#response to the latest plot drop
Text
no, miss appleton did not single-handedly ruin japanese soy sauce forever
there's a popular post going around this week about a ghq (general headquarters, the administration of the american occupation of japan after wwii) employee, a certain ms. blanche appleton, single-handedly changing the taste of soy sauce. while her story is fascinating for sure and i await further developments on the part of the op, and had a hand in the history of soy sauce, the premise is quite a bit exaggerated, and the general narrative so far in the framing by the op somewhat problematic.
tl;dr: as with most things, this is a confluence of factors, with producers, scientists, politicians, (possibly underworld,) and administrators all having their own agency in this story. i find it unusual to sideline so many parties in favour of presenting a single foreign administrator calling the shots in the op's posts.
i've made an initial response here. i will continue my findings in a separate post here.
1. jack daniel's is swill, but it's still whiskey
i think i can distill my issues with this plot so far down to one statement in the original post:
There should be records of her policies, there should be legal documents in America which record how she apportioned out American exportation of soy beans to Japan, there should be sources talking about this woman's ability to transform Japan's soy sauce production so heavily that today only 1% of all soy sauce is made with pre-WW2 traditional techniques.
this transformative impact of one administrator is entirely overstated. this comment led me to a promo blog post where some of the original claims can be seen, and the op mentions that traditional soy sauce was made in kioke barrels, and the this method of production has dropped to about 1% now. this is true, but it appears that at least one source put the decline as starting around the end of the edo period (xvii-xix centuries). [1] sources traceable to yamaroku puts the decline more recently, at about a century ago [2, 3]
this japanese paper on fermented food production is quite clear in stating that wodden barrel production declined from the meiji period (1868-1912) onward.
江戸時代までに一般化した木桶・木樽の使用形態は、明治期以降、一般の生活や各種製造現場で近代化が進む中、コンクリートや金属、プラスチック、合成樹脂等の材質によって代替されていく。
The use of wooden vats and barrels, which had become common by the Edo period, was replaced by materials such as concrete, metal, plastic, and synthetic resin from the Meiji period onward, as modernization progressed in ordinary life and various manufacturing sites. (deepL translation)
another source from a professor on food production in japan suggests that shodoshima (where yamaroku is made) is the area that has most completely preserved the wooden vat method of production.
this survey (oguri) written by a member of the national museum of nature of science in tokyo dates the supplanting of traditional method in more industrialized regions by 1913
1913（大正2）年：栂野は「最新醤油醸造論」の中で、九州、中国地方では桶の代わりに煉瓦又は石でタンクを作り使用していると記述。
1913 (Taishō 2): Tsugano, in his "The Latest Soy Sauce Brewing Theory," wrote that in Kyushu and Chugoku regions, instead of vats, tanks were made of bricks or stone and used. (deepL translation, p.148)
1918年：西二の蔵（ヤマサ印）の建設に当たり研究中の内面塗料が完成したので、これを採用し仕込桶を角型のコンクリートタンクに改めた。
1918: The internal [coating] that was being researched for the construction of the Nishi Ni no Kura (Yamasa brand) was completed, and this was adopted and the brewing vats were replaced with square concrete tanks. (deepL translation with edits from @literaryreference, see translator's note 3, p.148)
i think it bears repetition that soy sauce production was industrializing as japan was industrializing from the meiji to early shōwa periods. as alluded to in the title, a lot of modern soy sauce is like jack daniels: industrial products that evolved from traditional methods alongside a nation's overall development.
2. babe wake up, a new semichemical soy sauce just dropped, and appleton's role in history (a corroboration of @/inneskeeper)
it seems like the plot on the original poster's part has gone to the american side, so let's try to follow the us-japan interaction but from japanese sources.
the survey cited earlier (oguri) has a lot of information that supports the original post. blanche appleton did exist, and does appear in more anecdotes from that era of the soy sauce industry.
(also, this bibliography has more sources on her time in japan, will require institutional access to japanese universities)
to start, there are two methods of semichemical soy sauce production. the first, 新式1号法 shinshiki 1-gō method (i will call it sc1) was invented in the taishō era (1912-26).
大正の末期頃になると、酸やアルカリの化学薬品を併用することによって、速醸の目的を達成しようとする研究が盛んに行われ、その代表的な「新式1号」が出現する。
Toward the end of the Taisho era, there was a flurry of research into the use of acid and alkali chemicals in combination to achieve the goal of fast brewing, and the "Shinshiki No. 1" [sc1] appeared as a representative example of such research. (deepL translation, p.158)
in the time immediately after the war, there was a shortage of supplies, and its allocation was controlled by the americans
駐留軍の総司令部 GHQ（General Head Quarter）は、1948年の春調味料の原料として「エロア資金」（占領地域経済復興資金）により、大豆ミール2万tを放出する方針を打ち出した。このことにより、その配分をめぐって醤油業界とアミノ酸業界は熾烈な競争をすることとなる。
The General Head Quarter (GHQ) of the stationed army announced a policy of releasing 20,000 tons of soybean meal as a raw material for seasonings in the spring of 1948 through the EROA (Economic Rehabilitation in Occupied Area) Fund. This led to fierce competition between the soy sauce and amino acid industries for its allocation. (deepL translation with edits by myself, p.159)
the "amino acid industry" mentioned refers to the monosodium glutamate (msg) industry (glutamate is the ion of an amino acid). essentially, in the early 20th century, both msg and soy sauce (and chemical "soy sauce") production methods have converged to all requiring many soybeans due to their protein content and fermentation properties.
this is where appleton makes her entrance:
GHQは両業界の調整窓口として、「経済安定本部」の経済科学局で調味料と乳製品の需給を担当していたミセス・ブランシェ・アップルトンをその任にあてた。アップルトンは、醤油醸造協会の茂木啓三郎とアミノ酸業界の大内鋼太郎を招いて意見を聴取し、原料の配分を「醸造醤油2、アミノ酸業界8」とすることを内定し、上司のマーカット局長に報告した。この報告内容は醸造醤油にとっては死活問題であったが、内定の根拠は次のようなものであった。
GHQ assigned Ms. Blanche Appleton, who was in charge of the supply and demand of seasonings and dairy products in the Economic and Science Section of the "Economic Stability Headquarters," (?) to serve as the coordinating contact between the two industries. Appleton invited Keizaburo Mogi of the Soy Sauce Brewers Association and Kotaro Ouchi of the amino acid industry to hear their opinions, and informally decided that the distribution of raw materials would be two for brewing soy sauce and eight for the amino acid industry, and reported this to her boss, Maj. Gen. W. F. Marquat. The content of this report was a matter of life and death for brewers' soy sauce, but the rationale for the informal decision was as follows. [...] (deepL translation with edits by myself p.159)
essentially, appleton originally intended for only 20% of the soybean meal to be handed out for soy sauce due to its relatively inefficient usage of materials compared to msg production. this would've crippled the existing soy sauce producers, and they set out to find solutions to save their industry.
醸造醤油側は、醸造醤油の「日本人の食生活における重要性や醸造醤油そのものの品質の良さ」等を強調したが、GHQはただ「脱脂大豆が有効に活用されるのはどちらか」という尺度だけで判断したのである。このような醸造醤油の存亡の危機を救ったのは、もくもくと研究に携わっていた技術陣が開発した「新式2号法」であった。本法を発明したのはキッコーマンの館野正淳、梅田勇雄等である。新式2号の製法は新式1号と同様に、蛋白質を弱酸でペプトンやペプチド程度まで分解し、その後は麹の酵素により分解してアミノ酸の形態まで持っていく半化学、半醸造による醤油の製造法である。
The brewing soy sauce side emphasized the importance of brewing soy sauce in the Japanese diet and the quality of the soy sauce itself, but GHQ made its decision based solely on the basis of "which [industry] would use the defatted soybeans more effectively". What saved brewed soy sauce from the brink of extinction was the "New Formula No. 2 method" developed by the technical staff who had been working diligently on the research. The inventors of this method were Masajun Tateno and Isao Umeda of Kikkoman Corporation. As with Shin-Shiki No. 1 [sc1], the Shin-Shiki No. 2 [sc2] method is a semi-chemical, semi-brewing method for producing soy sauce in which proteins are broken down to peptones and peptides with weak acids, and then decomposed by enzymes from koji mold to the form of amino acids. (deepL translation with edits by myself and @literaryreference, see translator's note 4, p.159)
this development, the invention of the 新式2号法 shinshiki 2-gō method (sc2), led to another round of discussions:
ミセス・アップルトンは「キッコーマンが画期的な技術を開発した」ことを聞き、新法による醤油とアミノ酸液による化学醤油を消費者に提示し、その調査結果に基づいて決定���再考しようと上申書を提出した。醤油の 味、使用テストは神奈川県の鎌倉市と逗子で行われたが、消費者の8割が新法による醤油を支持した。この結果に基づき、アップルトンは両業界で話し合って結論を出すように「正田・大内会談」を開かせた。
Mrs. Appleton heard that "Kikkoman had developed a breakthrough technology" and submitted a petition to reconsider her decision based on the results of a survey that presented consumers with both the new method of soy sauce and a chemical soy sauce made with amino acid solution. Taste and use tests of soy sauce were conducted in Kamakura and Zushi, Kanagawa Prefecture, and 80% of consumers supported the new soy sauce. Based on these results, Appleton had the "Shoda-Ouchi Conference" held so that the two industries could discuss and reach a conclusion. (deepL translation, p.160)
this source seems to suggest that the original decision was under higher-ups' pressure:
当初の提案2対8のアミノ酸業界絶対優位の配分比率は、「新式2号法」の出現により、最終的にGHQは「正田・大内会談」の「7対3協定」を認め���ここに醸造醤油の歴史的危機は回避されることとなった。醤油業界のミセス・アップルトンの評価は従来大変厳しいものであったが、後の調査で彼女は醸造醤油の良き理解者であり、当初の配分比率も上司の強い指示に抗しきれず提案したものであったようである。再度の上申は、彼女の日本の伝統的な醸造醤油への深い理解と思い入れによるものであったと考えられる。
As for the proposed allocation of 2 to 8, due to the [sc2] method, GHQ ended up deciding on the “7 to 3 Agreement” from the “Shoda-Ouchi Conference” instead, thus averting the historical crisis of brewed soy sauce.Although the soy sauce industry had been very critical of Mrs. Appleton in the past, later investigations revealed that she was a firm supporter* of brewed soy sauce and that the original allocation ratio was a proposal she made because she could not resist the strong instructions of her superiors. It is believed that her renewed offer was due to her deep understanding of and commitment to the Japanese tradition of brewed soy sauce. (deepL translation with edits from myself and @blackamite, see translators' note 1, p. 160)
the term 良き理解者 "good friend" (see bolded) i think could mean connoisseur or enjoyer here, will need help in clarifying.
その後醤油醸造協会の正田会長は、1948（昭和23）年7月23日に「新式2号法」の特許公開を懇請し、当時の中野社長の決断により、「新式1号」に続いて「新式2号」についても無償で業界に公開されることとなった。同年8月から講習会が全国12ブロックで開催され、約2,500社の業者が技術を習得した。
Later, on July 23, 1948, Mr. Shoda, president of the Soy Sauce Brewers Association, requested that the patent for the [sc2 method] be made public, and following the decision of then [Kikkoman Inc.] President Nakano, the [sc1 and sc2 methods] were made public free of charge to the industry. In August of the same year, training sessions were held in 12 blocks throughout Japan, and approximately 2,500 companies learned the technology. (deepL translation with edits by myself, p.160)
the main sources the survey used are a manuscript, 醤油醸造技術の近代化 by 永瀬一郎 Ichirō Nagase, kikkoman inc.'s own historical record (キッコーマン株式会社八十年史; a shorter version can be found here), and a history of choshi shoyu inc. (銚子醤油株式会社 社史). i think this confirms a lot of information the original post put out there about ms. appleton and her involvement with soy sauce. plus, it shed more light into how exactly she interacted with the condiment industries.
perhaps @/inneskeeper will find some shady dealings in their research; when you mix a foreign military force, the collapse of existing institutions, and social upheaval, you're likely to find corruption. ill keep my eyes peeled for that development.
3. no, kikkoman is not "fake" soy sauce, but you might be able to find some echoes of the past
so what happened to semichemical soy sauce now? the survey document does not track its usage after its invention and at the surface level, it seems that the original claim was right, the semichemical method has persisted since the american occupation and we're all just drinking sussy sauce.
in fact, this seemed so obvious that this rumour circulated in japan and was debunked by aficionados two years ago.
the link to kikkoman's own record earlier states that sc2 sauce was discontinued in 1970, and the japanese blog post above repeats that, adding that it has reverted back to honjōzō (本醸造) sauce. this paper in the journal of the brewing society of japan (日本醸造協会誌) has this to say about what became of sc2 sauce:
また，キッコーマンの新式 2号しょうゆ製造法の特許が公開されたのも 1948年で， しょうゆ業界は混合醸造しょうゆおよび混合しょうゆを製造することにより効率よく旨味の強いしょうゆを安価に製造し， しょうゆ原料不足の時代を乗り切ったと考えている 。現在，大手メーカーでは食の安全性や本物志向から混合醸造しょうゆおよび混合しょうゆの製造をやめ本醸造しょうゆだけを製造している 。一方，全国の中小しょうゆメーカーでは，製造設備を全て本醸造しょうゆに切 り換える資金力に乏しく．一旦，消費者に定着した混合しょうゆのニーズにより本醗造しょうゆに切り換えることが出来ず，現在も混合しょうゆが主力商品となっているのではないかと考えている 。
The patent for Kikkoman's new [sc2] soy sauce manufacturing method was also published in 1948, which allowed the soy sauce industry to overcome the shortage of raw materials for soy sauce by producing mixed brewed soy sauce and mixed soy sauces efficiently and inexpensively. Currently, major soy sauce manufacturers have stopped producing mixed brewed soy sauce and mixed soy sauce, and are producing only honjozo soy sauce, due to food safety and the desire for authenticity. On the other hand, small and medium-sized soy sauce manufacturers nationwide do not have the financial resources to convert all of their production facilities to honjozo soy sauce. Once a demand for mixed soy sauce has taken root among consumers, they are unable to switch over to honjōzō soy sauce, and even now, it's possible mixed [kongō or kongō-jōzō] soy sauce might be the top [soy sauce] product. (deepL translation with edits from myself and @literaryreference, see translator's note 2, p.78)
the three types of japanese soy sauce production methods available today are honjōzō (本醸造, fully fermented), kongō-jōzō (混合醸造, mixed fermented with amino acid added prior to fermentation, closest to sc2 method), and kongō (混合, one of the previous two types with additives). [wiki, academic source] these production methods are in parallel to the traditional varieties of sauce, which rather describe the mash and added taste; these elements of the production, rather than the fermentation process, are usually what define the lineage of the sauce in both japan and other soy sauce-producing cultures.
instead of supplanting "genuine" fermented soy sauce, the industrial descendants of sc2 sauce have become their own type of sauce and have carved their own niches in the consumer market. as someone who is not from japan, i would be careful about making any judgment on whether it is "authentic".
4. clarifications
there were a few statements by the original poster that i think need further context for a more accurate understanding. any bolding and italics are mine.
During World War 2 there was a push to industrialize the Japanese soy sauce industry to be better for mass-production. This innovated the chemical fermentation technique and the semichemical fermentation technique utilized by Kikkoman; rather than ferment for four years in gigantic cedar barrels, kioke, instead fermentation takes place for six months or a year in stainless steel barrels which utilize electrolysis to artificially speed up fermentation processes.
the first part is correct, but the word "rather" introduces a false dichotomy; soy sauce production is very diverse and progresses at different paces in different regions (see part 1 of this post). the sauce op has is simply one from a region that has kept their manufacturing method unchanged.
"four years" is arbitrary: different producers have different fermentation periods.
the last part of the statement is not universally true of industrial production; ac current may be used in brewing.
A single American woman named "Ms Appleton" was given total control of apportioning all American soy bean rations to companies, how much, and to who. She had no knowledge of soy sauce, allegedly.
we can lay that last part to rest. it appears that she does. i will also have to mention that "soy sauce" has been imported from china to the usa since the 30s.
She apparently had so much power over Japanese soy sauce production that she could singlehandedly shape its future by threatening to not give soy beans to any company, family, or factory which did not utilize her specific requirements of semichemical fermentation (reduced from chemical fermentation, since it was that abhorrent). These days, the term soy sauce is distinct from traditional shoyu, and requires distinguishment because of such a radical difference the two products are.
is girlboss applesauce really that powerful on her own? this statement was not wrong, but she did have the military that just nuked japan behind her.
did appleton specify one method over others? probably, but i think the dependency went the other way: the invention of sc2 sauce was the only way the industry could be efficient enough for ghq standards.
that last part is just straight up wrong dawg what the hell
i was nicer in my first reply but im not feeling it today
[...] Because there should be way more information on her if this was the case; she was apparently powerful and influential enough during the occupation that she could singlehandedly enforce whatever arbitrary rules she wanted on the soy sauce industry and they had to comply or else have no product at all. That level of power is fucking insane. Imagine having so much raw influence over Japan that you could order them to completely renovate and change how they produce and make SOY SAUCE, literally one of if not THE most important thing in Japanese culinary history--[...]
holy exaggeration batman, this is almost insulting. as with most things, this is a confluence of factors, with producers, scientists, politicians, (possibly underworld,) and administrators all having their own agency in this story. it is incredibly unusual to sideline so many parties in favour of a single foreign administrator calling the shots.
