pathetic moan. The look he was giving you between your legs only made your cunt pulsate more and your walls desperate for some friction.

All those other men you had flings with were never too focused on getting you to come. They only used the sex as a stress reliever and just wanted to reach their own climax so they could fill you up. But you never complained though, in truth, you just wanted to feel another man’s touch. Since there were no strings attached and you weren’t committing to any of them, you felt like they didn’t owe you anything like that. You thought to yourself that things will be easier for your heart to handle this way since you weren’t expected to get hurt. Your mind was so fogged with that idea, you forgot what it felt like having someone care for your needs too.

He started off with licking your folds in aching slow motion, getting you riled up. Your hands immediately reached for his hair and laced your fingers through the locks, letting out a shaking breath of approval when you felt him sucking on your sensitive bud. His mouth was giving you a better sensation on your clit than his palm, that only just barely brushed against it. He pulled away momentarily and you could see your mess glistening around his lips.

Then you saw it, his fangs emerging making your heart quicken in your chest before he dived in again, fully connecting his mouth onto your core. The sudden contact made your legs enclose around him in reflex. He lapped his tongue over the folds all while gently scraping his fangs over the sensitive areas. He was careful with his movements not to dig his canines too deep to cause any pain. It was a new feeling you’ve never felt before and you knew you’d never experience it with anyone else. Every juice leaked from your core was eagerly licked by him.

You attempted to grind your sex against his face to get some sort of friction from his tongue but his strong grip on your hips planted you on the mattress. That still didn’t stop you from squirming under him though. Your mind started to cloud with bliss and all you could focus on was his tongue movement and the feeling of his fangs grazing on your skin. He watched your reaction between your thighs as your mouth hung open. You couldn’t see his full face but through the looks of his eyes, you could tell he was giving you a smug expression as he ate up your reaction to his touches like a famished man.

You could feel your senses firing again as the heat was building up in your core. His tongue started lapping faster and flickering deeper into your cunt and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your back arched against the bed and with a desperate cry, you finally unraveled again, everything that squirted from your pussy was quickly licked off from his tongue. As he pulled away, there was a line of saliva that connected your folds with his lips that he wiped away with the back of his hand. He lapped over his fangs too that were also coated from your fresh release. He leaned into your face again and kissed you lightly. You tasted and smelled the bittersweet of yourself from his mouth as he went to suck on your lower lip.

Next thing you knew, you were gently pushing and flipped over on the bed, ass up. He had better access to your hair now and it’ll be easier to take him in this position. He held onto your back, guiding his cock through your rear. He braced himself before he made his entrance slowly. You could still taste him and yourself on the base of your tongue and you knew his cock was still coated in your saliva making it easier to squeeze between your folds. Your walls caressed every inch of him as he pushed further and further into you.

You could hear and feel the suction from yourself that gripped around his length as he pulled back only to shove himself back in again. As he did, you could feel your clit rubbing against the sheets beneath you with each force from his thrusts. The bed screeched in protest as he rolled his hips into you, forcing it to move up and down. His rhythm became more sporadic like all that pent up energy was poured into one night while your head was buried into the pillow, muffling the noise building up in your throat. You were truly helpless under him, his frame was completely enclosing over you so you were rooted on the bed being shoved into the mattress over and over again from his thrusts. Blood could be heard rushing in your ear and every pulse in your system was throbbing.

Miguel, what have you done to me? What the fuck have you done to me?!

Each thrust was more intense than the last, forcing you deeper into the sheets. You couldn’t control the noises that were coming out of your mouth now as he was desperately trying to chase the high he could only get from you and the way you were squeezing him in all the right places. You felt his fingers combing through your hair again before he tugged gently, but firmly enough to force you head up from the pillow to look at him. The red hue on his eyes were glowing against the low lighting in your bedroom as he continued to plunge himself into you.

“Talk to me…who fucks you good?” He spoke over your shoulder and over the sound of the bed creaking, his breath fanning over your ear. You caught a glimpse of his fangs as he grinned at you and you allowed yourself to be drowned by the richness of his voice. He must’ve recognised that you couldn’t form anything coherent from your mouth so he slowed down his pace to give you a chance to talk.

“You…” Was all you could muster before you slipped out another moan from your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, let alone form a cognitive thought in your head.

“Say my name, querida.” He commanded, giving one strong thrust that caught you by surprise.

“You, Miguel. It’s you-!” You gasped, the sound of your own voice was sounding foreign to you. No one had ever managed that out of you. He released your hair and your head dropped back on the pillow, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up. Out of all the times you’ve been fucked on your bed, this was by far the loudest you’ve been. The walls weren’t thin but you knew you’d still be getting noise complaints by the neighbours not just from your moans but with the repeated sounds of the headboard knocking against the wall. But that wasn’t in your mind right now. Every thought was slowly melting away from your brain, even your consciousness of your surroundings as he kept fucking you. It was like every other room in the building and everyone else in the apartment didn’t exist anymore— just you and him. You couldn’t see him but the sweat building up on his skin was giving off a subtle distinguishable smell and was causing his body to stick to yours as he kept on going.

He’s close, he’s close, he’s close.

Through your teary vision, you noticed him gripping onto your headboard as leverage before going deeper inside you. There it was, you could feel his release reaching every crevice and surface area inside as his body trembled from his strong climax. The rush of his hot release made you cry out his name before he took his time to pull out. Even with him releasing his cum deep inside you, there was still some leaking out through your folds.

You felt Miguel’s torso and your back sticking together with your sweat as he took his time to lift himself off of you. Lifting your head up from the pillow, you turned to see him leaving the room, his footsteps echoed in your, now, quiet apartment. You took this time to shift and turn your body around, the sheets were slightly damp under you. Your legs were still shaking from his rough thrusts and climax. Your senses were slowly coming back to you and the pulse in your ear was slowing down. The sound of the faucet could be heard from your kitchen as Miguel filled up a glass before his footsteps could be heard again as he approached you with a glass of water.

“Thought you might need this…” He handed you the glass. With shaking hands, you took the cold glass.

“Thank you.” You downed the water in one go, feeling the coolness down your throat before placing the empty glass on the nightstand.

“Do you want to get cleaned up?” Miguel asked. Your legs were still sticky from his cum and your sweat but you weren’t worried about that.

“In a bit, let me just hold you for a second, please.” Miguel climbed into bed and lied beside you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His warmth enveloped you and you through us swirled in a mixture of emotions. The passion you've just shared with him is still palpable with the smell of sweat and fresh sex woven in the air. Your finger fiddled with Miguel’s collar bone before you cradled his jaw. Your heart was still going haywire even as the intimacy was starting to settle down between the two of you. Your gaze shifted to his own and your mind started to wander. You thought about the future and even started a family you’ve longed for with Miguel but didn’t dare to dream about until now.

“Miguel…do you ever think about having children?” You whispered, too afraid to break the peaceful silence.

“I do…is that what you want mi amor?” He murmured. Mi amor? You gulped.

“Yes but…with your Spider DNA, what if our children inherit them too. I want them to live a normal life but what if they face the same dangers you do? What if I won’t be able to handle it?” You confessed. Miguel caressed your cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear before he spoke.

“I understand your worries, but we can’t let fear hold us back. I promise to protect you and them and I’ll try to be the best father and possibly the best husband too.” He reassured you. Amidst the doubts and uncertainty, there was still an undeniable warmth. The idea of raising a family with him felt like a second chance at happiness. You’ve both faced so much and you’ve overcome them. Perhaps you could both navigate the challenges of parenthood too. One step at a time.

“Thank you, Miguel. I think we should get in the shower to clean up now, don’t you?”

He smiled.

“You’re right. But first, don’t forget to take the pill…”

Part 4 🔞🔞

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #Miguel o’hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #♦︎— spicy #★— ayrus writes

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comiicii · 1 month

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Backdrop: Life had been mundane until you met Clark Kent.

Pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

Warnings: None, probably some grammatical errors and a little sadness if you’re a sap like me.

A's notes: inspired by ariana grande’s new album eternal sunshine, i’ll be doing a series of one shots based on the songs. they’ll be in no particular order and will be written for other characters but some will be featured more than once if they fit the song i’m writing about. ‘we cant be friends’ has me crying whenever i watch the video and i tear up a lot listening to it so enjoy this train wreck of a story.

Word count: 3.8k

For as long as you could remember, life was nothing special. It wasn’t horrible but you woke up most days simply doing work and trying to advance your career. Your life was mundane and filled with memories of you alone after moving to Metropolis. That was until you met him. Clark Kent. You had bumped into each other on your way into the Daily Planet for an interview. Well, it was actually you bumping into his broad chest and him catching you before you hit the marble floor. The softness in his deep ocean blue eyes were what made your heart do something it had never done. It felt like a pull in your chest that you hadn’t felt before. As if the universe made sense. Once you finally registered his apologies, you came to your senses and tried to apologize for not watching where you were going. Then he smiled. Now your stomach fluttered. That was not something your body usually did when it came to people. After he introduced himself, it was as if the world had color to it again.

