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janetbrown711 · 1 year ago

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Why Am I Like This?

Mikey gets really bored one day and decides to play with Raph's shiny new toy, despite being told several times not to, and breaks it.

Raph does not take this well.

Ao3 Link

Mikey was bored.

And not just regular, every day bored, nonono. This boredom was the mind-numbing and annoying type– the type that left you paralyzed and unable to think of anything to do, but Mikey had to do something.

He could practice with his nunchucks, but ever since he was downgraded to foam instead of wood, it just felt like a joke. Sure, he liked whirling it around, but Master Splinter always said this was supposed to be for self-defense, not fun, so playing around was strictly forbidden.

He could just reread his comics again, but while Splinter had gone for a scavenge recently, he didn’t bring Mikey anything of interest, other than those finger skateboard things. He’d already played with that thing to death, so that was also a total “no-go”.

Now, he could try and hang out with Leo or Raph or Donnie, but Donnie was busy trying to find a way to recharge lightbulbs, Leo was watching the second season of Space Heroes for the bajillionth time, and Raph was doing one-on-one practice with Splinter, so that wasn’t happening.

Mikey groaned, flopping his head into his pillow for the billionth time. “If only Leo liked a different, cooler show,” he sighed dramatically, before sitting up.

On the topic of “different” and “cooler”, Raph had been given a super special super cool still-in-box action figure of Aspara-Gus from Fantastic Four Food Groups. Mikey would’ve totally claimed it for himself, but he hadn’t heard Splinter call for him until Leo knocked on his door. From what the box claimed, it was supposed to light up and say up to six catchphrases! Mikey had been sooooo jealous, but Raph said he couldn’t play with it.

Wait– no. What he specifically said was, “Mikey, if you touch my Aspara-Gus, I’ll turn you into a pulp.” Classic Raph.

But– like… it wasn’t like he’d know. He was busy training with Master Splinter! Plus, he heard Raph open it up earlier, so it was practically begging to be played with!

Mikey grinned, hopping off his bed and bolting to Raph’s room, before opening his door all ninja-like and finding the bright green action figure sitting right on his bed next to a broken red car toy that was missing two doors.

Mikey practically had stars in his eyes as he admired the nearly mint condition of the doll, with its see-through green sparkly plastic and smooth edges. He giggled with excitement before pressing the little green button on its side.

“Eat your vegetables, kids!”

Mikey’s face felt flat and he tried again.

“You’re no match for the power of vitamin K!”

“Man, why does Raph even like that stupid comic,” Mikey muttered and gave it one last try.

“It’s Aspara-Gus to the res–” the phrase was cut off by a sudden, ear-piercing shriek.

“ACK!” Mikey immediately covered his ears, before getting the idea to try and smother it with Raph’s pillow. That it didn’t work well enough, the sound still splitting his skull. Out of desperation and panic, he sat on top of the pillow, which finally muted it enough so the pain stopped.

“Whew, that’s a relief,” Mikey wiped off non-existent sweat from his forehead. The ten-year-old continued sitting on the pillow until the faint ringing finally stopped, and he got off, picking up the figure again and–

Uh oh.

Apparently, sitting on pillows over action figures could cause their arms to break off. Who knew?

“Well… at least the toy was busted anyway…?” Mikey laughed nervously. He knew that totally wasn't gonna be good enough for Raph, though, and he'd totally flip when he found out.

“Okay, well– maybe I can fix it! Yeah! I just gotta pop that bad boy back on; it’ll be good as new,” Mikey picked up the action figure and arm and tried reconnecting the broken pieces, but alas, it wasn’t a simple “pop off”. Instead, the hinge had cracked into two and without both pieces being together and stable, there was no point attempting to reattach it.

Shin splints, he was totally screwed.

“Yeah, yeah, be right there, Leo,” Mikey heard Raph call from not too far, causing him to panic and hide the evidence under his brother’s pillow before booking into his room where he caught his breath. Once that was all in control, he put on his coolest, most calm-est and collected-est face he could manage and walked super, duper casually to the pit and sat next to Leo, catching only a casual and cool glance at Raph.

“Oh hey, Mikey! Whatcha been up to,” His eldest brother smiled.

“Ohhh, you knowww,” Mikey tried to wave him off, fidgeting with his knee pads anxiously.

“Oh, well, I was just waiting for Raph to start the new episode of Space Heroes, since it's his favorite and all,” Leo gave him a weird glance before turning back to the TV. “It’s the one where the Dr. Mindstrong goes back to his home planet and meets up with his–”

Leo rambled on for a little bit, which Mikey usually liked listening to, but right now he was way too on edge. He just kept glancing back to the hallway to their bedrooms and waiting for his inevitable doom.

“–smiles! He actually does! But Raph just likes it for the fight scene at the end, I dunno. What do you think?” Leo asked Mikey, who quickly tried to act like he had been paying attention.

“My favorite episode is still the one where the dude grows a beard and the vampires,” Mikey decided to say.

Leo laughed. “That’s my favorite too.”

“What can I say? I have imbeccable taste,” Mikey grinned nice and wide.

“It’s impeccable, Mikey,” Leo laughed more, which Mikey joined in to cover the fact he said that by mistake.

However, the laughter couldn’t last long, as there was a ground-shaking slam and angry stomping into the living-area as Raphael–

Oh frick–

“MIKEY!!!” Raph shouted, face almost as red as his mask.

“Eep! Save me, Leo!” Mikey jumped and ducked behind his eldest brother.

“Wha–? Raph, what did Mikey do?” Leo looked around all confused.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what the little punk did,” Raph growled, only getting closer and closer. “He broke my brand new Aspara-Gus!!!”

Leo gasped, turning to his brother. “You– you didn’t actually…?”

“I-it was an accident, I swear! I-I was just–” Mikey tried to defend himself, but didn’t get a chance as Raph practically tackled him and the two started wrestling.

“It was brand new, Mikey! Right outta the box and I told you–I told you you weren’t allowed to touch it!” Raph shouted at him, despite being inches away.

“It was already broken, man! I-It made a high-pitched screechy noise– I was trying to fix it!” Mikey pleaded tearfully, trying to kick his brother off of him, landing a hit right in the plastron that winded him.

Mikey would’ve scuttled away, but Raph managed to grip his arm tight and twisted it until Mikey was on his knees begging for him to stop.

“I always tell you not to touch my stuff! And you always do! Are you deaf or just a stupid, dumb little idiot?!” Raph growled and twisted tighter.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I-I didn’t mean to–! I just–”

“GOD– you just always do this! You’re just– you’re just so stupid and annoying and useless– why do we even keep you around when all you do is break our stuff–”

“Yame!” the commanding voice of Master Splinter rang from the dojo, and Raph instantly let go of Mikey’s arm, though kicked his shell and he fell completely to the ground. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Mikey broke the brand new Aspara-Gus action figure you got me! And I specifically told ‘im he couldn’t play with it!” Raph accused.

“Michelangelo, is this true?” Splinter looked at him, eyebrows all down and serious like.

“I-I– I didn't mean to–”

“He never listens to me or anyone, Master Splinter! I told him not to! He's such a screw-up!” Raph interrupted him.

“Raphael– a word,” Splinter narrowed his eyes on his elder brother.

“What?! Me?! But it was Mikey wh–!”

“No ‘but's. Now.” He ordered, and Raph stormed angrily back into the dojo.

However, Splinter wasn’t finished, and gave Mikey a look too.

“We will talk later, Michelangelo,” He sighed heavily and followed the steps of his furious child.

Mikey knew he was already crying, but he wanted to cry even more now.

“Mikey… why did you break his Aspara-Gus?” Leo asked.

“I didn't mean to! I-I don't wanna be a screw-up! I-I don't wanna be me!” Mikey shouted.

Leo winced. “Mikey, you aren't a screw-up.”

“Yeah, you just don't know how to listen,” Donnie piped up near his “lab”.

“Donnie,” Leo whisper-yelled and gave the purple turtle a look.

“What?! I'm just trying to–”

“Yeah, well, just let me–”

“You're always the one to–”

“Well, maybe if you were actually ni–”

Mikey couldn't stand all this fighting. He needed to get out here– and not to his room; Splinter or Leo would find him there, and they'd tell him he messed up, and blah blah blah he was a big stupid screw up– which he already knew! He just– he didn't need to hear it. He didn't need any of this–

If he wanted to get away unnoticed, he needed to go now.

Mikey glanced around, seeing Leo and Donnie still arguing, and no sign of Raph and Splinter leaving the dojo any time soon. And so, using all the super quiet super ninja skills he knew, he made his way to the water and lowered himself down until he was completely and silently submerged. Calmly and carefully, Mikey fought the urge to cry even underwater, and swam far, far, far, far away.

So far away, in fact, that when Mikey finally emerged for air, he realized he didn't have a clue where he was.

“This is fine, this is a-okay,” Mikey told himself, finally pulling himself out of the water and onto the cold concrete path. He rolled onto his shell, exhaustion suddenly hitting him all at once.

“This… This is super fine. I wanted air, and now I’m getting it,” He sniffled a little, a dull pain in his chest growing sharper.

Raph thinks he’s useless. And annoying. And a screw-up.

Mikey doesn’t mean to. He loves his brothers and dad! He doesn’t mean to always be so distracted or impulsive or whatever. He swore he tried. He tried so, so, so hard to be good.

But he wasn’t. Again, and again, and again, Mikey wasn’t good. He broke things. He went too far. He didn’t pay attention. He didn’t listen.

His brothers could do all those with ease, even Raph. That had to mean something, right?

Of course it did. It meant Michelangelo was bad. He wasn’t really trying his best to be good because if he were, then he’d be good already. It wasn’t hard for his brothers, but it was hard for Mikey because Mikey was bad.

The tears were quick to return as Mikey picked himself up and started walking further into unknown parts of the sewers. He didn’t care if he was getting lost, he deserved it. He was a bad kid, just like Raph said, and they’d be better off without him.

They’d be better off without him.

.o0o.

Raph was angry.

He sat on his knees in the dojo, filled with rage, hot and heavy in his face and chest. It made his breathing heavy and fists curl in his lap as his head just swirled and swirled and swirled until–

“Raphael. I understand Michelangelo made you very upset by breaking your toy, and I’m very sorry that happened, but calling your brother a ‘screw-up’ will not go back and fix things,” Splinter said as he kneeled right in front of him.

Raph’s fists tightened. “I-I– it was brand new, Master Splinter– We never get new things a-and I just– I was so excited,” he confessed, his voice wavering.

Splinter smiled sadly. “I know, my son, I know. I am sorry I cannot provide such things more often, and I’m sorry Michelangelo broke it. I’m sure he feels absolutely terrible about it.”

A lump formed in Raph’s throat as he kept his eyes low and focused on his father’s knees. “But– he just– he doesn’t stop, a-and– and it just– it makes me so mad…”

Splinter nodded slowly. “Your anger is understandable, my son. Nobody likes to have their things destroyed, but that is not an excuse to make your brother feel worthless.”

Raph sniffled. “I– I didn’t… I didn’t actually mean to– I just– I get so mad,” he whispered, tears beginning to stream down his face right before he felt Master Splinter take him into his arms and hold him close.

“I know you are not a mean boy, Raphael. You have a very good heart that gets blinded by very strong and powerful emotions,” Splinter assured, wiping some of his tears away.

“I just– I-I can’t fight it– it’s like I can’t stop myself, I just– I want to hurt him, I want to hurt him so bad,” Raph wept into his father’s sleeve.

“But you don’t now, do you?” Splinter asked.

Raph shook his head. “I don’ wan’ him to hate me…”

His father laughed a little. “Michelangelo doesn’t hate you– I don't even believe he can. You know, you two have much more in common than you think.”

“But I can hate him. I-I can hate him a lot– does that make me bad?” Raph sniffled again.

“You don’t actually hate him, Raphael. If you did, you would not feel remorse for your actions,” His father assured, rubbing soothing circles on Raph’s shell.

Raph didn’t know what to say, looking back at the ground and resting his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Anger is an emotion that occurs in all living creatures, even myself. You are not wrong for feeling upset that something precious to you was harmed, but there are more productive ways to problem-solve than breaking your brother’s arm,” Splinter chuckled a little.

“... Like what?” Raph ventured to ask.

“Well… there is always breathing and meditation–”

“But it’s so boringgggg,” Raph interrupted.

Splinter laughed. “I know it is hard, but allowing yourself to feel and understand your emotions can help you rid yourself of all this confusion in your young mind,” he stroked the top of Raph’s head for emphasis.

“I-I guess…” Raph looked at his hands.

“Or perhaps you can try going to your room to separate yourself from the situation until you feel more in control of yourself. You could do things like draw or read comics or even scream into a pillow until you feel all better,” Splinter then suggested, which didn’t sound too bad, all things considered.

“I guess I can try that,” Raph shrugged a little, smiling a little when he heard his dad sigh a bit in relief.

“You are a good son, Raphael...”

“Thank you, Master Splinter,” Raph said, still not quite looking at him.

“... Which is why I know that you’ll apologize to Michelangelo as soon as possible, no?” Splinter asked, and Raph tensed a bit.

“I– yeah… I should…” he bit his lip and Splinter hugged him a little tighter before setting him down.

“Good,” He smiled at Raph softly, which Raph managed to return before they both stood and went to the dojo doors, where Splinter opened to find Leo and Donnie arguing about something by themselves.

“Leonardo, Donatello– where is Michelangelo?” Splinter looked left and right as he stepped out in the living space.

Leo stopped arguing and looked around. “I– wasn’t he right here?” he asked Donnie.

“I thought so?” His purple brother shrugged.

The confusion made a knot tie in Raph’s stomach, especially when he saw how it made Splinter’s eyebrows grow close and wrinkly before he shook his head.

“Perhaps he has just gone to rest in his room. I’ll go check on him,” Splinter patted Raph’s head before speed walking to the bedrooms.

Raph could feel his brother’s eyes, the second Splinter was gone, which only made the knot tighten. “You got a problem?”

Donnie backed up. “Me? No. We just– umm…”

Leo wasn’t as much of a scaredy-cat, though, looking at Raph and asking, “Are you okay?”

Raph rolled his eyes. “M’fine, it was just a stupid toy.”

“Of your favorite comic book character,” Donnie pointed out.

“Yeah…” Raph kicked the ground a bit. “But I– I went too far, like always…”

Leo smiled a little. “I’m sure Mikey’ll forgive you.”

Raph stayed quiet.

Splinter came back in not too long, looking around frantically as his eyebrows just got more and more scrunched together with worry.

“Master Splinter?” Leo spoke up. “What’s wrong?”

“I–” Their father stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Is there anywhere around the lair your brother could possibly be hiding?”

Leo, Donnie and Raph all looked at each other nervously.

Donnie was the first to suggest, “Maybe he’s in the bathroom?”

Splinter shook his head. “I’ve already checked there. Anywhere else?”

Leo bit his cheek. “Maybe under his bed?”

Their father shook his head again.

Donnie suddenly snapped his fingers. “He likes hiding in the kitchen cupboards sometimes!”

Splinter sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I have already checked there as well.”

The knot in Raph’s stomach tightened. “S-so he’s…?”

“I will go out to find him. You three stay here. I will be back soon,” Splinter decided, finally stepping down into the pit, where they hugged him tight.

“Is Mikey gonna be okay, Master Splinter?” Leo asked.

“Of course, my son,” Splinter assured, patting the eldest brother’s head, but Raph could tell he was lying by the tension in his hands.

The hug broke, and the turtles watched as Splinter went to the turnstiles, but stopped right before he would’ve disappeared into the endless tunnel systems.

“I will be back soon, my sons, do not worry. Stay safe,” He smiled at each of them (especially Raph) before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Leo and Donnie both hesitated, but sat back on the couch, meanwhile Raph couldn’t help but pace around the pit.

“Why would Mikey just run off like that? He’s never done that before,” Leo looked at Donnie.

“I don’t know, it’s really not like him. He's always been so afraid of the outside, it doesn't make sense,” Donnie shrugged, but Raph just rolled his eyes.

“You two have got to stop pretending this isn’t allmy fault,” He snipped, and both brother’s eyes turned to him.