5. what now?
i think there's much to be found out about appleton's dealings, and it would be an interesting story if there did end up being underworld dealings in those negotiations coming to light. i think it is a fascinating slice into that era and how society and institutions interacted in such a fraught situation. overall, i encourage @/inneskeeper's historian work.
that said, it is very important for people to not put a narrative ahead of the facts. i think it is human nature to be attracted to stories that have a clear causality and linearity, but it is something we need to be very careful about when communicating history to a large audience. to anyone who would like to present their findings, consider what your framing of events imply about the state of the time and place you research, and if you are doing all parties justice.
and for the love of god, cite your sources.
if there are any translation issues, please reach out to me and i will edit accordingly and post errata.
erratum 1: jack daniel's is tennesee whiskey, not bourbon, thanks @drdementogrl.
translators' note 1: 良き理解者 could also be translated more literally to “good understander,” thank you @blackamite, @monstrousgourmandizingcats, @leatherbookmark, and others who have given similar notes.
erratum 2 and translator's note 2: @literaryreference has indicated that 一旦，消費者に定着した混合しょうゆのニーズにより本醗造しょうゆに切り換えることが出来ず，現在も混合しょうゆが主力商品となっているのではないかと考えている 。 is more equivocal and did not state an outright larger popularity for kongō/kongō-jōzō type brewing, so it's possible it might be the top product. they also suggested removing redundancies and pointed out a copying mistake from the original source (left out a bit of the japanese text).
translator's note 3: @literaryreference let me know that 塗料 would more accurately be interpreted as "coating" and also gave me a link of the sauce brand mentioned.
translator's note 4: @literaryreference has provided a better translation for GHQはただ「脱脂大豆が有効に活用されるのはどちらか」という尺度だけで判断したのである, and i have made edits from their translation as well for better context.
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❝ incendium. ❞
── stephen glass x reader
MINORS DNI 18+
WORD COUNT: 3.3k
SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control.
NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au"
WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.
When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered.
You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar.
It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list.
Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company.
Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession.
It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment.
“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”
STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken.
Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening.
Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?”
“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips.
Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?”
A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away.
It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys.
Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap.
You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears.
Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for.
The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with.
“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.” You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?”
It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact.
Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared.
Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck.
Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it.
When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were.
“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup.
He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.
“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?”
Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him.
Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.”
One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.”
We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral.
All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance.
He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well.
He never expected that it’d turn out like this.
Never expected he’d be summoned to your office.
“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text.
You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.”
She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.”
You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him.
This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself.
He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt.
“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it.
Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–”
At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”
Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.
“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”
He shakes his head.
“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”
“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.
“An NDR.”
“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”
“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”
Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”
“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”
He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.
“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”
A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit.
#indy: one shots#ch: stephen#stephen glass one shot#stephen glass x reader#stephen glass x fem reader#stephen glass x you#stephen glass x y/n#stephen glass imagine#stephen glass fic#stephen glass fanfic#stephen glass fanfiction#shattered glass x reader#reader insert#stephen glass#shattered glass#shattered glass 2003#shattered glass stephen glass#hayden christensen
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Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem)Creator!Reader
A/N: holy Tsarista, I did not think that it would be this popular. Thank you so much!! It's been a couple months since I got into Genshin, but I'm glad that the Harbinger trailer dropped cause otherwise, this probably wouldn't have existed lol. I apologize for the late update. I have been quite stumped in the plot and just taking a moment to come up with one. If I didn't tag everyone, I'm sorry! DM or reply to be added to the taglist! :3
Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially hard when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only a Fatui Skirmisher but a Fatui Harbinger?
Tags/warnings: female reader, God!reader, Cult AU,
Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora.
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Chapter 2: The Creator's Welcome
Silence.
What could be said while the entire palace and the surrounding area waited with bated breath for their Grace to awaken?
They were fervent - they waited to leave and search for the "meaner" that has done harm to their Beloved but that would leave their Previous Grace with only the Heir for company and guard.
The Precious Heir - they have heard of them only from what was written centuries ago. He was beautiful - he was innocent and was crying for their Grace to wake up all while the Harbingers stood by with the Tsarista finally making her appearance, rushing towards the bed that their Grace rested in, bending the knee and holding their hand.
"Your Grace. Your Excellency. Oh, my Beloved Creator. What has that Meaner done to you?"
Nugget never left your side as he clutched onto your waist, but being careful with your arms as he was told by the blue-haired man with the mask. He was a doctor and clearly knew what he was talking about so the little one made sure to listen well. The Doctor man and the others gave them a room which is what his Auntie expected and though he was focused more on taking care of you, it was nice to wander around the room all while the Harbin Gingers (It was some word that he had trouble saying) always came to check on him and his auntie and even gave him coloring books and sweets and fruits. It was all so good and he made sure to save you some whenever you were going to wake up.
But he especially loved the Tsarista and Columbia (Colombina)
They were very nice. They held him when you were still asleep and he couldn't be there for the operation.
For what seemed like forever, when it was only a matter of four days, the bed shifted as Nugget was reading the latest book that the guy with the funny hat gave him. He wanted to read it to you when you woke up and his wish was soon coming true as he felt movement and looked over to see your [E/c] eyes. He gasped and immediately snuggled into the sheets and wrapped his small arms around your waist.
"Auntie! You're awake! You're awake!"
Soft wet globs of tears started to stain your shirt as you looked down at the child who held you tightly and didn't want to let go. It would have been endearing if it wasn't for the fact that you had almost died from possible blood poisoning from ignoring your wounds. Your Nephew remembered seeing a lot of gold and despite still learning, he knew for a fact blood was red.
Carefully holding him up and ruffling his hair, you kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.
"I'm sorry I made you worry, Nugget. I promise, I'll be sure to look after myself but my main concern was you."
That response earned a pout but your nephew thought it was good enough for now. If you weren't healthy and in one piece, how are you supposed to find a husband or a wife?!
"Just don't go to sleep anymore or at least for a long time. You made everyone worry!"
"Everyone?"
At the mention, your Nephew saw the clear confusion on your face and smiled brightly, but with a glint of mischievousness as he swiftly, with his small feet could go, hopped out of bed but careful to stay clear from your arms, rushed to the door and yelled out.
"Auntie [Y/n] is awake!" he said with a bright smile that was quite contagious, but it was last minute that you saw a figure by the door, or make it two figures. They had hoods over their head but it was the masks that covered their identities - the sheer happiness was clear from their body movements and one of them rushed out to who knows where while your nephew ran back to your side and started to share all the books he's read while you were recovering.
He's always had trouble reading so it was a feat itself to see him now reading at his supposed grade level. He still had trouble with certain words but nothing to worry about.
While trying to process all that was happening around you, you heard multiple footsteps before the door flew open, and in walked in about a dozen people.
Your face heated up at seeing all the gorgeous faces quickly surround you, pulling your nephew close to your side, weary of what else could happen. But you could have sworn that there was a hint of sadness in their eyes from your pull away from them.
"Don't be scared. They helped us! They helped you! Especially the Doctor man." Your nephew grinned as he held your hand and decided to make you sit up and face the group properly and pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor that he mentioned was practically preening from the praise like a peacock showing off its feathers.
The grip on his hand lessened as you looked at all twelve people one by one. It didn't take a rocket scientist to distinguish the power that they all radiated. Though at the time, you didn't know of the power you held yourself.
The elegant lady with long white hair, icy blue eyes, and who seemed to scream 'Ice Queen', slowly walked up to your bedside with a gentle smile as her hand moved to slowly hold yours. Now, you wouldn't have minded if it was your nephew or family, but this was a stranger. A stranger with a very firm grip despite how delicate it was.
"Now. How shall we punish the meaner that's done this to you?"
Eh?
-x-
It was... a change to have people cater to your every whim despite half of them being just jokes like bringing you the finest gem. The honor of bestowing such a gem was by none other than the 9th Harbinger, Pantalone.
Your nephew was having a great time, especially when he got to get along with a majority of the Harbingers and the Fatui, who took the mission of entertaining Nugget very seriously.
Once your arms were good as new, you asked for the group of Fatui soldiers that you and your nephew first encountered. At first, they were adamant about having you and Nugget leave the palace but you needed to get back to your car and get the rest of your things.
But funnily enough, you don't remember a palace or an organization going by the Fatui in your life...
Not to mention, these people seemed to recognize you and your nephew despite you two not knowing any of them.
If you thought of it more, a headache occurred and the Tsarista was adamant in asking you to save your energy and that it didn't matter if you recognized them. That all that mattered was that you and the Heir were fine.
While bedridden, your Nephew had the privilege to waltz around like he owned the place and even got you some books to read in the meantime. You saw mentions of a Divine Creator, a God-like figure that was first in creating the world around you and beyond, the one that made the stars and skies. A Divine Creator from the Beyond gave life to a speck in the skies and named it Teyvat and thus, its first child was born.
During a certain period when the Creator was roaming freely, they announced that their sister was with child and so, the Creator named the unborn babe the Heir to Teyvat.
The book was quite the read and wanting to know more about why the people around you and Nugget called you the Divine Creator and the Heir, you took it around with you.
"Your Grace, you must bundle up. Snezhnayan winters are quite brutal. People freeze to death here, quite literally in fact." announced a Fatui sniper, the one that first saw you and Nugget as he came behind you and placed a coat, courtesy of Pantalone of course, on your shoulders and your nephew too.
Stepping out to the brutal snow, instead of the harsh snow that you were expecting, it was a light snowfall that shocked the group of Fatui that decided to travel with you.
[Nephew's Name] stepped out from behind you and cheered happily as he rushed out to the snow and started to play, making snowmen and snow angels with, of course, the Fatui looking out and being won over by the child's heart-felt giggles.
They were all trying to make sense of why the snowfall was reduced to just light snow instead of the blizzards they're used to until they recalled that their Divine Grace and the Heir were right here with them. Teyvat was the Divine Creator's first child and as the loyal child it was, it could always sense where they were. Though Snezhnaya was the domain of the Tsarista, the Cryo Archon, the Divine Creator's word was Law.
Ehe.
Everything came to a slow stop as the world first heard the giggle from the Creator and with each step that you had taken, noticeable patches of green started to appear and grow more and more. The chilled winds of winter called down as the grey skies parted to make way for the rays of the sun.
The Tsarista felt the pause of winter, looking out that the frozen lands of her region have warmed up to what it had been long ago before her ascension.
Her Grace has given warmth back to the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya to the point that the flora and fauna basked in the sunlight.
"Nugget. Be careful. The snow is melting."
And like that, the snow stopped melting just enough for your nephew to enjoy making snow angels.
'Welcome to Teyvat, Divine Creator!'
TAGLIST:
@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno , @anonclyde , @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir
@yunsblog030 , @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33
#genshin self aware#genshin sagau#genshin impact sagau#Harbingers x reader#Fatui harbingers#genshin cult au#sagau#Dottore x reader#Pantalone x reader#Scaramouche x reader#Childe x reader#Capitano x reader#Coloumbina x reader#Sandrone x reader#Pierro x reader#female reader#Signora x reader
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Spring Break
RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot
Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.
Also available on Ao3
I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞
Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.
This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.
Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.
You were back in New York City.
A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.
Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.
It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.
Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year.
You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country.
You accepted and left behind everything.
The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.
You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.
You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.
A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.
You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.
The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice.
It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Then came another bout of studying for midterms.
All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.
You were in motion.
In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.
He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.
You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.
You wanted more.
Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.
It was warm.
It was overwhelming.
You didn’t want to let go.
“Hey.” You murmured against him.
“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”
“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.
“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.
“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”
Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”
A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”
“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.
You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”
“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.
He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.
You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.
Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.
Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.
“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.
Your eyes met.
You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.
“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.
You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.
You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.
Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.
You were thankful.
You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.
Again, he’d felt the same.
You liked that about him.
Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.
It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.
Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.
It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”
“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”
“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.
You needed to go home.
You needed to see your parents.
You hadn’t seen them in so long.
You hugged Donnie.
Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.
Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.
Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.
Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.
The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?
Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.
You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.
Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.
Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.
How had that come to be?
Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April.
That was early August.
You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.
That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.
Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.
He just needed access to one chemical.
They wouldn’t miss it.
He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.
The janitor was paranoid.
You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.
You told him you missed him.
In truth, you did.
He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.
It wasn’t here yet.
Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.
You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.
You woke up under your old ceiling.
Breakfast reminded you of high school.
Dad had work.
Mom had lunch.
She talked and you listened.
You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.
It was awkward until it wasn’t.
It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.
You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.
Who’s this guy you keep mentioning?
Donatello, was it?
Did you meet someone?
What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.
No, stop that! We aren’t dating!
Why would you ask?
It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.
Yes, we’re close.
Not that close.
He’s a nice guy.
Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?
It wasn’t like that.
You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.
Your best friend’s words kept you from it.
Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.
Tell us about your new college friends!
You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?
Oh, whos’ that?
Tell me more!
Are they nice?
Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.
They did.
They judged everything.
You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.
He kept you sane.
He had been there for you.
He made things better.
You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.
Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?
It was such a him response.
Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.
Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.
Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.
Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.
It helped as you rejoined your parents.
One more day.
Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.
It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.
You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.
The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.
He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.
Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.
You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.
“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.
“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.
“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.
“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.
“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.
“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.
Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”
“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.
“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.
You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”
You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”
You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.
“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”
“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”
April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”
“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.
“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.
With that the others moved on.
Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.
You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”
“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.
He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.
It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.
“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed.
Others laughed.
You and Donnie didn’t.
It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.
Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.
You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.
This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off.
Yes, you spent hours talking.
No, you weren’t dating.
Yes, you texted.
No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.
Yes, you were just friends.
No, you weren’t more.
It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.
Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.
You tapped a questioning finger to his.
Your heart was heavy.
Were you wrong?
Was your friendship weird?
Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.
Donnie had done so much.
You really, really liked him.
His finger curled around yours for reassurance.
You’d asked once hadn’t you?
Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.
Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.
You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.
He’d been honest.
When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.
One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.
Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.
He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.
You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.
It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.
“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.
“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.
“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.
“One for the road?” Leo burped.
“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.
Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.
“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”
Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.
“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed.
“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.
“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.
“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.
“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.
The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.
“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.
Leo was dismissing you.
It was late.
This had been the plan.
Two days.
Donnie squeezed your hand.
You had never let go.
“Well…” You tried to respond.
“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”
The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”
“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”
“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”
“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.
You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”
“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”
“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”
“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.
“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.
“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.
“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”
You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”
Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.
The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.
You adored him.
The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.
“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.
That was the second final call of the night.
You had already overstayed your welcome.
You pulled out your phone to text your parents.
Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”
You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”
“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”
“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.
Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”
Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.
You stared.
Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.
You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”
Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.
You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”
“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.
“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.
The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own.
You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.
Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.
You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.
They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.
“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”
You all watched Leo walk out.
Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.
The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.
You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.
You needed to text your parents.
You needed to go home.
You’d see Donnie again.
You had one last time before you flew back across the country.
You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.
“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety.
That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go.
Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.
“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.
“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you.
Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.
“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose.
You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin.
“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses.
“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.”
You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?”
Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!”
A memory slapped you across the hippocampus.
You did remember.
Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year.
The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”
Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom.
You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back.
She knew you were doing alright, that was enough.
You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?”
“Nacho time!?” Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?”
“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”
“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”
You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.
“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”
You did, but you kept quiet.
“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.
“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.
“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.
“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.
“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.
“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.
“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.
“This again!” You rolled your eyes.
“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”
“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”
“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”
“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”
“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”
Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.
“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.
“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.
His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.
“… something like this.”
“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.
“Mhm…” You mirrored him.
A timer dinged and you jolted apart.
“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.
You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.
“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.
You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.
What were you doing?
You had almost kissed Donnie.
If that was what just happened.
Donnie.
You had a nacho in hand.
Donnie.
What you had to label as your newest best friend.
Donnie.
Not a replacement, but an embellishment.
Donnie.
Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.
He helped you through your semesters.
You still had 10 more after the current one.
Four total years.
That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.
On the other side of the states.
As far as possible in the continental US.
That was only the grand scale.
On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time.
You’d barely seen Donnie.
You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.
Donnie.
A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.
It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.
Mikey’s cooking was that good.
Eating.
Eating was happening.
You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.
Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.
His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.
They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.
They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.
He’d been looking at you.
Right through that red and blue glass.
The make-up of purple.
Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”
“That late?” Donnie asked absently.
At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.
They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.
That was less than ideal.
You also had lunch plans.
What were you doing?
“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”
Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.
“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”
“Night.” Donnie spoke.
Alone.
You were alone with Donnie.
You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?
Both of you had.
“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.
“Sure.” You had barely had any.
You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.
Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.
You both froze and looked at each other.
You saw it all there.
The budding feelings.
The long distance.
The fear.
The longing.
“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”
You did.
You know you did.
You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.
Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.
You’d barely experienced college.
You were so young.
In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.
When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.
What would you do?
How would you say goodbye?
“Walk me to the door?” You asked.
“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.
You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.
The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.
Was that right?
It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.
It was exciting to be close to him.
You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.
You’d never hugged before that.
You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember.
All of this was sudden.
Too soon.
You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”
“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”
You blinked up wide right out of his chest.
“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”
This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.
Too soon.
“Dinner.”
“It’s a date.”
You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.
They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.
It wasn’t for everyone.
You were young.
You needed to prioritize you.
There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.
All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.
You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.
You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.
Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.
You’d wait.
It was too soon.
There was so much more to see.
You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.
Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.
Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.
Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.
Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.
It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.
You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.
You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.
There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.
Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.
Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.
He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.
He walked you as far as he could.
You hugged.
It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.
Instead, it felt like a promise.
With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.
You parted.
With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.
Across the country you flew.
Back to school.
Back to work.
Through summer and an internship.
Opportunity and papers.
Talk of job and studies galore.
Late night calls and walls of text.
A flurry of messages.
Arguments.
Cold shoulders.
Apologies.
Fall Semester.
Winter break.
Spring Semester.
Spring break.
Rinse and repeat.
Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.
You grew.
Four years passed.
You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.
It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.
What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.
Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.
A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.
You had to keep up.
A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.
Your hands tucked behind his neck.
He locked his arms around your waist.
His gaze poured over you.
You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.
He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.
You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.
He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad.
You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.
“Donatello.”
“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself.
“Please.”
“Please what?” He jeered.
“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.
You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.
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I’ll do things right this time.
Sneak peek: Bucky and you had been exploring the dynamics of a d/s relationship, only you didn’t do as much research as you should’ve which is how you end up experiencing sub drop. That’s a mistake Bucky won’t let happen again.