It would be an understatement to say that you fell for Clark Kent. You deeply fell for Clark. Words could not express the love you instantly felt for him. And he fell just as hard for you. When he revealed his true identity to you, it only solidified the endless bounty of your love for him since he was willing to trust you with every part of himself that he didn’t share with the rest of the world. Life seemed to finally be worth living and getting up for. Every morning you rose with the sun and slowly forgot about those meek feelings that used to fill your body.

It wasn’t hard for the two of you to make some of the happiest memories together. Your then-apartment had been littered with trinkets that marked your happiest moments with Clark. Like the teddy bear he won for you when he took you to a carnival in his Kansas hometown. Or the homemade picture frame that had a silly selfie Clark took of the two of you while at work. Once you moved in together, the apartment you shared was filled with more memories the two of you made together. As a house warming gift, he presented you with a beautiful pendant necklace with both your birthstones that came together to make a heart. It’s a necklace you wear everyday and became a reminder that someone loved you unconditionally. When he proposed to you atop the ferris wheel, the ring was designed to match the necklace. Your wedding was small and intimate with just friends and family in attendance on the Kent family farm. It was the highlight of your life to be marrying the man of your dreams.

Life wasn’t always perfect with Clark though. Sharing your boyfriend (and eventual husband) with the world was not the easiest task to undertake but when he came home to you, those insecurities subsided. But those pesky feelings still lingered. Feelings of being unwanted and insecurities plagued the back of your mind. Besides, the Daily Planet constantly wrote puff pieces of his alter ego - with a few being written by you. As time passed and the world became more cruel, it became harder to keep those thoughts hidden. Little by little, those insecurities reared their ugly heads that led to some of the lowest of lows in your life since meeting Clark. He didn’t seem to understand why you were feeling as such and justified his work that it was his life’s purpose. And you didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t empathize with your feelings. You stood by him through thick and thin. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly that came with being Superman. You weren’t perfect either, though. You were an ambitious reporter and were climbing up in your career at the Daily Planet. Your work also came with some ugliness as you advanced in your career. This meant that the two of you were in the spotlight for your work. Two very different spotlights but spotlights nonetheless.

It hit particularly hard the one argument that ensued after he missed your first wedding anniversary. It was an important milestone that you had planned out for weeks. You had made reservations at the restaurant you had your first date on and he didn’t make an appearance until the morning hours of the following day. You had looked like a fool at the restaurant; patrons giving you looks of pity as you sipped on your water and twiddled your thumbs like a fool waiting for him. When he greeted you with a bouquet of lilies - the first drop of uneasiness touched your chest. You weren’t happy to see him. To see his sweet face you’d kissed good morning the morning before. To see his ocean eyes that carried such sincerity because he had broken a promise to you. He could see that he couldn’t avoid a fight with you because you didn’t look at him with love. Your eyes were filled with disappointment. The argument that ensued ended with him leaving for most of the day as you sobbed into your pillow. When he had returned you had awoken only to softly cry yourself to sleep again.

It took two days for the two of you to speak again and work through the argument. You both tried to be more mindful and quickly moved on from the unhappy moment. A part of you was content with the conversation and hopeful for what was to come with Clark. It wasn’t the first fight you two had but it was the first that hurt you so deeply.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the day you had asked for a divorce from Clark. It wasn’t something you planned but it wasn’t something you hadn’t contemplated in the recent year after your third wedding anniversary. It had come out of your mouth after another argument that was going nowhere. You had argued about how you were growing apart - how you had taken time off after planning to go away for a small vacation just the two of you and he wasn’t putting in the effort. He had come home late but it wasn’t because of him being Superman. It was because he worked late with Lois Lane on a story after he had told you that morning he’d be home to go on the trip. You were prepared to forgive him if it was because of his Superman duties but this was the last straw.

You weren’t the jealous type but even at work, it seemed like the two of you barely spoke as the years progressed. He got paired up with Lois for more stories and you didn’t like the sinking twist of your stomach whenever you saw Clark with her. They looked cute together and probably the office assumed he was sleeping with her given how flirty they tended to be (at least she was). The first time he noticed how much it bothered you, he assured you with his words and actions that he felt nothing for the reporter. He went as far as to give you a passionate kiss in the middle of the office, in front of Lois, as you bid him goodbye to go to an interview for a story you were writing. It had made you weak in the knees and you were close to pulling him into the archives room to continue the passion but you simply blushed and told him you loved him with the most love struck smile on your face. That squashed those insecurities for a while until you started noticing how close they’d sit together while brainstorming or how he began to stay later with her to work on a story. You tried not to be the jealous wife but you couldn’t help the green monster that was building on your fears and insecurities. The few times you brought it up afterwards, Clark was dismissive about your feelings. It hurt you. Hurt how little he seemed to care about your feelings.

From there, arguments were becoming more common. Filled with silence or one of you leaving the apartment for some time. It had become common practice to not speak to each other and eventually move on from the argument. You hated that your marriage had come to this point. After the last argument, you had left the apartment this time. You checked into a hotel and went to the bar for a drink. You looked at your ring and a tear ran down your cheek realizing that it didn’t give you hope. It didn’t give you the feeling you were hoping for because deep down, you knew that you couldn’t continue in the marriage if it wasn’t going to be mended. You had run the course of the marriage and it pained you. When you returned two days later, Clark was making lunch for both of you. He was prepared to go on the trip and put the argument behind. Your heart was racing because you didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to end something you had hoped would never end but it had to end. You needed to be the one to make Clark realize that the two of you weren’t going to get the happy ending. Not with each other. You were prepared for him to be upset and yell and express every reasonable emotion. When you uttered those terrible words, he simply froze and you could see his heart shatter from the look he gave you because he knew you were going to see the divorce through. The day ended with you packing your things and going back to the hotel, retaining a divorce lawyer and hunting for apartments. You had managed to find a job as a journalist for a small paper and put in your two weeks at the Daily Planet. By the end of it all, all you gave Clark was a letter asking for forgiveness for ending your marriage. Detailing all the love you had for him was genuine and would always remain but that for now, your paths had to separate. You ended the letter acknowledging that the two of you couldn’t be friends but that you’d wait for that day to come. Wait for the day that he’d like you again. You’d wait for his love again.

Clark’s heartbreak was just about close to unbearable as he didn’t pull his punches during missions and even Bruce had to pull him back from time to time. He had clung to that letter you wrote him and cried so hard the day he received it. Beating himself up for letting one of the most important people in his life feel the need to cut ties with him. Letting you feel like you had to end your story together. You weren’t fairing much better. For the first few months, you were crying yourself to sleep almost daily. Life had become mundane and when you thought of Clark, it became sad and lonely. You hated the pain you felt in your chest that had spread to your whole body.

A coworker at your new job had seen how sad you were about your divorce and handed you an ad about Wayne Enterprises having technology that claimed to erase people from your memory. A part of you didn’t think such a thing existed but you knew Bruce wouldn’t build something if it didn’t work. When Bruce Wayne saw your name on the list of possible subjects, he reached out to you. Meaning, he paid a visit at your current apartment that was now closer to Gotham. You had known Bruce through Clark and knew of his alter-ego as well. Batman had actually saved you a few times when you were in Gotham chasing leads and doing interviews. When he first met you, Clark and you had been together for a year and had been invited to one of Bruce’s fancy charity events. He had seen how in love you two were. He hadn’t seen Clark so happy before you came into his life and he could see the adoration you held for the Kryptonian. Clark had even said to him that night that he was going to marry you. It warmed his heart to see how happy you two had made each other in such a short period of time.

You had ironically decided to have the procedure done on what would’ve been your fourth wedding anniversary. You looked down at the box that contained every memory attached to Clark. The receptionist had handed you a clipboard with a waiver to sign; giving Wayne Enterprises permission to move forward with the process. A nurse came out to call your name and you handed her the clipboard. She brought you inside and took the box of your memories. You sat down and took deep breaths, the nurse giving you a few minutes as she left to get he others for the procedure. You looked around at the room, it was meant to look comfortable given the severity of the process. There was a mirror on the wall to your right. You figured it was part of the original room and that maybe on the other side were boxes of other people’s memories.