Leo stood. “Raph–”

“Stop!!!” Raph shouted. “I hurt him! Because of a stupid toy! And called him useless and a screw-up a-and–” Raph internally cursed himself as he felt tears start to form in the corners of his eyes once more.

“Splinter will find him, Raph. It’ll be okay,” Leo smiled and tried placing a hand on his shoulder, but Raph brushed it off.

“I'm gonna go look for ‘im,” He announced, making his way to the water entrance.

“Raaaaaaph, Master Splinter said we need to stay here,” Donnie whined, looking around nervously.

Raph huffed and rolled his eyes. “Think of it this way: Master Splinter is going north, and I'm going south. One of us'll find him eventually.”

“You're leaving out east and west,” Donnie looked unconvinced.

“Whatever. If you two wanna do that, be my guest. I'm going out,” Raph went to jump, but Leo suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Raph, Splinter doesn't need us running away right now,” Leo pleaded, and Raph snagged his arm away.

“Stay here then, for all I care. We'll see who really finds Mikey,” He glared before diving in and swimming away.

.o0o.

Mikey was cold.

Of course, he usually was after swimming around and stuff, but there were also a lot more grates outside the lair than inside.

He wished he could reach them. That he could stick his fingers through and feel the fresh night– or catch a cigarette butt, more likely.

Then again, who needed to reach for cigarette butts when they could just fall on your head?

Mikey had dusted off five butts before he just decided to keep moving past the grates.

Probably the smartest thing he did all day.

Mikey sighed and hugged his arms. He had no idea where he was anymore, and there was still a voice in his head telling how stupid he was for getting himself lost, but he was just so tired of it. He already knew he was an idiot, no need for reminders.

Besides, it was his goal, right? He wanted to run away so he'd stop ruining everything for his brothers and Splinter.

He was a screw-up. This plan probably wouldn't work, and he'd get his dad worried to death about him because he was a stupid crybaby.

… He wished he could go back. He didn't actually want to run away. He missed his brothers– he missed his Papa– he was so, so cold.

The answer for the chilly temperature suddenly appeared when after Mikey rounded a corner, he saw a massive stormwater outlet that–

Woah…

A bitter, cold breeze stung through, but Mikey didn't care, approaching the view of the sparkling lights of the city off of… a river? The ocean? Whatever it was, it was a lot of water and Mikey was mesmerized. Trees were also visible, though most were missing their leaves since it was late November. Mikey didn't mind that, though, as it was still one of the prettiest things he had ever seen.

He didn't deserve such a pretty thing. He'd probably ruin it somehow. Maybe he'd blurt something out, and it would make all the animals scared or angry, and then they'd try to attack him. Or maybe a human would find him, and then he'd get experimented on, like in alien comics.

Mikey's head ached, and so despite his want to leave, he decided to sit there and rest awhile.

He got roughly five seconds of peace before his stomach growled painfully.

“Man, all that swimming really got me hungry, eh?” He joked to no one, hoping it would make it hurt less.

It didn't.

The ten-year-old closed his eyes, trying not to imagine how worried Splinter would be and the lecture he’d get for being all stupid and impulsive despite being told many, many times to just use his stupid head.

Another gust of cold wind blew by, causing Mikey to shudder. He wished he had a blanket or something with him, but then again it would’ve gotten totally soaked, and he would’ve ruined a perfectly nice blanket that Master Splinter worked so hard to get for them.

He would do just about anything in the world to swap brains with Donnie, or Leo, or even Raph.

His brothers were the coolest people in the world, even if they could be a bit mean. Leo was so nice and always picked up any moves Splinter taught the fastest. Donnie was super good at math and stuff and was always working on super sciencey stuff that had Mikey convinced he should win an award or something. And sure, Raph had his anger issues, but he could fight the best out of all four of them, and Mikey wished he could be half as cool as him.

But he wasn’t. He was just stupid, annoying, useless, little screw-up Mikey who couldn’t listen or sit still or focus or remember anything.

… He wasn’t surprised when he noticed himself crying.

He opened his eyes again, surprised to find a beetle crawling up one of the pipes of the outlet.

“Hi, Mr. Beetle. I’m Michelangelo,” he joked, holding out a finger that the bug didn’t climb onto.

“Ah, you don’t wanna be my friend? It’s okay, I wouldn’t be my friend either,” He smiled as he felt tears start to rush.

“S-see– I’m a big jerk. I break my brother’s toys, a-and I don’t sit still or stop makin’ annoying noises, even when they ask all nicely,” the ten-year-old wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Master Splinter says it isn’t my fault– b-but I know he’s just being nice. Raph’s right, I’m just a big screw-up and a jerk, too.”

The beetle twitched its wings a little, making Mikey laugh a little again.

“I’m probably annoying you right now, too. I bet you got a family nearby, and I’m keeping you away from ‘em. M’sorry, Mr. Beetle,” Mikey’s lower lip trembled as his stomach rumbled yet again.

“Say, you– uh… wouldn’t have some food on you, would you?” he joked, but the beetle flew away, causing the boy to break into sobs.

“M’so sorry, Raph,” he whispered to himself, hugging his knees to his chest. “I don’t mean to be bad. I just can’t stop. I know I’m a failure, I just– I wanna be good so bad, but I can’t, I just can’t.”

He let himself break into sobs as more wind rushed by, causing Mikey to instinctively curl tighter as he felt himself start to shut down into sleep– which was weird because it wouldn’t be bedtime for three more hours.

Maybe it was just all the crying like a baby he was doing. He was weak like that.

“M’sorry I don’t listen, Papa– I really wanted to, b-but I can’t– I’m not good like them. I know you tried– m’so, so sorry,” He sobbed further, fully leaning into the circle so he faced the bars.

The sky looked so pretty as snowflakes began to fall, making Mikey feel like he was almost in a snow globe.

Mikey took a long breath, feeling sleep slowly but surely overcome him as all he could focus on was the glittering skylights, his hunger, and how he already missed his family more than anything.

“I’ll go back soon, I just gotta–” Mikey yawned– “take a little nap first…”

Mikey yawned, curling tighter as with this rush of air he fell into a deep, deep, deep sleep.

.o0o.

Raph was getting nervous.

Looking for Mikey was harder than he had expected, but his guilt kept him moving on despite the ever-growing feeling he was starting to get lost…

“You owe Mikey to find him, Raph. Just keep moving,” He told himself just as bits and pieces of a sandwich that had been dropped fell on his head.

“Man, I hate being in the sewers alone,” Raph muttered, wiping the mayo-soaked lettuce bits and a tomato off his head while also avoiding stepping on a broken phone and what looked like a (thankfully) squashed cockroach. Of course, this was entirely his own fault, but this was a good thing; he was taking responsibility for his actions, just like Master Splinter always told him he should. And he was!

Sure, it was also against Splinter’s direct instructions not to leave their lair, but it was also following his instructions to apologize to Mikey as soon as possible! Yes, yes, truly the most flawless logic turtle-kind had ever known.

Raph was just glad Donnie wasn’t here to rub that in.

The boy walked for what felt like forever, when he noticed a sudden temperature drop that had him shuddering and rubbing his arms.

“Jeez– someone got an evil snow cone machine going wild?” He grumbled, referencing one of his comics.

As he got closer, he realized he could hear wind blowing fiercely from what had to be more than just the regular sewer grate. As he turned the corner, he could see that yep, it was a stormwater outlet and–

“MIKEY-!” Raph cried, rushing to his brother’s side, startled to find him asleep.

“Mikey?! Mikey, wake up! What’s wrong with you?” Raph asked, panicking more and more by the second.

“Ughhh… Raph?” Mikey mumbled, barely cracking an eye open.

“Why are you so tired? You hate bedtime!” Raph pointed out, before shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not– Look, I came here to say–”

“M’tired… talk soon,” Mikey clicked his tongue weakly before his eyes closed again.

“What?! Mikey, you jerk wad! I was apologizing!” Raph growled and shook his brother, but it did nothing to wake him.

Alarms triggered in his head as he tried shaking his brother again, but nothing happened.

“M-Mikey…? Mikey, you’re okay, right?” Raph looked around for any signs of danger or trouble, but couldn’t find anything other than the picturesque night sky and snowfall.

“Woah…” Raph momentarily forgot his panic to admire it, since Master Splinter not only said they were super banned from going outside, but they were double banned from snow because they could accidentally trigger hibern–

Oh no.

“Shoot– Mikey! You know we’re not allowed to–” Raph kicked himself mentally as he realized he was already falling through on his promise. “Look– you’re gonna be okay, okay, Mikey? I just gotta– um…” Raph looked around for anything that would be remotely warm but was just met with moss covered walls, and was it just him or were there suddenly a lot more bugs around here than there were before?

However, he figured just getting his brother away from the drain would get him warmer, and so stood up and tried slinking Mikey on his back as much as possible.

“It’s okay Mikey, I’ll get you back safe and warm in the lair, I promise,” Raph bit his cheek as he struggled readjusting his brother on his shell before starting to walk off.

It certainly wasn’t easy though. While Raph was older and a little bigger, it wasn't enough to make this a breeze. Plus, Mikey wasn’t even trying to support himself since he was all tired and stuff. To make up for it, Raph had to take big, long steps that didn’t always mesh well with the algae, garbage and bug-covered sewers.

However, he promptly halted when he finally reached the remnants of that sandwich that got dropped on his head, which now had a humongous pile of cockroaches on it.

“Gross gross gross gross–” Raph gagged, taking a frantic step back and almost dropping Mikey in the process. He looked around nervously to see if there was some other way he could get to the lair, but that rapidly proved itself to be a waste, as more and more disgusting pests were gathering by the second, and no amount of will power summoned an alternate path.

“M-Master Splinter? Can you hear me?” Raph called, desperate to get out of here already.

He looked at the bugs again and took another instinctive step back. “D-Dad, I really, really hate bugs, I don’t wanna do this,” he felt tears threaten to fall, which just made him more angry at himself. He was trying to save Mikey from accidentally falling asleep for the next three months, he did not need to be acting like a baby!

“Okay, Raph, y-you got this– you can save Mikey, I believe in you,” He told himself, taking a careful and calculated step forward, and a wave of nausea hit that made him want to turn and puke.

But he couldn't! He was a turtle on a mission here! He couldn’t get sick on Mikey now– especially because the drain wasn't too far and that grate was channeling pretty strong winds– If Raph stayed for too long then he’d get all sleepy too and Master Splinter would be double disappointed.

“Alright, guess I’ll just…” Raph mentally prepared himself, stepping one foot at a time at a very slow pace– until the fourth step, where he definitely stepped on a bug, and he completely froze. His instincts were completely useless as he felt two more try to crawl on his leg, causing him to instantly book it as fast as he could.

“Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew–” He kept whispering to himself before he suddenly slipped on the mossy floor and he and Mikey fell into the sewer water.

He completely lost all contact with his brother as he fumbled around in the current, and it took a solid minute before he could get his head clear and broke for the surface.

“MIKEY!” He called, looking around for his brother, but not finding him.

He dove back underwater with urgency and found his little brother beginning to sink. With a grunt of determination, Raph swam with all his might to grab his arms and drag his still cold body to the surface.

“R-Raph?” Mikey croaked between coughs.

“MIKEY!” Raph hugged his brother tight. “Mikey, it’s okay! We’ll be back home soon, I promise,” he assured, and Mikey chuckled weakly.

“You really do care, you big sap,” His little brother smiled weakly.

“Shut up or I'll let you drown,” Raph tried acting tough again, but Mikey's exhaustion made him hard to threaten. “Whatever. Just wrap your arms around my neck, I’ll swim us both home,” Raph grunted, and Mikey thankfully did as he was told.

It took a frustratingly long time to get back to the lair– so long that Mikey had already fallen back asleep by the time Raph recognized his surroundings. It made him nervous, but Raph wasn't going to crack now that he was so close.

“Alright, Mikey, just under here real quick,” Raph glanced at the wall that mostly separated their lair from the sewer system before dunking his brother under and quickly pulling him up on the other side with minimal bonking.

“We made it, Mikey! C’mon– we gotta tell Leo and Donnie so we can–” Raph looked up and found Splinter standing right at the edge of the pool, with Leo and Donnie standing nervously behind him.

“H-hi dad,” Raph looked down at his murky reflection.

“Raphael, I specifically told you–” Splinter was about to reprimand, but his eyes landed on Mikey and worry immediately overrode his anger.

“Bring him over,” Splinter ordered Raph, and of course he obeyed. He watched as Splinter took his youngest brother in his arms and set him down on the couch, placing an ear on his chest.

“His heart is slow. Raphael, what happened? Was there a fight? Was he injured at all?” His father asked. Raph shook his head, getting out of the water and joining Leo and Donnie as spectators.

Splinter frowned, placing a hand on Mikey’s forehead and flinching. “Donatello, warm up a heat pack from your lab.”

“Hai, sensei,” Donnie said, and he was gone in a flash.

Leo looked at Donnie for only a moment before his eyes went right back to Mikey. “Is he gonna be okay, dad?”

Splinter nodded slowly. “He should be okay, he’s just a little cold, is all.”

“Oh! I can get him his blanket!” Leo immediately offered.

“Good idea, Leonardo,” Splinter approved, and before he knew it, Leo was gone too, leaving Raph alone with his dad.

Raph’s heart was pounding in his chest, as he was pretty sure Splinter knew just as well as he did this was all his fault, and he wondered what kind of grounding he’d get this time.

His anxiety certainly wasn’t helped when Splinter suddenly asked, “How did this happen, Raphael?”

Raph gulped. “I found ‘im by a stormwater drain, asleep. I think he was watching the snow or something and just kinda passed out, so...”

“I see,” his father replied, stroking Mikey’s head and taking off his soaked orange mask. “I should have known he would have gone to the water; he’s always been so afraid of subway cars,” he laughed a little sadly.

“It’s not your fault, dad, it’s–” Raph frowned as Leo ran in with the blanket.

“Found it, Master Splinter!” Leo called before handing it to their father all nice and folded.

“Thank you, Leonardo,” Splinter nodded in approval before unfolding it and draping it on the still-napping Mikey.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Leo asked in that eager way he always did.

“No, we do not want to overwhelm him or his body. We just want enough to wake him up at his own pace,” Splinter explained, and Leo nodded, taking a step back to join Raph.

A moment after that, Donnie emerged too with the practically steaming bag of dry rice, which Splinter thanked him too before placing it on his forehead.

“There. That should do it for now,” Splinter nodded to himself, stroking Mikey’s left arm a bit before finally allowing himself to sit on the couch next to him.

Nobody said anything for a while, most everyone’s eyes focused on Mikey except Raph, who kept watching his father. He was waiting to receive his scolding for running away and almost getting Mikey knocked out for months. However, the more he stared, the more it seemed like it wasn't going to happen, and after a couple minutes, Raph couldn’t take it anymore.

“Master Splinter, I’m real sorry I ran away, but I knew it was all my fault– I mean, you know how much I hurt him and his arm– so it was totally my fault! I had to make it right, and I knew that if I didn’t find him, you would, so I figured it really wouldn’t hurt! Plus, you told me I needed to apologize to him as soon as possible, so technically I wasn’t really disobeying you– but I know I really was, and–”

“Raphael,” Splinter cut off his rambles with a soft look. “I am not mad at you. If anything, I am relieved you found him because if it were not for you, I do not think his condition would be fixed so easily.”

“You don’t… know that, though,” Raph kicked the ground.

Donnie raised an eyebrow. “Of course he knows that. Hibernation takes several hours to fully take hold in a turtle, and if Master Splinter had spent all night looking for Mikey he would have certainly been too late and Mikey would spend the next several months practically asleep.”

“Donnie!” Leo punched his arm.

“What? It’s just science!” Donnie defended his rather blunt word choice.

“It’s alright, Leonardo, Donatello is correct,” Their father assured, looking again at Raph. “What you did was very risky, and not something I want to become a habit… but you did very well, Raphael.”

“Not really, Master Splinter. When we ran into a ton of cockroaches, I totally freaked out and dropped Mikey into the water,” Raph confessed and Donnie laughed a little, getting him a quick glare that shut him right up.

“Ahh, but don’t you see? When faced between your fears or bringing your brother to safety, you chose very bravely,” Splinter placed a hand on Raph’s shoulder.