Bucky x Avenger! Fem Reader
Smut/Angst/Fluff
Word count: 4170
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, Porn with plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up), fingering, oral (female receiving), D/S dynamic, spanking (with a belt), Language, choking, aftercare!, dirty talk? (not degrading, but something), no use of y/n, talk of depression and mental health, subspace, sub drop, Let me know if I missed any.
Not edited - This thought came to me this morning and I had to get it written down.
Also I do NOT consent to having my work translated or posted to any other site! That being said I don't own the following images of characters. Enjoy!
Bucky’s hand gripped your throat as he continued to pound into you from behind, placing just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were in pure bliss, not a single coherent thought running through your head, only thoughts of him.
“That’s it doll, take my fucking cock.” Bucky grunted.
You could only whine in response. Your mind had long since emptied and you were left unable to form words. You felt like putty in the hands of your boyfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. You knew this had been good for Buck. The two of you recently exploring your sex life had led to this night where he was truly dominating you for the first time. After having no control in his life for so long, you knew he needed this, to control something, to control you. And you fucking loved it, surrendering yourself to him completely was the greatest experience, especially if it would feel like this every time.
You could feel what had to be your fourth or fifth orgasm approaching, and you were too far gone to even notify Bucky before it came crashing over you.
“Christ, another one. Baby you’re gripping me so ti-ght” Bucky breathed into your ear as he sloppily thrusted into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum doll. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” And with those words he finished, pushing his seed into you as his hips slowed.
He didn’t slip out right away, instead he stayed momentarily as he removed his hand from your throat and pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder. You were so far gone, you’d honestly didn’t even feel it, so when he’d actually slipped out of you and then the bed to retrieve a wet cloth to clean up the mess pooling between your legs, you hissed from not only the sensitivity but the shock.
Bucky threw the cloth into the laundry basket in your bathroom and returned to your bed. As he positioned himself behind you, he let his arm creep around your middle and pull you into him.
“You with me doll?” He questioned.
“Mmhmm.” You hummed as you nuzzled your face into the pillow.
You’d never felt like this before. I mean sure, Bucky has definitely fucked you stupid before, but this was different. It was like your consciousness had left your body and was watching from the other side of the room. It had been so good…so what was this darkness that was starting to creep in?
The morning came quickly, Bucky had been alerted to a meeting. Needing to complete the official debriefing from his latest mission, which left you all alone in your bed. When you stirred and rolled over to find the bed empty on his side, well that was the cool wind that pushed the door open, inviting the darkness in.
Bucky found you curled up in bed like this hours later. He was immediately filled with panic, you never stayed in bed all day, not unless it was by his side. Or if you were feeling particularly down.
“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He questions.
Your silence only worried him further. Normally if you were going through an episode you’d at least inform him in some way that you didn’t want to talk to him. Why were you being so quiet now? He leaned down to kiss your hairline and whisper to you that he was there if you needed him. It was when two whole days had passed, and he was sure you hadn’t moved, that he became increasingly worried. He’d vented to Steve a bit and ultimately Steve couldn’t offer much advice, this was uncharted territory for him.
It was when Bucky ran into Wanda that he got the idea. If she could just tap into your head and see what was going on, maybe he could make things better. He needed to know if he had caused this, if he was the reason you were lost in the storm of your mind.
“I don’t like to do this without consent of the person Barnes.” Wanda seethed.
“I know, but Wanda she’s your friend and she has been like this for almost three days, and I am worried about her!” Bucky rushed.
“Fine!” Wanda folded.
Bucky watched as the red fog made its way from Wanda’s fingers to your mind. Wanda’s face contorted as she made contact with your thoughts. Bucky couldn’t quite read the expression she was wearing. Wanda let a small smile grace her lips briefly before it turned into a grimace and then a scowl, directed at Bucky.
“You are lucky she is my friend, because that was way too much information.” Wanda cringed.
“So? What is it? What’s wrong with her?” Bucky begs.
“She explained it as sub drop. She had read about it, it’s like when you drop from such a high. It can hit especially bad if there isn’t proper aftercare.” Wanda explained.
Bucky nodded in understanding. He thanked Wanda and apologized for the awkwardness of the situation. He made his way to your laptop to figure out how he could make things better. Unfortunately, it seemed to be very similar to when you were in a depressive episode. He had to reassure you he was there, but ultimately waiting it out was the only option.
It took 36 more hours for you to speak to him again. He was sure he’d imagined it initially, but as you sputtered from the dryness of your throat, he made out your request.
“Water?”
He jumped up so quickly to get you the water and after you’d taken a few sips he had pulled you into his arms and held you tightly for hours.
That was three weeks ago.
“You’re never going to touch me again are you?” You wondered.
You glanced over at Bucky, who was scrolling through his phone. Presumably looking even further into the d/s dynamic you’d started. Since the incident he had expressed that you two wouldn’t engage in a scene until he was sure how to do it safely.
“Doll, I just want to make sure that we’re doing this right. That things are safe and healthy.” He explained.
“But things were safe! It was so good baby, soooo good!” You reassured him.
“You couldn’t see yourself though! I was so fucking scared.” Bucky sat up in bed and looked over to you, tears forming in his eyes. “Sweetheart it was like you were gone. I thought I had lost you. I know how you get when things go dark for a bit, but this was worse. You weren’t even talking, let alone moving or eating.”
Bucky’s explanation had honestly shocked you; you knew it had been bad and that it had shaken him, but you didn’t think it had affected him this much. You were someone who delt with seasonal depression and you were also someone who had highhighs and low lows. Finding out that the darkness you had been feeling and that had ultimately consumed you had in fact been sub drop didn’t exactly come as a shock to you. Given your history it made a lot of sense that you would be more susceptible to it. But hearing how it had messed Bucky up broke your heart and so you’d let him take his time and do the research he wanted to ensure that you could try to avoid it next time around.
You didn’t think that you would have to wait nearly TWO months.
You finally got him to snap at Tony’s annual charity gala. You had all been dressed up and Bucky looked good. You loved it when he wore a suit, Tony had made sure that he had some that were tailored perfectly. You could kiss Tony for that, it had hugged Bucky in all the right places. The problem was, Bucky was purposely not giving you the attention you wanted.
It was time to take matters into your own hands. You’d get his attention one way or another and you’d had a good idea of how to do it.
You made your way over to where Thor was standing at the bar. He was telling stories of his life on Asgard when you’d come up next to him. You wrapped one of your arms around his back and let the other lay on his chest. Thor thought nothing of this, wrapping his arm around your middle, pulling you closer.
From across the room, Bucky was watching you. His jaw clenching, hands balling into fists. He shook his head. He knew what game you were playing, and he couldn’t give in. He needed to wait until things were right. He was honestly scared. He didn’t want to relive what happened last time.
“If you’re just gonna stand there, then I am going to do something about this.” Steve scoffed he couldn’t stand to watch his friend suffer.
He watched as Steve made his way over to you and Thor. Upon his arrival your face lit up, you called out for Steve and threw your arms around him. You let your arms travel the length of his broad back, looking up into Bucky’s eyes. You turned around so your back was now facing Bucky, all the while staying in Steve’s embrace. You whispered seductively into Steve’s ear.
“I just want him to fuck me, that’s all.”
Steve’s face went bright red as he looked down into your eyes. That was it. Bucky had seen enough. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. In seconds, Bucky had made his way across the room and was now dragging you back to your shared room, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out.
“If you’re going to talk shit, can’t you at least say it loud enough for me to hear?” You quipped.
“Jesus. I think you forgot who you’re talking to.” Bucky said turning swiftly, gripping your chin with his metal hand. ��You were the one in there parading around and putting your hands all over Steve and Thor. I mean for fucks sake.”
“Okay well maybe I was all over them because you haven’t touched me in months! I am not made of glass! Maybe I should go back out there and see if Thor is interested.” You said, feigning innocence.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Bucky growled. “Our room now. Strip and kneel.”
A shiver of anticipation made its way through your body. You couldn’t be more excited about what was to come. You figured you’d be punished, but it would all be worth it in the end. You were buzzing with excitement, unsure of what to expect as Bucky had been doing research for the past two months leading up to this moment.
You had to push your thoughts aside as you followed his orders, stripping yourself bare and kneeling at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to enter.
“Oh, so you can follow directions.” Bucky’s arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the door frame.
As badly as you’d love to snap back at him, you knew it would only piss him off more. So, you kept your mouth shut. You desperately wanted him to touch you. You had been yearning for it, and here it was finally going to happen, burning like a flame ready to consume you both.
“I want you on your hands and knees. Before I can do anything with you, you need to be punished.” His voice was calm as he spoke, making his way to the bench at the end of your bed.
“Yes sir.” You obeyed.
You got yourself into position on the floor in front of him. In his hand he was gripping his belt, you hadn’t even noticed him remove it. The thought alone had sent a rush of slick between your legs. Once you were settled, he ran the edge of the belt down your back, this caused you to jump slightly. The cool leather had been a shock against your heated skin.
“Are you ready doll? You’ll take your punishment silently, understood?” He looked to your face, gauging your every expression.
“Yes sir.” You replied quicky.
“Color?”
“Green.”
With that came the first strike of the belt. It wasn’t hard enough to put you in tears, but it was by surprise which caused you to stumble forward a bit. You could hear Bucky readjust himself as you regained your composure. The second you had righted yourself brought another strike and then another. By the fifth one, a whine slipped from your throat.
“Sorry sir.” Your voice was hoarse.
“See that’s the thing, good girls don’t need to apologize because they do what they’re told.” With that he snapped his belt against your already reddening cheeks.
“I can be your good girl sir.” You pleaded.
“Oh, I know you can be, I just don’t think you want to be. I think you like being a little brat because it leads to this.”
Bucky’s words and tone had gone straight to your core. The research he’d done must’ve been damn good because you were in pure ecstasy. You were dripping down your thighs, so much so, you knew he could see it.
“Alright doll. Five more, and I want you to count them out. Color?” He checked in.
“Yes sir. Green.” You barely got the words out before the belt fell against your skin.
“One.”
Another strike.
“Two.”
Another. This time slightly harder.
“Three.”
The next one was lower, the leather lightly grazing your lips. You couldn’t help the strangled gasp that escaped your mouth.
“Four.”
“Color?” He was quick to check in, worried about the sound you’d released.
“Green.”
“Doll. Color?” He didn’t believe you.
“Green sir. I’m so green.” You could hear the arousal in your own voice.
“Good.” He said as he brought the belt down one final time.
“Five.”
Bucky threw his belt to the side, grabbing you by your elbow pulling you up off the floor. You stumbled a bit, your knees weak from having been on the floor for some time. He looked at you with lust blown eyes. He gripped your face and kissed you with the passion you had been missing these last two months. You two stayed like that a moment, before he finally pulled back.
“Up on the bed, on your back.” He ordered as he began to rid himself of his clothes.
You scrambled up onto the bed, waiting for his next move. Watching him, desperately wanting his touch as he removed his tie and dress shirt. He brought the tie over towards you.
“Arms up sweetheart.” He instructed.
“Bu-” You had to stop yourself.
“No. You sat and had your hands all over Thor and Steve. I think you need to learn that touching is a privilege to be earned.” He said as he pulled your hands up over your head securing them both to the headboard with his silk tie.
This was a new side to Bucky, his tone, how domineering he was being. You could already feel yourself becoming more and more fuzzy. This is better than what you had imagined when you’d first brought up the dom/sub dynamic.
Once your hands we secured, Bucky took a step back, clearly admiring his handywork. He let out a low growl as he made his way back to you, between your legs.
“Christ doll. You’ve made a mess. Who’s got you this wet?” He had a teasing tone.
“You sir! You do!” You wanted nothing more than him to touch you, your body was practically vibrating in anticipation.
He leaned down to your ear, breath hot on your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on his words.
“That’s right doll. Remember who makes you feel this good.”
He plunged two of his Vibranium fingers into your dripping heat and you let out a strangled cry.
“Bucky!”
This only encouraged his behavior. He sped up the pace of his thrusts, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. You tugged at your restraints, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through his gorgeous hair. Your hips were lifting up off the mattress, begging for something more. He pressed his pelvis into yours to aide in stilling your movements. His fingers curling up, perfectly grazing that spot inside you. His lips transferred to your other nipple, sure to give it attention before making his way down your body.
You could feel yourself nearing the edge as he attached his lips to your clit. You gasped; his actions having stolen all the air from your lungs.
“Oh my god, yes. Please! I’m gon-I’m so close.” You’d managed to get out.
“Hold it.” Bucky demanded, his eyes gazing up to yours.
“What? I don’t…I don’t think I can.” You and bucky had talked about orgasm denial and truthfully it had been an exciting topic.
“You can and you will, if you want my cock.” He stated, his teeth grazing your clit gently.
He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt and his tongue against your clit all the while you were doing everything in your power to think of anything but the pleasure you were feeling in hopes to prolong the arrival of your orgasm. This went on for what felt like an eternity before he finally uttered the words.
“Cum now.”
That was all it took for the gush of wetness to release from you and all over his fingers. You cried out, tears streaming down your face, your body shaking from the pleasure. Bucky was sure to stop slowly, not wanting to shock you with an abrupt end to the pleasure before untying your wrists and moving to your next positions.
“You still with me doll?” Bucky asked, gently caressing your face.
“Mmm, yes” you said, attempting to catch your breath.
“Good, because I’m not done with you yet.” He kissed you once more before helping to position you.
Bucky was sat, leaning against the headboard. He pulled you up into his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he lowered you onto his cock, both of you letting out low moans. His hands moved from your hips, his Vibranium hand back to your clit and his flesh hand to your jaw, turning your head.
“Eyes open sweetheart.” He instructed you.
As you opened your eyes you could see that he had positioned you in such a way that you could see everything in your full-length mirror that was sat in the corner of the room.
“I want to see your gorgeous face when you cum on my cock.” He whispered into your ear.
“But wait, what about…” You started.
“Uh-Uh. Baby tonight is about me reminding you who you belong to. Got it?” The way he could read your mind was like pure magic.
“Yes sir.” You obeyed.
His hand turned your face a bit further so he could capture your lips in a kiss, before turning you back toward the mirror then landing around your neck. Bucky applied a bit of pressure there, analyzing your reactions in your reflection. Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you nod subtly, your lips ghosting over the word green.
He didn’t need any more reassurance; your consent was the release of the flood gates. Bucky used his hand on your neck as a sort of anchor as he snapped his hips up into your own, his Vibranium fingers working over your clit. Pushing you to the edge, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back this time. Looking at Bucky’s eyes in the mirror once more, he could see the broken plea in your expression.
“Go ahead baby, cum on my cock.” He grunted.
You couldn’t form words or thoughts as your orgasm crashed over you. You felt the pressure in your lower body release along with a wave of wetness around Bucky’s cock. Your breathing was shallow as he continued to fuck up into you, chasing his own release. You could feel him become more ragged, his breaths and his thrusts, he was close, and you couldn’t wait to be filled with him.
“Fuck sweetheart, your pussy is so fucking tight.” He huffed out as he spilled inside you, his seed coating your walls as his hips slowed.
The room was quiet, save for your breaths returning to normal, Bucky’s hands had moved from your clit and your throat to wrap around your middle, hugging you to him as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulders. Worry was beginning to consume his as you still hadn’t said anything, and you wore that same fuzzy expression as last time.
“You okay doll?” Bucky asked.
“Mmhmm, I’m good baby.” You mumbled, pulling his hand up so you could lay a kiss against his palm.
“Good, let’s go get you cleaned up.” He released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.
Bucky slid the two of you off the bed, trying to keep the mess to a minimum. When you made it to the edge, he slowly lifted you off of his lap, causing you to whine. He shushed you gently rubbing circles on your hips as he inspected your ass for the damage he had caused. It was red and angry, no broken skin, but there were welts that he knew would hurt for the days to come.
“It’s okay bub, I can’t even feel it.” You muttered, knowing he might be cursing himself for causing you pain.
“You can’t feel it now doll, that’s the adrenaline. But tomorrow they’re going to hurt. Let’s get you in the bath.”
He led you into your bathroom. He started the water, making sure it was nice and warm. Then he went into your cabinets to retrieve the Epsom salt and bubble bath to add to the water. The room started to fill with steam and the scent of lavender. You looked over at Bucky and smiled, he reached for your hand and guided you to sit in front of him in the tub. You let out a sigh of relief as you slid into the hot water, muscles relaxing as you lean back against him.
“That’s it. I’ve got you.” Bucky praised.
“Thank you bub.” You whispered, closing your eyes.
He pressed a kiss to your temple. Arms wrapping tighter around your middle.
“I love you baby. Promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling down again?” He says, nuzzling his nose at the base of your neck.
“I love you Buck. And I promise.”
The two of you stay in the bath until the water becomes tepid. Bucky has to rouse you, so you don’t slip down into the water further as he removes himself from behind you. Once freed, he bends down to scoop you out of the tub, settling you on the towel that awaits on the counter. He bundles you up in the warmth of the fabric, drying you off carefully. He looks in your expectant eyes and lets you know he needs to go change the sheets. Unbeknownst to you he had thrown them in the dryer when he went to grab your towels before the bath.
He had been gone for a bit, so you hopped off the counter, making your way to the bedroom only to see him placing a tray on the freshly made bed. On it were two glasses of water, some cut up berries and a piece of buttered toast. Tears sprung to your eyes as you took in the sight.
“Ah, doll, I was going to come and get you!” He explained.
“Sorry bub. This is all so sweet.” You sniffled.
He slowly made his way to you, pulling you into his arms. He kisses the top of your head before removing your towel and pulling one of his t-shirts over your head. He walks the two of you over to the bed and you notice the bottle of wound care on the side table.
“Can you lay on your stomach for me doll?” He pleads.
You nod and do as you’re told, laying down and sliding the t-shirt up to expose your raw skin. Bucky is careful in his movements trying not to agitate the skin any further as he rubs the cream into your skin. He leans down to press a kiss to your hip. He scoots up a bit and moves to your wrists, gently massaging them as well, wanting to ensure they also get attention after having been bound. As he rights your positions to cuddle with one another up at the headboard, he feeds you the snacks he brought and makes a promise to spend the next few days by your side.
“Bub you don’t have to do that.” You explained.