On the other side of the mirror, Clark stood looking at your nervous self that waited for the technicians to arrive. Bruce had elected to do the procedure himself for his friend after informing him that you had signed up for it yourself. Clark had come in on the same day per Bruce’s request since he figured it was best for it to be done on the same day for the both of you. Clark had come in with a box full of memories connected to you. Pictures that he had of you and different items you had gotten him through the years such as the bracelet you made for him while he was away on a mission with the Justice League. You had put beads with your initials on the bracelet and just like you wore your necklace, he wore his bracelet. The box also contained a picture he had taken of you out on his parent’s farm the weekend he brought you home to meet Ma Kent. The box unsurprisingly contained a great deal of pictures of you that he took. Some silly ones, cute ones, romantic and his most cherished one was at the top of the pile. It was a picture of the two of you kissing on your wedding day. Clark had taken it himself with his digital camera he carried everywhere with him. His other favorite picture was one of you under the covers, smiling and looking so peaceful and happy as he took the picture, wearing one of his flannels. It was taken the morning after he proposed to you. You had a picture of Clark in your box that you had taken a few seconds after he took that photo. He didn’t want to put anything in the box and be selfish but he knew for it to work, he had to follow Bruce’s instruction. The one item that wasn’t in the box was the letter you wrote him after your divorce. The one that solidified your parting of ways. He gave the letter to Bruce and told him wished he hadn’t made you feel so hurt that you had to do this.

With that, the billionaire decided to tell his friend that this wasn’t the first time the two of you had gone through this procedure. Two years prior to the two of you meeting, you both had been together for three years and had a great falling out that ended the relationship. It was enough to bring the both of you, at separate times, to him and ask to have your memories of each other erased. Bruce wanted to tell you but the sadness reflected in your eyes was enough to keep his mouth shut. Maybe deep down you knew that this wasn’t the first time you wanted to erase Clark from your life. You loved him so deeply that the only way for life to move forward again, he had to be erased. Clark didn’t realize he was crying as he heard his friend recount the first time you two had come in and watched you play with the pendant necklace he gave you when you moved in together. He still remembers how nervous he was to gift it to you; worried it was not going to be your style. He remembers how his heart leaped when you squealed with joy at the present. His heart felt heavy knowing you still wore the necklace despite being divorced. It was bittersweet hope that maybe you’d be able to try again without having to do this. He wanted to break through the window and beg you not to forget him but he knew that once your mind was made up, you saw it through. So, he sat down and asked Bruce to erase his memories of your relationship. All Clark wanted was for you to be happy. If that meant erasing him, he would learn to live with that.

As you closed your eyes, recounting the countless memories you had made with Clark for the last five years, it was hard to hold back the few tears that wet your cheeks. Your breathing got heavy as Clark disappeared from your life. Your fingers reached for your necklace - the remaining piece of the love you were erasing from your entire being. You looked at the nurses beside you, asking with teary eyes if you could keep just this one memory for yourself. You softly begged them as one nurse held your hand and told you that it was going to be okay, that the process was almost complete. You took in a shaky breath and closed your eyes as your fingers cling to the pendant; feeling the final memory of Clark’s ocean eyes fade.

When you opened your eyes again, you were slightly disoriented but greeted with the kind face of the nurse. She asked if you were okay and you smiled. You knew whatever just happened, it worked because there was a lightness in your chest. It felt as though you were brand new. As you stood from the chair, you thanked everyone. Without noticing, Bruce Wayne had come in to the room to congratulate you on the success of the procedure. You thanked the billionaire and went about your day. You took in the crisp afternoon air of Gotham and headed back your apartment. Clark came out the building a few minutes after you.

A few years later, life was certainly different. You had landed a job working for the Gotham Gazette as the lead investigative reporter and had made a name for yourself. You were content with life but there was something missing. At night, you found yourself out on dates that never led anywhere. On the nights where it was particularly bad, you phoned your billionaire friend Bruce Wayne whom you grew closer to in the following years with working at the Gazette. He became a confidant for your woes and wishes of your life. Bruce had come to deeply care about you after you had the procedure. Part of the reason was because Clark asked him to look out for you since he wouldn’t be able to. He couldn’t help to grow close to you because you were that type of soul that brought a warmth and comfort he hadn’t felt since he lost his parents.

Clark had focused on his work in the following years of his procedure. He had struck a relationship with his coworker, Lois Lane. They had been together for three years but it wasn’t working. Mainly because Clark hadn’t felt he could spend his life with her. She was beautiful, smart, ambitious and just about everything he could ask for in a partner but there was something missing. He couldn’t put his finger on it and quite frankly it killed him to continue in a relationship he knew wasn’t going to end in marriage.

Bruce had invited you to his charity event to raise money for the orphaned children of Gotham. He always invited you since he knew it could be good for networking for you and every now and then, you would get a date out of it. Clark and the other Justice League members were in attendance for this event as they knew this was an important cause for Bruce. Clark had just broken up with Lois the week prior and had been sulking, He originally wasn’t going to attend the event but Bruce and the others convinced him that a night out would be good for him.

A couple of hours into the event and you find yourself feeling out of place. Especially with the dress you chose; it was from a thrift shop you had found in Gotham and it had more of a bohemian look to it rather than the posh aura the other attendees wore. Bruce had checked in with you a few times to make sure you were okay; knowing how intense the scene of the Gotham elite could be and assuring you in the process of how beautiful you looked. You found yourself at the bar, grabbing what seemed to be your fifth flute of champagne for the night. Your spacial awareness was starting to go so it wasn’t surprising when you bumped into a large figure at your side, spilling some of your drink on him. You were a mess apologizing to the man. You were expecting him to make fuss but it was a pleasant surprise when you heard him softly chuckling at you. You were flushed with embarrassment but when you stared into the eyes of the man, your heart stopped. Meeting his deep blue eyes spread a warmth the champagne earlier hadn’t achieved. His heart also seemed to stop upon meeting your gaze. Your eyes made him feel like he had finally come home after a long journey of searching.

To continue having you in his presence, he joked that you owed him a dance in order to make up for ever so slightly wetting the sleeve of his navy blue suit. Hearing the slight mischievous tone only made you laugh in agreement, a sound he already found addicting. When he pulled you close to him, you hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating. As you followed his lead, you relaxed and he took the opportunity to ask for your name.

“Y/N.”

“Clark.”

#clark kent imagine #superman imagine #clark kent x reader #superman x reader #clark kent fanfiction #superman fanfiction #henry cavill superman #henry cavill superman x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #dc imagine #dc imagines #dceu imagine #dceu imagines #eternal sunshine series

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stickynotelovers-art · 2 months

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Currently working on character sheets for my art portfolio and I've been wanting to update/redo my Future Donnie sheet. He hasn't changed much, but it's more solid and I draw him pretty consistently now.

I have some alternate clothes and a better look at his arms too!

(tw/cw warning: minor body horror/burns/scars)

He still very much looks like he robbed a Hot Topic store and it still purple and black themed.

I originally didn't have anything special going on under his sleeves, but I knew if I redid his design I would have to figure out how his marks are on the rest of his arms. The burns/scars were a more recent thought I came up with. I haven't ever really drawn scarring or burn marks like this, so it was a new experience.

Drew some sketches trying to get comfortable with the scars and marks and very quickly realized my error in doing 3/4 references instead of straight-on front and backs. I will make some references later, but this is how it is right now.

I feel like Donnie keeps them covered mostly for his family's sake, as they tend to get emotional when they see them. So, he generally has them covered up with sleeves of some kind. The warmth of the sleeves also help with the aches to some degree.

#my art #fanart #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt au #family connections au #long distance family au #rottmnt future donnie #rottmnt casey jr #tw: minor body horror #tw: burns

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untitled-tmnt-blog · 3 months

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Summary of Cartoon Base's Q&A with Ron Corcillo

(Feb 10, 2024)

This is VERY long, so putting it under the cut!

Apocalyptic Future

We don't know how Donnie and Raph died specifically, but it was in combat against the Krang.

The turtles were leaders of the resistance and obviously went through some serious trauma. We don't really know how that affected them emotionally. It might be interesting to do a series that explored that timeline at some point.

Leo was the best ninja fighter. Once Raph and Donnie were gone, he was also the leader of the resistance. He also had a special affinity for Casey. He may have felt particularly responsible for Casey once his mother was gone.

Mikey probably could have communicated with Raph/Donnie/Splinter in the same way they could communicate with Karai, even though we didn't get the chance to see it.

The turtles wouldn't have had time for having their own kids or starting families. They were too busy fighting the krang, and the world was too dangerous for raising children.

They couldn't work out everyone's timelines in the bad future, but presumably, Big Mama's assistant would have joined the resistance, because what else could you do? She would have to have adopted her brothers as allies.

Mikey is definitely less cheerful and more wise, but he still ultimately has faith in the goodness of people and the world. Some things, you just can't change.