“Thank you, sensei,” Raph bowed and Splinter chuckled and stroked the top of his head a little.

Right then there was a little cough, followed by a groan, followed by a– “Raph? Papa? What’s goin’ on?” from Mikey.

“You are back home, my son,” Splinter quickly turned his attention to his youngest, holding his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired n’ warm,” Mikey yawned.

Splinter smiled a little. “Of course. It is rather late, after all, so the four of you should go to bed.”

“Aww man, but I just slept a bunch,” Mikey whined.

“You need to gather your strength, my son. Do not worry, I will carry you to bed this one time,” Splinter teased Mikey a little since he was always asking to be carried. It seemed to work since Mikey immediately stopped protesting, and he was whisked away.

“You had Master Splinter really worried, you know,” Leo spoke up.

Raph rolled his eyes. “You heard him, I did something right for once.”

“You know what I mean, Raph. If you wanted to find him yourself, you should’ve at least tried to tell him before you left,” Leo crossed his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you ever get lost in the sewers, I won’t come looking for you,” Raph pushed Leo away and headed to his room, hearing Leo sigh dramatically and choosing to ignore it as the door slammed closed behind him.

His broken action figure was still on his bed, but instead of angering Raph, it just made him feel… disappointed. Sure, it was partly due to the fact he had been so excited about it just earlier today, but now it was more like he was disappointed how angry he’d gotten. It was just some cheap plastic with a broken voice box, after all. It wasn’t worth making Mikey run away and almost freeze himself into hibernation.

Besides, he’d definitely still play with it. Sure, he would now be missing an arm, but most everyone’s toys were broken in some capacity, so maybe now the other toys wouldn’t get jealous. Not that toys could get jealous, but– whatever. Raph was exhausted.

And so, Raph set his newly broken Aspara-Gus up on the shelf, alongside his much older broken red car, and flopped onto his bed to try and think about sleep.

.o0o.

Mikey was as snug as a bug in a rug after his father tucked him nice and tight into his bed, making him feel like the specialist and also the stupidest kid in the whole world.

“Papa… I’m sorry I ran away. I wasn’t thinkin’, which I know I do a lot,” he looked away as Splinter checked his temperature with a thermometer.

“Don’t worry, Michelangelo, I am just grateful you are alright,” Splinter smiled kinda sadly.

“Still… I didn’t wanna scare you, I just– I always mess up, a-and I really don’t mean to! I try to stop, I really do, Papa, but I just can’t,” Mikey confessed, face red with shame.

The thermometer beeped, but Splinter didn’t even look at it before setting it aside and removing the heat pack from his forehead.

“You are a good son and brother, Michelangelo. Your weaknesses do not erasure your kind smile or your cuddly disposition or your humor. We are all very grateful you are a part of this family, and everyone– including Raphael– missed you terribly in your absence,” Splinter stroked Mikey’s cheek with his thumb.

“I know, but I still break things and don’t listen and stuff, which is still bad of me,” Mikey looked away.

“But that does not make you bad, Michelangelo,” Splinter said with certainty. “Everyone in this sewer has flaws– even myself.”

“Even you?” Mikey gawked.

Splinter chuckled and nodded. “I am not always the most rational mind and can be swift to punishment, but that does not mean I am cruel and unjust. It just means I have something to be aware of and work on.”

“Oooh… cool,” Mikey smiled a little at the thought of him and his papa having something in common.

Splinter laughed more. “It is getting late, my son. Be sure to rest up.”

The rat was going to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand. “Do you have to goooooooooo?” He asked, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

Splinter hummed happily and kissed his son’s head. “Maybe tomorrow night. I suspect someone else will want to talk to you tonight.”

“Who?” Mikey tilted his head.

“You’ll see,” Splinter patted his shoulder before turning out his light, causing Mikey’s glow-in-the-dark stars to shine. “Sweet dreams, Michelangelo.”

“G’night Papa!” Mikey gave a wide grin before Splinter nodded and closed the door.

Man, Mikey really was tired. But also not. He certainly wasn’t as tired as he’d felt by the stormwater drain, but all that swimming and walking and being all toasty definitely was doing a number on him.

However, before he could decide if he wanted to fall asleep or not, there was a knock at his door.

“Uh… come in?” Mikey said, unsure of who it could be, and startled when he saw it was Raph.

“Hi…” His older brother looked at the ground before he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

There was an awkward moment whether neither brother really knew what to say or how to say it. Instead, they both just looked around Mikey's disaster of a room, avoiding eye contact.

After a bit of this, Raph decided to break the silence with a, “I’m sorry I made you run away, Mikey. And for calling you a screw-up, and useless, and a punk, and a stupid, dumb idiot.”

Mikey laughed a little. “It’s okay, Raph. I already know I am.”

“No! You’re not useless! I said that just because I was mad,” Raph sat on Mikey’s bed urgently. “You’re like– the funniest brother and you give good hugs, which is nice when you want ‘em. That's totally useful!”

Mikey looked away. “You don’t gotta say that to me, Raph. I know I’m the weakest and the least patient and most distracted or whatever, I just gotta deal with it.”

“You know I’d save you if you ran away again, right? And that I– I don’t mean to always hurt you, right?” Raph asked, nervously picking at his nails.

“Aww, you big softie,” Mikey teased a little, and Raph rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah– I’m apologizing here, so do you wanna accept it or not?” He scoffed.

“I’m sorry I broke your toy, Raph. It started making this really loud noise and I panicked,” Mikey explained himself first.

Raph scoffed a bit. “Figures something had to be wrong with it… but still, I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”

“I shouldn’t’ve broken your toy and run away, so I accept your apology,” Mikey gave his brother a crooked smile. “You accept mine?”

Raph laughed a little. “Yeah, you big baby,” he punched his brother’s arm a little, making Mikey laugh.

“Thanks for saving my life too, by the way. I could kinda hear you and I know it was pretty scary, so… yeah, thanks. You aren’t as angry as you think you are,” Mikey placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Raph seemed a little shook by this, but he eventually just chuckled and shook his head. “Wasn’t a hard decision. Without you, this place is a total dump.”

“Still. Thanks,” Mikey tried to get through his thick skull.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Raph tried to keep playing it off, shaking Mikey’s arm off of him. Raph started to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand on impulse.

“Uh… yeah?” Raph looked at him confused, and Mikey cursed himself a bit.

“Sorry–! I just– um…” Mikey let go and started fidgeting with his blanket. “I was just wondering if you’d wanna– you know… sleepover?”

His elder brother paused, clearly debating it, making Mikey instantly feel bad.

“You don’t have to, though! It was a stupid idea, I mean– we aren’t five anymore, so you can say n–”

“Sure, why not?” Raph shrugged all nonchalantly, and Mikey felt relief flood his body.

“Cool!” Mikey beamed, scooting aside to make room for his older brother, whom he immediately cuddled against the moment he was settled.

“Jeez, Mikey– you ever heard of personal space?” Raph quipped, but Mikey knew he didn’t mean it. If he had, he would’ve pushed him away or moved off the bed.

But nope, Raph stayed right next to Mikey for the entire night, and Mikey wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt 2012 splinter #2012 michelangelo #2012 raphael #tmnt splinter #my fics #damn there are so many ways to tag this fjdksalf;jads #family fluff #mikey angst #good parent splinter #raph has anger issues but tries his best and is a good brother dammit #mikey is a goober who messes up and that's okay #uhhhhhhhhh #yeah lol enjoy :P

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thesoftboiledegg · 1 year ago

Text

A couple of people wearing matching Rick and Morty sweatpants walked into the coffee shop where I'm sitting, signifying that it's time for the merchandise roundup!

When I checked out the mall last week, Rue 21 had new undergarments:

I learned today that the Rue 21 near my place is closing. Nooo! I hope I don't lose the one in the mall because those are the only two in my area. Rue 21 and Spencer's are the backbone of merchandise roundups!

No longer in mint condition, Gearhead was trapped in the clearance section at one of the "nerdy" stores. Meanwhile, Balthromaw watched from the top of the glass case.

Spencer's had a new bowl so that you can enjoy ramen (or spaghetti) while watching season seven.

New tumbler. This design appears on a lot of merchandise, but I enjoyed seeing it up close because the colors are so vibrant.

And yep, those are dick-shaped shotglasses in the background. Stay classy, Spencer's!

Pickle Rick peeked at me from the bottom of the pile. When is he going to get out? He's been trapped there for a few weeks!

That same weekend, I decided to check out a couple of head shops that I hadn't visited. One of them had a rolling tray that appears normal at first, but the more I look at it, the more it bewilders me.

...who are those characters? I recognize a few, but most of them are a mystery. Are they all background characters? Somebody's OCs? Am I missing something?

Head shops are a lawless wasteland, further proved by these pipes.

I guess nobody's tired of that IT crossover. And they're not tired of Mr. Jellybean terrorizing Morty, either.

On a more positive note, the holiday season has arrived--and when I visited the mall today, people were breaking out the bootleg gifts. For $70 each, you can own these Rick and Morty engravings:

And while you're at it, add Phillip J. Fry to your collection!

I never saw Futurama merchandise in person before the past year, so the Hulu revival must've brought it back to the public consciousness. I don't know why it never had the same marketing blitz as The Simpsons. Same with Disenchantment. Maybe they're just too niche?

The same booth had a couple of tumblers:

Plus, a new shirt at Rue 21:

What really surprised me was when I checked out the nerdy store again and found...Artemis Fowl! I don't think I've ever seen Artemis Fowl merchandise before, not even in grade school when the series peaked.

I didn't buy it because I don't care for Funko Pops, but I thought about it. Forever my favorite hyperfixation 🖤

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #futurama #rue 21 #roundup #head shop #cannabis culture #cannabis

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svechnikovvv · 2 years ago

Text

lake days & a broken nose (2)

pairing: trevor zegras x hughes!reader

warnings: profanity

summary: it’s been months since you broke trevor’s nose at the lake house. what happens after that?

a/n: this is a part 2 since someone requested it (: you can find part 1 here

masterlist: here

ever since i broke trevor’s nose, and apologized profusely about it, we’ve become closer friends. we even exchanged numbers and would text everyday.

i was on my way back to my small apartment on campus since my senior year started. i unlock the door and cut the lights on. i practically jump out of my skin when i see someone on my couch.

“trevor?”

“the one and only.” he gets off the couch and engulfs me in a hug.

“holy fucking shit, i missed you so much.” he laughs

“i missed you too, hughesy.” we pull apart and i look at him, not believing that he was in front of me.

“what are you doing here? how’d you get here?” he laughs at my rapid-fire questions.

“i came to surprise you, and i flew here.” my eyes widen

“all the way from anaheim?” he nods “that’s too far. you didn’t have to do that.” he shrugs

“missed my favorite hughes,” he then leans in. “don’t let the other three know that you’re my favorite.” he shoots me a wink

“it’ll be our secret,” i tell him and set my bag by my bedroom door.

“sorry the place is a mess, i wasn’t expecting company.” he looks around at the space and laughs.

“you think this is bad? try rooming with four other hockey players who are superstitious.” i wince

“i’ve seen the guys on the team and they look like they’re messy.” he gasps

“you aren’t seeing other hockey players behind my back are you?” he jokingly asks and i place a hand over my heart.

“i would never.” we both laugh and i fall back on the couch.

“you fancy takeout and a movie?”

“depends on where and what movie.”

“i was thinking chinese and happy gilmore.”

“i’m sold.” he takes a seat beside me and i grab the takeout menu from the coffee table. i hand it to trevor and he takes it, scanning it.

“orange chicken.” is all he says and i nod

“good pick.” i grab my phone and dial the number, calling in the order. they said one of us would have to go and pick it up and trevor volunteered to do so.

“here’s my car keys,” i stop him before he leaves the room. “leave a scratch on the pimp mobile and you’ll have another broken nose.” he holds up his hands

“don’t worry, it’ll be in mint condition.” he then leaves the room to go get it. i turn on the movie and have it on pause as i wait. figuring he’d be a minute, i decide to take a shower. and like any sane person, music is a must. if you don’t go on tour to at least half the globe, what are you doing?

i grab a shampoo bottle and start to belch the lyrics to when i was your man.

“ALTHOUGH IT HURRRRRRTS, I’LL BE THE FIIIIRST TO SAY THAT, I WAS WROOOOOOOONG.” this part was my absolute favorite of the song because of the way he drags out the word ‘wrong.’ once my tour and shower was done, i change into my pajamas and head back into the room to see trevor sitting on the couch with a very amused smile on his face.

“you were pouring your heart out.” my fave goes red and i grumble, sitting beside him. he takes our food out the bags and places the trays in front of us on the table.

“oh! i also bought some sprite. figured we get thirsty.”

“smart idea, let me go grab some cups and ice.” i get back up and head to the kitchenette, grabbing two cups. i fill them both with ice, heading back to the couch. i hand trevor his and hold mine out for him.

“to the brim, z. the. brim.” he laughs and pours sprite into my cup, filling it to the brim as asked. i take a sip and sigh of content.

“sprite is like flavored tv static, but i love it.”

“that’s going to fuck with me for the rest of the day.”

“good.” we then get comfortable as we eat our chinese food and watch happy gilmore.

“adam sandler is such a god.” trevor says with a mouthful of rice.

“if i ever met that man, i’d probably cry and shit my pants at the same time.” trevor laughs and sprite comes out of his nose. i laugh at his predicament and he grabs a paper towel, wiping his nose.

“that burned. i can now smell sprite.”

“i’m just that funny.” he rolls his eyes.

it was starting to get late and trevor hadn’t left yet.

“where’re you staying?”

“was figuring i could crash on your couch?”

“oh nonsense. we can share my room.” he nods and we walk into my room.

“welcome to the fortress of y/n-tude. you can set your bags by the closet.” he does as told and drops his duffel bag and then unzips it, pulling out a hoodie and some sweats.

“do you-” my eyes widen and i nod.

“oh yeah, of course. my bad.” i turn around and face the wall as he changes.

“okay, im done.” i turn back around and my breath is gone. how does he manage to make a hoodie and sweats seem so nice?

“y/n?” i snap out of my trance

“yeah?” he laughs

“i asked if you wanted to sleep on the left or right side of the bed?”

“yes. uh, it doesn’t matter to me.” he nods and gets in on the left side. i slide in on the right side and i cut off my nightstand lamp.

“goodnight trev”

“goodnight y/n/n”

somehow throughout the night, trevor and i ended up tangled with one another. i woke up to my head on his chest and my arms wrapped around his torso.

“morning y/n/n,” i hear his husky morning voice and i look up at him. he goes to move but i groan and stop him.

“five more minutes. you’re warm” i close my eyes again and he laughs, running his hand through my hair. i could get used to this everyday.

“trevor?” i sleepily ask and he hums

“i think i’m in love with you.” i can feel his heartbeat quicken and i sleepily smile.

“you don’t mean that.” i open my eyes and look up at him

“i meant every word.” i give him a sleepy smile and he smiles too.

“thank god, i didn’t know how much longer i could go before i told you.” we both laugh and he places a kiss on top of my head. my phone then buzzed and i reach over and grab it, answering the facetime call. quinn’s face then appears on the screen.

“q! how’s my favorite older brother?” he laughs

“i’m good- wait. who’s with you?” oh shit

“what do you mean?”

“y/n, i can see someone’s hand. and unless you became a contortionist, who is it?” i sigh and look up at trevor really quickly to see if he’s okay with it. he nods and i move the phone so that it’s facing him.

“trevor?!” i hear quinn gasp and trevor waves

“hey quinn…”

“okay, i saw this coming anyways.” he brushes it off. “but trevor, if you break my sister’s heart, you’re dead.”

“would never plan on it.” quinn, trevor and i continue to talk for a bit before he has to go for his morning skate.

“should we call j?” trevor nods and i click on jack’s contact, facetiming him.

“hey sis, what’s up?”

“there’s uh, someone i want you to meet.” he gasps

“you have a boyfriend?” he gets excited and i look up at trevor and smile, nodding.

“cmon, who’s got my little sister cheesing?” i point the camera at trevor and jack gasps.

“i fucking knew it! i knew it!”