“No doll. I’ll do things right this time.” He promised.
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All The Things I Did (4): The Only Thing That I See
a/n: ok this is the one i warned you guys was horny but i'm sure its actually to our benefit. this is setting up the next couple big plot pieces: harding's arrival and his past with cass, john demoting himself to fly again, cass' next mission and a whole lot more. happy to chat about any of it//we had a great little sleepover in my inbox and i saved a couple to answer over the next few days. more interludes in the chute, submissions still open, and a new masterpost pinned to my blog. happy reading!
When Mary knocked on Cass’ door before the sun was out and warned her it was pancakes for breakfast, it meant the men were flying today. She was looking forward to this raid in particular as the coordinates for the U-boat pens had been passed to her by a new potential source during a previous trip to Belgium. Surveillance planes had confirmed their location but it meant that Colonel Huglin would want her to brief prior to wheels up. John wasn’t flying but he would be watching. She wanted to impress him. Offer him a little bit of insight into the work that she did. Show him the bumps and bruises were worth it if it brought the war to an end even a moment sooner.
He wasn’t outside waiting for her to get breakfast and her heart fell but she knew he was busy. A piece of her was curious what John Egan, Air Exec behaved like. She imagined he was more stoic and held quite the presence. Or maybe he was exactly the same and more of a pain in the Colonel’s side than anything else. Cass smiled to herself as she walked toward the HQ offices. Yeah, that definitely seemed more like her John.
----
He was rifling through papers when she entered the bullpen, calling out headings to the navigators and dodging orderlies delivering cups of coffee. She dropped her jacket off at her desk without anyone noticing and approached the map with small airplanes meant to simulate the raid.
“A few degrees to the east, gentleman. Otherwise, you’ll miss the last loading dock.” Her fingers nudged the group of planes in the correct direction then she stepped back and let the stares wash over her. Deep breaths, Cass. You know you’re right.
“Gentlemen, surely you’ve all at least heard of Lieutenant Cooper. She is the one responsible for locating these pens for today’s raid.” Some of them nodded with respect, others rolled their eyes or scoffed. Most of them seemed ambivalent.
“I’ll be at my desk should any questions arise, Colonel.” Yet all of them could agree on staring at her backside as she walked away.
“You make a habit out of embarrassing the brass the morning of a raid?” She paused her typing with a smile and walked around her desk to meet him in the doorway. There were wildflowers behind his back and she gripped his chin to pull him down for a kiss.
“Good morning, Major.” John hummed with pleasure before going back in for one, two, three more kisses.
“Morning, doll.” His voice was huskier at this hour than she was used to. It sparked right between her legs. “You thought I forgot?” He produced the flowers from behind his back and handed them to her. As she did every morning, she brought them to her nose and blushed like a schoolgirl.
“First mission as Air Exec. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.” John stepped deeper into her office, closing the door behind him, as she tucked the latest bouquet into a vase on her desk that was already filled with his previous gifts.
“Would feel better if I was going up as a squadron commander.”
“You would say that.” Cass jumped up onto her desk, welcoming John between her legs with some light scratches on the back of his neck. “I, for one, am happy you’ve got two feet on the ground today.”
“That’s very selfish of you, Lieutenant Cooper.” He stepped closer and kissed her slow. Deliberate. Decisive. Dangerous. He kissed her like he flew. “I’ll stop flying when you stop spooking.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to see you all hot and bothered over my well being again.” John licked his lips as she fiddled with the knot of his tie. Cass wasn’t sure what was coming over her if not, just simply, the allure of John Egan. They had claimed each other publicly. All that was left was privately.
“Did that turn you on, Cass?” She nodded, pressing her chest against his as her tongue slipped between his lips and stirred an ache within him. “Do you like that they could walk in on us at any time?”
“Fuck, John.” Her lips moved to the column of his throat and he groaned at the nipping of her teeth. She was tempted to have him take her right there on the desk. He was tempted too. Wanted to rip those thin, tantalizing panty hose from her legs and hike her skirt around her waist. Had fantasized how soft the skin of her thighs would be. What she would taste like. How she would sound as he worked her over the edge again and again and again.
“Cass, baby, I want you so bad.” She was intoxicating. A siren at sea. At this moment, he was powerless to deny her anything.
“Then take me, sir.” God, he could die a happy man. He was pushing her skirt up her legs, Cass spreading them wider as she leaned back onto the desk and pulled John down with her when there was a knock on the door.
“Major Egan? Lieutenant Cooper?” Cass collapsed onto her back, panting with pent up tension, John catching himself with his hands on either side of her head.
“Just a minute,” John called. He dropped his sweaty forehead to her shoulder in defeat before standing to his full height. His mouth ran dry with a tease of lace, Cass tugging her skirt down to hide it from his starving eyes.
“You like lace. Noted.”
“I think I’d like anything that was on you.” He grabbed her hands and tugged her closer. “Or off you.” No longer able to control herself around John Egan, she stood on his toes and pressed up into his lips once more.
“Major Egan-”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” John stormed to the door and threw it open. “Private, I said we needed a minute.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Cass chuckled as he scurried away, adjusting her jacket and grabbing her briefing materials from the drawer.
“Don’t go scaring them, John. We need young men to want to stay in.”
“He’ll be fine. I’ll apologize when your spell has worn off a bit.”
“Oh? There you go with that witch motif again.” He followed her out of the office, out of the building and into the daylight.
“Has to be some kind of explanation for the way you’ve got me wrapped your finger like this.” She stopped and turned to face him.
“Maybe it’s love, Major.” His retort went right back down his throat. How the fuck did she know? He had tried to say it the other night but had since thought better of it. He couldn’t risk scaring her off.
“Maybe.” She read the yes behind his maybe.
“Maybe,” she repeated, whispering. “We should go inside.” John nodded, stepping closer and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I just need one more minute.” It was a moment John had never really thought about. The moment you realize the woman you love, loves you right back. He wanted to engrave it in his mind, heart and soul. Never forget this feeling with her. Carry it with him until he didn’t have to be afraid of losing it anymore. “Cass? You mean a lot to me, you know that?”
“We’ll make it through this, John. Together.” He kissed her one last time before heading, because how could he help himself, the sound of together silencing all the doubt in his mind. If only for a little while.
----
Cass sat quietly along the side of the room as Colonel Huglin unveiled the target for today’s mission and the unfortunate low-low position that the 100th would take. She looked around and tried to read if any of the men seemed nervous or had any understanding of what was about to happen to them. They were doing a good job of keeping it all at bay.
Eventually her eyes landed on John as they always did. He had recovered from their earlier tryst remarkably quickly. Cass was nearly positive she would need to replace her undergarments at the first available instance. Looking at him now only added to her need to shift and adjust in her seat. Back home, men were either ruggedly handsome and good with their hands or politely coiffed and intellectually impressive. For John Egan to somehow embody both was a figment of all her desires.
He caught her staring out of the corner of his eyes. Offered her a smirk and would have blown a kiss if he wasn’t sitting in the front row. As if she could read his mind, she blew a kiss of her own. John pretended to catch it and slip it into his pocket.
“Our intelligence officer, Lieutenant Cooper, will take it from here before Captain Becker delivers the weather.” Cass stood to the sound of whistles and cheers, a low chant of ‘Spook’ spreading throughout the room. John smiled but kept his decorum. Though that blush on her cheeks was going to make him go mad.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, gentlemen. Lights please.” The room plunged into darkness save for the screen she was using to deliver her brief. “Please note there are both naval and ground based anti-aircraft assets located along the Frisian Islands. Towards the mainland, you can expect concentrated flak from here all the way down to Bremen. Sources tell me they are radar enabled so they will have the capability to track you.” A hand shot up in the crowd.
“Ma’am? What kind of artillery are we looking at?”
“88 and 105.” She paused to see if there was follow up before continuing. “The most important aspect is your target to the northwest of Bremen if I could have the target map, please.”
There were no further questions, John standing to the side while she presented the bombardiers and navigators with supplemental files for the run. She didn’t offer them luck or tell them to fly safe. Just told them to remember their training and stick to the headings she had given them. Anything else would be empty words.
“I think they were very thoroughly briefed, don’t you?” Cass laughed as she gathered her maps and placed them back in her folder.
“Surprised I do more than run around Europe and get shot?” John looked at his shoes sheepishly but his jovial tone seemed to have slipped away.
“Shouldn’t joke about getting shot, Cass. Kind of scared me when that happened.” She touched his cheek gently.
“Once they all take off and you’re done being a leader of men, you can sit and read my report if you like. I’m positive your imagination is worse than the truth.” At least, she hoped it was. “You should go talk to Buck. Give him some parting thoughts.”
“You’re the one who told me there are no words to describe it.”
“Not to warn him or guide him. Just remind him why he’s going up there today and why he will again every time after.” His smile was tight lipped. Her words were very carefully chosen to not reflect the truly dire nature of their circumstances. He appreciated her for it. She held onto that quality as long as she could. Beyond the German surrender and the atomic bomb and the curiosity with what came next. But one day she would have to break. And she knew John would be there. He’d always be there. Had to.
----
It was a couple hours later when he found her again. She looked like she was fighting sleep from behind her typewriter. John couldn’t help but admire the sight, almost regretting the gentle rap of his knuckles on her door.
“Leader of men here for Lieutenant Cooper.” She acknowledged his presence with a smile but kept her chin in her hand. “One plane back with mechanical issues. Just a waiting game.”
“You’re not good at patiently waiting, are you?”
“I think I’m being pretty patient with you. With us,” he added as he motioned around them. “An impatient man would have taken advantage of your offer this morning.” Cass scoffed and sat up. Good. John liked when she was at her full capacity to spar with him. Sometimes, he said something just to get her to banter.
“You only didn’t because of that poor man that knocked on the door!”
“Well, he’s not here now.”
“So, what’s stopping you?” She looked at him expectantly. As if she was actually curious if he would just sweep her desk clean and take her right then and there. She would let him.
“Time. Need to make sure there’s no limit to how long I can take.” Cass liked the sound of that. John taking his time to work her up and up then over. Not just once. Maybe not even twice. She knew what she would be thinking about all night.
“A consolation prize then?” There was a red folder dangling from her fingertips. “It can’t leave this room.” John took it, taking a seat with enough distance from her to keep his head clear of sinful thoughts.
She typed away quietly as he read, something domestic about the whole thing that made them both incandescently happy, only the occasional grunt of concern or impressed hum slipping from his mouth.
“They teach you how to do all this at spook school?”
“Most of it. Some just has to be instinctual. Kind of like your piloting. There is only so much to learn in a training environment before the real thing has to take place.” He looked down and reread the lines about the information she had received. How she had written the tangible impact these identifiers would have on the war. Wanted to skip over the part where the local police followed her after her meeting. How they turned her in and she took a beating but convinced the interrogators she was just lost. How she made her tourniquet out of ripped cotton and a stick.
“Cass, you’re fucking incredible, you know that?”
“It’s always nice to have a handsome man tell me.” Their thoughts matching, she met him on the other side of her desk and accepted his kiss eagerly.
“We always find ourselves here,” he said with a sigh, her cheek fitting in his palm and his thumb resting on the top of her cheekbone.
“Are you complaining?”
“Never.” He leaned back in, ready to seal the world off once more, when the sirens ran off. The planes were back. And with them, the real world.
#masters of the air#john egan#callum turner#mota#masters of the air fanfiction#john egan fanfiction#callum turner fanfiction#mota fanfiction#masters of the air fanfic#john egan fanfic#callum turner fanfic#mota fanfic
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"And what shall be the reward of spilling so much blood, one drop of which has more worth than all the crowned heads of the world?"
L’Ami du Peuple, No 634, from Thursday 19th April 1792.
[The very next day, on the 20th April 1792, war was declared against Austria]
If it was still impossible to doubt the traitorous dispositions of the court, after all the plots that it has formed to this day, in order to crush the people, to ruin the nation, and to re-establish despotism, the scene of high scandal that the ministerial cabinet has just been playing out should have sufficed to open the eyes of all.
On the 14th of this month, the ministers presented themselves in the Assembly. The Minister of Foreign affairs [Dumouriez; he took this post on 15th March 1792] took the floor to communicate to them, after the orders of the king, of the dispatches that, he said, were delivered by an extraordinary courier who arrived during the night. He first read out the letter written [by Louis XVI] to sieur [Louis Marie Antoine, Vicomte de] Noailles, ambassador at the court of Vienna, demanding the new king of Hungary [Franz II of the Holy Roman Empire, nephew of Antoinette] to give a categorical response on his attitudes towards France. He then read out the response of sieur Noailles, containing a formal refusal to continue a negotiation that he [Noailles] said was impracticable and an announcement of his [Noailles’s] resignation. He [Dumouriez] proceeded to give a reading of a very pressing dispatch [from Louis XVI] addressed to sieur Noailles. Finally, he [Dumouriez] announced that Louis XVI had just written in his own hand a letter to the king of Hungary, and sieur Molle the field marshal was to deliver it. The response to this letter would arrive on the 10th of next month at the latest and would decide whether peace or war would be. In this epistle, one can clearly sense that Louis XVI is repeating his crude joke of professing his love for the Constitution.
Scarcely had these readings been finished than sieur Briche and sieur Guadet demanded a decree of indictment against sieur Noailles for having disobeyed the orders of the king; they must say so, for he had betrayed the interests of the nation and compromised public safety. After several light debates, this decree was given a near-unanimous pass. Already the ones that did not follow the thread of the story were singing to their victory, for they saw that he was declared a nation-harming (lèse-nation) criminal, he who is an ambassador of France, a close relative (cousin-germain) to sieur Motier [Noailles and Lafayette had the same father-in-law], a member of the Tuileries committee, and a pillar of the Feuillant club; that is to say, one of the main conspirators, bolstered by all the forces of his accomplices, and sure of the support of the vast majority of counter-revolutionary conscript fathers. But their joy was short-lived. Several hours after the decree of indictment, the veil was ripped to lay bare the juggleries of the ministerial cabinet. Sieur Dumouriez appeared on stage to announce to the president a letter that he had allegedly just received from sieur Noailles, who had finally obeyed the orders of Louis XVI and had given news that the king of Hungary refused all negotiations, declaring war on the French nation.
Immediately Thuriot, Goupilleau, Vaublanc, Gentil, Dumas ＊and the other gangrenous ministers demanded that the decree of indictment be revoked. Sieur Kersaint and Sieur Delacroix ⁑ proposed that the letter of the minister [Dumouriez] and the dispatch of the ambassador be sent back to the diplomatic committee, so that the report would be done on time.
The report done, under the name of the committee, by sieur Lasource, the decree of indictment was adjourned. Such was the conclusion of the ministerial and senatorial farce against sieur Noailles. Thus, by the method of a double correspondence, the perfidious agents of the prince will always get away with their deeds, just like how pirates escape by the method of using false flags. Always the artifices of the court will render the laws illusory; always the apparent acts of justice from the legislator will be none but lures to deceive the people; and no matter how things turn out, always the public enemies at the helm of the vessel of the State will manage to throw it at the reefs, and to direct it in such a way as that shall see it broken by the storm and engulfed by the waves in the end.
So finally here is war declared on the French by the powers plotted against freedom. However, who does not see that all these pretend ministerial negotiations with foreign courts had no other goal than to amuse the nation and to buy time, until all these powers have their batteries loaded, and they are ready to shoot us? Who does not see that all these bellicose preparations, arranged by the Assembly, had no other goal than to lure the nation to sleep in deep dreams of security? Who does not see that all these sending-back to the executive power, the denunciations, the prevaricating ministers, and these complaints of citizen soldiers crammed onto the frontiers and left without munitions, without weapons, without clothes, without pay, had no other goal than to leave the patrie with no means of defence, to leave the State in the grip of the machinations of the court, of the undertakings of the fugitive plotters, of the attacks of the foreign lackeys.
Will there be war? Everybody is saying yes. It is certain that this opinion has finally prevailed in the cabinet, after the representations of sieur Motier who, without doubt, has made it the only way in order to distract the nation from the concerns within to occupy with concerns without, in order to make the nation forget the internal dissensions in favour of news in gazettes, in order to dissipate the national property into military preparations, instead of employing it to liberate the State and to comfort the people, in order to crush the Nation under the feet of taxes, and in order to slit the throats of patriots of the infantry and of the citizen army, leading them to the butcher’s, under the pretext of defending the barriers of the empire.
It is always certain that he pressures the monarch to stop negotiating and to order the campaign to be started, which he regards as a means to honourably end his own career, if he runs out of ways to regain the nation’s confidence with new acts of seduction and of hypocritical devotion to the cause of liberty.
Lost in the heady rhetoric from Brissot, from Lemontey, from Girardin, from Delacroix, from Gouvion, from Dumas and from other scoundrels who have sold themselves to the court, seduced by a false image of national forces, intoxicated by the fumes of Gallic boastfulness, the people seem no less desiring for war than their implacable enemies do. For three years I have represented war as the last resort of counter-revolutionaries and I have not stopped working to thwart the various undertakings of the cabinet to set it aflame. Since then, my attitude has not changed, and in my eyes, war is always the cruellest curse that may be cast on the kingdom. Whatever new focus that war will draw public attention to, by only fixing it onto news in gazettes, war will leave an open field for the enemies within to machinate at their ease and to breathe the fire of civil dissensions into all parts of the kingdom, to instigate troubles, and to set traps for proponents of freedom; the war will completely squander the national property and accelerate public bankruptcy; the war will consummate the loss of everything that France has in good citizens and it will drain the State of all the patriotic youth, because it is the most zealous proponents of the revolution who have been rushing to the defence at the frontiers, and they will always do so.
However fearless they may be, they are without weapons ¹, without discipline, without tactics, without idea of grand manoeuvres ², without the smallest notion of the art of war, without experienced chiefs, without shrewd and faithful generals. How would the soldiers of the patrie resist the attacks from the disciplined armies of lackeys, they who are commanded by shrewd generals?
If war happens, I repeat, regardless of the bravery of the defenders of freedom, it does not take an eagle-eyed genius to foresee that our armies will be crushed in the first campaign.