The turtles are in their early 40's, but the war has taken a toll.

Characters

Splinter spent a lot of time in the Hidden City, so he knows about more mystic things than we realize. He's developed those skills (i.e. using Leo's odachi to make a portal on the first try), but they've been dormant for a while.

Donnie can temporarily create items with his powers like the ones we see in the movie, but to make a tangible item that would last, he's have to build it physically the way he would with any of his tech.

Leo probably had the hardest time accepting Draxum, since he is the most skeptical. Mikey is the one who accepts Draxum the most easily. But they did have episodes planned where Leo and Draxum work together, so Leo would have gotten over it as well.

They had never worked out a name for the second turtle sister (the first possibly being named after Frida Kahlo), but would have chosen another female artist to name her after. Maybe Camille, after Camille Claudel.

The planned sisters would be roughly the same age as the turtles, so also teenagers. The only existing designs are what we saw on screen. They had never settled on colors for them.

CJ and present Leo is kind of a weird dynamic, when you think about it. Casey still couldn't help but see Leo as a father figure, but it must be a little different when you're roughly the same age.

Leo keeps whatever he wants in the little bags he has attached to his belt. Snacks, candy, fidget toys, body spray - this is Leo, after all.

Splinter had never celebrated the turtles birthdays in the past, because he was so depressed about his own mutation. But going forward, now that he's come to grips with who he really is, he would start to celebrate that day.

A meeting between Cassandra and Casey Junior would be incredibly heartfelt. Break out the tissues.

They thought about bringing Piebald back in Man vs. Sewer, but it didn't work out. She's definitely still out there in the sewers, so there would be plenty of opportunity for the turtles to interact with her again.

Following the movie, the most serious repercussions would be to Raph mentally. He would still be carrying some of that krang mentality. He might even occasionally pick up on thoughts of the krang. It would almost be like he had some form of ptsd.

A lot of Draxum's softening only comes from after his horrible experience of having his life force sucked away by the dark armor. He may have never seen the error of his ways without an experience like that. So, if the boys had never been taken by Splinter, he probably would have gone through with his plan to make them into weapons.

Splinter would have understood that Casey Jr became a soldier because he had to, and wouldn't have a problem with that. He would view Casey Jr as a nephew or grandson. They're all used to thinking of people as family even if they're not exactly related.

As far as mystic abilities, Mikey is definitely the most powerful. Donnie and Raph both seem to have pretty strong powers too, maybe Donnie a little more so. Leo is the one who relies the least on mystic power and the most on his physical and mental skills.

Donnie definitely seems to embrace the mystic power at the end of season 2 and in the movie. Ultimately, he would find ways to combine it with his tech for supreme power-ups.

April is 18 and the turtles are 16-18. Casey Jr is around late teens or 20.

Rise Lore

Given that the first krang that came to earth crashed into the Crying Titan, there must have been some form of historic yokai/hidden city even before the empyrean was around to introduce mystic powers. After all, someone must have built the Crying Titan. Maybe it was built by some other race that actually predates the yokai, and the yokai evolved from that race, affected by the emperyan.

There are definitely still krang out there, and most of the ones that we encounter are evil. The possibility of a good Krang could exist, though.

Before the humans, the yokai roamed freely both on the surface of the Earth and underground. They were probably a lot happier then, and somewhat more numerous. Oppression by the humans must have taken a toll on them.

There were a lot of Hamato and only so many powers you could have, so there would have been a lot of overlap in ninpo abilities across all the ancestors.

The Prison Dimension and Dimension X are two different dimensions. Dimension X is where the krang are originally from, and the Prison Dimension was just used to get rid of villains. Both exist in the Rise universe.

If there was more Rise

There weren't any specific plans for Kendra, but she certainly could have been interesting as a frenemy.

They would definitely want to get into Casey's whole history with the TMNT, his mom, etc.

They would have wanted to develop April and Sunita's friendship a lot more, and see how both of them related to Cassandra Jones.

They'd make as many seasons as they'd be allowed to! But seriously, they could easily fill at least 3 more seasons. There's a lot to unlock with the Krang, and they'd also want to expore much more with Big Mama and the Hidden City.

Cassandra might not have been part of the main group, but she would have been a regular ally.

Cassandra and the turtles would have been allies, fighting the Krang. It's clear from the end of the movie that Cassandra is now roaming around and fighting krang, so she and the turtles could connect occasionally as a running storyline.

A new season would pick up from where the movie left off, so it would be a new plan instead of what was already made.

Bishop would have to be an ally, considering that the turtles had just saved the Earth. But he might be a grudging ally, one who didn't really trust the turtles or didn't like the fact that they don't play by the rules.

It would definitely be easier to do crossovers with the other 2D animated series, like the 87 series or the 2003 series. They could have some fun playing with both the writing and animation style of those shows. Combining 2D and CG animation is more difficult.

They probably would not have mutated April, as it would be a big step. In the scrapped episode where Dale turned into a wolf mutant, it was a result of a temporary mystic curse. They could certainly do something like that with April.

The turtles would still be able to comminicate with Karai through mystic means.

They would have gotten a lot more into the history of the Council of Heads in future seasons when they explored the relationship between the Hidden City and the Krang. They are clearly among the most ancient of yokai, possibly predating the Hidden City itself.

They could have done a temporary reverse mutation via some sort of mystic spell, to give the turtles human designs. It might have been fun since it seems to be something that fans enjoy so much.

They would have had the turtles go to the krang's dimension at some point in order to defeat the krang fully. They could have encountered any of the traditional dimension x/z stuff that way.

The storyline where the boys find their sisters would probably still happen. People would want to see it, even though it's been spoiled.

They had plans to eventually visit other Hidden Cities, such as one beneath Tokyo.

Cut Episodes/Scenes

In the original ending of the movie where Casey says goodbye and leaves, he was going to find his mom.

One of the scrapped episodes had to do with Mikey taking care of the other turtles when they were transformed into toddlers. He was a natural caretaker.

They never planned on a space arc, but they probably would have done one where they travel to the Krang dimension. They also were going to travel to the prison dimension to release Karai, and they could have had other adventures there as well.

Behind the Scenes

For the episode Pizza Puffs, Ben Schwartz did his part for feverish Leo without looking at the script so he would sound confused.

It would be great if Nickelodeon released some of the finished animatics for the lost season 2 episodes that were already boarded, but unfortunately, it's all copywrited material.

All animated movies go through multiple revisions, rewrites, and changes, which is why some of the original rise movie storyboards were scrapped.

They do remote recording all the time, especially since covid.

The amount that a writer incorporates into a fight scene varies from script to script. Sometimes, there are moments in a fight scene that are key to the story. If so, they are written out. Otherwise, they would sometimes write out a fight scene but know that it would change in the board. Sometimes, they'd just shorthand it.

The writers try not to indulge in too much fanfic because there could be copyright issues if it is similar to anything they would ever do in the show.

When writing the brothers, it was important to keep them in character. You have to know exactly who your characters are, all the time, in every way. The audience will forgive you if you do things that aren't exactly logical, but they won't forgive you if you sell out your characters.

There was never an overall map done of the lairs, just individual rooms. It was always kind of tricky for them to figure out exactly how to move the characters from one room to the other.

The krang invasion was specific to the movie, so we probably wouldn't have seen it in the series at all if it had not been cut short.

Other TMNT Characters

They weren't necessarily planning to add characters from other versions yet. They still had so many areas to explore that were specific to Rise, like the Hidden City, the yokai, and the history of the krang.

There were no particular plans for Honeycutt. One character that they wanted to use but never did was Monty Moose, and they were trying very hard to figure out a way to incorporate him into a story.

They didn't have any plans for Renet, but a character like her could easily fit into the Rise universe. Obviously time travel is a big part of the movie. They could use her to explore timelines that might have happened had the events of the movie turned out differently.

They didn't get a chance to explore triceratons, so there could certainly still be some out there.

Any similarities between Big Mama's assistant and the High Mage from TMNT 2003 are coincidental. They gave her the cape and hood to disguise her identity.

They didn't have any plans for Beebop and Rocksteady, since they don't really fit in with the Rise version of Shredder and the Foot Clan.

The turtles certainly could meet Yuichi Usagi.

Usagi Yojimbo crossovers are always fun. Ron could see one where his dimension has been overrun by the krang, and he comes to our dimension to seek the turtles' help because they're the only ones who have ever defeated the krang.

Ron-Specific Questions

Ron's personal favorite episodes are "Hot Soup: The Game" and "Sparring Partner."

They were super excited when they got John Lydon (aka Johnny Rotten) as Meat Sweats, just because Ron and Russ are big pink rock fans.