“how does everyone know?” trevor asks and jack and i laugh

“you both made it very obvious.” jack says “anyways, glad to know you’re both finally together. now i have to go. bye you two, don’t do anything gross!” he then hangs up and i set my phone on my nightstand, cuddling into trevor even more.

“the others can find out later. you’re warm and i don’t wanna move.” he laughs and i fall back asleep in record time.

it’s funny how a broken nose can bring together two people.

tags: @goldenbrokenheart @liquidflyer @woodruff-edwards @hockeyboysarehot @ajbird2010 @hughesx3 @hannahh01938 @theywantedplayer @k1ttyt3ar @jackhughesily @fratboyzegras @marauderzkinnie @babydollmarauders

a/n: part 2 is finally here (:

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gokartkid · 2 years ago

Text

Max’s feet were resting in Daniel’s lap. His hand was skating over the arches of his feet, up and pressing into the bones of his ankles. The house was warm, and he was sinking into the couch.

He still wasn’t used to it; it was December and the sun set at 9pm and the highest temperature of the day was 28 degrees, and he had red peeling skin across his back because he’d forgotten to put on sunscreen.

Isabella yawned performatively in front of them where she was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth on the cushion, and everyone laughed, kindly. There wasn’t much longer to go, the TV screen cutting to a drone circling around the Sydney Harbour bridge.

“Everyone’s got a drink, yeah?”

Michelle looked around the room checking in. Max nodded, smiling and raising his glass tumblr, still half full of a gin and tonic, crushed mint and a slice of cucumber sitting at the bottom.

Isaac held up his apple juice self-importantly, sticking his nose in the air.

“I have an apple juice, which is better than orange.”

Isabella screwed up her face, opening her little pink mouth when Daniel cuts them off, laughing.

“Come on guys, don’t bring in the new year fighting or you’ll get stuck that way.”

Isaac looks comically horrified at the idea, fighting his sister for the whole year. Max pokes his toe into the muscle of Daniel’s thigh, right where his tattoo creeps up and under his shorts.

“It’s true,” he adds, and Isabella looks at him with her big eyes, “my sister and I were stuck the whole year fighting once, because you know, of course, you have to be nice when the year goes over or it's very unlucky.”

Michelle looks gratefully over at them. She’d been struggling with them for the past week between Christmas and New Years, frazzled with all the housework she was doing to help Daniel’s mum, and the two kids getting increasingly under her feet. They reminded Max of baby birds sometimes, chattering up with endless energy and need for attention.

There’s only a few minutes until the countdown starts. They’d decided not to get fireworks of their own this year, Daniel said, while they were walking around the field.

“It scared the dogs too much, y’know,” he was scratching at the back of his head, squinting up into the sky, “and we can watch basically the same thing on the TV so why not.”

Max slipped his hand into Daniel's where it was hanging by his side.

“I think it’s a lovely idea.”

It was nice to be sitting around on the couch, chatter filling the empty pockets of air, and not to mention the bliss of indoor air conditioning. Standing outside when the weather was hot and muggy; that was probably one of the worse experiences Max could think of.

That, and the mosquitoes that seemed to love him, leaving their red-and-white bites up his legs. One had gotten right in the joint between his fingers, and he’d been so annoyed all day, the tingling irritation hanging onto the back of his brain.

Daniel’s hand rests in the curve of his knee, and he taps his index, a silent invitation.

Max pushes his fingers in to intertwine them, brushes the callus of his thumb up and over his knuckles. He can just see the curve of Daniel’s smile from his angle, how it bunches up the muscles in his cheeks, makes smile lines wrinkle out from his eyes.

There’s a half demolished cheese-board on the table still, most of the snacky bits gone but for random squares of cheese, and stray cut up bits of salami.

Max feels older than he ever has, struggling to keep his eyes open with every blink, the slow creeping exhaustion of not having stayed up this late in months crawling up on his skin. He feels like his brain is moving sluggishly as he sips from the sweating glass in his hand, liquid blissfully cold.

“There it is!”

Isabella points at the TV, gets all of their attention.

Daniel squeezes his hand.

“5!”

Everyone is smiling at each other as they count down.

“4!”

Max sits up, pressed his thigh into Daniel’s.

“3!”

Michelle slips to the ground to sit on the rug between her two kids.

“2!”

Daniel turns to look at him, skates his hand up to sit at the curve of Max’s waist, fingers pressing into the softness of his body.

“1!”

He closes his eyes into the kiss as the fireworks go off, cheers erupting around the room. Daniel’s lips move against his, dry and chapped, his stubble just growing out from when he shaved that morning. He cups his hand around Max’s neck, pecks him again once, twice.

Max opens his eyes to see Michelle cuddling her kids into her chest, peppering their little blonde heads with kisses. Daniel’s parents are hugging, and swaying behind the couch.

Daniel is looking at him, and his smile is soft, and his hand is still on his neck, thumb rubbing small circles into warm skin.

“Happy new year Max.”

#schewpid new years fic... sappy #semi continuation of #max retirement au #summer in perth etc.#max/daniel #mv33 #dr3 #maxiel #my fic #MWAH HAPPY NEW YEAR

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dimpledcherry · 2 years ago

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Mechanic!Eddie Headcanons

it’s been a few months - and its Christmas season - so this calls for a part 4

a link to previous parts!

the cold hits hard in Indiana so naturally the shop get cold

queue Eddie never-felt-the-warmth-in-his-life Munson coming in a vest and t-shirt under his overalls

yes overalls are the winter wear

he will always be rubbing his hands together blowing on them when he’s in the back office waiting for a car to come in

winter time means fixing heaters and replacing loads of batteries

he defo parks his van inside the garage because he’s against having to scrap the ice off it more than once a day

ohmygod when he’s worked there for a while - long enough that Wayne is confident Eddie is going to sick to it for a while HE BUYS HIM STEEL TOE CAPS FOR CHRISTMAS

The two of them are lounging on the sofa after their make shift small Christmas dinner, the sink is clear of dirty dishes, the trailer smelling faintly of roast potatoes and mint sauce, the tv is blaring old Christmas movies and the lights from the tree gives a cosy feel to the whole thing.

Wayne’s in his arm chair, coffee rested in his hand and on the arm, Eddie is sprawled across the 2 seater, legs dangling of the edge slightly. The two sit in a comfortable silence, only filling it with “want another drink?” or snide remark about what they’d do the character position, followed by the other man laughing and completely disagreeing. It was love - pure familiar love that the two of them had grown to accept as their chunk of normality.

They’d shared their gifts this morning: Eddie giving Wayne a new mug and a few new plaid shirts he’d found in a thrift shop in the high street, Wayne gifting Eddie some new patches and a new ring.

As the film drew on, Wayne silently got up, leaving his coffee by his chair and going out to his car. The late evening gifts were a Wayne trade secret. From Eddie’s gorgeous guitar to the keys to the van he rolls around in - all late evening ‘before you go to bed, I love you’ remarks.

“Where you going?” Eddie shouted as his Uncle opened the door, leaving it open, “You’re about to miss the most unexpected twist!”

His sarcasm made Wayne chuckle, “Gimme 2 seconds, boy.”

“You’re letting the heat out!”

Wayne walked back in with a box. It was retained, wrapped in red plaid paper. Eddie’s eyebrows arched at his Uncle. Wordlessly, the elder shut the door, sitting back down in his chair, Eddie following him with his eyes and sitting up. “Did your receptionist finally reveal her undying love for you?” Wayne cocked a brow, lips straight. “Don’t look at me like that - what’s more romantic than a show of love at a time of year like this?” There was teasing in Eddie’s tone.

“Boy, shut up. This is for you.”

“Your receptionist ain’t really my type-”

“You're an idiot- it’s from me.”

“But we’ve already given each other our gifts..” He wiggled his hand, the new ring glistened.

“Yes, but I forgot one.” There it was. The small, almost missable, Wayne smirk. The same one Eddie learnt to develop in time of confident happiness.

The present was thrusted into his hands, Ed sat it on his lap, opening it, eyeing his parental figure every now and then. The plain box created more confusion. With squinted brows, pursed lips and a tilted head, he opened the box. Inside sat 2 well conditioned Doc. Martin steel toe cap boots.

“Holy shit Wayne- I can’t accept these!”

He couldn't help the blistering smile, “You can and you will. If you’re going to be running around that garage for years, you ain’t doing it in them sneakers of yours.” The infamous some how always clean white reeboks. When Eddie looked at Wayne, there was nothing but love, appreciation and something heavier in his eyes, “I know how much you enjoy it there, boy, how much at home you feel. And I also know how you don't like all the protective gear, so I thought these were the best way to keep a little part of you safe.”

Eddie just smiled. Smiled the same way he did when he was 6 and Wayne let him mess around on his old acoustic, the same smile when Wayne helped him pin up the first poster, when Wayne showed him how to stitch. It was the little things, the feelings behind the actions.

Wayne started Eddie on the trend of a flask of hot coffee

So every morning Eddie was pull into the garage, jump out the van - him and his flask - and sit behind the desk letting the heat warm him up

The boys would tease him when it snowed

“Got snow in your hair, Gorgeous!”

“Too cold for ya yet, Girlie?”

Can just imagine him complaining every 5 minutes: “Its so cold!” “Can we please buy more heaters?” “How are you lot not cold?”

Queue him being told: “You’re so dramatic” “How are you Wayne’s boy? That man used to run around his truck in a t-shirt in this weather!” “Thought that hair of yours would keep you warm.”

He is always shocked whenever he goes into his drawers / tool box and the tool he’s getting is cold

He’s known for alway playing his music too loudly but this time of year, he does it do he can dance to it to keep himself warm

Oh he’s gotta go do the rubbish? take in a delivery? Yeaahhh he’s palming that job onto the new apprentice

#Eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #mechanic!Eddie munson #st4 #Eddie munson headcanons #Eddie munson fluff #wayne munson #Eddie and wayne munson #the munsons #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #Eddie munson stranger things #joesph quinn #joesph Quinn headcanons #Joe Quinn

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

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Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fatws bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky

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missvifdor · 4 years ago

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My MC /OC /YUU, in the doorframe of the entrance to Ramshackle:

My MC /OC /YUU: W -Why ..? Grimm, I'm not crazy, it's not my birthday. Or yours yet?

Grimm: No but I'm not going to complain, it smells so good! * Dive into the assembly of packages and gift packages in pink and red *

* The First Year Gang arrives to look for MC for classes like every morning *

Deuce: Eh! I didn't know you were so popular MC!

My MC /OC /YUU: Me? Popular? I reassure you right away, in my world I was considered as the weird and silent child of the class. So popular I have never been very popular.

Ace: Do you know at least what day we have?

My MC /OC /YUU: No ...?

Jack: It's Valentine's Day * Sniff the air * Ugh! All this sugar gives me stomach ache and toothache ...

Grimm: It's so good MC! * Eyes that glow * Free chocolate! I'm going to be happy to eat it all!

Epel: Easy, Grimm, they're at MC you should ask her before you binge without permission.

Grimm: * Touching eyes and adorable gaze *

My MC /OC /YUU: * Sigh * Isn't that risking your health at least? I mean .. you really look like a cat and chocolate is poison to them.

Grimm: Who do you take me for? A vulgar animal? I'm a monster, obviously I can eat anything!

My MC /OC /YUU: Alright. You can take it but out of the question that you abuse it and fall ill afterwards, understand?

Grimm: You are the best Dorm Leader! Yahoou! * Plunges back among the packages happily *

Sebek: IF WE DON'T HURRY, WE WILL BE LATE FOR CLASSES!

My MC /OC /YUU: Sorry, Sebek, I'm making you late ... Go ahead I'll take the packages inside and I'll join you!

Jack: Do not be ridiculous, we will help you it will go faster.

* Our happy group of friends are going to their first class of the day *

* My MC /OC /YUU going to sit in his usual place *

My MC /OC /YUU: Is it really happening ...? * Turns all red * I even get flowers, now.

Ace: * Smirk * You look so shocked, like this is the first time this has happened to you, Hehe!

My MC /OC /YUU: ....

Deuce: Is this the first time this has happened to you ?!

My MC /OC /YUU: I told you before, I was not very popular and not very pretty. Boys and girls aren't really used to looking around in my path and neither am I.

Ace and Deuce: * Mumbles * His world must be filled with blind people ...

* Later that day they pass Cater, Trey and Riddle *

Cater: * Put his arm around MC's shoulders * Hello lovely young lady! What are you planning to give me for Valentine's Day? Although, you know I prefer the salty.

Riddle: Cater! This is inappropriate!

My MC /OC /YUU: Don't worry, Riddle. Well Cater, I completely forgot that it was today and I don't have a present for you, I'm sorry. Besides, why do I have to offer you one, we are not in a relationship?

Trey: Tradition has it that girls give chocolates to their friends and loved one. Doesn't that work in your world?

My MC /OC /YUU: Actually, no. Valentine's Day is only a day for couples, at least that's how it is in my country but I know that in Japan, another country, it works the same as Twisted Wonderland. But if you really want chocolates, I can make some for you, that makes me happy! I'm only sorry I didn't give them to you on the right date ...

Riddle: Don't bother if you don't want to, MC!

My MC /OC /YUU: I really don't mind, I would only need to borrow the kitchens from Heatslabyul. That of Ramshackle is not sufficiently equipped or even in good condition to work in good conditions. Dust is falling from the ceiling all the time, I wouldn't want that to end up in the preparation.

Trey: It works, come see me after class when you finish I'll give you the keys to the kitchen.

* Later that day, in Heatslabyul's kitchen *

My MC /OC /YUU: Well let's see ... Rose and violet chocolates are for Riddle. The orange and blood citrus ones are for Trey. The spicy beef and chicken mini skewers are for Cater. Ace has his pastry cream strawberries. Deuce to his red berry and chocolate pancakes. Leona ... Her filet mignon meal basket with sweet and salty honey. Ruggie his donuts and donuts are ready, all they need to do is garnish and fill them. Jack doesn't like things that are too sweet or unhealthy ... so a mango and coconut sorbet. Azul pays close attention to her figure, so poached pears in honey. Jade un Canteloupe and blueberries with green tea and lime. Floyd strawberry chocolates in the shape of shrimp and sea animals. Kalim and Jamil hot chili chocolates and rhubarb and date jam that they can put on homemade brioche toast. Vil, Rook and Epel fresh fruit salad, French pancakes with rum and apple clafoutis. Idia ... chocolate and peanut butter pop cake with a Bubble Tea with tapioca pearls and mango and candies for Ortho. Malleus popsicles in the shape of a gargoyle and a bouquet of chocolate in the shape of roses, Lilia macaroons with mint and vanilla in the shape of a bat, Sebek ... A mini figurine of Malleus in dark chocolate and food coloring, for Silver it will be passion fruit Pasteis De Nata. And Grimm ... Squid with seafood and vegetables. Lord! I've never cooked for so many people! I'll put it all in the fridge and go home!

* My MC /OC /YUU coming home exhausted *

My MC /OC /YUU collapsing on Ramshackle's living room couch: Lord! I am so tired!

Grimm: Your hands smell full of delicious smells! Am I going to have some too?

My MC /OC /YUU: * Smells his hands and grimaces * Ugh! It especially smells like chocolate fish! It makes me sick ... I'm coming back I'll try to make this smell available, by all the gods ...

* Grimm who decides to wait for him while eating another packet of chocolate intended for MC *

Grimm: * Starts at coughed, disgusted * Yuck! These taste too weird !!

My MC /OC /YUU who comes back with his hands washed aggressively: You make a funny face, what's happening to you?

Grimm: These chocolates are too weird, I don't like them.

My MC /OC /YUU : Let me see? * Frowns and takes a chocolate to eat it * * Chew gently * Hmm ... it's true they have a weird aftertaste ... I feel weird ... M-My head spinning ... I can't feel my legs anymore ... * Fainted on the ground *

Grimm: Nyah! MC! Don't move, I'll get help!

* A few hours after taking MC to the infirmary, the strange chocolates were analyzed and an emergency meeting of the leaders and vice-dormitory leaders be given *

Professor Crewel: The results are clear ... The chocolates contained a love potion prepared in the most mediocre manner I have ever seen. So this has the effect on the Prefect of Ramshackle that she is falling into a deep sleep.

Kalim, with tears in his eyes: Is there no cure ?!

Crewel: Yes.