I can conceive that the second campaign would be less disastrous and that the third could even be a glorious success, since it is impossible that we would not learn at our own expense, impossible that some great man would not be given a position. Yet, to wrest victory from our enemies, we will need to suffer a long and disastrous war. Now, it would fall short of the truth, to say that our losses, over three campaigns, shall round to a billion livres and five hundred thousand combatants.
How shall we compensate for the loss of so many brave soldiers, the flower of the French citizens? And what shall be the reward of spilling so much blood, one drop of which has more worth than all the crowned heads of the world? To prevent this precious blood from being shed, I have proposed for a hundred times an infallible method, which is to take hostage among us Louis XVI, along with his wife, his son, his daughter, his sisters ⁂, and hold them accountable to what happens. A senate faithful to the patrie will speak to him thus: “King of the French, it is in vain that you (vous) hide in the detours of a tortuous policy to see us ensnared in the disasters of war; you have no escape from the avenging power of the people. We declare to you, in the name of the nation, who is your august sovereign, that we do not wish to deal with your fellowmen, the princes of Europe, that we wish to make no preparations at all for war. Whether or not you compromise with them is your choice. The duty to remind your rebellious brothers and cousins is upon you, and so is the duty to divert your fellowmen from all hostile undertakings. The barriers of the State will stay open, yet rest assured that upon certain news that the first corps of enemies shall have crossed them, your culpable head will roll at your feet, and your entire dynasty shall be extinguished in its own blood.”
But a senate faithful to the patrie is even rarer than a patriotic king. How insensible the people is, that they do not sense the necessity to finally choose a supreme dictator, to give him powers that would be circumscribed, so that he would have no authority to dominate, but unlimited authority to cut down the chief conspirators that the public voice has identified, to force the corrupt legislator to put at a price the heads of kings, of princes and of the generals who will come with weapons against us, to offer sums of gold to their troops who will deliver these kings, princes, and generals to us, living or dead, and to receive these troops among children of the State. Soon we shall see their numerous legions, running with weapons and equipment under the flags of freedom, and France shall be delivered from her enemies forever.
The fate that awaits her is less consoling for the friends of the patrie, but the fate that awaits her enemies will be terrible.
At the first shot of the canon fired on the frontier, the departments agree on a plan to reduce the castles and the gardens to ashes and to slit the throats of all public enemies who can be found in cities and in the countryside. As the army will massacre its own perfidious chiefs and conspiratorial generals, and as the entire nation will rise up against its own worthless representatives to seize back the powers that they have stripped from her, the mysterious veil long hung over the intrigues of the cabinets will be torn: however impatient the cabinets are to put the French back into chains, I strongly doubt that Louis XVI shall have the humour to do nothing if he even takes a look at this terrible picture. Let some good man have the courage to put it before his eyes.
---------------------------
Notes in the original:
[1] It is an unchanging fact that sieur de Grave, despite all his civic affectations, has not given a single order to prompt the ministry to arm the national guards of the frontiers since he arrived at the ministry. It is upon their actions, and not upon their talk, that the royal agents must be judged.
[2] It was to prevent the citizen battalions from training for grand manoeuvres that the generals have kept them divided and dispersed into different posts.
Translator's notes:
＊This would be Mathieu Dumas (1753 - 1837), a colonel of the general staff of Paris, long lambasted by Marat for refusing to fight, and whose name had come from his father, and not to be confused with Thomas-Alexandre Dumas (1762 - 1806) the Haitian general, whose name had come from his mother, an enslaved and nigh-erased woman.
⁑ This would be Jean-François Delacroix (1753 - 1794) the Dantonist, not to be confused with Charles-François Delacroix (1741 - 1805) the Thermidorian, and father to the painter Eugène Delacroix (1798 - 1863).
⁂ Marat notably did not mention either of the brothers of Louis XVI, because the comte de Provence (future Louis XVIII) emigrated in June 1791 to the Austrian Netherlands, and the comte d’Artois (future Charles X) emigrated even earlier, on 17th July 1789 to Savoy.
I am indebted to @citizen-card for helping me with finding out about the relation between Motier and Noailles, and to @lamarseillasie for making me interested on "just what was Marat's view on dictatorship" in the first place.
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Sweetheart [Part Two] (Aether x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Wanna say a quick thank you for all the support that I've received on everything I've posted so far, I'm happy that people are liking what I'm working so hard on and I appreciate you all! This is part two to my Valentines Day post, so if you haven't read that yet then you can here! I hope that you like this, and feedback is always appreciated. <33
Genre: Smut, sweet and romantic since that's what won in the poll!
Warnings: Porn with plot, P in V sex, drunk sex? (Both parties and very light buzz), biting/marking, L bomb, blood (not super graphic).
The garden felt so lonesome, you staying back after bidding farewell to the ghoul so you could relish in the moment. It was almost surreal, but you don't have the time to sit around and think about it all day, you had a party to get ready for.
The siblings and staff were excused from wearing their habits and other such uniforms, instead they were expected to wear distinguished - yet still festive - clothing. Since you played a part in designing and putting together the suits for Papa and his ghouls, you were lucky enough to have an idea of how they would look, and decided to go for something that would play nicely with the colors Aether would be wearing.
Shuffling around through your closet, you finally found the dress you had been looking for, you didn't have much reason for dressing up in the abbey so you jumped at the opportunity to wear it.
Slipping out of your habit and veil, you get the dress situated on yourself and move to the mirror to make sure everything is in place. The dress was stunning, deep burgundy colored fabric clung to your body, with a slit on the thigh accentuating your hips. It had a modest neckline to distract from the sultry bottom half, with lacey off-the-shoulder sleeves hanging delicately from your arms. You paired the dress with a set of black heels that you knew you would be comfortable in, and a lovely little silver necklace with a purple stone.
You kept your makeup simple, not wanting it to get ruined in the midst of the party, applying a nice gloss with eyeliner and mascara, just enough to bring out the color of your eyes and the shape of your lips. A layer of hair was pinned back, leaving half of it down to further frame your face.
When you looked in the mirror, you were almost in awe, it had been so long since you had done yourself up like this, in a way, you missed it.
A knock at the door interrupted you from your thoughts, and you opened it to find Marjory smiling. Her mouth drops at the sight of you, and yours at her.
"Dear Asmodeus! You're going to be the star of the party showing up like that, you make me look like I'm doing nothing more than running a few arrands!"
You giggle at the sweet response, gesturing both hands up to her.
"Me? Look at you! No wonder you were able to steal that poor boys heart, I'd be more worried that you've stolen them from all the brothers in the ministry!"
You move to the side and gesture for Marjory to come in, leaving the door open in case any other friends happen to stop by. You two sit on the bed and talk, trying to pass some time while you wait for the Banquet to begin.
Eventually Liza finds her way into the room as well, mouth already going off spewing the latest gossip she could scrounge up.
"So," She begins. "Did he ask you?"
A goofy smile glues itself to your face, and you nod your head quickly, still giddy about the whole thing. And, once again, you have both of the girls squealing loud enough for those outside to hear. It's like when you first joined the ministry, no worries but fawning over boys and trying your best not to get caught slacking by your higher ups, you're glad that you've made such good friends.
You three quiet down a bit and continue talking until the church bells begin to bellow a melody throughout the halls, signally that the party is soon to start. The halls quickly fill with people making their way to the dining hall, which had been rearranged and decorated to look like a place that only royalty could afford. Copia was as victim to a love for flare and drama as his brothers before him, so it only made sense that he wanted to set the mood for romance.
You admired the room from the doorway, waiting and looking for the ghoul you were set to enter with. You felt yourself getting nervous as you watched countless other sisters find their partners and seat themselves at the tables, he wouldn't have stood you up, right?
Now that you think about it, Papa wasn't here, neither were the others ghouls that were to accompany him. Before you had a chance to wonder any longer, an elderly sister came up behind you and rested a hand on your shoulder.
"Go on dear, enjoy the fun. I'm sure that who you're looking for will find you in due time, don't soil it by waiting out here all night."
You smile at the woman and nod, taking one last look in the hall before entering the hall, finding a seat next to Liza. She looked at you with a hint of worry in her eyes, she was without a date too, but you shouldn't be wallowing with her right now, unlike her you had plans.
She nudged your arm with her elbow and offered you a smile, which you returned quickly. Even if something did happen, at least you had her. Your gaze fell to the centerpieces that you three had worked on just a few hours earlier.
Sweet music soon started wafting through the air, and everyone went silent waiting to see what was happening. The giant double doors on the opposite side from where you had entered opened, and there stood the beloved Papa Emertitus IV, clad in a deep crimson suite with purple detailing. Behind him stood an entourage of ghouls, though you couldn't much make them out in the dark of the night.
Copia started making his way inside, kissing the hands of a few sisters on his way to the table which was reserved for him and his group. As they filed in, it was revealed that the ghouls all were holding bundles of flowers, which they began passing out to the brothers in their seats.
"Love," Papa's voice rang out. "It's what binds us. Family, friends, lovers. Today we celebrate it, and cherish it, for it is truly something special, and with these roses you will share that love with those closest to you."
By the time Papa had finished speaking, the roses had all been passed out, save for the ones that a few of the ghouls had saved for themselves. The anxiety that you felt earlier began to grow, you weren't sure if you could wait. You saw Aether standing there, in front of everyone, holding a single rose in his hands.
Copia threw his arms out towards the crowd, and smiled.
"Please, begin my friends!"
All of the brothers began gifting their roses, some standing up to find and confess to sisters that had been without partners. You simply sat and watched, occasionally looking over to Liza who laughed at anyone who was turned down, as well as turning down any man who attempted to offer anything to her.
Your eyes wandered to the large table that Papa was to sit at, and saw that he and the ghouls were all whispering to one another. He looked around, and once everyone had sat down, he nodded his head.
Once he did that, the ghouls that had save roses made their way out into the crowd, and began confessing on their own. Your heart began to throb as you saw the large ghoul you were eyeing walk over to where you were sitting, reaching out a hand for you to take.
Liza had to hold in a scream at the sight. You took Aether's hand and rose from your seat, looking up at him with loving eyes. He was incredibly handsome, he wore a black dress shirt and pants with a tie that matched the color of your dress, and he was still sporting his usual silver rings and bracelet.
All of the ghouls were wearing black masks that covered the top half of their face, leaving their hair and lips free. It was probably the most you had seen of Aether, and you loved every part of it.
"I know I already asked, but there's no harm in making sure." He smiles. "Would you like to join me?"
You accept the rose from his other hand and hold it close, nodding slowly. He gently pulls you next to him, and leads by the hand back to his table, along with the other ghoul's and their partners.
You all sat down, and the party began, food being brought out and served on some of the most beautiful plates and cutlery that you had every seen.
"Copia sure knows how to party." You whisper at Aether.
"You think he set this up alone? He had to ask the girls to help pick forks because 'There was too many'."
You both try to stifle your laughs to not draw attention, but a few of the others ghouls still look over.
You and Aether start eating, joking around and talking in between bites. He's really such a sweet guy, you never once feel uneasy or nervous, even thought your table is front an center. He even wipes a bit of food away from your lips without drawing attention to it, not want to embarrass you.
A couple of hours pass, and soon everyone is done talking and eating, which means it's about time for the coveted afterparty. Everyone begins to stand and leave the room, some going to their bedrooms and others going to the ballroom to continue socializing. Your group starts to leave, and you help to pick up a couple of plates and such from the tables on your way out. Aether watching you lovingly, and copying your actions.
Once you make it to the ballroom, you can't help but let your mouth fall open, admiring the beautiful decor that had been set up. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, with shimmering crystals that reflected the different colors of the room. Ribbons were also hung up, with flowers and loose petals littering the room and floor. Music also played, it was soft and slow, truly romantic, though you were sure that would change when people got more in a different kind of mood.
Aether placed a hand of the small of your back and led you inside, the both of you ending up in front of Marjory and Liza, as well as the brother that asked Marjory out and... another sister?
Liza looked at you and blushed, introducing you do her date, a shy looking girl who you never really expected to be her type. They really did look good together, and you were glad she wasn't left alone.
You introduced Aether to your friends as well, making sure to keep them and their gawking in line. Once you were all settled in, you migrated to the dance floor and started to join the large group of slow dancers.
His hands found its way to the home of the crook of your waist, while yours wandered up to rest around his neck. You looked up to him, able to see his eyes much clearer than his usual mask, they were big and a little downturned, and so loving. The lights from above shined down and lit up his eyes beautifully, you were captivated.
The music moved you both, making you sway softly in each other's arms. In your eyes, there was no longer anyone but him, the both of you together, because that’s all you needed. It was almost foolish how quickly the two of you fell for one another, but the way he held you, the way that he pulled your body so close to his, if this was foolish then you would happily spend your life living a comedy, because this is all you could dream of.
You both continued to look into each others eyes, not breaking your gaze for a second. Your hands slowly snaked away from his neck and rested on the sides of his jaw, cradling him with a touch he had never known. He moved his head lower, letting it sit just close enough that you could feel the warm tickle of his breath, but he didn’t move any closer, he didn’t dare.
He was waiting, waiting for you to decide if this is what you wanted, the poor man wanted nothing more than to embrace you and feel the warmth of your lips on his, but he sat patiently.
Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, and just as quickly, your lips to his own. His lips were soft and a bit chapped, brushing so beautifully against yours, the kiss was nothing but the love that you felt in that moment, no lust or ill intent, just love.
You couldn't tell if it lasted forever, or if it didn't last long enough, but eventually you two had to pull apart. Aether's eyes were almost glazed over with a look that you couldn't exactly place, but your eyes shone with the same light back at him. You both shared that look for the rest of the afterparty, stealing glances from one another even when you were across the room, like two little lovesick puppies.
As the night continued, you both drank a bit, not enough to get overly drunk, but there was a visible haze of blush spread across your cheeks. Aether was able to handle his liquor better than you were, you could barely even tell than he had anything to drink. Marjory and Liza, as well as their dates, found their way back over to you and decided to finish the party off with a bang, dragging you to the dance floor once again for a dance that was just a bit less innocent.
Everyone was pressed close up to their partners, hardly leaving any room to breath between them, and you two were no different.
Your chest pressed against Aether’s, you two enveloped in another kiss, one that was more passionate than the last one. Your hands were ruffled in his hair, and his rested just above your ass, robbing you of his touch in a way that was almost criminal.
You felt a prodding at your stomach, and those silly little butterflies began to flutter around again. Tugging at Aether’s hair a bit, trying to get him as close as your bodies would allow, you earned a low grunt in response, and you can tell that you’re done for.
Aether bites your lip before pulling away from the kiss, staring at you with pupils blown so wide that if you were any further they would look completely black. He shoots a glance to the rest of the people there, taking note of the vulgar grinding and fondling going on, if you both wanted this then he wouldn’t stand for it happening in a place like this.
“Would you want to maybe go somewhere else? It’s getting a little..” His voice trails off a tad.
“Horny in here?” You finished his sentence, blunter than either of you expected.
You both burst out laughing, it’s almost beautiful the way that, even when in a mood like this, there’s still room for laughter.
“I would love to, Aether. I’ve always wondered what the ghouls bedrooms looked like, would you care to show me?”
The color of his face deepened, and he nodded quickly. You smile and go to take off your heels so you can walk a little more comfortably, but it seems Aether has been waiting for your departure. He takes your shoes from your hands and turns his back towards you, signally for you to hop on.
“Poor feet are probably killing you, I’ll give you a ride so you have have a break.”
You shake your head and laugh before hopping on him, a little uneasy at first due to being higher than you usually stand. Aether wraps his arms under your hips to hold you nice a snug, and starts making his way to his bedroom.
The way there is filled him comfortable silence, just enjoying each others company. Your face is nestled against his neck again, feeling his soft hair tickling at your skin.
Before you come to notice, Aether’s setting you down gently on probably the softest bed you’ve ever touched. You admire the decor for just a second before planting your eyes back on the man of the hour, and the sight of him is down right intoxicating.
He stands just above you, looking down with disheveled hair and foggy eyes. A hand snakes it’s way up to your face, caressing your check softly.
“Are you sure that you want this?”
Your heart feels so full and warm, the smile on your face radiating that same feeling. You lean up a bit and place a small kiss on his cheek.
“I would never want it with anyone else, Aether.”
The moment he got the okay, his lips are back on yours, they’re so warm and inviting he just can’t help but kiss them whenever he gets the chance. His hands move to your back, finding and undoing the zipper of your dress before carefully pulling it off of you.
You feel a bit shy, being so exposed to someone, but try not to bring attention to it, that is until-
“Wow…” Aether whispers just loud enough to hear.
You look at him, worried something might be wrong, that maybe he changed his mind now that he saw you. Those thoughts are swatted away though when he wraps his arms around you in a firm, but careful embrace, just holding you close for a moment.
“I can’t believe that I have you here, that you’re mine. You’re so… Wow.”
Your face must be burning up, but you push through that, and your slight anxiety, and pull his arms to the clasps of your bra. He undoes them, a bit clumsily, but it’s charming.
Once your bra comes off, Aether truly cannot keep his hands, eyes, or mouth away from you. He pecks your lips just one more time, before kissing his way to your jaw, then your neck, all the way down until he reaches your chest. He nips at your skin, looking to see what reaction you have to it before he continues appreciating every inch of you.
No wonder he’s one of Papa’s closest ghouls, big, strong, talented, and from the looks of it, incredibly dedicated to worship.
“Aether,” your voice is small and shaky. “Please.”
He rises to meet your gaze, leaning in next to your ear.
“Please what, tesorina?”
You feel likes your going to burst, and he must be too, judging by his shallow breath.
“Please, I need you.” You swallow a breath, trying to calm down. “All of you.”
Aether says nothing before he starts shedding his clothes, being more careless than he was with yours, and you remove your underwear while he does so. He pushes himself onto the bed, pulling you carefully under him and massaging your thighs.
“How can I say no to such a pretty thing like you?”
You feel him grind himself against your folds, rubbing against your clit every so often. Once he’s a little more slicked up, he positions himself and slowly starts to slide into you. It doesn’t hurt, but the sheer stretch of him makes you whimper a bit.