When asked about favorite duos, Ron likes Raph & Mikey, Donnie & April, and Leo & Senor Hueso.

If he could only save one episode from Rise and the rest became lost media, Ron would save the four-part finale.

If he could save one cut episode or plotline, Ron would want to save the more complete version of the end of season 2, where we would have seen much more of the turtles training and bonding with Karai.

Ron was not part of the new Saturday Morning Adventures comic that has Rise Raph on the cover.

If he could make a spin-off, Ron would want to do a series where Cassandra roams the Earth fighting remnants of the krang, joined by her son Casey, and occasionally joined by individual turtles and others. Draxum might join forces with her as well.

Miscellaneous

The silhouette in a tank shown at the end of Bug Busters was meant to illustrate Lou Jitsu when he is first hit with the ooze and mutated along with the turtles. It's more of a memory than an exact replication.

The reason Raph was transformed via the pod instead of instantanously may have been because Raph was unwilling, and was more difficult to change than someone like the Foot Clan ninjas, who underwent their transformation willingly.

They never attempted to get a brand deal with a soup company so fans could get Rise hot soup, but it would be a good idea.

The photo from the movie was taken just before the krang arrived.

When asked which Rise character is most likely to be Spider-Man: none of them, because he's owned by Marvel and Sony.

When asked why Donnie likes cute bratty girls: Ron is not sure where that comes from.

In Dungeons and Dragons, Raph would be a fighter class, Mikey would be some sort of illusionist, Leo would be a clever assassin or theif. Donnie would insist on being a scientist because he's sure there would have been at least one sensible person back then. April would be the DM.

Ron doesn't know what the illegible skate ramp graffiti means, but can ask one of the designers about it.

In a coffee shop, Mikey would be the baker, Donnie would create the most efficient coffee brewing system ever, Raph and April would run the business side, and Leo would be the most demanding customer ever.

The Future of Rise

The demand for Rise merch is real. It would be nice if Nickelodeon would put out more official merch.

There are no current plans for a season 3, but we can keep trying!

All we can really do to try and get Rise back is continue to share the show and encourage other people to watch. As well as keep it trending whenever we can. Sooner or later, someone will realize that there's a very real demand for this show.

He has talked about the potential for continuing the show in a comic book or short format, or in some other formats as well.

When asked if there's any chance of Netflix picking up Rise, or for both Tales of the TMNT and Rise to coexist -- anything's possible!

Ron would love to see a Rise comic series, but it's not his call. As far as if it would be darker, Ron thinks it's important that for Rise, they keep things light-hearted and comedic. That was always the goal of the show.

Shows rarely get "cancelled" in kids animation. It can always be brought back, but the focus is on Tales of the TMNT for now. He's said before that Rise could be brought back down the road as a "retro" series, or in other formats like a comic book, movie, or shorts.

... plus one answer, that does not have the original question attached:

"She would be stunned, and probably disbelieving at first. But we would find a way (through mystic means) for her to see her future timeline, at which point she would be overcome with emotion."

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #ron corcillo #cartoon base #Q&A #my post #tmnt #Q&A summary

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bookwyrminspiration · 7 months

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Transcript of The Trade, the Marella KOTLC short story (Including the author introduction)

Note: OG pictures taken by Kenna!, provided by @fintan-pyren. Some words are obscured and the transcript may contain errors. Neverless, I hope this is useful to anyone who may need/want it :)

Hello, wonderful Keeper readers! Some of you might already know that I love to sneak a little something extra into the paperback versions of my books whenever I can (since I don't think hardcover readers should get to be the only ones who sometimes find fun bonuses). For those who didn't know that: surprise! :)

I knew I wanted to include a story from Marella's POV this time. Not only is she on the cover (looking fierce and fabulous!) and a fan-favorite character, but she also had some key scenes in Stellarlune that we only got to "hear" about. The Keeper books are limited to Sophie's POV, so I can only include moments where Sophie is present--and since Sophie didn't go with Marella to her meetings with Fintan, we only learn what Marella tells Sophie later. But what if there was something Marella didn't share?

Over the next few pages, you can watch one of Marella's conversations with Fintan play out in real time and hear all Marella's thoughts and reactions to what's happening. I've called this story "The Trade"--and I've worked in lots of fun little extra details (some of which might even turn out to be important later...*wink*).

For those wondering, this story is based a [sic] scene in chapter 31 of Stellarlune--and if you haven't read Stellarlune yet: SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! Reading this first will probably be confusing and will also give away a few tidbits too early. You'll be much happier if you start by reading Stellarlune and then come back here for all the Marella fun once you're done!

Happy reading! [shannon's signature]

"Ugh, I hate this place," Marella muttered, shaking the freshly fallen snowflakes out of her gilded blond hair much harder than necessary and yanking her thick velvet cape tighter around her narrow shoulders.

She said the same thing every time she had to trudge through the knee-high snowdrifts and found herself staring at the icicle-crusted entrance to the now familiar cave.

Didn't matter how many times she'd gone there--or how important her visits were. She was never not going to dread making the long, slippery trek down to Fintan's frozen cell.

The cave looked like some sort of open-mouthed snow beast waiting to devour everything in its path--which was probably intentional, since the prison was designed to be as miserable as possible.

Especially for someone like her.

The goblin guards even gave her pitying stares as they moved aside to reveal the endless icy path that wound down and down--and down a whole lot more--to a place where the tiniest glimmer of heat had long since been swallowed up by the suffocating cold.

No amount of clothing could keep Marella warm in the heart of the prison She'd actually tried wearing so many layers that she'd looked like an overstuffed gulon--and she still couldn't stop shivering. And the whole "body temperature regulation" thing wasn't exactly possible when she had to use so much concentration to make sense of Fintan's ranting.

it wasn't fair.

Everyone else got to train their special abilities in fancy rooms at Foxfire, with Mentors who weren't creepy, unstable murderers.

But they weren't Pyrokinetics.

Marella was lucky the Council was letting her use her ability at all.

They could just as easily label her Talentless, kick her out of their snobby academy, and ban her from ever sparking another flame.

Or they could decide she was too dangerous and lock her away.

in fact, Marella wouldn't have been surprised at all if the Council was already building an icy cage just for her--but the thought still made her shiver and wish she could've manifested as...

Nope.

She stopped herself from finishing that sentence.

If life had taught her anything, it was that there's no point wanting things that were never going to happen.

Instead, she focused on the thin beams of sunlight streaking through a gap in the gloomy gray clouds. The light was far from warm, but if she really concentrated, she could feel a hint of lingering heat tangled among the brightness.

She called the warmth closer and soaked it in--let it pool under her skin, pounding with her pulse, swelling with every heartbeat. Growing hotter and hotter and hotter until...

Snap!

A flick of her fingers sent a small tangle of flames sparking to life above her left palm.

"Feel better?" Linh asked as Marella let out a long, slow sigh.

Marella nodded--though she definitely could've done without the whispered that were now hissing around her head.

The flames had a soft, crackly voice. And they always made the same plea.

Feed me.

Fire craved fuel--constantly wanting more, more, more--and it would've been so easy for Marella to let the fire swell bigger and bigger and bigger.

But that was the kind of thing that would lead to a lifetime of shivering in an underground ice cube, so she forced her gaze to shift to Linh, who stood in a small, snowless circle surrounded by a halo of hovering snowflakes---none daring to touch her long silver-tipped hair or shimmery purple cape.

Marella knew how hard Linh had fought to achieve that level of control, and how tentative Linh's hold over her ability still was. But the fact Linh could stand in a sea of frozen water and do nothing except keep the falling snow from settling on her flushed pink cheeks was very...

Annoying.

Then again, everyone annoyed Marella a little.

Her dad used to call her "fiery" long before he realized how accurate that description truly was.

But it wasn't Marella's fault!

People tended to be annoying.

Especially a Hydrokinetic who was currently looking all peaceful and pretty and perfect while making snowflakes flutter and spin in intricate patterns.

That didn't mean Marella wasn't also grateful that Linh was willing to tag along to her Pyrokinetic lessons. it was nice to see a friendly face after hours of Fintan's rambling. Plus, it seemed like a good idea to have someone with water powers around while she practiced setting things on fire.

They were even finding some pretty cool ways to work together. Fire and water might be opposites--but that didn't mean they couldn't be combined. Marella had actually figured out a way to ignite Linh's rain, and she couldn't wait to use that little trick on the Neverseen--assuming those black-cloaked losers ever showed up again.

For a fearsome, unstoppable rebellion, they sure spend a lot of time hiding.

"Are you going to start by asking him about the cache or do the lesson first?" Linh asked, reminding Marella why they were there.

Marella shrugged. "Depends on Fintan's mood."