Leona, hiding her concern with aggression: And ?!

Crowley: The only solution for my dear MC to wake up is the ... The kiss of true love ...

Azul: I thought it only existed in children's books .. What if it doesn't work? How is it supposed to work?

Trein: That's the problem. The person kissing MC must be the person they love.

Ace who holds Grimm in his arms because the poor thing is absolutely devastated: Does MC at least love someone ?!

Jade: You are his closest friends, you should know that.

Deuce: MC never talks to us about that kind of thing and neither do we, she says all the time that it's her private life and that it's none of our business .... Oh MC ...

Jamil: Grimm, do you know?

Grimm who sniffs and holds back his tears: NOOooOoo ...!

Ace: Don't worry Grimm, we'll find the person who did this to her and she better be sorry for even entering this school.

Azul: Floyd will certainly be happy to help you find him, he has a special affection for MC.

Riddle: You can count on us too! We will make him regret acting in a manner so disrespectful and dangerous towards MC and the school rules!

Crowley: Come on gentlemen, let's try to act in a neutral and professional manner * Whisper to himself * If I find this little fool I'll be happy to kick him out of this school forever!

Malleus: If you let me deal with this man's case personally, I can assure you that he will never return to this school. Because he won't have any legs at all.

Idia: I'm still going to do some research approach to find out if there are no other solutions with MC!

Ortho: Big Bro, you'll have to come and try to wake MC up with a kiss first.

Idia panics immediately: I- I don't think it will work w-with me! How could MC love a geek like m-me ?!

Ortho, happily: Don't devalue yourself, Big Bro ! You have all your chances!

Rook: Oui, Mon cher, you have every chance! MC must obviously have noticed your unique charm!

Ruggie: * Whispers mockingly * Ah that, to be unique, he is! Shishishishi!

Lilia: * Laugh slightly * Let's see if our dear Idia has the courage to come out of his den.

Vil: That's enough you two, what we're talking about is serious. It is not time for jokes!

Trey, whispering sadly to himself: And to think that a few hours ago MC and I were talking in the kitchen and cooking like nothing had happened ... She had put so much heart into her preparations...

* Everyone is gathered in the infirmary plus the rest of the boys *

Riddle who blushes a lot: So uh ... how do we do it? Are we in line?

Crewel: The best is if you all wait outside and come one by one to Miss MC. If either of you ever wakes her up, I think you both need to discuss it.

The boys went by one by one and finally ....

Twisted boy: Okay ... It's my turn. * Enter the infirmary and approach MC * Hi MC. I'm sorry to kiss you without your consent but ... we have no other solutions at this time. Please forgive me .. * Kiss her *

My MC /OC YUU: * Wakes up coughing very hard until spitting out a piece of half-melted chocolate * WHAT THE HELL ?!

Twisted boy: You're awake! * Hugs her *

My MC /OC /YUU: * hugs him back * What's going on ?!

Twisted boy: * Explain everything to her * That's why I kissed you. Aren't you angry?

My MC /OC /YUU: No, no! I understand that was the only solution, thank you for freeing me from the negligence of the fool who gave me these cursed chocolates!

* My MC /OC /YUU finally realizes what it means *

My MC /OC /YUU: So uh .. Yeah I love you I guess ... But if you don't feel anything for me I totally understand and we can stay like we are now! I promise not to make this awkward or weird!

Twisted boy: Actually, it's good because ... I also feel the same way but I didn't know how to tell you.

My MC /OC /YUU: ... So ... you wanna go on a date with me?

Twisted boy: I would love that!

* Grimm who goes into the infirmary like a cannonball *

Grimm: MC! YOU ARE ALIVE ! MY HANDMAN, YOU WON'T EAT ANY MORE WITHOUT I TASTING IT FIRST! * Hopped into MC's arms to give her a hug *

#Twisted Wonderland MC #Twisted Wonderland Yuu #Twisted Wonderland Grimm #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland imagine #Disney twisted wonderland #Twisted Wonderland #Twst #twst x reader #Heatslabyul #Savanaclaw #Octavinelle #Scarabia #Pomefiore #Ignihyde #Diasomnia #Ramshackle #Night Raven College

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tomtenadia · 3 years ago

Text

Remember us - part 5

Hello everyone....

Your weekly dose of angst is here... but in this part we have a bit of domestic fluff...

CW: mention of miscarriage and depression

-----

“Aelin, please.” His voice gruff with pain.

“I said get out.” She snarled at him from the bed.

Rowan moved a step towards her doing the exact opposite of what she had told him “I am not.” His arms folded at his chest “do you really think that being alone will help? That kicking me out will heal the pain of losing our daughter?”

Aelin sobbed hard and threw the pillow at him and he took the hit “don’t.”

“I lost her too. Will you accept that the pain is not only yours?” He shouted back “I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. And it fucking hurts because she was my baby girl too.”

“Stop…” her sobs grew in intensity “You have no idea of the pain.”

Rowan moved closer “No I don’t. I did not carry her in me for five months. I don’t know that pain.” He caressed her head “but she had a hold on my heart since the day you showed me the sonogram.”

“You are hurting me.” She said quietly looking away from him “and I need you to go.”

“Fireheart…”

“I said get out.” She shouted.

With his heart breaking, Rowan left the room.

Rowan woke up with a gaps, feeling the desperate need to get air in his lungs. He drew a hand on his face and felt tears. Had he been crying?

The memory was still vivid in his mind and it left him with unbearable anguish in his heart. In the dream he had felt both their pain. It had been real. His thumb reached for the ring on his fourth finger a gesture he had been doing a lot recently.

The memory had left him in a daze. How had they survived such deep pain? How could two people recover from such destructive sorrow?

But they did. Somehow their marriage had proven stronger than loss.

He sighed and took his phone to look at more picture of his family. He had so many that it took him a lot to go through them all. When he unlocked the phone he saw a text from Aelin sitting there, waiting for him.

Eagerly he opened it I am going back to work today, is it okay if I come and visit you?

Like a desperate man Rowan texted back as fast as he could please, it would make me very happy. The tv seems to be a very poor companion.

After he sent the text he realised his words had been true. He needed to see her.

Great. I am taking Tom to the nursery and I am on my way.

His lips tugged upwards in a smile. Then he made himself presentable. Aelin had brought him clothes and Evalin had brought some more so slowly and very carefully, he walked to the wardrobe. His right leg still getting used to have weight back on. Once he was done he went back to bed and fixed his ruffled hair. He was nervous. He had said to Evalin that his heart told him to try and that was what he was going to do. Apologise first. Then slowly start to get back to his old life. He knew it was going to be a tough ride but their time apart had increased that tug between them. He was afraid to admit that he had missed her daily visits.

Aelin arrived an hour later and as soon as she walked into his room, his heart raced.

“Hi you,” she said softly, still standing on the door.

He gave her a smile and with his head motioned to the chair. She took the offer and sat in front of him.

“Rowan—” she started but he stopped her.

“No, let me go first, please.”

Aelin nodded and he took a moment to gather his thoughts. This was his chance to right his stupidity.

“I am sorry for what I said.” He told her “but I need you to understand how frightening and overwhelming this is for me.” Pine green eyes met blue “memories have started to trickle back. Some happy some more painful, but they helped me understand us a bit better. When I married you I promised we would face this adventure together.” He took a deep breath “You said that life can be unpredictable and cruel but that at each other’s side we could conquer anything.” He told her grabbing the hand that was on the bed near his leg “what I am trying to say is that if you are happy to take back a husband in less than minted condition, I will be grateful for the help.”

Aelin stood and kissed his forehead “Yeah, yeah I will take you back.” She sobbed hard, standing in front of him.

“This is not going to be easy.

“I know.” She brushed his hair in a loving motion and the gesture felt familiar to Rowan “but our marriage has withstood far worse.”

“I know. I saw a memory of it.”

Aelin sat back down, the smile disappearing from her features “but you fought for us. Even when I was so broken that I was ready to give up everything. You brought us out of the darkness.”

“Yrene said they can let me go home in a couple of days but she needs to know that I have a place where to go.”

Aelin took his hand “you are coming home.”

Rowan was in Aelin’s car and together they were driving home.

He had been so nervous that he barely slept. In the past couple of days Aelin had visited whenever she could and had discussed the new challenge ahead. Evalin was going to stay. Thomas would go to nursery but Freyja would stay with her grandma. Rowan had agreed that he could not yet be trusted with being alone with an infant.

He was nervous about meeting their kids; Thomas in particular. He was the one who remembered him the most and did not want to break the boy’s heart.

Aelin had tried to explain to Thomas that his dad had been in hospital and unwell and that his memories had disappeared. Thomas had cried at the sadness of his dad not remembering him. She had told all of that to Rowan.

“I am terrified.”

“Don’t. Acknowledge Thomas, play with him. Even if you don’t remember things just go with it.”

Rowan sighed and then he saw Aelin park in front of a lovely detached house with a garden at the front, a swing set and a tree with a treehouse.

“The tree has a treehouse on it.” He noticed, admiring their house.

Aelin chuckled, “you built it for Tom last year. You two would sleep in there from time to time and pretend to be on some sort of incredible adventure.”

Rowan smiled and then opened the door of the car and grabbed his walking stick. Dorian had assured him that it was time to leave the crutches behind and use the stick. They had practiced together until he was comfortable with it.

Aelin grabbed his bag and joined him “let’s go, mum is making lunch and I am starving.”

“You are always hungry.” He said to her and Aelin stopped in her tracks.

“What did you just say?”

“It just came out, I am sorry.”

She turned fully to him and smiled “you said that to me a lot. Together with complaining about my diet.” She took his free hand “come on buzzard, time to meet our two terrors.”

As soon as they walked into the house and Aelin announced their arrival a little blonde hurricane crashed into him, grabbing his legs “Dad, you are back.”

Rowan looked down and saw his son with his arms wrapped around his legs, green eyes shining with happiness.

His hand brushed his blonde hair “I am.”

“Mum, can I play with him?” The boy asked eagerly grabbing his father’s hand.

“Later, Tom. Dad just got back. Give him some time.”

In that instant he noticed Evalin appear with a girl in her arms “welcome home, Rowan.”

“Thank you, Evalin.” He said, not being able to stare away from the little girl. She was his clone.

Freyja seemed to recognise him and leaned forward, extending her arms to him.

Rowan looked at Aelin almost as if to ask permission and she nodded. He took the girl and sat down on the sofa. Freyja’s head leaned on his shoulder and Rowan’s hand went to her back in a protective gesture. A moment later Thomas joined them and hugged his sister and a bit of his dad.

Aelin sobbed at the scene. They had both been scared. Both worried. Because Rowan had confessed her that hurting the kids was the last thing he wanted. But now looking at that precious moment, she realised they would be fine. Thomas was easy going and Freyja always had a deeper connection with her father. And she knew, from the way Rowan had taken his daughter in his arms that no memory loss would ever took away the bond they had.

“Hi, my love.” He whispered to the girl, inhaling her scent. Freyja snuggled closer. “Come to my side, Tom.” The boy grinned and climbed on the sofa and on his knees he turned to his dad and hugged them again “I missed you, dad.”

“Well, you need to tell me everything you did while I was away.”

Aelin’s hand went to her stomach and smiled tenderly at the man in front of her. He could not yet tell his son he had missed him so he had found a way not to disappoint him.

“Mum, you come too.”

Aelin brushed her tears away and sat on the arm of the sofa just beside Rowan. It was the first time they were that close. Rowan turned his head and stared in the depths of her blue eyes. His eyes moved down to her lips and then back up. That thread between them pulled hard and before he knew it, he was kissing her. His body recognising hers. He pulled away only when he heard Thomas disgusted sounds.

Aelin stared at him with an expression he could not decipher. Maybe she was mad at him for kissing her? But it felt right. In his soul, kissing her had been right.

“You cheeky monkey.” Aelin stood and grabbed Thomas and started tickling him and the boy and Aelin’s laughter was the best music for Rowan’s ears.

After lunch was over the kids had gone out for a walk with their grandma and Aelin had given him a tour of the house. Rowan was impressed. They had a lovely house with four bedrooms and spacious enough to welcome a big family.

“You lost your parents when you were 20. They left you a nice stash of money that you never used. When we got married you used that money to buy this house. Our home.”

She sat at his side on the sofa, with a cup of herbal tea in her hands.

“I am sorry I kissed you. I should have asked first. I am sorry.” He looked away embarrassed at his gesture.

Aelin placed the tea on the table then grabbed his face with her hand and turned to him “Ro, you are my husband. You don’t have to ask for permission to kiss me.”

“I know, but I don’t know where we stand on that aspect of us.” He explained looking at her “I don’t know where I stand. I kissed you because it felt right, but I don’t think I can go any further right now.”

Aelin nodded “of course.” That was probably their last big challenge. There was so much to deal with right now that sex was very low on her priority list although her hormones were having another opinion and that kiss had awoken in her the need for him, she had to be patient “but you can kiss me anytime and without asking, if you feel like it.” And winked at him.

He gave her a smirk that was so familiar that for a moment she felt like Rowan was truly back.

She stared into his pine green eyes while her hand was still on his cheek and then she moved and her lips met his and Rowan did not pull away. He just stood for a moment but then his mouth parted and opened for her and Aelin, at the invitation, deepened the kiss feeling the need to connect with him again.

Rowan froze for an instant at the kiss but as she did not move away he let it happen and slowly he melted in the feeling of her lips on his. Aelin’s hand sneaked on his back, pulling him closer and as Aelin deepened the kiss Rowan felt a strange feeling surge in him. Was it passion? It burned in him that strange desire and when Aelin’s tongue brushed his a moan left Rowan and he pulled back, not sure about what was happening between them.

When they pulled apart they were both breathless and Aelin caressed his face and smiled “it looks like this part between us hasn’t changed.”

Rowan lifted an eyebrow and Aelin chuckled “the fire between us. Before we had the kids we sometimes spent entire days off in bed.”

The top of Rowan’s ears turned red and she giggled and kissed him again and Rowan this time did not hesitate and her hands sneaked under his t-shirt and after a few more minutes of their make out session Rowan pulled back and stared deeply at her “you are stunning,” he whispered. He had thought that from the beginning. Rowan leaned back on the sofa and Aelin snuggled closed to his chest, inhaling deeply his scent and his arm went around her back.

“If you are uncomfortable, you tell me.” She said to him, her hand close to his heart.

Rowan shook his head “this feels nice.” His head turned to her “I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right.”

“Hold me.”

And Rowan pulled Aelin to him, enveloping her in his strong arms.

He thought that perhaps, with her at his side, not everything was lost.

He closed his eyes and welcomed his dreams.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelinkids #aelin galathynius #evalin galathynius #rowan x aelin #angst #domestic fluff

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luvdsc · 4 years ago

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too hot! hot damn!

what do you get when you mix red and blue together?

pairing :: lee taeyong x reader genre :: fluff / boyfriend au word count :: 2,121 words warnings :: a tiny paragraph about making out playlist :: cherry kisses (chungha) ⋆ daft pretty boys (bad suns) ⋆ hands on me (taeyeon) ⋆ crash my car (coin) ⋆ shy (hunny) author’s note :: to the insanely talented goddess who wrote the first nct fic i ever read nearly 3 years ago and still love to this day!!! i didn’t think i’d ever get to be friends with one of my favoritest writers on here, but here we are :’) ily els @taeyongtime ♡

“It’s hot.”

You’re draped across the old, yet still very plush couch, the kitschy pattern spread across it now fondly regarded as one of the things that transforms this dingy little place from a shoebox apartment into home. The thin spaghetti strap of your faded tie-dyed tank top from your old sorority days hangs limply off of your shoulder, threatening to fall even more when you slump over to the left. The simple drawstring shorts you have on barely cover your legs, but you contemplate tossing them off still because it’s just. So. Damn. Hot.

“It’s hot!” you whine even louder, throwing your arms up in the air before letting them flop down onto the cushions dramatically. The nearby open window only blows in a measly little breeze that does nothing except dry the sweat on your skin for a few glorious seconds before it reappears like a stubborn stain. Your boyfriend only raises an eyebrow at you from his spot on the floor, sprawled out in front of said window and using one of his Nylon magazines as a makeshift fan.

Taeyong agrees, flapping the glossy pages in front of his face desperately. “It’s too hot.”