He shushes you, offering words of comfort and praise while he works himself deeper.
“Shhh shhh… Atta girl, you’re taking it so good, just a little more.”
Your head spins, swirling all of his words like little whirlpools, and you were drowning in them. So drunken by the things he was saying, they all started to blur together, and the feeling of him finally sheathing himself fully inside you was almost disorienting.
Hands gripped his wide shoulders, looking for any kinda of support while the same pathetic whimpers fell from your lips. Aether was there though, making sure to kiss away any discomfort before he ever dreamed of moving, not wanting to push too far too fast.
You subconsciously grind your hips into his, once again earning yourself a low groan from the ghoul. Your hands wander to his face and then to the back of his head, finger lacing in the strap of his mask. His body tensed for a second, but with a deep breath he replaces your hands with his own, unlatching the strap and removing it from his face.
You stared, as hard as you tried not to, you did. His eyes had caught you in a trap earlier with their deep stretches of color, but seeing him now, for all he was, the only word you could describe it as would be blessed.
He was obviously nervous, biting his lip waiting for any kind of response from you. So you told him the only words that you could grasp in that ever rushing mind of yours.
“I love you, Aether.”
His hips almost instinctively thrust, hitting as deep into you as you could take him. You must have hit some kind of nerve - or rather - need, inside of him, because he hurried his head in the valley of your chest his breathing was shaky.
“Please…” His voice wobbled from his throat. “Say it again?”
You smiled, it was so cute seeing the things that really got him going.
“I love yo-“
Another deep thrust caught you off guard, your words being replace with an unexpectedly loud whine. He started moving his hips at a steady pace, slow but deep, dragging right against that extra soft little spot in you.
Your nails dug into his shoulders and your eyes shut tightly, you relished the feeling of him filling you up, every movement driving you closer and closer to the edge. You swear, you were watching him fall more for you ever second he was inside you, his eyes were soft and his lips hung open just a tad, he was a sailor and you were his siren.
A hand moved from his shoulder to one of his horns, pulling him back down to kiss you. It wasn’t dirty, or lustful, it was that same kiss that he gifted you the first time.
He tried to keep at that slow pace, but the feeling of you clamping down on him, your skin pressed on his, it drove him wild and his thrusts started to speed up. You were starting to unravel underneath him, a mess of sweat and moans, and begging. You begged him for it, all of it, every little bit of him he could offer you.
“So close… Need…”
His head dipped down to your shoulder, where he placed a firm kiss, making you choke on your words.
“Mark me… Please…”
Almost as if he had been waiting, he opened his lips and dug his teeth into your shoulder, beads of blood dripping into his mouth. He slowed his thrust almost to a halt, but that didn’t stop you from grinding yourself on him, finally reaching your climax with an extremely lewd moan that was muffled by one of your hands. He joined you, giving a few deep thrust before his own release, his dick twitching while filling you with the warmest sensation you’ve probably ever felt.
He relaxes his jaw and pulls away from you, soothing the oncoming sting from the bite with his tongue as he lapped up any drips of blood still trying to escape. Your body was tired and your vision was blurry, so you simply tried to catch your breath until you regained a little stability.
Once Aether had stopped the bleeding, he lifted his head and rested it on your own, your noses pressed against one another.
“I love you too, tesorina. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
You nodded your head, trying to sit up with him, but he planted you flat on your back. You were a little confused, until he pulled a towel from his closet and a change of clothes. He wiped up the cum that was now spilling out of you, careful not to rub on any spot that was too sensitive. Sitting you up, he slid one of his shirts over your head, and a nice pair of socks onto your feet, topped off with a tender kiss on the forehead.
He threw on a pair of boxers and got into bed, pulling you into his chest from behind, trying his best not to touch the fresh mark on your shoulder. You two cuddle like that for a while, and you eventually start to drift off, Aether leaving you one final bit of praise to dream of.
"Even like this, dolcezza, you're still so perfect. Goodnight, I'll see you in my dreams."
#the band ghost#band ghost#ghost bc#ghost fanfiction#ghost x reader#x reader#nameless ghouls x reader#aether ghoul#band ghost x reader#band ghost x reader smut#band ghost smut#smut#aether ghoul x reader#angel writes
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By the Cover: Chapter 1
Behold! A secondary novel for me to write while I work on my other one XD No, but this idea has a chokehold on me so of course I had to write it.
Pairing: Alastor x afab!Reader
Warnings: none for this chapter~
Word Count: 2,517
"I waited for you
my entire life
and you
were worth
every minute."
- Mark Anthony
Two lovers, hand in hand, facing the odds of the world around them. A poetic tale of how love triumphs over everything, not even the Universe itself able to keep them together. A romance little girls dream of as they watch their idols on screen, fantasizing about the day they'll be swept off their feet into a happily ever after. Such a beautiful hope, a goal they could one day accomplish, unlike you.
Wrapped in a well-worn blanket, you sit on your couch with your nose buried in the latest episode of your favorite show. The second you received the notification of its release, your were scrambling to go to the streaming site, the show queued in your favorites, ready to play. Giddy with excitement, you began to watch, engrossed in the plot as it furthered, the various characters building the hype of the upcoming climax. As much as you loved seeing them, your eyes waited patiently to recognize one character in particular.
There.
An audible gasp escapes you before a high pitch shriek, your toes wiggling to try and exert some of the built up energy you felt just from seeing them appear. Red hair dipped in black, fluffy ears, and captivating red eyes. You swoon when they speak, voice filtered to sound like those old 1920s radio broadcast. Some fans find the voice annoying but you swore it was an angel speaking, your body shivering in response to their words. They were the love of your life, your hyperfixation, your absolute obsession.
Alastor was the their name, a very powerful Overlord and one of the main characters of your favorite animated show, Hazbin Hotel. It had appeared and swept many into it's fandom, becoming favored next to the other show released by the same creator, Helluva Boss. Granted, you still loved that show and watched it when the episodes came out, but this one - you squeal - this one had you in an iron grip and all because of the radio demon so graciously displayed on screen.
Granted, you realized your quick fascination with the character was a bit problematic. Firstly, he was manipulative, scheming, and in it for only for him. He didn't care, really, about the other characters, even having a near breakdown when almost dying for them. You were certain if he existed in real life, he wouldn't be as lovely as you dreamt him to be, but that didn't stop your heart from skipping when you saw him. It also didn't stop you from spending your hard earn money on countless fan merch, his face decorating every pillow, blanket, and object you owned. Even the phone in your hand had his face on it, smiling at you with hooded lids. Yes, you had a problem but you weren't stopping any time soon.
"Another perfect episode," you sigh, letting your hands drop to your lap as you lean back into your couch. The credits roll and you happily stare up at your ceiling, thoughts already plagued by him. He was so cool this time, not that he wasn't all the time, but this time he had been so sassy. You were already thinking of ways to write about it, ready to tell others in the fandom how baby girl coded he was. You giggle, tossing your blanket off your legs. You stretch with a groan, looking back at your phone to note the time. Your stomach grumbles.
You hum as you walk to your kitchen, looking in the fridge for something to eat. You weigh your options of a ketchup sandwich or mayo sandwich. Tough decisions, both sounding very appeasing, but you opt for the third option. You grab your keys and hoodie, tugging it over your head as you slip on your flip flops. You may only have sixteen dollars left after purchasing that one Alastor keychain, but it was totally worth it. Besides, you only needed eight of it to buy an everything bagel and coffee.
Basking in the sunlight for a second once you step outside, you head down the sidewalk from your duplex home, steering clear of other pedestrians as they mosey about. It's clear out, the cold air leftover from winter barely noticeable with no wind, the sun warm as it hangs high in the sky. A very nice day to enjoy as you walk, wondering what it'd be like to take Alastor to a small café. You tilt your head down to keep others from seeing your goofy smile, unable to hide the joy you feel of imagining Alastor critique the food.
He would probably comment on the way it's processed, stating how homecooked meals were the way to go. Oh, how you'd give anything to taste a meal cooked by Alastor. From what you knew of his backstory, he loved to cook and enjoyed a good jambalaya. You weren't raised southern, nowhere close as you recall your hometown in Michigan. You grew up with cabbages and kolackies, a drastic difference from shrimp and gumbo. Granted, you have tasted the Cajun dishes, curious to know what they tasted like when you discovered Alastor's birthplace, but you wanted them cooked by a real southern man. No, you wanted them cooked by Alastor, otherwise they just couldn't be as good. Shame.
You're greeted by a barista as you walk into your favorite café, breathing in the air deeply, enjoying the favorable scents that assault you. It's just a small business a block away from your house, easy and fast to get to. It had the best bagels you've ever tasted and the coffee wasn't half bad, either. You step in line, eagerly waiting behind three other customers while you roam the menu above. You already know what you'll order but it doesn't hurt to see what's new, checking their daily specials. Today seems to be an in house blueberry muffin, complimented with a drink of the customer's choice. It's appealing, but you're not that big a fan of blueberries. Or muffins.
"Excuse me." You hear the voice before feeling the shove, a person squeezing in the line to get through. You step back to avoid them, yet your foot gets caught on the other. You begin to fall backwards until a firm body stops you. You turn to apologize as you regain your footing, but your words get caught in your throat. You see a man standing behind you, his hands fixing his bowtie, but that's not what makes you speechless. He's tall, very tall, with bright red hair and tan skin. As he looks down at you, your breath hitches. His eyes are almost as red as his hair and you wonder if they're contacts. They have to be, you think to yourself, no one's eyes are red. It's not a natural color but they look natural. You must be staring too long cause he clears his throat.
"Sorry!" you blurt out, quickly turning to face forward, realizing a gap between you and the customer ahead of you. You scamper to move up, nearly tripping over your feet, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. You try not to think about the man behind you or his stupidly good looks. Seriously, how chiseled does one jaw have to be? You could cut marble with it. You focus on anything but him, staring at your feet until the barista is asking for your order.
Bagel and coffee secured, you walk to your usual spot in the corner of the café, a window table with two seats. It's comfortable and spaced far enough away from the other tables to let you enjoy your food in peace. You shrug out of your hoodie as you sit, hanging it on the back of the chair. You take a bite of your bagel, moaning softly at the seasonings popping off on your tongue. It's simple and yet, to you, so delicious. Pulling out your phone, you go to scroll through some apps, but your attention is caught by a red coat passing by. You glance up and nearly choke on the bite you swallow. The man from before settles at a table close to yours, only a coffee in hand when he sets it down. He also pulls out his phone, paying no mind to anything around him. Unlike you, your eyes glued to him. You swear he seems familiar despite never seeing him before.
He's wearing nearly all red, minus his black pants. His coat is a deep red, matching his hair. The undershirt is white, however, and you notice black gloves on his hands. Huh, you chuckle to yourself. He almost looks like Alastor, the clothes very similar and even his build - You blink.
Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, you think, eyes wider than the plate your bagel sits on. You quickly look away, your hand slapped over your mouth at the realization. You just compared a real person to a fictional character.
You take another glance, trying to study him more. He's tall like Alastor, slender for sure, but you can't really tell with the coat on. He's style is like that out of the 1920s, just like Alastor. A tailcoat, collared undershirt, bowtie, and even dress pants completed with dress shoes. Just slap a monocle on him and he could be Alastor what with the slanted, bob haircut had had. God, if you had your cosplay Alastor ears and antlers, you'd ask him to wear them and call you darling.
No, wait, what's wrong with you? Ugh, you're so creepy and you need to stop staring so much and - oh my god, now he's staring back. Idiot!
You take interest in your bagel again, taking a rather large bite as you struggle to chew. You begin to cough as the pieces roughly slide down your throat, eyes watering as you reach for your coffee. You're gulping it down to help the food along, gasping for air. You hear a snorted chuckle and look up, seeing the man cover his mouth with the back of his hand, avoiding your look. You can see the smile and blush, realizing he watched all of that. Could this get any worse?
You sigh, wanting to bang your head on the table. Instead, you reach for your phone, knowing tumblr will distract you. Only, the Universe decided today was the day to pick on you and as you reach for said phone, your arm bumps your coffee. It spills. All over your table. All over you. You want to cry.
"Here." You see the man walk over to you, extending his hand to offer a handkerchief. You take it, sniffling with a pout.
"Thank you," you mumble, wiping at your now ruined top. It was white ten seconds ago, now stained brown. As you wipe, the liquid spreads. You sigh in defeat, knowing you'll have to throw it away when you get home. Thank god you have your hoodie.
"Here, let me," the man says, taking the handkerchief gently from your hands. You let him, too embarrassed and sad about your shirt. He smiles as he dabs at your shirt. "Wiping only helps the coffee to set. You have to dab for the best results." You watch him, slightly annoyed at the way he fusses over it like a dad would, but you're not angry. In fact, you feel kind of in awe as he moves, your eyes glued to his face. His nose is pointed and sharp, eyes angled like a cat. His lashes are long, complimenting those strange red eyes. You try to see if they are, in fact, contacts, but as you lean to get a closer look, they snap up to meet you. You jump back, knocking into the table. Your coffee cup sways but before it can spill again, he reaches out to steady it. You sigh in relief.
"Sorry," you apologize.
"You have a clumsy habit, don't you?" he hums, chuckling when you pout again.
"Not usually," you state, turning to grab your hoodie when he steps back. You can't help but feel so small when he straightens up to full height again.
"Really? I couldn't tell." It's a banter, but you're failing to think of how to respond. You're not use to actively conversing with people in the real world, most of your conversations being with friends online or AI chatbots. Ok, maybe you didn't need to think about the last one, but the fact still stands that you don't know how to talk to people. Especially people as attractive as he is.
"Well," you grab your bagel and what's left of your coffee, "as fun as was to bother you and embarrass myself, I have to go." You need to escape, more like it. Your social battery is already beeping in alarm, drained from the back to back events that was your attempted outing for lunch. You throw your trash away as you leave, not taking the chance to look back at the man.
As you walk back home, you can't help but think of how the scenario could've played out different. If you were a normal person, you could've held a conversation with the man, maybe even inviting him for coffee tomorrow. You could flirt and date until, one day, he would ask your hand in marriage. Then you would have kids, grow old together, and live a life well filled. At least, that's the person your mother wanted to be. A normal woman with a normal love life, finding a man to support you and give her grandkids. Sadly, that was never going to happen, you think as you step into your house. If the seven foot cardboard cutout of Alastor greeting you at your front door wasn't enough to deter potential mates away, then surely the numerous framed Alastor posters scattered across your walls would.
Maybe you should cancel that order for the Alastor cursed cat plushie…
Nah.
You toss your keys down and kick off flip fops, pulling your hoodie off to grimace at the disaster that is your white-turned-brown tee. Yeah, there's no getting this stain out and you weren't about to buy some fifteen dollar produce that claims to erase the stain. You shrug it off, opening your kitchen bin and tossing it away. It doesn't bother you too much, thankful it's not one of your Alastor shirts. Speaking of, you walk to your bedroom, going straight to your dresser. You rummage through your shirts before picking one and putting it on. This was one is black, Alastor's face printed on the front with the words 'Smile Like You Mean It' placed around him. It's one of your favorites.
Shuffling back to your living room, you decide to ease your stress with the one thing you know will put a smile on your face. Sitting on your couch, tucking your legs as you bring your blanket back over your body, you quickly open your phone to its browser. Archive of Our Own loads up and you quickly begin filtering through the latest additions to Alastor fanfictions.
Masterlist ... Ao3
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor#alastor#the radio demon#alastor hazbin#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin hotel fanfic#fanfic#hazbin fanfic#alastor fanfic#alastor fanfiction
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year-end affair | ksj
plot | Everyone heard nothing from you when Jin's birthday came. Only for you to reveal something during your appearance on The Tonight Show a month later.
words | 1625
genres | humor/crack, fluff, actors!au
pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader
note | usernames used in the fic are all fictional. this was set in December 2021 and January 2022. This is an early birthday post for Jin's birthday! enjoy reading! feel free to send questions for yn and jin :))
main masterlist | drabble series
It was the beginning of December 2021. Just a few days early from Jin’s birthday. Your fans were already posting on social media about the special event. Some would have some charity event in their favorite actor’s honor. Some are already ready to publish online contents, which includes everyone changing their display picture as one of Jin’s meme pictures. But what really everyone is waiting for is a birthday greeting from someone…
@/y/nbestgxrl : and if y/n posts another bts shenanigans with jin…
@/loverjin : everyone’s waiting for y/n to post something today like its an annual bday tradition 😭
replying to @/loverjin
-@/blueskies : it IS a tradition
But then, the fourth of December came. The fans posted millions of their greetings to Jin for the whole twenty-four hours. A commemorative hashtag was on top of the trend list until the next day, #HappyBirthdayJin.
@/12seokjin04 : we still have four hours left
replying to @/12seokjin04
-@/connie37291037284 : four hours for what?
– @/lovefoolforynjin : y/n still haven’t posted anything 😩
@/YNJINUpdates: @/YNOFFICIAL honey is your wifi broken again
Everyone waited. But you remained quiet on social media. Your last social media post was a picture of Franchescat in a sushi costume, which your cat obviously hates. But you shared a couple of Instagram stories after that. The latest was in the last week of November. So they expected that you are not fully on a social media break. You don’t have any known public appearance too.
A few days later, you didn’t attend the premiere of Don’t Look Up, a movie you lead in. But your account simply retweeted a Netflix tweet about the release of the movie. Your fans were curious if there was an issue going on between you and Jin as you didn’t post anything for the so-called tradition. It didn’t help that the gossip news outlets milked the sudden coldness of your and Jin’s social media accounts.
“Please welcome, the star of the two films, From The Other Side and Don’t Look Up, Y/N!”
The Roots played a snippet of Mayer Hawthorne’s The Walk as Jimmy Fallon introduced you. You entered through a big, blue curtain, gracefully dancing to the rhythm. The studio audience cheered and clapped as you stun them with your black Atelier Versace dress and matching thigh-high boots. You and Jimmy danced around, with him twirling you around before you sat on the spruce blue sofa.
“Hi, guys!” you greeted everyone as you shifted on your seat, and everyone cheered in response.