Sometimes he was already babbling about some fancy new fire trick when she arrived, as if he'd started the lesson without bothering to wait for her. Other times she couldn't get anywhere with him until she'd let him go on and on and on about how foolish the Council was, or how badly he'd been wronged, or how much he missed the feel of a flickering flame--and she didn't necessarily blame him for the last one.

Part of her wanted to hold on to her fireball forever.

Make it her smoky little pet.

Instead, she curled her fingers into a fist and snuffed it out--but she didn't let all the heat dissipate. She called a single tingling glint deeper, letting it sear through her veins and settle into her heart.

She knew it was a risky move, even with all the defenses she wrapped around it. But she couldn't bear the cold emptiness of Fintan's prison without a least a tiny fleck of warmth tucked away.

A secret spark whispering, I'm here. You're not alone.

"Okay," she said, weaving a few strands of her hair together to clam her twitchy fingers. She'd picked up the nervous habit years ago--after her mom's accident--and the tiny braids were kind of her trademark now. "i guess I should stop stalling and head down to deal with Sir Creepysparks, huh?"

Linh smiled. "Probably. Unless you want to rehearse what you're going to say."

"Nah. I'm just going to offer him an ugly flower--that doesn't exactly need a big speech. Oh, but that reminds me..."

She reached into her cape pocket and pulled out the spiky dark blue Noxflare--which looked more like a dying weed than a super-rare flower--and held it up to the guards. "Mr. Forkle already checked this before I brought it here, to make sure it's safe for me to offer to Fintan. but I figured you'd want to check it too."

"We do," they agreed in unison as one of the biggest, deadliest-looking guards took the Noxflare from Marella and brought it over to the other goblins.

A lot of mumbling about potential kindling and fire hazards followed.

Eventually, the guards decided to quick-freeze the Noxflare into a block of ice in case there was any heat stored inside.

"Whoa," Marella said when the scary guard returned with the flower-filled ice cube--which had turned out as big as her head. "How heavy is that thing?"

The guard studied Marella's skinny arms. "I can carry it for you if you'd like."

"That's probably be smart." Marella was pretty sure she'd drop it, or her fingers would freeze off during the long walk--and using telekinesis would drain her mental energy. "But can you stay out of sight? I was planning to tell Fintan he can only see his weird flower thing if he gives me access to his memories, and that's kinda ruined if there's a giant goblin holding it right next to me.

Not that it made the plan any less pointless.

Fintan was obviously going to turn her down.

He's already made it super clear that the only trade he was interested in was for his freedom--which was never going to happen.

Marella doubted a dying flower frozen in ice was suddenly going to make him be like, You know what? Who needs out of this horrible prison when I can have that!

But she was out of other ideas.

And Sophie wanted her to try the Noxflare thing, so...

Whatever.

Marella didn't care about Sophie's current power trip the way Stina did.

As long as she didn't have to be the one coming up with all the plans--or almost dying all the time--Marella was fine following orders. Especially if she got to say I told you so when they turned out to be a huge waste of time.

"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" Linh asked as Marella pulled thick gloves onto her hands. "Fintan likes me."

Marella wasn't sure if "like" was the right word, since Fintan didn't seem to like anybody. But he'd definitely been impressed with Linh.

He'd demanded to speak with "the Hydrokinetic" after Marella mentioned she practiced her pyrokinesis with Linh, so Marella had convinced the goblin guards to let Linh down into the prison. And when Fintan asked for a demonstration of Linh's ability to ensure she wouldn't "hinder his training," Linh had stirred up all the ice shards on his floor and made them rain around him like he was trapped inside a snow globe--which actually made him applaud.

Apparently, most Hydrokinetics struggled to manipulate water in its solid form, and were limited to liquid water or water vapor.

But not Linh.

Of course.

Marella was pretty sure that Linh was more powerful than any of her other friends.

"Well, if you need me, you know where to find me," Linh said as Marella forced her feet to carry her into the cave. "I'll just be here, making another snow menagerie." She flicker her wrist and wove the hovering snowflakes into a soaring alenon.

"Ugh, at least make some ugly creatures this time," Marella called over her shoulder. "I want to see a row of snow ghouls when I get back here. Or a giant Princess Purryfins!"

Linh gasped. "Princess Purryfins is not ugly! I'm going to tell her you said that!"

Marella laughed. "I'm sure you will."

She would've teased Linh more about her ridiculous obsession with her pet murcat, but the frigid air from the prison hit Marella hard, and she had to lock her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

As least she didn't have to make the journey by herself this time.

Marella could hear the scary goblin guard keeping pace several steps behind her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim blue light cast by a series of glowing spheres dangling from the ceiling. The downward slope grew steeper with each winding curve, and Marella was always tempted to try sliding down the icy floor instead of walking--but she'd probably end up crashing into one of the weird ice thrones outside Fintan's cell. And she knew better than anyone that injuries couldn't always be healed.

Plus, the trudge gave her a chance to add extra defenses to the heat she'd tucked away in her chest.

She often wondered if Fintan had hidden a few sparks of his own when he was arrested. After all, he had to know the Council would put him on ice for the rest of eternity. Wouldn't he try to preserve what little heat he could?

But Marella had stretched out her senses a zillion different ways and never felt the slightest tingle of warmth when she was around him. So either there was nothing to find or Fintan was that good.

She had a horrible feeling it was the latter, and he was waiting for just the right moment to reveal his grand plan--but that wasn't the kind of thing she should be thinking about before having to face him.

Still, she spent the next few turn trying to figure out what she'd do if she were right.

Her feet turned numb while she plotted, and her bones were officially aching by the time the path widened-- the only warning that they were getting close to Fintan's cell.

A few curves later, his cage came into view: a stark, icy bubble in the center of a circular cavern.

The round wall was reflective on the inside, so even though Marella could see Fintan pacing along the edge of his frozen barricade, he wouldn't be able to see her until she triggered the sensor by sitting in one of the freezing thrones positioned at the only point Fintan could peer through.

He looked extra tired that day--his sky blue eyes sunken by more shadows than usual, and he kept muttering under his breath about incompetence as he tucked his messy blond hair behind his pointy ears with a bit more force than necessary.

Marella glanced back at the scary guard, making sure he'd ducked into the shadows near the back of the cell before she made her big appearance. Then she took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her heart, reaching for her secret spark of warmth one last time before plopping into the closest ice throne.

"Awwwww, looks like you missed me," she said, tossing back her hair and flashing her brightest smile.

She liked to start her visits by showing Fintan she wasn't afraid of him--even if she totally was.

But Fintan didn't glance her way.

"I'm not in the mood for games," he warned as he continued his slow march around his cell.

"Neither am I" Marella assured him, deciding that was her cue to start with the cache. She sat up taller, trying to look extra confident as she added, "But I do have an awesome trade to offer you!"

Fintan sighed. "If this is about my cache, I already told you what I'm willing to accept. Unless you're here to grant me a day of freedom--"

"I'm definitely not. But! I found something you should like even better." She paused, hoping the extra bit of anticipation would somehow make her offer should more exiting when she told him. "Noxflares!"

Fintan scrunched his slender nose. "What are Noxflares, and why would I care about them?"

Marella tilted her head, trying to tell if he was faking.

She hadn't expected him to jump around or applaud or anything--but she had expected him to at least know what Noxflares were.

Then again, his mind had been shattered and pieced back together so many times, his memories had to be in shambles--and Ancient minds tended to be a total mess anyway, since they were crammed with thousands of years of information and the past and present blurred together.

"Would it help if I told you I stopped by your old estate on my way here?" she asked, "Your garden could use some gnomish help, by the way. All the plants have turned into a giant dying tangle. But I dug around and managed to find this scraggly vine with dark pointy flowers--and I hear that plant is special to you, so I picked a few and--"

"You picked my Noxflares?" Fintan snapped, rushing to the wall of his cell and pressing his palms against the ice. "You must let me see them!"

Marella's lips curled into a huge smirk. "I thought you didn't know what they were."

Fintan gritted his teeth so hard, it sounded like cracking ice.

"Hey, I'm not saying I won't share. Buuuuuuuuuuut it'll cost you--and I'm pretty sure you can already guess what I want." She paused for another beat before she added, "Just so we're clear: I'll show you one of your Noxflares if you open your cache and show me what's inside."

Fintan's jaw tightened even more and his hands curled into fists.

But he didn't say no.

He didn't say anything--which was definitely new.

Marella had already offered him a long list of trade suggestions that she, Linh, Maruca, and Stina had all come up with--some really cool ones! And Fintan had shot down each one down before she could even finish the offer.

She couldn't believe he looked so tempted by an ugly flower.

but as the silence dragged on, Marella started to wonder if she'd misread the situation.

maybe she'd pushed him too hard--taunted him too much--and now Fintan was letting her sit there in the cold, knowing the icy throne was turning her butt and legs numb.