Two days consisting of barely surviving the power outage creeps into a third, the prospect of having AC again anytime soon becoming extremely bleak. The transformer had completely blown out, and the electric company finally sent out a crew to fix it earlier this morning. The estimated restoration was initially set to noon, but it was pushed back until 3 p.m., then 6 p.m., then 10 p.m., then 5 a.m., and now the big black bolded letters spelling out “undetermined” mocks you from the screen of your phone that's already set to the lowest brightness setting to conserve battery.

To make it worse, your city was suffering a heat wave, temperatures spiking to 105 degrees Fahrenheit every single day and simmering down to 80 during the night before climbing the thermostat again. The raging thunderstorm that plagued last night only resulted in unexpected humidity, making your clothes stick to you like a second skin.

“Make it less hot,” you moan, blowing air upwards towards your forehead in an attempt to cool down in the slightest way possible.

“I can’t control the weather, babe, but I can get you a popsicle?” Taeyong sluggishly pushes himself into a sitting position to face you. The shiny magazine in his hand still flounders around until he gives up on it and tosses it aside.

You turn your head, cheek pressing into the couch cushion, as you squint at him. “We don’t have any left. We took all our food from the fridge to Doyoung’s place. I can’t believe that bastard has a gigantic generator and is flourishing in his stupid air conditioned apartment and making frozen sangrias, while his best friends are about to die from heatstroke.”

You had sent back a rather crass Snapchat back to Doyoung after he sent one earlier of his perfect, Instagram story worthy, iced alcoholic beverage. It’s honestly a miracle that he didn’t toss your beloved brown sugar boba ice cream bars out onto his pristine balcony with picture perfect potted plants to perish. That man can still hold onto a grudge even after he’s on his deathbed and descending into the fiery pits.

Taeyong stands up and slowly ambles towards the refrigerator. “I saved two popsicles in the freezer. I figured it’d stay cold enough and not melt if we ate them soon.”

“Oh my god, that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position before finally being able to, watching your boyfriend open the freezer and pull out the last two saving graces.

“Do you want blue raspberry or cherry?”

He holds out the two icy sweets in front of you, one in each hand. You already know that he secretly wants the red one; it’s been his favorite ever since he was five and tried his very first one from the ice cream truck that still comes around his parents’ neighborhood. But you also know that he always lets you choose first and wouldn’t complain if you take that one.

You reach out and pluck the blue one from his grasp, and he smiles happily, eyes crinkling in the corners as he eagerly unwraps the cherry flavored one and shoves it in his mouth, tossing the wrapper into the nearby wicker trash basket.

He drops down onto the empty space next to you, reclining back and slouching in his seat. The two of you sit there peacefully, side by side and enjoying the cold snacks, until he wordlessly slides over, pressing the side of his arm and leg against yours.

“Move back,” you complain, shoving him over to his original position. “It’s hot, and you’re making it worse.”

“So are you calling me hot?” Taeyong wriggles his eyebrows at you before taking a bite of his popsicle, much to your horror. He moves closer to you again for the sole sake of annoying you.

“First off, I’m calling you sweaty. Secondly, did you just bite your ice cream?” You throw him a dirty look before moving over and turning to sit with your back against the arm rest, throwing your legs over his lap.

Taeyong slightly pouts at you, munching on yet another chunk of his popsicle and ignoring the way you wrinkle your nose in disdain. “What’s wrong with that? It’s melting, and I don’t want it to drip and get my hand all sticky.”

You can’t believe that you just discovered your boyfriend is a psychopath. He’s going to the same circle of hell as people who pour milk in before cereal and those who hate mint chocolate chip ice cream once he leaves this earth (He can even say hi to Doyoung as he descends to eternal damnation).

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before we started dating?” You are absolutely appalled. Horrified. Disgusted. This is the biggest relationship deal breaker you have ever come across.

“Next, you’re gonna say you hate me because I don’t like pineapple on pizza,” he says as his free hand settles on the top of your thigh, gently tapping rhythmically against it absentmindedly.

“Oh my god, you absolute heathen.” You really thought Taeyong was the perfect man of your dreams, but you unfortunately realize belatedly that even he has flaws. Some inexcusable ones, in fact.

In the midst of your lamenting, you fail to notice melting sugar slowly trickling down until it leaves a sticky mess all over your hand. Desperately, you toss the empty popsicle stick into the nearby waste basket before licking off the remnants of your icy blue treat from your fingers.

“See? It melted all over you. I told you so,” Taeyong childishly sticks out his tongue as he waves his clean hand and empty popsicle stick around as if to emphasize his point.

“Your tongue’s red,” you say, chuckling slightly, and his eyes widen at this newfound revelation.

“Wait, stick out your tongue,” he demands as he throws away the wooden stick, and you comply with his request. He grins, delighted. “Yours is blue!”

He sticks out his tongue again, almost going cross eyed as he tries to catch a glimpse of his own. At that, your eyes zero in on his cherry stained lips, and an ingenious idea pops up in your mind as the sudden urge to kiss your boyfriend silly makes itself very known.

“Hey, wanna play a game, Yongie?” you ask slyly, and his attention immediately turns to you at the word “game,” interest piqued and eyes fixated on you.

“What kind of game?” he inquires cautiously, taking note of the mischievous glimmer in your eyes. You look like you’re up to no good, and your boyfriend wouldn’t be surprised if you have something up your metaphorical sleeve (Because nobody sane enough would be wearing something with sleeves in this weather from hell. In fact, you’re 66.6% percent certain that those fiery pits are probably cooler compared to here).

“Too hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he acknowledges, shaking his head in agreement, and you laugh, fanning yourself with your hands. “No, silly, I meant the game.”

“It’s called ‘too hot’?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you confirm, nodding your head. The expression of skepticism on his face says it all, so you throw in your bargaining chip.

“I hid a chocolate bar in the freezer’s ice chest. The winner can have it.”

His doe eyes immediately light up at the mention of his favorite sweet, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Okay, how do I play?”

“We kiss,” you start, and he’s already pulling you towards him enthusiastically, causing soft laughter to bubble up from your throat, before you swat his hands away. “Hey, hey, hey, I wasn’t done explaining it yet! There’s no touching allowed.”

“That’s no fun,” Taeyong whines, lips jutting out into a tiny pout that you want to kiss away already. “You said this is a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”

“But you’re getting kisses, and it’s already hot so it’s better this way,” you coax, and he relents with a drawn out sigh, and you quietly cheer. “Okay, ready?”

Taeyong gives you a tiny nod, and you grin before leaning in, eyes fluttering close. You gently place your lips against his, and he holds still. But then, a few seconds later, you feel his fingers barely grazing your cheek, and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“Baby, I told you that you can’t touch!”

“That rule is dumb,” he complains, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. You frown at him, pouting until he gives in again because it’s you and he’d cross oceans and climb mountains for you.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he grumbles, glowering as he absentmindedly cards his hand through his hair, and you positively beam at him, and the sulking expression on his face softens almost instantly.

“What if we do baby steps first?” You pull your legs up onto the couch, sitting up on your knees and facing him. He fully turns to look at you, head cocked to one side.

“What do you mean?”

You lean forward and peck his cheek before moving back to your original position. “Like that. Now your turn.”

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Taeyong leans forward and gingerly places a kiss on your forehead with an endearing smile. You inch forward and kiss his other cheek. He plants a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, and you lean in to delicately leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, and you do the same to the opposite side, much to his utter frustration.

This time, Taeyong chases after you when you pull away. You let out a noise of surprise as he gently tugs you forward, crashing his lips against yours and muffling your laughter, and you find yourself straddling your boyfriend. Your hands wind up tangled in his hair, while his arms lock around your waist and hold you close, game be damned.

You can taste a faint trace of cherry, causing the corners of your mouth to curl into the minutest hint of a smile before you press your mouth against his more firmly as he kisses you back eagerly until you both run out of air, pulling away breathlessly with identical smiles.

“You lost,” you tease, poking his cheek with your finger as your other hand curls around his shirt. He makes a face at you, his hands still resting on your waist, and you find that you don’t mind the warmth of them against your skin even in this ruthlessly blazing weather.

“But you’ll share the chocolate, right?” he mumbles, face still flushed and lips redder than before. He traces soft patterns against your hip as you tilt your head to the side, faking your hesitation.

“Hmm, I don’t know, should I? I won fair and square.”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Meanie.”

You laugh, sliding off his lap and onto the empty seat next to him (albeit a little unwillingly, but it’s still hot as hell unfortunately, and conserving body heat together isn’t helping at all). Your boyfriend frowns, mostly because you’re no longer sitting in his lap, but partly because he doesn’t understand why you’re laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Your grin widens, eyes sparkling like you know something he doesn’t (because you do). “Baby, your tongue’s purple.”

Taeyong turns a shade brighter than his favorite popsicle flavor.

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idreamofplaid · 4 years ago

Text

Forget Apple Pie

Summary: Dean is living the apple pie life. The reader has a hard time accepting it, and is it what he really wants?

Characters: Dean x Reader; Lisa (barely); Sam mentioned

Word Count: 3344

A/N: I wrote this years ago in a Writing Challenge and Follower Celebration called The Seven Deadly Sins Challenge hosted by @waywardbaby & @aint-t-bovvered. My sin was envy and my prompt was “This will not turn out the way you think.” It remains one of my favorite things I’ve ever written.

It was everything you had ever wanted for him. The sight of Dean in an actual backyard with a fence, trees, and flower beds was something you had hoped for in the deepest, quietest part of your heart. But this was just wrong. You were sitting on his deck half heartedly sipping a beer. Dean was a few feet away from you standing at the bar-b-que grill flipping burgers. He’d given up wearing layers of clothes, like he had in his hunting days, opting now for t-shirts only.

The short sleeves hugged his biceps. Dean’s muscles were still prominent. He hadn’t gone soft, in spite of his civilian lifestyle. Your mind wandered back to the hunts you’d gone on with Dean. You’d had each other’s backs then. Now, the monsters were yours to face alone.

Lisa came out of the house carrying an empty tray. She walked over to Dean, whispered something to him, and kissed his cheek. He smiled down at her and lifted the meat from the grill piling it on the platter. You put your bottle of beer down a little too hard on the table and got up to go find somewhere you could get away from the cozy domestic scene and the happy neighbors. You heard one of those neighbors say to Lisa as you were leaving. “You’re so lucky to have a man like Dean. You’ve turned him into absolute husband material!”

The first escape hatch you found was the door leading into the garage. It was easy to picture Dean in here surrounded by tools and spending hours working on his Baby, keeping her in mint condition. Baby. There she was. Her silhouette was unmistakable under the tarp covering her. A tarp. She’d been forgotten. Dean didn’t drive his car anymore.

You walked toward her in a sort of daze. You’d been here to Dean’s new home only a handful of times, and you hadn’t entered the garage during any of those visits. This was the final blow. You ran your fingers up the edge of her windshield, and something inside you broke. Everything you’d held together for so long just cracked and shattered.

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

You were standing in the same spot you’d stood in earlier in the day. You’d waited until almost midnight before picking the lock and slipping back into the garage. It had been surprisingly easy to get in here even after several shots of whiskey. Maybe Dean was going soft after all. You approached Baby again. This time running your hand along the edge of her roof. You whispered in the empty garage. “You don’t deserve this.”

You placed your hand on that hateful tarp and closed your fists around it clutching two large handfuls. You snatched the cover off revealing the Impala still gleaming and beautiful. “What are you doing?” Dean’s voice was low and steady. He had added another shirt over the clothes he had been wearing this afternoon.

Your mind was fairly fuzzy, but some things were perfectly clear. The wrongness of this situation was still glaring to you. “Why did you leave her here, Dean? Why did you forget about her?”

Dean walked closer to you and the car. He was staring at you intently. “I didn’t forget her.”

“Really? Do you come in and say ‘hi’ between backyard parties?” You teetered a little but managed to fling the tarp to the floor without falling on top of it.

Dean squinted his eyes. “What? Wha…”

“How long will it be before you get an SUV, maybe a minivan? Have you joined the PTA? A bowling league? Neighborhood watch?” Your eyes flashed at him. He just looked confused.

“What are you getting at? We talked about this. All the time. Having a normal life.”

Your voice lost a little of its edge. “Yeah. We talked about it.” In the silence that followed, whiskey inspired courage took hold of you. You moved close to Dean and touched your lips to his. His response was to put his hands on your waist and step back.

“Y/N…”

You rolled your neck to look up at the ceiling and shook your head. Your heart twisted, and you could feel the actual tightening in your chest. “You’re acting just like every man I’ve ever known. Chasing after the yoga instructor with her tight little ass.”

Tears gathered in your eyes. You swiped at them and carried on. “Come on, Dean. What’s wrong? Nobody has to know. We can do it right here in the garage. Just a little something on the side. Then you can go right back to Lisa and crawl into that bed you share with her. I bet it’s nice and big, pillows all over it, down comforter to match the sheets, and a big wooden headboard. So very married, that bed.”

You looked at Dean then, cocked your head to one side, and pointed your finger in the direction of his chest. “Tomorrow morning you can have a nice breakfast at your kitchen table with fresh squeezed orange juice and Belgian waffles with real fruit and pure maple syrup.” You dropped your finger, and your voice got soft. “I’ll be at one of those nondescript diners we used to go to, drinking cheap coffee. Maybe I’ll have scrambled eggs with soggy bacon, or if I’m feeling really festive, a stack of pancakes with some of that fake strawberry goo on top. While I eat I can enjoy watching all the people around me who aren’t alone.”

While you were talking, the tears had started to stream down your face. Dean stepped nearer to you and lay his hand on your arm. You shook it off. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare pity me, Dean Winchester!” You stumbled back and caught yourself on the Impala.

“Your life is so perfect now, isn’t it? Here you are in the suburbs with a mortgage. You don’t belong here, Dean. You’re playing house with a woman who doesn’t really know you. This will not turn out the way you think. You can’t forget about what matters to you, what…” You turned and braced yourself on Baby’s door. Your voice was broken and just above a whisper. “Just go back to thinking with your dick.”

Dean walked up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder. You let it stay. There was no fight left in you. “You’re drunk, Y/N. Get in the car. Let me take you home.”

You laughed. It was a humorless sound. “I don’t have a home.”

Dean turned you around gently to face him. His eyes held a soft expression. “Then let me take you to where you’re sleeping tonight.” You didn’t protest when he led you around to the other side of the car, opened the door, and settled you inside. You dozed on the ride to the motel where you were staying. When you got there, Dean helped you inside. That was the last thing you had a clear memory of until the next morning.

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

In spite of the curtains being drawn, the light seeping in around the edges was harsh to your eyes. You rubbed your fingers over your forehead. “How do you feel?” You opened your eyes at the sound of Dean’s voice. He was sitting next to you on top of the covers, legs stretched out, back against the headboard.

You pulled yourself up slowly, eyes blinking. “You stayed here all night?”

“Yeah.” He swung his legs off the side of the bed and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. He reappeared in less than a minute carrying a glass of water and some aspirin. He sat down on the bed and handed you both. “Take those and drink all the water. All of it.”

You swallowed the pills and drank a few generous sips of water. “Shouldn’t you be home? Won’t Lisa wonder where you are?”

Dean took the glass from you and placed it on the bedside table. “I sent her a text. Told her not to worry. She probably thinks I’m with Sam.”

Bits and pieces of last night drifted through your mind, the things you’d said to Dean. Daylight had a way of making things embarrassing that seemed like the thing to do in the dark. You took a deep breath. “Dean, about what I said…”

Dean turned from you, made a fist on his lap, and grasped it with his other hand. “What you said was true. I have done a lot of thinking with my dick…but never with you. And I didn’t start last night.”

“Dean, I shouldn’t have…”

He turned back around, put his hand on your shoulder, and looked directly at you with his deep forest green eyes. “It would have been easy for me to accept your offer and take you right against the car or in the backseat if I slowed down long enough. I’ve wanted to for a long…long time. But you are not a quick roll in the sheets to me. You never have been. Know that.” Dean slipped his hand from your shoulder and looked away.