Jimmy clapped, “It’s so nice to see you. You look fantastic!”
“Oh, thank you.” you smiled.
This is your fourth time guesting on The Tonight Show and Jimmy always made sure to make you comfortable. Unlike the other late-night host you went to before. He was genuine and even dropped by the green room before the show, to have a quick chat with you.
“Thank you for coming to the show again! Congratulations on your two recent films!” he exclaimed. “Don’t Look Up is still one of the most-watched films on Netflix today even after weeks of release! I watched it and it was so hilarious. Adam Mckay, who was one of my good friends and colleague from SNL, wrote and directed the film. How was it working with an amazing cast?”
“Oh my god. It was a dream come true. I almost died when I saw Meryl Streep entering the set. She is one of the actresses I look up to. Then, Ariana, who is a very amazing person–”
“Yeah, she’s the best.” Jimmy agreed.
“We would go to each other’s trailers every time. She is so fun to be with! We would pull childish pranks on Jonah or Timmy.”
“Speaking of Timothee Chalamet, isn’t this like your third film with him?”
You nodded, “That’s right! We’re getting tired of seeing each other on set at this point.”
Everyone laughed, including Jimmy. “But you two have great chemistry together! Lady Bird was amazing and so are your versions of Amy and Laurie from Greta Gerwig’s Little Women.”
“Thank you, Jimmy.”
Other than Jin, Timothee is the actor you often collaborate with. He is a great guy and very nice to work with. Hailey told you before that your fandom with Jin and with Timothee would sometimes have bantered on the internet. Especially when the other gets content and the other doesn’t.
“And now, you have another movie coming up.” he moved to another topic. “And you were one of the producers!”
You smiled, “Yes. It’s From The Other Side, written and directed by Emerald Fennell. I worked with her in Promising Young Woman. So, I already said yes to doing it when she tap me in for the lead role. It feels so great to work with her again.”
“You told me backstage that it’s a suspense film, right?”
“Yes! It will be a thriller movie mixed with a bit of comedy. It centers around the commonly overlooked issues and efforts women had to go through to attain equal respect and recognition as the other sex.” you explained.
“That sounds great! I saw the trailer for this and I have to say, the visual aesthetic for it is really eye-catching.” Jimmy noted.
You nodded, “I know! Everyone really worked hard in doing this film.”
“And it’s coming out this weekend! It must have been a great head start of the year for you.” he said.
“It is. It is.” you beamed.
It was only the first month of 2022 and you cannot deny how happy you are to have another movie out now. You’ve been working consistently for the last decade and you don’t think you’ll be stopping anytime soon.
“By the way, I heard you welcomed the new year on the other side of the world?” Jimmy punned and he highlighted those words with his tone.
You gasped and giggled cheekily, pointing a finger at him, “That was good! I like that! And yes. I did. I and my close friends flew to South Korea. It’s my first time celebrating the New Year ahead of everyone here and out of the country.”
Just by the mention of the country, the audience cheered again. You didn’t even mention who these friends were. But they seemed pretty aware since everyone knows a certain person, who’s close to you and had connections from South Korea.
“Yeah? How was it?”
“It was amazing! We really got to see and enjoy the culture there since my friend basically became our tour guide. We stayed there for like a couple of weeks and he made our stay in this traditional Airbnb. It was winter and I remembered I was almost frozen when I forgot to turn on the heater.” you told him, making everyone laugh.
Jimmy pulled out one of the few pictures you let the producers have since you haven’t really posted about it online. It was you wearing layers of clothes to warm up yourself in the chilly weather of the East Asian country. You were wearing a cap, a pastel pink scarf (that almost covers half of your face, baby blue mittens, and crazy layers of clothes. You were unrecognizable. Someone would have to stare you in the eye to recognize you.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“You look so cute! What is the most memorable thing that happened during your stay there?” Jimmy asked.
You let out a sigh as you think of it, “Probably when we visited my friend’s family and we were wearing hanbok, which is their traditional clothes. Then, they gave us a lot of gifts. I feel like a child all over again.”
“Well… is there any chance we know this friend of yours?” Jimmy tried to ask with a teasing tone.
You laughed before acting coy, “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t.” Jimmy acted disappointed and everyone laughed including you. You consoled him, “Nice try though, Jimmy.”
“I know.” he was looking down, still in his act. Until The Roots played a snippet of another song again. Jimmy looked up to the camera, “Y/N, everybody. We’ll be right back!”
Twitter’s top trends for that night were all connected to that interview. Y/N, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA, JIN, CLOSE FRIEND, WHAT, FAMILY. The best word that would describe is probably mindblown. Especially when you finally posted pictures and clips from your New Year’s celebration in Seoul an hour after your late-night show appearance.
‘Nice to be back after a month-long break :)’ your caption says.
Most of the pictures and videos were captured candidly. And one of them includes a clip where you were seen throwing snowballs at someone and an easily recognizable laugh can be heard in the background.
@/gratefulstar : what the fuck???? y/n was with jin the whole time
@/jinandyncats : we’re on the endgame, guys. she already met his extended family 💘💘
@/PopCrave : Jin and Y/N photographed together in a ski resort back in South Korea, taken last December 28, 2021.
It was a blurry set of pictures and the two actors are hard to recognize due to their thick clothes. But the height difference and the same clothes you were wearing in the picture Jimmy showed on the show confirmed that it was you and Jin. Jin was holding you by the waist while you were leaning your head on his shoulder.
replying to @/PopCrave
-@/thankunecks : OMG THEY ARE SO CUTE
–@/winnerswift : the height difference 😭😭 the hand on her waist😭😭
—@/ynbxstactxrss : they look so tiny with their clothes esp y/n 😭💞
@/francheskatparents: does anyone wants to be my close friend? one who will fly me to the other side of the planet to meet their family? 🤔
replying to @/francheskatparents
-@/thatsjinzero: and celebrate new year’s with them 🤔🤔
taglist rules
THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST
@seolaquotes @jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @dayyy-siii @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @prlan @lovesickbangtan @zealouslightcookiebasketball @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @bloopkook @stopeatread @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe
PERMANENT TAGLIST
@dunixxd @cixrosie @moonchild1 @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @barbiekatz @pixybear
#actor!jin#bts jin#jin fluff#jin x reader#jin fic#jin au#seokjin x reader#seokjin fanfiction#seokjin fluff#bts fluff#bts x reader#bts imagine#bts crack#bts series#bts au#bts fanfic#bts drabble#the a listers ksj
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Now that I’ve discovered the source, a bit more on that S6 ‘leak’ concerning Chloe...
Have to say, if this IS a fake... it’s a pretty good one! Or pretty bad, if your initials are CB.
1. What evolution? There is NO evolution here, just more and more hate. Or is that my feelings towards Miraculous Ladybug..?
2. Chloe is a ‘lost cause’, eh? Well, that’s one thing her and the show have in common at least...
3. Why do I get the feeling Thomas Astruc would put a stronger word than ‘brat’ there... if he knew Disney wasn’t watching?
Anyway, onto her BIG DEVELOPMENTS for the season... Time to GET EXCITED(!)
...So let me get this straight. It’s just like Queen Bee all over again (never accuse this show of not recycling a mediocre storyline), except this time Chloe DOESN’T make the mistake of revealing herself to the public.
No, she’s got her ex-bestie to do that for her! And stopping Chloe from doing good, whether it be for her own ego or not, is the right thing to do?! If she’s helping others and saving people’s lives, what do it matter that she’s doing it for her own interest?
You know what, the writers had a halfway decent idea here (yes, I’m just as shocked as you are). Chloe could’ve made a fresh start in a city where no-one knows her, slowly seen the error of her ways, learned from her experiences what it means to be a TRUE hero, gradually tried reconnecting with her old friends, father and MAYBE even her half-sister...
Nah, let’s ditch all that in favor of yet ANOTHER unbelievably stale ‘Chloe turns evil’ plot, have Sabrina betray her (ooohhh the irony!) then have her back to square one again as the resident Super-Bitch! (Yep, there’s that word I bet Thomas wanted to use...) Pathetic.
But then again, that’s this show in a nutshell. Raising your hopes sky-high with much build-up, then dropping them from a great height like Ladybug falling after her yo-yo string snaps. (OOPS, now where did I put those shears?) ^^
Oh, and guess what her kwami as Silver/Steel Feather will be like? This one’s a doozie!
So to sum it up: She starts out as Pollen (though, I’d prefer the term ‘subservient’) and ends up as... Audrey.
Just what Chloe needs in her life, someone else to yell at her for perceived misdemeanors. She was TRYING, Taara... not her fault if Sabrina decided to blow the whistle on her attempts at self-improvement!
At least praise her for her acts of bravery as a hero, if not her overall attitude. But no, this is Miraculous Ladybug we’re talking about here; there are no gray areas. Black is black, white is white and Chloe ‘will always be a bi... brat’. You read it here folks, straight from the horse’s mouth.
If I hadn’t already Rage Quit the show when Zoe made her thoroughly unnecessary and unwelcome appearance, I’d be pretty upset right now. But as things stand, the biggest emotional response I can muster in response to this latest outrage is a slight shrug of the shoulders, and a pointed ‘Whatever’.
Hey... life’s too short, okay? :)
#ml leaks#ml spoilers#chloe bourgeois#Chloe#miraculous#ladybug#miraculous ladybug#zoe lee#marinette dupain cheng#disney
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Stede’s back, and Ed plots revenge. The only snag in the plan is that is he needs someone aboard Stede’s new ship, guiding him into his cunning trap.
Ed gives Izzy the order. But, Izzy says, Stede and the crew hate me. They’ll never trust him, if they even let him set foot on the ship. Ed makes it very clear this isn’t his problem, and if Izzy wants a position when he gets back, he’ll be creative.
So Stede ends up in a chance meeting with Isabella Palmes, a former associate of Blackbeard’s who is willing to trade information for passage. She’s a well-built, older woman with an aquiline nose and gray streaks in her raven black hair. Unwilling to disappoint such a dignified lady, and without other leads, Stede invites her aboard.
At first, Izzy is taciturn and solitary, afraid the slightest misstep will reveal his ruse. He nearly has a heart attack when the Swede asks what Izzy Hands is doing there, and why he’s in a dress? But the entire crew comes down on him like a ton of bricks and Stede spends the rest of the day apologizing, claiming the crew aren’t used to the company of the gentler sex on the boat, swearing that nothing of the sort will happen again.
Izzy thought this would be hell. Mostly, its just boring. Izzy can’t remember the last time he was free of responsibilities, but Stede won’t allow him to help with even the most mundane tasks. “You’re our guest!” he says. “If you need anything, just ask.” All he can do is read, and drink tea, and talk.
It’s strange, being talked to like this. For years now, he’s been Izzy Hands: First Mate. A taskmaster to the crew. A dangerous enemy to outsiders. Right-hand man to Edward. But Isabella Palmes commands neither fear nor contempt. Roach asks for her opinion on his latest macaroon recipe. Wee John sews the ruffle back to her gown, chatting about his mother. Lucius, miraculously alive, shares juicy gossip while he sketches her on deck (clothes on). She takes tea with Stede every day, who apologizes for their sparse accommodations and inquires after her every comfort.
Soon, Izzy finds the support of the stay and weight of his skirts more freeing than the leathers of First Mate Izzy Hands. He doesn’t need to be tough here. He just needs to be himself. He sits by Stede during story time and makes wry comments that send the crew into peels of laughter, but puts his hand on Stede’s knee so he knows Isabella means no harm. They tell him about themselves. In return, Izzy reveals things he never has before, altering only the most identifying of details.
But this can’t last forever. Izzy is in distress for days as they approach the trap, hiding from their concerned looks in his room. He betrays his friends, or Blackbeard. Either feels unconscionable. Revealing his true identity would, somehow, be even more painful.
In the end, he leaves a note in Stede’s bedroom. He confesses to having tricked them. He tells them how to get the drop on Blackbeard, and prays that Edward and Stede can reconcile. Then he takes a dinghy out in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, stormy weather roils in and capsizes the dinghy, the sodden folds of the gown weighing him down. Worse, Stede’s crew come to the rescue.
Izzy expects fury and confusion. He knows what Blackbeard would have done in similar circumstance. Instead, he is offered forgiveness and concern.
If he hadn’t spent weeks as Isabella, Izzy might have maintained a grip on his emotions. As it is, he bursts into tears. He tells them he’s so, so sorry. That he doesn’t know what to do. That things used to be good between him and Edward, but it had all gone rotten, and he was just trying to fix things. To prove his lov-loyalty. That he knew what he was doing was wrong, but didn’t know how to back out, felt like he had no choice but to go through with it. That he’d betrayed Edward and now had nothing.
He spends the evening bundled up with one of Stede’s robes in the captain’s quarters to beat back the chill. Stede and Izzy talk about Edward. About love, and regret, and hope until Stede insists Izzy take his bed for the night.
The next morning, Stede finds Izzy watching the sunrise on the quarterdeck. He dismisses Buttons, then asks whether Isabella has ever had the pleasure of steering a ship before. Izzy says she hasn’t.
He finds himself urged to take the helm. Stede covers Izzy’s hands with his own in guidance, pressing the length of his body against Izzy’s back. He rests his chin on Izzy’s shoulder, and speaks in a voice so soft it is almost a whisper.
“You were ill-used by Edward,”Stede says. “No matter what happens at the end of all this, you’ll be taken care of. Edward and I, you and Edward...you and I. I promise.”
Izzy body burns. He swears he can feel his heart breaking in his chest.
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A Letter of Affection (1)
Summary: A letter you never thought would be read turns your life upside down.
Warnings: Age regression, use of title “daddy”, pet spider.
_____________________________
The laptop burned bright luminescence at red eyes, signaling its bitter need for rest. You ignored the woeful cries of your battered keyboard. Pages needed to be written and editors needed to be satiated so that they could take red pens and slash through ideas, plots, characters, hopes, and dreams. You were on the final page of this month's deadline, perfectly timed for a much-needed vacation.
You finished as the sun rose and pressed send just as the clock struck seven. You leaned back into the plush comfort of your couch and looked across the room.
“Hanging in there, webster?”
Webster burrowed further into her substrate, only fuzzy legs visible. The tarantula's pink toes wiggled around the dirt before finally stilling. You smiled, eyes pinned on your companion as she started to snooze.
You moved your laptop to the side and fell back into plush pillows. You had no more work, no place to be, or responsibilities to fill. Webster's water bowl was full, Editors had their new pages, and you were free to do as you wanted. You sighed. Pulling yourself off the couch, you shuffled to your bedroom. A pink box stared at you from under your bed, waiting for you to slip and fall into its contents. You obliged and slid it across the soft carpet into the living room.
—--
"He's gonna love this." You whispered.
You threw the marker cap down onto the pink rug below you, that you were kneeling on. You had on a shirt two sizes too big, a unicorn displayed proudly on the front. fuzzy pink socks covered your feet while you rubbed them together to soothe your buzzing nerves.
But what if he didn't like it? What if he threw it out? Sure, the stickers were pretty, the glitter sparkly, and the contents sweet, but what if that wasn't enough?
"He not gonna love it." You cried, fat tears welling in your eyes. You wrapped your hands around your legs, burying your head in between your knees. Your shoulders shook as you whimpered.
Suddenly, through your bleary sight, you saw a glimpse of pink beneath the table. You pulled your head out from between your knees and bent down to the floor.
An envelope! Small and pink, it stuck out from the pile of crafting supplies strewn haphazardly across the floor.
You pulled it from the pile and set it atop the coffee table proudly.
"He gonna love. Gotta love. Daddy."
You caught yourself as you stuffed the letter full of your sweet words.
"He not daddy. Don't have daddy."
You shook your head, trying to focus your thoughts as you licked the envelope.
"Don't need daddy." You grumbled, stumbling up to your front door.
You wobbled as you put on your slippers. The apartment complex had four floors, the mail drop-off box being on the first.
"Ok," You whispered, "I can do this."
"I'm a big girl."
----------------------
"Do you want to go through fan mail?" Hoseok asked, sipping a coffee as he slumped into the couch in Namjoon's office.
He looked up from his notebook. The lyrics weren't flowing like they needed to. Only a chorus had flowed from him in the 3 hours he'd been holed up. A break didn't sound so bad.
"As long as we go by the cafeteria." He eyed the cup in Hoseoks hand.
Hoseok gave him a slow nod and pulled himself up.
"Let's get going."
-----
Hoseok scoffed, tossing another letter in a pile of torn envelopes and thick pages.
"Some chicks are actually insane, man."
Namjoon hummed, fiddling with the half-empty cup. he moved the latest letter to the side, his pile a neat stack compared to Hobi's maimed mountain of parchment.
He grabbed the next without a glance and brought it forward.
A pink letter.
"Interesting." He mumbled, twirling the letter forward to see the bubbly handwriting.
“What’d you say?” Hoseok asked, sparing a glance up from scribbles on notebook pages.
"Oh, Nothing." Namjoon sputtered. He carefully opened the letter, trying his best not to rip into the handwriting.
He pulled the contents from the envelope, spraying pink glitter onto his sweatpants.
"Fuck." He whispered, brushing it away. Most of it fell to the floor, but pink sparkles still winked at him from his lap. He flipped the pages open. A scribble caught his eye.
Dear Mr. Joon!
The exclamation point was written in a blue glitter pen.
Cute. He thought. Creative. I haven't heard Mr. Joon before.
He kept reading.
Your music really helps me be small. I make things too! Big me is a writer, and my company isnt always super nice about my ideas. But I really like listening to your music, hopefully, your company is nice. I hope. Dont want you to be sad like I am sometimes. But its not like sad sad, being small makes it better. I get to watch cartoons and use a sippy and take a lot of naps. I even got special clothes!! Im wearin my unicorn shirt right now! I really like it.
Do you have things that make you feel better? I hope so. you deserve to feel nice! you seem like a really nice daddy man mr. joon. have a good day!
(y/n) (l/n)
He read it over. He read it over again.