She was trying to decide if she could make standing up look like a power move when Fintan told her, "Fine. You have a deal--but since you're only offering one Noxflare, I'll only show you one memory."

Marella barely stopped herself from blurting out, SERIOUSLY?

"Orrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she said instead, wanting to kick herself for not bringing more Noxflares with her. The whole thing had just seemed so silly--and the first few she'd picked had crumbled to dust. But the vine had lots more flowers, so she could fix the mistake super easily. "How about I go back, grab eight more Noxflares, and then you show me all nine memories?"

Fintan grinned. "Tempting. But one Noxflare is really all I need."

Need?

Marella wasn't a fan of that wording.

But before she could ask him what he needed it for, he added, "My offer expires in ten seconds," and started counting down.

By "six" she decided that one memory was better than nothing.

"Fine," she said, pulling the cache from her pocket and holding the marble-size orb up to the light. "But you go first. How do I open this thing?"

No way was she going to risk letting him back out--especially since he probably wasn't going to be happy when he saw his precious flower was stuck in the middle of a giant ice cube.

Fintan held out his hand. "Give me the cache, and I'll open it."

Marella laughed. "Hard pass."

"Ah, but you don't have a choice. I'm the only one who can access the memories. And I need to make physical contact with the cache in order to do so."

Marella squinted at the tiny gadget.

She didn't know much about caches--aside from the fact that only Councillors used them and that each colorful inner crystal held a single Forgotten Secret. But she did know that Dex had already tried everything he could think of to open the cache and failed--and he was one of the best Technopaths ever.

"Do I need to start counting down again?" Fintan asked. "I believe we'd gotten to five..."

Marella chewed her lip. "Uh, how do I know you're not going to destroy the cache or try to hold it for ransom or something?"

Fintan's smile was colder than his cell. "You'll just have to trust me."

"Yeah, I don't see that happening."

Fintan shrugged. "Then our deal is off."

Marella rolled her eyes. "Come on. Even if I wanted to, it's not like I can open your cell door and hand the cache to you."

She wasn't even sure if his cell had a door. The wall looked like one big solid piece of ice.

"You've proven to be very resourceful during our lessons," Fintan reminded her.

"Yeah, but--"

"It's your call," he interrupted. "If you want a memory, you'll have to trust me."

She snort-laughed--but before she could get another word out, he repeated, "You'll just have to trust me." And she could tell that was the only response he was going to give.

She turned to the scary guard, who had started pacing in the shadows. "Is there a way to pass Fintan a small item?"

"Ah, you have a hidden goblin escort--I knew you were resourceful!" Fintan clapped his hands. "And yes, there is a way to pass me my cache, otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it. Any guard can open the disgraceful tube they pass my horrid, frozen bits of food through. The cache should fit nicely."

The guard gripped his sword. "I cannot allow any unauthorized item to enter his cell."

Fintan clicked his tongue. "Clearly you're not considering the fact that I've already had plenty of chances to make this trade--and turned them all down. Do you think I would do that if the cache was even remotely useful to me?"

The goblin couldn't argue with that logic.

Neither could Marella.

And when Fintan went back to counting down, she told the guard, "The Black Swan knows I've been trying to make this trade--and they're working with the Council now. No one would let me do this if they thought the cache was dangerous."

Then again, they'd never discussed the possibility of handing the cache over to Fintan--but surely someone must've considered that during all their endless talking and obsessive overplanning...right?

Besides, if anything went wrong, she could always remind them that this was Sophie's idea.

"I don't like this," the scary guard growled. But Marella gave him her I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing glare until he set the frozen Noxflare down with a particularly dramatic thud, snatched the cache, and spent an eternity squinting at the tiny crystal, spinning it all different ways. "If anything happens, my priority will be subduing the prisoner--not protecting you. Are you certain you want to take that risk?"

Marella absolutely wasn't.

But...this might be their only shot at seeing one of Fintan's Forgotten Secrets.

Plus, she had her tiny little spark buddy she could call on if she needed. Surely she could use that to...

To what?

Take down a superpowerful, much more experienced Pyrokinetic with a history of murdering poeple?

But...did she really want to wimp out?

Sophie wouldn't.

And yeah, Sophie had, like, a permanent bed in the Healing Center. But Marella was pretty sure their whole group would vote "DO IT!"

There were also a dozen other armed goblins who would rush down as backup.

And Linh could attack Fintan with her cutesy snow animals.

It'd almost be worth it to watch Fintan get swallowed up by an ice wave shaped like Princess Purryfins.

"I can handle myself," she decided, using a tone that hopefully sounded intimidating.

Fintan's gleeful laughter echoed of the ice.

The scary guard muttered something about the arrogance of elves as he reached toward the top of Fintan's frozen cell and felt around for a specific spot. A faint clicking sound followed, and a tiny round door slid open--far out of Fintan's reach.

"I can neutralize you within seconds," the guard reminded him as he held the cache up to the opening. "By numerous means. Some far more painful than others."

"Yes, I'm well aware of the absurd lengths the Council has taken to keep me contained," Fintan assured him. "But I don't plan on giving you a reason to use any of them. Not today, at least."

The guard bared his supersharp pointy teeth, and Marella wanted to shout NEVER MIND, JUST KIDDING! But she let the guard shove the cache through the tiny opening--and then it was too late to change her mind.

All she could do was watch the glass orb make its slow descent, rolling around and around and around--down some sort of invisible path etched into the wall of the cell.

Her stomach backflipped with each rotation, and she felt more than a little vomit-y when the cache dropped low enough for Fintan to catch it. But he simply held it up and studied it.

Then he coughed on it.

And sneezed on it.

"Ewwwwwww," Marella groaned when he followed that up by drooling on it. "You know, there are better ways to give it your DNA."

"Yes, I'm aware." Fintan cleared his throat and launched a slimy blob of spit at the cache. "I also know your little Technopath friend is going to ask you how I accessed the memories, so feel free to give him a detailed list." He wiped the cache dry with his fingers and then ran it through his greasy hair before sneezing and coughing on it again. "Some of these methods are vital. Some are distractions. None can be re-created without me--but it'll be fun if he tries, don't you think?"

He laughed so hard, it brought tears to his eyes, and he smeared them across the cache before sneezing and spitting on it again--making Marella very glad she had gloves to keep her hands clean once he returned the cache.

Assuming she actually got it back...

She tried to make out what he was saying when he started mumbling a bunch of stuff into the crystal, but the words were all mushed together. He also tapped the cache in so many different places that she doubted even Sophie and Keefe with their fancy photographic memories would be able to re-create the patterns. And he looked so smug as he did it all that Marella decided to look as bored as possible--which was why she was barely paying attention when the cache flared to life, projecting a small hologram of Fintan standing alone in a wide, empty field.

"Huh," Marella mumbled. "Gotta admit, I was expecting something a little more exciting than a tiny glowing Fintan in the middle of nowhere doing...nothing."

"Then you should learn to be more observant." Fintan pointed to the swaying grass around the hologram's feet, and after a few seconds, Marella realized there was a vine of blooming Noxflares. "I figured I'd show you what Noxflares can do, since you're so generously bringing one back into my life."

Marella squinted at the tiny flowers, waiting for something to happen.

And waiting.

"So...they...blow in the wind?" she asked.

Fintan sighed. "No, they do this."

The hologram of Fintan waved his arms, and all the Noxflares erupted with searing white flames.

"Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah, still not seeing why this needed to be a super-hush-hush Forgotten Secret," Marella grumbled as the Fintan hologram flicked his wrist and added purple fire to the white.

Sure, the flames were pretty--but all flames were beautiful.

"Try thinking like a Pyrokinetic!" Fintan snapped. "Tell me, are there any other flowers that could remain intact under such an inferno?"

Marella couldn't think of any.

And the Noxflares still didn't burn when the Fintan hologram added yellow flames to the fiery mix.

but other than clearly being fire-resistant, Marella didn't see the Noxflares actually doing anything--and the hologram of Fintan must've been equally unimpressed.

He frowned at the flaming petals and dragged a hand down his face, mumbling "something's missing."

"Still not seeing the point of this," Marella noted. "I mean..."

Her voice trailed off as the tiny Fintan waved his arms again and blasted the Noxflares with pink flames--which made the flowers spray sparks in every direction.

The effect was breathtaking.

Kind of like the sky during the Celestial Festival.

But that still didn't necessarily scream, THIS MEMORY IS IMPORTANT.

"How come the grass isn't catching fire?" she asked, grasping for anything that might be significant. "Do the Noxflares protect it or something?"