There was a hitch in your breathing, and absolutely no words would come to you. After a few seconds of heavy silence, Dean spoke. “I need to go. There are some things I need to take care of.” He reached for the notepad and pen on the table. He wrote something down, tore off the piece of paper and gave it to you. “Will you meet me there Wednesday night?” You looked at the address in your hand and nodded.

Dean crossed the room to the door. When he put his hand on the knob, he looked over his shoulder. “Y/N, you’re not alone.”

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

More than once you wondered if you were in the right place. The long driveway meandered its way through the trees, big sturdy evergreens and oaks. There was a clearing at the end of the drive, and in that clearing sat a cabin situated by a lake. It was immediately clear to you it wasn’t a hunter’s cabin. It had rustic charm but looked way too polished to be the kind of place where a hunter would seek shelter.

You gathered your purse, dropped your car keys inside, and made your way to the front door. You lay your palm flat against your stomach, took a deep breath, and knocked. Dean opened the door wearing one of the plaid shirts you remembered so well. You tried not to notice how handsome he looked, but that was a fight you weren’t going to win. It would be easier to take down a vampire.

Dean smiled when he saw you. It was almost shy, just a slight curve of his lips. “Come on in.” He led you into a large open room. There was a kitchen to the right, the cabinets were made of light wood, and there was a window overlooking the lake. Just off the kitchen there was an open door which you assumed led to a bedroom. To the left, there was a living room area with cream colored furniture and a large rug in warm hues of copper, red, and gold. There was also a fireplace which you could imagine added to the coziness of the room during the winter months.

You searched for the right words and settled on “‘This is a nice place. Is it yours?”

Dean laughed a little. “No. Construction doesn’t pay that good. I rented it. It’s where I come when I want to get away, do some fishing, and think.”

You surveyed your surroundings again and quietly asked, “Did you bring Lisa here?”

Dean stumbled over his words. “No. Too far from civilization for her, and she hates fish.” He started to wave toward the sofa, his hand floundered in the air for a second, then he dropped it to his side. “Do you want something? A beer?”

Your thoughts returned to your last experience with alcohol. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“O…okay.” Dean motioned again toward the living area. You took a seat at the end of the sofa, and he sat in the chair to your side. He leaned over, elbows on his knees. “Look…um…” He sat up, back against the chair, then leaned forward again. “Something happened to me, Y/N.”

Dean rubbed his hand across his mouth then stared off into space like he was searching for what he wanted to say. “ I mean you. You happened.” His eyes sought yours; and there was a calmness in them, a certain kind of peace. “The other night when I stayed with you I was awake most of the night thinking about what you said. The stuff about not belonging where I was. I did try to fit into that world. It was what Sam wanted me to do, so I did my damnedest to do it. I didn’t even fire a gun that entire year. I didn’t scan the internet looking for a case. And sure it was normal, but there was this hole in me.”

Dean glanced down for a second and ran his tongue over his bottom lip before looking right back into your eyes. “You filled that. I know you were drunk and you don’t remember, but I do. You curled into my side and put your head against my shoulder. I held you while you slept. What I felt…I just wanted to protect you from anything that would ever hurt you, but the main thing that had hurt you was me.” His eyes were pleading with you to understand, to forgive him, to believe in him again like you once had, to trust him. “I thought I was still there for you. I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”

You looked away, your eyes landing on the wrought iron fire grate. While you stared your mouth fell open a little, and you closed it back. “Dean…I…” You looked back to him; he hadn’t taken his eyes from you. “What about Lisa?”

“There is no Lisa. The whole time I was with her I never felt anything like I did when I was holding you.” He paused. I ended it. I moved out, Y/N. I moved out because I love you.” Tears were shining in Dean’s eyes. He had shed so many tears because someone or something had died, but this time it was because something was alive. The same thing was living in you.

You reached for him. “Dean, why are you so far away?” He moved to sit beside you, and you wrapped your arms around each other. Dean held you to him like you were the air he needed to breathe to live. His hand cradled the back of your head, and he buried his face in your hair. You held each other until time ceased to exist. You’d been in that spot forever, and no time had passed at all.

When Dean finally moved, it was to take your face in his hands and kiss you. That awkward first kiss in the garage was forgotten; this was the one that mattered. He eased his tongue into your mouth claiming you with a gentleness only love could inspire. You held onto him through the kiss, and when he pulled away you opened your eyes. Your breathing had gotten shallow with the sweet intensity of that kiss. You brushed your fingers through his hair. “I love you too, Dean. I didn’t think you wanted to hear that from me.”

Dean stood and lifted you into his arms. He carried you into the bedroom and lay you down on top of the bed. He pulled off his shoes and socks before lying down on top of you. He started kissing you in the hollow of your neck, made his way up to your ear and back to your collarbone. You moaned releasing a little of your pent up need for him. You pushed at his shirt trying to get it over his shoulders. He finished taking it off, and it fell somewhere on the bed behind him.

Dean’s lips sought yours again. This time his kiss was more insistent. Your hands slid under the back of his t-shirt touching the warmth of his skin. The weight of him on top of you made you feel so safe, made you feel so cared for. The taste of him was so comforting and stirred every passion in you. The sound of his moans while he kissed you ignited all the emotions you’d pushed down and denied. Everything about what was happening overwhelmed your senses, and you started to cry.

Dean stopped, and his eyes roamed over your face. “Y/N? What is it?”

The tears were still falling down your face. You placed your hand on his cheek. “Will you just hold me for a minute?” He rolled a little to the side and circled his arms around you. It was hard for you to catch your breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Dean kissed the side of your head and whispered to you. “I’m here, Sweetheart. I’m right here. I love you. It’s okay.”

He kept whispering the same things to you over and over. His voice was soothing, and it calmed you down. Once your tears stopped, you kissed him without holding anything back. You let go of the loneliness you’d felt without him, the torment of the nights you’d known he was with another woman, and the anguish you’d felt believing he’d never know how much you loved him. You pulled and tore at his t-shirt practically ripping it off him. “Dean, make me forget the last year. Please make me forget.”

He discarded the rest of his clothes and took yours off slowly, taking the time to kiss every spot of your exposed skin as he did. Dean kissed your shoulders, stomach, hips, and thighs. He kissed each of your fingers and along the curve of your breasts sucking each nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue until you were calling his name. He entwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand while he kissed a line down your jaw, lingered over your mouth with deep kisses full of desire, and moved up the other side.

He let go of your hand to move his own between your legs. Dean glided his fingers through your folds feeling how wet you already were for him. A whimper escaped your mouth. “Dean. Please.” You felt the tip of his length touch your opening. When you felt him push into you, your eyes locked on his. “I love you.”

His thrusts were slow and rolling at first. The feel of him stretching you made you gasp. And every sound you made, he answered with one of his own. As his thrusts became faster and deeper, the sounds gave way to your name. “Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.” He was so beautiful. His face held a look of totally focused bliss. His full lips mouthed your name without a sound right before he yelled your name with one final deep thrust and came inside you. His hot release filled your womb. Your walls tightened around him with your own climax, and Dean kept coming shooting rope after rope of his seed into you. Dean rolled off your body and lay on his side next to you catching his breath. He was still panting when he pulled you close to him. “I promise you I won’t do anything to mess this up. I will make you forget. I’ll do everything to make you happy, and I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

You kissed his shoulder wanting to hold this moment forever before you spoke. “What about a home? You had a home.”

Dean kissed you slowly, deliberately. Then he pushed your hair back from your face. “I have a home. My home is with you.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @asthesunwentdown @vulgar-library @petitgateau911 @thinkinghardhardlythinking

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

#dean angst #dean smut #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean oneshot

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dragonprincess18 · 3 years ago

Text

Valentine’s

Valentine’s had never been a day on Tori’s radar, if she was honest.

Being a shade of asexual, the entire concept of crushes and dramatic confessions had always gone over her head, on top of not understanding the appeal of flowers that would wither in a handful of days.

This year, however, was different.

The table was set with two places side by side, fresh Lou Malnati’s pizzas steaming on their separate placemats, a cheesecake waiting on the counter and a bottle of whiskey sitting by a stout glass.

“What do you think?” Law wondered, pulling out his chair once a slice of pepperoni pizza was neatly transferred to his plate.

“I think we’ve found a great excuse to order Lou Malnati’s.” Tori joked, sitting next to him with a grin to serve herself a generous helping. “And coffee ice cream.”

Smirking, the surgeon poured out a finger or so of whiskey for himself, sitting back.

“Not exactly a typical Valentine’s day dinner.”

“You say that like we’re typical.”

Humming an agreement, he reached over to tangle his fingers in her damp, freshly-washed curls and pulled Tori into a kiss on the cheek.

“Considering we just spent the day roaming a library and watching documentaries about Al Capone, I had my suspicions.”

“You say that like you weren’t the one dragging me to see that library’s collection of Sora comics.”

“Those were surprisingly-solid copies of the first volumes, and you know it.”

Biting back a smile, Tori reached under the table to pull out a plain red giftbag.

“Mhm. Which is why I got you this.”

Perking up, Law accepted the present curiously, pushing through the layer of tissue paper-

“You didn’t.”

Any attempts at hiding a smile failed at the childlike glee that swept over the tattooed surgeon’s face at the sight of a first edition, mint-condition, signed copy of Sora: Warrior of the Sea in his hands.

“It took me a while to find one someone was willing to sell for a reasonable price, but Nami helped me out, and it only cost a brunch full of mimosas.”

Law pulled her into a hug, hiding how genuinely touched he was at the effort she had gone through to get him something so special, and she returned the embrace.

"Thank you, Tori-ya."

Melting in his arms, Tori hummed.

"Welcome."

“And now I’m sitting here feeling inadequate.” He joked, grabbing his own metallic-wrapped gift from the nearest chair to present.

With one last squeeze, Tori accepted and tore through the paper, revealing a box with the picture of a shiny tablet-and-keyboard combo on the front.

"You've been complaining about typing your stories up on your phone at work, so I thought-"

Law wheezed at the sudden tight grip around his midsection, deflating at her excited, muffled squeal.

"It's amazing, Law! Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Tori-ya." He muttered, feeling warm. "Happy Valentine's."

#one piece #valentine #valentine's day #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #f/o #f/o imagines #f/o tag #romantic f/o #f/o post

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st-just · 4 years ago

Text

A Setting: The City of Sethennai

Because I’ve spent long enough tinkering on this that I might as well share it with a population of more than a half-dozen potential players. Also it could almost certainly use an editing pass, and I don’t want to lose it all next time my computer dies.

So, a collection of densely packed plot hooks in the shape of a city

City History

The City of Sethennai is quite possibly the oldest city in the world, or at least the oldest still inhabited. When the first Dwarfs and Goliaths fled the Titans for the coast, they found ziggurats already rising from the water and tunnels dug beneath their feet, ruined by some already ancient cataclysm. Supported by fertile soil and full waters, they built their own city over it, and welcomed their own gods to it, a center of resistance to the Titanomarchy that became an empire in its own right.

Centuries passed and power drifted inland, to the mountain palaces of the Titans’ Giant heirs and the divinely appointed heroes who sometimes overthrew them. The City was rich, but peaceful, its soldiers only raised when one princess or another took it as a capital during a civil war. Such was the case when the first ships appeared from the East.

The adventurers from the League of Free Cities had been spurred across the sea by visions of fortune and glory, overwhelming the defenders with armies of goblin slaves and the ability to evoke demons far beyond what they could deal with. Their leader Sethennai proclaimed himself Emperor and renamed the city in his honour, taking it as his capital. After his assassination some years later the ‘empire’ fell into an anarchy it has never quite recovered from, but the name has stuck, and for the two hundred years since wonders and riches have flowed across the eastern ocean while mercenaries and adventurers have poured west in ever greater numbers.

The city’s ruler for the last fifteen years has been Prince Cael, an adventurer universally believed to be supported by the League’s political rivals back East. If so, they got what they paid for – experts and financiers have been imported and sponsored, and trade opened to anyone capable of paying the reasonable import duties.

Until two years ago, he had been the picture of brutal decadence, rousing himself from luxurious hedonism only to brutally deal with any threats to his power. Recently though, he changed – sponsoring vast expeditions into the ancient palaces of the interior and the ruins buried on the city’s outskirts, and installing a self-proclaimed Hierophant whose heresies had earned her a death warrant back East in the city’s grandest temples (violently banishing the cults which had held them since the Conquest in the process).

One week ago, at exactly noon, the sun vanished from the sky for one minute, and the entire city was filled with a deafening scream. Since then, the Prince’s grand palace has been sealed tight, with ingeniously horrifying magical defences ensuring that anyone who tries to force a door or window isn’t around to try again. Everything’s very rapidly falling apart, and the city’s traditional power brokers are reacting like so many rabid weasels in too small a cage.

It is, then, a perfect opportunity for people with the will to seize it.

Districts

The Palantine

If Sethennai is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, the vast palace complex which crowns its central hill is probably likewise the oldest building still in use. Its foundation is burrowed deep into the hill on which it stands, to the point that some delvers and historians have theorized that it was once a truly massive pyramid now mostly buried by the ages. Rising out of it are two great peaks - impressive ziggurats in their own right - of obvious dwarven make, fashioned to house their ancient Ancestors-Kings and gods in suitable splendor, and since renovated and built over to house the city’s rulers and most favored priesthoods. Surrounding them are a dozen smaller peaks, each the estate of one of the city’s foremost patrician families, teeming with retainers and servants. The land around them is pristine and perfectly manicured, full of wondrous botanical gardens and menageries for the amusement of Sethennai’s greatest citizens.

Location of Interest: The Throne

A palace built on the ruins of a palace built on the ruins of a palace. The grand ziggurat which the city’s rulers have called home since time immemorial is built into and sits at the peak of its highest hill, the highest point in the sky for dozens of miles in every direction. Its labyrinthine apartments, kitchens, vaults, galleries and corridors house the Prince and his family, dozens of favorites and notables, and hundreds of guards, servants, retainers and entertainers.

Or, well, housed.

One week ago, the sun vanished from the sky, and a scream echoed through the city. Since then, the palace complex has proven impenetrable. Every door and window is closed, and attempts to open them by force have fared...poorly. In a ‘never going to walk again’ sort of way. Scrying and other means of magical surveillance so far attempted have simply failed. No one has tried to escape, and no noises have been heard - the whole complex is simply silent.

Of course, that means that all its secrets and riches are there for the taking. Or that’s the growing consensus - at least three separate groups have camped out near various gates and major entrances, each preparing their own scheme to break in and seize everything within. There’s no fighting between them. Yet.

Faction of Note: The Hierophant

Yri Cenred is many things. A self-proclaimed ‘experimental theologian’. One of shockingly few mortal humans to piss off the Illyrin clergy enough to be specifically declared Anathema. A member of the Commonwealth’s very exclusive list of ‘Enemies of Reason’. Empirically immune to thunderbolts from cloudless skies and most other signs of divine disfavor. Easily one of the most powerful mages in the city. And, for most of the last two years, its High Priestess and Hierophant.

No one knows quite how her first meeting with Prince Cael went, and whether she was responsible for her change in personality or if he sought her out because of it. All anyone knows is that shortly after she arrived in the city a few days ahead of Imperial Witch-Hunters looking for her head on a pike, Cael forcibly expelled the Khasali cults which had occupied the Palantine’s grand temples since the Conquest, and installed her in their place with the newly minted title of Hierophant for the city. Since then she and her growing coterie of acolytes (bright-eyed, motivated and young, though you can flip a coin as to whether their hands are stained with ink or blood) have been extremely busy, though no one can say exactly what with. Certainly they haven’t held any public rituals or services. Despite the costs - both political and monetary - in protecting and sponsoring her, Cael never seemed to question whether it was worthwhile.

The general opinion on the streets is that she’s probably to blame for anything and everything worth complaining about. The only real divide is between those who think she bewitched the Prince and turned him into her puppet, those who think she’s the one who killed him, and the moderates who think the correct answer is probably ‘both’.

Foundrytown

The New World is absolutely full of exotic reagents, fuel sources, and materials to craft and invent with. It is also absolutely full of people who will pay in your currency of choice for finished goods, armor, weaponry, and whatever nasty alchemical tricks you can keep from blowing up in their face until they want them to. Foundrytown is the sprawling mass of smokestacks, workshops, factories and markets that has spilled to the north of Sethennai’s walls, exploiting both opportunities to the fullest while limiting the chance that some idiot will burn half the city down (again). Robber barons, militant workers, loose fraternities of tinkerers and half-trainer artificers, and the occasional rogue clockwork or alchemical monstrosity all jostle for space and control of the beating heart of Sethennai’s economy.