I've never gotten a letter from a little. He mused, leaning forward in his seat. He put his chin in one of his hands and let his eyes wander to the sides of the page. Little stickers littered the edges. There were stars, pink flowers along the sides, and a small pink gemstone sticker in all four corners.
She's so sweet. He read it again. Daddy?
Does she not have a caregiver? He thought, eyes widening.
How sad. She seems like she'd be really nice and behaved. Not that brats are bad, I'd still take care of a little that was a brat. Only one as sweet as this though. He nodded to himself. Only one as sweet as this.
"You ready to go? I think I've had all I can take." Hoseok groaned, leaning back in his chair as he yawned.
Namjoon's head shot up. "Uh... Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, let's go."
As they made their way out, that pink letter crept into his pocket.
—-
“Goodnight, Hyung.”
“ ‘Night, Koo.”
Jungkook slipped into Namjoons arms. Affection was common in the family they built in dorm rooms, tours, and countless hours with no one but each other, and this was no different. Namjoon pulled away first and patted Jungkooks shoulder.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said. His hands were on his doorknob, already twisting it open before Jungkook could respond. He barely saw Jungkooks mouth twitch before the door was shut and locked. The letter was burning a hole in his pocket, pink turning to a fiery red as he threw it onto his desk.
Why this letter? He read at least 100 others before he got to it, it shouldn’t bother him like this. He shouldn’t be writing out a reply. He shouldn’t be asking about you. He shouldn’t be writing a return address. This was his real address, what the fuck was he doing?
He kept asking himself that as he snuck down the hallway, waiting until all the lights under his bandmates' doors went dark. He knew what they’d say if they caught him responding to fan mail. They’d snatch it from his hands, lecture him, give him the silent treatment, or read it. He didn’t know why, but the latter thought annoyed him most. This was for him. She wrote to Namjoon, not BTS.
The letter made a faint thump as he slid it into the mailbox. Stickers and a small tea bag added more substantial weight to the envelope. He sighed, nerves and contentment spread along his skin and raising goosebumps.
“No turning back now,” he whispered, before closing the mailroom door.
—----
You pulled your coffee mug closer to your chest, mittened hands encasing the warm glass. It was all you could do to keep from throwing it across the room. You stared at the mail on your kitchen counter, bills and junk mail spread out around a single blue envelope.
It couldn’t be. You had kicked yourself when you realized what little you had done, but decided that it would be fine. They didn’t actually read fan mail. No harm, No foul. Right?
Apparently fucking not. Your hands shook as you put down your mug and slid off your mittens. One finger gently reached out to graze the looping scrawl of the envelope's return address. This wasn’t the HYBE office. You remembered how you searched for the fanmail address in little space, distracted by toy ads and BTS fancams. This address was entirely new to you.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you peeled away at the envelopes. You worked slowly at the paper to not rip it. Slowly, the contents revealed themselves. A sweet, honey-scented tea bag fell onto your counter. Then, a small sheet of stickers emerged. Little blue koalas stared back at you as you giggled.
“This is so cute.” You breathed. You dropped the stickers, letting them fall onto grey granite as you pulled a smooth paper from its blue container.
You slowly unfolded it, and your breath hitched.
Dear, (y/n)
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Fic Pride Weekend
Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.
Thank you to @cha-melodius for tagging me! Have added so many of y'all's wonderful fics to my list from this tag game so I wanna see what y'all are proudest of! Tagging @read-and-write- @dumbpeachjuice @sherryvalli @cultofsappho
@happiness-of-the-pursuit @suseagull04 @indomitable-love @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland
@orchidscript @xthelastknownsurvivorx @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @myheartalivewrites and anyone else that wants to share their personal favorites!!!!
Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces
[...]Thirdly, and most importantly, the music that’s playing is his music, not some flowery French waltz.
These are songs that he’s heard since before he could talk. Songs that remind him of Saturday drives with his dad hunting down their favorite flavors of Helados at several grocery stores (mamey for his dad; pecan for himself). Of cleaning with his grandmother when she babysat until she dropped everything to watch her novelas. Smearing masa on corn husks until his fingers went pruny on Christmas Eve. Raucous birthday parties that are responsible for his well-earned anxiety near bouncy castles.
Solo Déjame Estar Junto a Ti
Alex nods decisively and says, “H, you are my choice and the absolute love of my life. I love you and I love your heart and I love your mind and I love the way you’re about to freak the fuck out when I say you have bewitched me, body and soul – ” he pauses because Henry’s chest positively heaves with a sob “ – and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” His smile widens and he opens the box.
“Henry Fox, will you marry me?
True Blue
Henry wades further into the ocean, the Ionian lapping gently against his ribs before he tugs Alex closer and cradles him, whispering poetry in his ear, all sun-kissed skin and besotted smiles; his own private sun tucked safely in his embrace, nourishing him with his endless blaze.
Henry helps. Of course he helps but he's not always enough to cut through his cyclone of a brain; he hasn't been around when he fucks up and cracks under the pressure and spirals into panic attacks and unwise pulls of Maker's Mark straight from the bottle. Henry is there, holding him and helping him breathe and it makes him love him so much more for staying and fear far more deeply because eventually everyone leaves. Henry insists he never will but he doesn't get it he doesn't get it he doesn't get it.
He is so alone and he is never alone - not as long as he's getting secretly photographed by fellow students at the library or being blasted on Fox News as their latest scapegoat for everything wrong with America or taking selfies with a barista when all he wants is a triple shot mocha and a fucking break.
Impossible to Ignore, Impossible to Ignore
His brain is a perpetual maelstrom of immigration law and prayers in Nahuatl and stupid shit like Fergie singing the national anthem. It never shuts the fuck up. However, just being in Henry's presence makes everything else fade away.
Wait…
FUCK.
Henry looks away, alerting Alex to the fact that he's been staring at him in silence like a total weirdo. For good reason, though, because even though he never entertained the idea that he's into guys, Henry's face - even when exhausted and gray - is inarguable proof of a higher power. Like aurora borealis or the first time he heard Dreams by The Cranberries.
A Love That Haunts the Land [I am particularly proud of the bonkers plot and characterization in this, especially Pez and Raf, but also Nora's introduction below fills me with so much fucking joy]
Alex lives with his best friend/ex-girlfriend/sister-in-law Nora, who Henry meets for the first time while half-naked (and not the half he would've preferred).
She waltzes into the flat with a mischievous glint in her eye, slides onto the couch with them, and steals the remote for their sound system without saying a word. A few seconds later, she's blasting “WAP” and brutally murdering whatever shred remained of the mood while Henry clutches a throw pillow between his legs and begs desperately for the ever-so-elusive release of death.
"Do you, like, mind?" Alex yells over the mantra of there’s some whores in this house.
two homes (side by side)
His deep laugh kicks with the power of a bucking bronco, taking the whole room into hysterics with him – especially if the little ones are around (and they are always around). Abuelo Alex warms the space and fills it with grand and irreverent energy. He weaves tales so magical the kids don't believe him until one of them will chirp, “Is it true, Grandpa Henry?”
And he nods sagely, if only to hear them gasp with delight.
Tiempo de Vals
Before they call it and head back, Alex warns, "FYI, June has a crush on the other guys in the court that aren't related to her. So - you know - you're in the danger zone."
"That won't be a problem." Henry blushes again (seriously, does this guy have a condition?) which makes it harder to believe him. "June's not the type of person I'm interested in, and she knows it."
Alex half-jokes, "Why not? Are you racist or something?"
"I'm gay," Henry answers with an amused huff.
Without missing a beat, Alex kisses his teeth in mock disappointment and drawls, "Dodging the question, I see."
Henry rolls his eyes and can't help but smile. "You're a menace."
"Well, you're not beating the racism allegations with that attitude."
#my writing#rwrb fic#tag games#im super interested to see what y'all choose as your favorite passages!!!#also fun to compare my fave passages out of my works to what gets quoted back in comments
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The Cure for What Ails You
BTAA!Riddler x Reader
Summary: You love your brilliant, pedantic, loser of a husband. But when Eddie gets hit with writer's block he gets it bad.
Warnings: None except a Riddler temper tantrum.
He got like this sometimes. Your brilliant Edward would spend hours toiling away with a mismatched box of technological doo-dads and thingamabobs attempting to invoke the spirit of innovation to bless him with a plot to foil that knuckle dragging barbarian Batman once and for all. When she was feeling kind, inspiration would flow from his finger tips like the music of a grand sonata. But when she was absent and the well ran dry Eddie was a near inconsolable wreck.
“Trite! Done to death, basic! Wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!” Eddie wailed chucking his latest box of odds and ends across the room before promptly dropping himself face down onto the grimy floor of his workshop. He released a muffled screech of rage and you knew it was time to intervene. “Eddie..?” Calling out to your husband as you took a few gingerly steps towards his prone from. He made no acknowledgment of your call instead choosing to continue to groan pathetically. Sighing you fully strode into the workshop and sat down next to him. Giving Eddie the space to choose to accept your comfort or not. He of course… choose to ignore you. In favor of his “tortured artist routine.” “Leave me be! I’m not fit to be seen!” Whining into the floor, his voice muted by the concrete. Sighing gently you reached out a hand and began to stroke your poor, beleaguered love’s tired skull. Edward groaned, jerking himself out of your touch before childishly rolling a few feet away from you. Flopping like a dead fish, back turned to you. “Be gone! I wish to soak in my complete and utter failure in solitude!” Lamenting his sorry state as you rolled your eyes.
You could tell he was crossing his arms by the way his boney elbows poked uncomfortably from the depths of the sage green button-up he wore. Scooting over to where Eddie had squirmed you sat on your knees gazing down at him with a quite sort of acceptance. One he had so very rarely experienced, the warmth melted his icy tantrum just a smidge before he steeled himself in his snit. “Go away.” Glowering at you as he sulked in self pity. “No.” Came your simple response gently grasping his shoulder you turned Edward so he was properly facing you. Eyes softening as you took in the dejected expression of your love. Brushing a few of the dark curls that framed his face out of the way you bent down to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Edward sighed heavily through his nose looking up at you with tired green eyes and pitiful pout on his lips. “Darling” cooing gently as you continued to stroke his hair gently coaxing your Riddler to place his head in your lap. You legs had unbound from their kneeling position and you were gently nudging Eddie into your grasp. “I don’t deserve this! I’m unfit for your love, I’ve failed you l, I’ve failed myself! Inspiration has besmirched me!” He shrilly cried hands dragging down his face in despair. Tutting as you gently lifted nimble hands away from your husbands face. Separating them as you let them drop to his sides. “Edward, you know that isn’t true.” In a calm tone which was quickly interrupted by Eddie’s rant. “Oh it is! I’ve been through that container of bric-a-brac over dozen times and yet!” Flinging his arms wildly as to gesture angrily at the discarded pile of junk “I sit here with nothing to show for it! Zip, zilch, nada! Nothing, zero!” Squarely crossing his arms over his chest Edward continued to stew in his frustration.
“You’re being so extra Eddie… just call up your guy and get a new box of parts. It’s like not hard at all.” Miss Tuesday interjected turning the comforting energy you hoped to covey sour. Edward sprung up with an offended gasp laying on his elbows, glaring harshly at his teen assistant. You knew the coming spat would only serve as fuel to the fire on your husband’s already enormous temper tantrum so before he could retort you turned your attention to the girl. “Tuesday, honey!” Smiling with a pleasant tone in your voice. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, you haven’t been out with Autumn recently have you?” Placing a hand on Eddie’s chest to try and calm the incandescent rage bubbling in his chest.
The teen briefly looked up from her phone, narrowed her eyes but shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, I mean I haven’t . I don’t know why you care now though. It’s not like you guys ever give me any days off…” Rolling her eyes at your comments. But still she got up, grabbed her coat and left you and Edward sitting on the floor of his laboratory in solitude.
As you watched her leave you breathed a sigh of relief and quickly turned your attentions back to the fuming Edward. He had gotten up while you were talking to Tuesday and was now ignoring your existence, sitting at his desk angrily hunched over a blueprint. Grumbling about insubordination. You swore you could also hear him mentioning being “unappreciated in his time” Snorting as you sling your arms around his deceptively muscular neck. Planting gentle kisses into Eddie’s throbbing temple and nuzzling your face into his stubbly cheek feeling him finally relax into your touch. Edward pretended to ignore your affections but you could feel the grin beginning to form as you kissed the corner of his lips. “You’re distracting me, mi querido. He crooned leaning further into the warm embrace. Giggling as you gently spun his chair a few times before placing yourself delicately into your husbands lap. “Oh I am? I thought you couldn’t come up with anything, has the Riddler, the Artist of Crime” laying a wrist dramatically over your forehead. “THE most feared and wonderful puzzle maker in all of Gotham- nay! The world. Been cured of his writers block by.. moi?” Lifting your wrist to uncover one eye you saw Eddie looking at you with loving mirth. Smiling softly in that way he did when he felt like you were the only person who truly saw him. Eddie Nygma. Not just the Riddler, not a bad rip off of the joker or A-B-C- Whatever list villain in the Bat’s rouges gallery. But as Edward, your Edward!
He chuckled, gently plucking your wrist from upon your brow and set about peppering your skin with quick pecks, leading all the way up to your lips. He kissed you warmly as you warped your arms a little firmer around his neck happily kissing him back. Pulling away Eddie leaned his forehead on yours whispering as if you were in a crowd of thousands and not safely tucked away together in the confines of his lair. “No, I’m afraid not. But you’re a lovely distraction none the less my dear.”
You giggled and kissed him again, content in the fact that you had gotten your husband to relax for a moment. That was enough for him and it was enough for you.
#my writings#the riddler#batman the audio adventures#BTAA!Riddler#btaa#btaa riddler#the riddler x y/n#the riddler x reader#the riddler imagine#edward nygma#edward nygma x you#edward nygma x reader#edward nashton x y/n#edward nashton x reader#edward nashton x you#fluff x reader#miss tuesday#BTAA Miss Tuesday#Batman the audio adventures fanfic#BTAA! Imagine
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JJK/Gege Akutami appreciation post
Yeah, you read that title right. I get it that the entire fandom is upset with the latest leaks but I've seen so many angry/hateful comments toward Gege and it's making me sad. So here's a post to highlight some things I like about JJK. :)
This is in no way a complete list, so feel free to add on with your own takes too! Also, it's a long post, so I'm putting the meat of it under the cut.
The characters & their dynamics
Jjk has a huge cast, and yet every character is so unique and compelling. The reason I got into this anime (and later the manga) despite not really being into anime in general was how charming the main four characters were. Yuuji, Nobara, Megumi and Gojo immediately hooked me; I could probably watch 10 seasons of a slice of life show that's just them getting into shenanigans.
Fun interactions aside, my favourite thing about the characterisation is how everyone in this manga is allowed to have their own view on the world, especially on what it means to live a good life and die a good death. The narrative allows those views to clash without preaching about who is "correct". Characters disagree and learn from each other and their views develop organically (not necessarily in a positive direction, but always dynamically in a response to the situations they find themselves in - Yuuji's arc on how he views himself and his goals comes to mind). That stuff is really hard to write.
And it's not just the main cast either. The supporting characters are very memorable too; even minor ones have distinct personalities and clear motivations and often a backstory to explain why they are the way they are. My personal favourite background characters are Mai, Noritoshi and Tsumiki.
The worldbuilding
Can we talk about how creative the concept of curses and cursed energy is? Negative emotions accumulating into physical manifestations of things that people fear, hate, etc. is a hell of a cool idea. This is why the curse villains are my favourites in the series: from Mahito as a representation of the worst of humanity in his childish glee and sadism and cowardice to Jogo's philosophy of curses as "true beings" because they don't hide their nature and Hanami's almost sympathetic care for nature are all interesting explorations of how we view the world around us that would not be possible in a different kind of magic system. Add to that the array of creative techniques that sorcerers possess, the cursed objects, and the grade system that conveniently allows us to keep track of the danger levels of all this - you get an impressively complex magic system that still remains understandable (and fun to watch even if you don't want to keep track of the nitty-gritty and are just here for the spectacle).
Not to mention that jujutsu society is, well, a society. We get a sense of who the powerful and the oppressed are in this community, how their powers factor into that, how different characters feel about this, what they are doing to change it or on the contrary, to keep the traditions going... Every character exists in the web of a clear power structure which they interact with, influencing it and being influenced in turn. This results in a super interesting dynamic where certain characters can be enemies one moment (for example when the Kyoto students try to kill Yuuji during the exchange event on Gakuganji's, and by extension the higher-ups' orders) and allies the next (when it's time to pull together against a curse).
I'm reserving my judgement on the plot, themes and overall character arcs for now, because those things can only be really analysed once the story is complete. But even if I'll be unhappy with the ending, I'll still be very grateful for this unique world and its loveable inhabitants.
Of course, you might disagree with me on all this, and that's fine. Dropping the manga because you don't like the direction the story took is fine. Choosing to live in fanfiction delulu land is also fine. Gritting your teeth and sticking it out till the end despite disliking the plot because you're too invested to quit is also fine. Criticism and jokes are fine. The one thing that isn't fine is hating on the creator for the way they are choosing to tell their story.
Thank you for coming to my ted talk.
Tl;dr: If you're upset about the direction JJK is taking, please try to remember why you cared so much about it in the first place. And remember that Gege is just a person sharing a story with us, and disliking someone's story is not an acceptable reason to hate on them.
#i'm aware that probably no one will read all this but i had to get this off my chest#the fandom is getting so toxic it's such a shame#gege is out there writing a manga where dehumanisation and the pressure to be perfect and how damaging that is is a MAJOR theme#and people are getting mad because the story isn't perfect/up to their standards#am i the only one seeing the irony here#how can people be mad at someone for just... creating something?#even if jjk has the absolute worst terribly written dumpster fire ending imaginable i'll still be defending gege#they came up with an incredibly creative world and a huge cast of memorable loveable characters and i'll always be grateful for that#i was trying to keep this post positive but the ranting kind of slipped into the tags sorry#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk manga#jjk fandom#fandom culture#can we stop hating on creators for creating please#gege akutami#gege when i catch you gege#i'll say thank you for creating a story that impacted me even if it wasn't perfect
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