"No, I was protecting it. A pyrokinetic should always be in control of their flames."

He sounded so smug Marella was tempted to remind him that he let five Pyrokinetics die when he tried to teach them how to call down Everblaze and they all lost control--but that would probably make him throw one of his tantrums and send her away.

She needed the cache back first--and to hopefully find something useful in this boring memory. But sadly, all Fintan's hologram did was stare blankly at the stars and mumble "something's missing" again before the image flashed away.

"That's it?" the scary guard demanded, beating Marella to the complaint.

"Yeah, so...you put on a little fire show all by yourself with some spark-shooting flowers," she added, trying to sum up what she'd seen. "You were clearly disappointed by that little show. And then you must've remembered you needed to..."

She waved her hands, cuing Fintan to fill in the blank with whatever was "missing."

But he just stood there, staring at the cache with the same glazed look he always got whenever he started rambling about the beauty of fire--and Marella wished Linh had come with her after all.

Linh could pelt him with snowballs or something to snap him out of it.

But then she realized...

"You never figured out what was missing--did you?"

Fintan blinked and met her gaze. "Noxflares are full of possibility. But they need to burn."

"That doesn't answer my question," Marella noted.

Fintan shrugged. "Context was not part of our bargain."

"yeah, because I figured when I saw the memory, it would be obvious why it's this big Forgotten Secret. How does you setting some flowers on fire and then realizing you did it wrong matter to anyone?"

"I did nothing wrong," Fintan assured her, with a particularly haughty smile--butt Marella wasn't buying it.

There was a tightness around his eyes that was way too familiar.

Her dad had that same tightness every time her mom was having one of her "bad days," and she knew exactly what it meant.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

A hint of helplessness.

So she marched over to the guard and grabbed the frozen Noxflare from the floor--too irritated to even notice how heavy the ice must've been as she hauled it back.

She plopped it in front of Fintan's cell. "Ta-da! One ugly flower, as promised--and I'm sure you're not surprised that I had to freeze it before i brought it down here."

"I'm not." Fintan dropped to his knees and gazed at the Noxflare like he was seeing a long-lost friend.

He pressed his hand against his cell, trying to get as close as he could. "Such power. Such...promise."

"Uh-huh," Marella agreed, letting his stare and stare, hoping it would help him let his guard down.

When his eyes turned a little teary, she went in for the kill.

"But there is something still missing, isn't there? That's why you saved this memory--to remind yourself to keep looking."

A whole lot of painful silence passed before Fintan slowly nodded.

Marella wanted to feel triumphant.

But all she'd done was prove the entire trade had been pointless.

There was no game-changing clue.

No dirty little secret about the past.

Certainly nothing to help them stop their enemies.

And she had a pretty strong hunch the other eight memories in the cache would be just as ridiculous.

"The answer is out there," Fintan murmured. "I can feel it. I just can't grasp it. Perhaps..."

"Perhaps?" Marella prompted when his eyes locked with hers.

Fintan stepped closer to the ice, keeping his voice low, like he didn't want the guard to hear him. "Perhaps a different Pyrokinetic is meant to find the truth. One who's already convinced the Council to trust her."

Marella laughed. "The Council doesn't trust me."

"The fact that you're here for a pyrokinesis lesson says otherwise--particularly since the lesson is with me." He started circling his cell again, mumbling under his breath and nodding. The only words Marella caught were "possible," "improvising," and "best option."

After three more times around the cell, he stopped in front of Marella again, leaning even closer to the icy wall as he whispered, "I believe it's time for me to offer a trade of my own."

"A trade," Marella repeated, not missing the way the scary guard gripped his sword.

Fintan glared at him. "This conversation is between me and my prodigy. She stands here of her own free will, shielded by who knows how many different kinds of protections--and she can leave anytime she pleases. Your presence is no longer needed."

"You still have her gadget," the guard argued.

"I suppose I do. but that can be easily remedied." Fintan set the cache on whatever invisible ledge it had slid down in the first place and gave it a good shove, sending it spinning up the path toward the top of the cell.

The guard had to scramble to catch it when it launched out of the ice bubble.

"See?" Fintan said, shifting his gaze back to Marella. "I can be trusted."

"Pretty sure the only thing I can trust is that you'll do what's best for you," Marella countered.

"As long as you get what you want, why would you care? After all, no matter what, I'm still stuck in here, aren't I?" He waved his arms around his little ice bubble, which suddenly looked way less secure than it had during her other visits. "Oh, relax--all I'm asking for is a little information."

Marella crossed her arms. "Right--and information has never gotten anyone hurt or killed."

"It's not that kind of secret. It's..." He frowned. "Honestly, I don't know what it is--and for someone my age, with my connections, that says something, doesn't it? I doubt any of the Vackers even know the full truth."

"Then how am I supposed to find it?" Marella demanded.

"As I said, you've proven to be quite resourceful. Particularly when you team up with your little friends." He scowled at the guard again before motioning her to step closer--until her ear was practically pressed up against the ice.

A voice in the back of her head kept screaming, WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO HIM?

But...she was curious.

And there was nothing wrong with hearing his offer, was there?

Fintan's breath fogged the ice, obscuring his face as he whispered, "All I ask is that if you ever find out what's missing from the Noxflares, you share it with me."

"Why?" Marella glanced at the frozen flower, wishing she could see something more than just ugly shriveled petals.

"Because I want to know," Fintan said simply. "And because I can give you what you want in return."

"The rest of the memories in your cache," Marella clarified.

Fintan nodded. Then his lips curled into a smile. "And one other--something you've long wondered about, even though you probably don't admit it to yourself."

Marella raised one eyebrow, refusing to show any more interest than that.

Fintan cupped his hands around his mouth and pressed them to the ice before he whispered, "I know what happened to your mother."

Marella sucked in a breath.

"Yes," Fintan added. "I'm talking about her 'accident'--if we can really call it that. I know why she fell. And why her injuries were so incurable."

Marella stumbled back, collapsing into the nearest throne and hugging herself to stop her body from shaking with tremors that had nothing to do with the cold.

A tiny, terrified part of her had always thought the story she'd been told about her mom's fall hadn't totally made sense.

But everyone--everyone--was convinced it had been an accident.

Even her father.

And if it wasn't...

She leaned toward Fintan. "I don't need your games."

"Oh, this definitely isn't a game. But it's the only way you'll ever know the truth, and before you start overthinking everything, consider this: You have all the power here. Make the trade, don't make the trade--it's totally your call. You also don't have to make a decision right away. I'm trapped in this prison. I'll never find the answer on my own--and I'll never know if you find the answer unless you decide to tell me. So there's zero pressure. No one even knows we've had this conversation--and don't worry about the guard. See how frustrated he looks? That's because I made sure he only heard what I wanted him to hear. The rest is our little secret."

Our little secret.

Fintan was probably the last person she should have a secret with.

And yet...he had a point.

No one knew he'd made her this offer--and it wasn't like she'd come to any decision.

She didn't even have the information Fintan wanted anyway!

And with the way their investigations always seemed to go, she'd probably only find a whole lot more questions.

So there was really no point in telling anyone about this.

She could tell them whens he needed to.

If she needed to.

That wouldn't be wrong...would it?

It didn't feel wrong--or it wouldn't have if Fintan's smile wasn't so creepy.

"I'm not agreeing to anything," she said, wanting to make that very clear.

"You're not," Fintan assured her. "So how about we put this out of our minds and get started with our lesson? I'm sure your Hydrokinetic friend is wondering why you haven't come up to practice yet."

Linh was probably starting to worry.

She'd probably also built enough snow animals to make a frozen Sanctuary.

"Fine," Marella said, standing up and dusting ice off her cape. "What do you want me to work on today?"

"How about I teach you how to make those colored flames you saw in the memory," Fintan suggested. "You know, in case that ever comes in handy."

He winked, and the guard groaned and held out the cache to Marella. "Sound like I'm no longer needed."

"You aren't" Fintan agreed.

The guard growled--looking scarier than ever--and turned to march away. But he spun back after a few steps. "He's right that I don't know what he offered you. But I can tell you're tempted. And I hope you're smart enough to reject it. Never make a deal with someone who has nothing to lose."

"I'm not," Marella promised.

And she wasn't.

She hadn't made any decisions--except to keep this to herself. But that didn't mean anything.

She was just trying to avoid a ton of drama and arguing and having people give her advice she didn't need.

Plus, everyone has secrets.

Shoot--the great Sophie Foster had more secrets than anyone.

So it was fine.

Everything was fine.

Nothing had changed.

Time to focus on controlling her fire.

And yet, for the rest of the lesson, the tiny spark in her heart burned hotter and hotter and hotter. Whispering a new plea.

Trust me.