Faction of Note: The Grand Bazaar

Official Imperial theology accords true dragons a place of honour - the Princes of the Earth, entrusted by Heaven with containing the fury of the elements within themselves so as to render the world peaceful enough for cultivation by the younger races - and forbids very few things to wyrms willing to play the part. (Principally, do not become undead, a god in your own right, or an archdemon of the elements. Though some justification can usually be found for how any sufficiently problematic dragon is actually doing one of those).

And Tyramara the Magnificent, the Fire of the Deeps has not technically done any of those things. Still, the ancient wyrm has little interest in allowing the wasting disease which has crippled her continue to spread, and her solution is unorthodox enough that she thought it prudent to abandon her palace-lair in Imir and relocate to the New World, six treasure galleons worth of her hoard in tow.

One of the city’s wealthiest residents from the moment she landed, she has bought a plaza in Foundrytown and offered her sponsorship to nearly every tinker and engineer who cares to set up shop there, provided they help sustain and improve the mechanical and hydraulic prosthetics that supplement and replace her dying organs. She has promised a full half of her hoard to any who can permanently deal with her condition, a fortune men have killed for in the past, and certainly will again.

Faction of Note: The Hellworks

They’re not officially called the Hellworks - there are, in fact, absolutely no devils involved. Still, between the billowing clouds of soot and steam pouring from their chimneys at all hours of the day, the severe architecture, and the bound spirits who keep the looms running at all hours of the day and eagerly take any opportunity to leave anyone who gets too close crippled or maimed to vent their anger - well, the name stuck.

One of the most obvious consequences of Prince Cael’s turn towards the esoteric these last years, the ' ‘Royal Sethennai Weaver’s Trust” is the brainchild and absolute domain of the Lady Binder Katerine sol Dalme sol Telrin ir’Paimon. An Illyrin magister with heterodox opinions on the proper uses of magic, popular opinion is divided on whether it’s more accurate to say Cael invited her to reside in the city, or just offered her asylum before her elders had a chance to properly condemn her.

Regardless, after six months of operation she - and her half-dozen strictly bound and extremely unhappy ifrit, and several hundred eminently replaceable more mundane workers - are already well on their way to supplying all the clothing and textiles Sethennai’s teeming masses require single-handedly, produced at a scale and speed far beyond what any traditional artisans guild could hope to compete with.

Crossroads

Dominating the Old City - synonymous with it, really - that the district is called the ‘Crossroads’ is often considered something of a cruel joke by new arrivals. The ‘Labyrinth’ is usually offered instead. Ancient stone tenements and storehouses are basic facts of geography, surviving through conquest and fire, and over and around and through them are generations of newer building - mansions of imported oak and marble, shantytowns of cannibalized carts and derelict ships built on rooftops, and nondescript inns and stores conveniently built on top of trap doors and tunnels leading to much more exciting locales. Natives of a neighborhood who know all the secret passages and blind alleys can quickly get to anywhere they like. New arrivals are strongly advised to pay well for a reliable guide.

Faction of Note: The Dreamers

There’s something under the harbor. There always has been. There probably always will be. Most people can go their whole lives without noticing it, but a certain few find living in the Old City a haunting experience, their nights spent dreaming of drowned palaces and impossible angles, their days spent lost in alleys and markets that have never existed. Inevitably, they come out of a daze and find themselves perched on the waters edge, staring into the filthy, polluted depths with an intense sense of longing.

Called the Dreamers, they’re an eclectic and informal fraternity, living in makeshift houseboats or the cheapest tenements that press against the water. Quite a few simply sleep on the streets. They’re something like a religion, and something like a guild - the most personable and talkative are merchants, selling the fish that others catch, the strange relics and minor treasures that their divers retrieve from the harbor, and the often beautiful - if always uncanny - art they produce. They take care of each other and, though no one has ever seen a dreamer raise a hand in anger, every attempt by syndicates or rival cults to extort or expel them has ended with their opponents going mad, screaming and clawing at their flesh in the middle of the night, or found poised in some elaborate and improbable suicide. After the third time, everyone more or less got the idea.

No one knows who leads them - if anyone does. Insofar as they have a public face, Zoe Alvane is it - a street urchin who ‘found the sea’ before she had hit puberty, for the last few years she has been the one who spends seemingly every hour of the day ensuring her ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ have food and shelter, and looking after the other beggars and poor in the neighborhood while she can as well. She’s also the one outsiders deal with when they come looking to buy information - it’s a disquieting fact of life in Sethennai that the Dreamers’ know almost everything there is to know about almost everyone. They are generally content to be left alone, and Zoe is very sympathetic and willing to offer personal advice and play the part of fortune teller to anyone desperate and willing to trade or do a favor - but it’s generally agreed that trying to force information from them is a bad idea.

Faction of Note: Ironfang Mercenary Company

When Prince Cael seized the throne, he didn’t do so single handedly. He needed trained, disciplined soldiers to seize the Palantine and coastal forts, ensure no one escaped the palace, and keep order on the streets while the messy business of extinguishing the previous dynasty was carried out. For all this and more, he relied on the professional expertise of the Ironfang Company.

Formed around a core of hardened hobgoblin veterans of various border wars and colonial filibusters in the Free Cities, the Company has for the last fifteen years been the Prince’s favorite tool for securing his interests, keeping order, and bloodily making examples of any threats to his rule. For their trouble, they’ve grown fat and happy - a steady paycheck and yearly bonuses have left every officer with a townhouse, and most common soldiers with coin for families and apartments for them to live in.

Despite the lack of real combat - and the need to take on locals as new recruits, as more and more soldiers retire or die over the years - Captain Azaersi is a leathery old warehouse who has never let her troops grow soft. Even week the grand parade ground in Crossroads echoes with screaming drill sergeants and the crack of muskets, and it’s an open secret that the Prince paid to import stocks of grenades and munitions from Quepta for her arsenal. No one knows quite how she plans to deal with the sudden disappearance of her patron and employer, but for the moment the Ironfang seem content to keep order in the corner of Crossroads around the arsenal and parade ground that they call home.

The Ruins

The ruins are not, legally, part of Sethanni, and absolutely no one with anything resembling sense would ever actually choose to live there. No one actually knows where the eponymous ruins come from - or at least, no one can agree which section is from where. Shantytowns of the most despised and desperate and built on top of their predecessors, which are built on top of battered and broken pre-Conquest ziggurats and homes, which are built on top of - well, some of it is just a natural cave system, and no one is sure about the rest. Or ever found just how deep it goes. Aside from the casualties of the Prince’s attempts to map it, the Ruins are inhabited exclusively by those that would be strung up or burned alive if they tried to live anywhere else, or those sufficiently dedicated to their greed or ambition that they’re absolutely certain they alone can unlock the secrets and find whatever wonders are buried beneath all the traps and monsters. Not great company, either way.

Faction of Note: The Weavers’ Masquerade

Sethennai never really followed its ‘sister cities’ in the League in religion, with a sort of tolerant anarchy of different gods and sects almost always predominating over the gleefully blasphemously sublime demon-cults that the conquerors originally brought with them. But the small cultists that did exist at least enjoyed a luxurious, privileged irrelevance, with sanctums in the city’s grand temple. That finally changed when Cael seized the temples for his new Hierophant - and every relic and sacred text in them, as bloodily as necessary. Which with demon worshippers meant a massacre - letting one escape and beseech their patron for aid in crafting some horrible vengeance being generally agreed to be a terrible idea.

Not that that actually worked, of course. One acolyte managed to escape - no one’s quite sure how, but then, probably best not to ask unless you’ve got a particularly strong stomach. Well, that’s one of her stories, anyway - she goes by Maia Dayal, Beloved of the Architect, Wearer of Ten Thousand Faces, and sometimes she prefers to say she’s a recently arrived priestess from Celmy, or a street urchin who found enlightenment entirely on her own. As might be expected by the self-proclaimed title, she also changes her face (and build, age, species…) about as often as everyone else bathes.

While she has shown no interest in actually taking bloody revenge on the Prince, Dayal has done plenty to earn the price on her head. The Masquerade that has grown around her is a carnival of wonders and horrors, where all manner of temptations are offered to the truly desperate, debauched and vile. Skinweavers and facetakers always need raw material, and secrets and deaths can both be easily bought for the right price - though in keeping with their patron, the Masquerade is hardly a safe or stable place to do business, and offending the wrong cultist can easily lead to a shift from ‘visitor’ to ‘canvas for artistic expression’.

Faction of Note: The Keendream Expedition

Over the last two centuries, the actual facts about the pre-Conquest city has (with few exceptions) been buried under the weight of legends, rumors and (when necessary) several tons of rock. Despite this (or because of it) whenever things get bad (...worse) for the original population of goliaths and dwarves who can trace their lineage back to that time, stories about some hidden savior or buried relic that will free them spread like wildfire. This is just such a time.

Ilidak Keendream Kathu-Viano is an explorer from a family with some grounds for its claim of being pre-conquest nobility. For the last year he has worked on commission for the Prince, leading a large and incredibly well-armed expedition into the ruins across the water from the Old City, digging into them in search of..something. No one who knows the goal has been willing to talk, but certainly it has involved hiring every historian and scholar with anything like knowledge of the city before it was Sethennai (not to mention half the charlatans and rumor mongers who might know something).

Once news of the Prince’s disappearance reached Kathu-Viano, work shifted from its previous sedate pace to something much more determined. Certain paranoid minds have said it’s almost like he was waiting for this. Other, moderately less paranoid ones have pointed out it’s a bit odd that the government-sponsored expedition is so short on patricians and city notables and so high on mercenaries form the interior and goliath clans with far more reason to listen to Kathu-Viano than the Prince, should some conflict break out.

The Stacks

Museums, exhibitions, satellite campuses, mystical archives, storehouses of eldritch knowledge, and one actual wizard tower - if the faint taste of ozone in the air doesn’t warn you what you’re getting in for leaving the city’s eastern gates, then the architecture certainly will. Wedged between variously reputable bookstores and inquisitives, different formalized and longstanding campuses are dedicated to the arts of conjuration, enchantment, sparkcraft, and practical cosmology. Competition for new discoveries and to fully unlock ancient secrets are good natured and nonviolent - at least, that’s all you can get out of anyone left standing once the smoke clears.

Faction of Note: The Bookhounds

The Bookhounds aren’t any sort of formal organization - and at least half of them would roll their eyes at the name - but rather a loose network of gutter mages, disreputable academics, private inquisitives and researchers for hire, and people with a little talent or cash to burn and far too much curiosity for their own good. They act as a sort of volunteer police force in the Stacks, passing each other clues and leads and doing each other favors to track down stolen (or escaped) relics and curses, stop idiots from unleashing anything really dramatic, and generally help people and save the day. Not to mention accumulate really impressive bags of tricks and rare books themselves in the process.

While they don’t have anything like a real leader, the group’s beating heart is Nikos Roth, an Esheri academic who arrived in the city as a fresh-faced student on a three month expedition a decade back and who never intends to leave. Running a small, incredibly ramshackle-looking secondhand book store wedged between two tenements, he nonetheless has one of the more impressive collections of occult lore in the city, and is more than happy to trade for more of it, or connect anyone in need with a specialist who can help them. As more than one would-be thief has discovered, he’s also a fairly talented mage, and for all that being entirely self-taught has left him with some obvious holes in his training, it’s also left him with some tricks that basically no one comes prepared to counter.

Redgate

Once, Redgate Prison stood alone, a fearsome warning of the Prince’s power to anyone looking south from the city center. Eighty-some years of steady urban sprawl later, most of its inmates would probably just need a running start from the prison walls to land back home. Filled mostly with those whose dreams of a new world fell flat, but with too little cash or too many enemies to get home, the slums of Redgate are a natural habitat for street gangs, drug peddlers, flesh traders, and everyone else looking to take advantage of the desperate and vulnerable. The prison itself - and its infamous and heavily armed wardens - has stumbled into being the center of law writ large, dealing out summary justice for criminals that are (correctly) assumed to be beneath the Prince’s notice.

Faction of Note: Regate Prison

Sitting on a steep hill across the water from the Old City, Redgate prison was at one point a fortress, but for generations has been put to use housing the city’s worst, most dangerous, and most profitable criminals. Given the sprawling, crime-ridden slums that now surround it, its wardens also work as a sort of brutal police force, keeping the pretence of order on the street and preserving the Prince’s Peace. Usually.

The problems with discipline start at the top, really. The Prison’s infamously brutal First Warden is also its oldest and most dangerous prisoner. Before the Conquest, Vrocdruk was one of the city’s lesser gods, enthroned in one of the Palantine’s grand temples. When Sethennai - the man - defeated him, he chose to pull his demons away before they could tear the god into so much bloody aether. Instead he was crippled, lessened, and bound to a new home in the fortress and a new purpose; defending the city and its rulers. Later, less skillful, princes altered the binding, making him responsible for most crime and punishment and hoping that his sacred nature would make the native dwarves and goliaths more obedient.

Vrocdruk is still crippled, still bound to the prison, still forced to obey the orders of the city’s acclaimed ruler, and still extremely unhappy about it. He takes any excuse to work out his unhappiness on criminals or troublemakers with the incredible bad luck to catch his direct attention. His wardens largely follow his example, often acting less like agents of justice and more like a particularly well armed gang - to the point of semi-officially collecting fees for ‘security’ from nearby businesses, supplementing the cash extorted from prisoners and their families for both necessities and luxuries while incarcerated.

Sootcliff

Trailing south of Foundrytown, on and under the steep slope beneath the city’s western walls, the densely packed tenements of Sootcliff are certainly stained grey enough to earn the name. Existing primarily as a source of blood and sweat to feed into the ever-hungry foundries and assembly lines to the north, The buildings are cheap, massive, and constructed at the lowest possible cost, with all the consequences you would expect from that. With easy access to weapons and alchemical supplies from Foundrytown and (literally) beneath the notice of the Old City, Sootcliff is famous as the home of militant bands, revolutionary conspiracies, disgraced artificers, and generally anyone who has a dream for a new world and a plan that will require a lot of explosions to get there.

Faction of Note: The Painted Doctors

Less a single organization and more an extraordinarily loose confederation of - often feuding - crimelords, the Painted Doctors are a fraternity of (largely half- or self-) taught alchemists who have over the last year grown to be the dominant criminal guild in Sootcliff. The name sometimes refers to the incredibly distinctive tattoos each ‘Doctor’ has covering much of their body, universally agreed to be somehow enchanted or cursed. Otherwise it refers to the incredibly alien and vibrant skin tones that their test subjects and muscle develop after repeatedly ingesting their ‘miraculous’ potions and tonics.

While possessing remarkably little actual magical talent among them, the Doctors have perfected the recipes for several extremely useful potions - several incredibly addictive drugs, a half dozen forms of acids and grenades, and a dizzying variety of enhancing tonics to improve themselves and distribute to their thugs - and have managed to keep both the recipes and their sources for the necessary reagents entirely secret. This has left them in the enviable position of being able to promise anyone signing on with them that they’ll be able to more or less become a regenerating ogre for an hour whenever they need to fight, while their opposition has had to settle with advising their men to stock up on fire and acid.

The leading light of the Doctors is one ‘Dr’ Fadre - almost certainly not his real name - an alchemical savant whose ‘miracle cures’ are bought and resold across the city. A flashy and well dressed sort whose patronage has turned several of Sootcliff’s most prominent dens of vice into something close to palaces for those who can afford it, he’s said to be far less interested in the nuts and bolts of running a criminal empire than enjoying its fruits and indulging his passion for the Sciences. It doesn’t hurt his reputation that he doesn’t look a day over thirty, and has for as long as anyone has known him.

Chance

Facing Oldport from across the river’s mouth, the docks of Chance are significantly new, cheaper, and altogether more ramshackle. Not really a part of any conscious design, Chance grew organically as the city sprawled beyond its original walls, essentially smuggling docks so successful it was easier to legitimize and start taxing them than it was to hang everyone involved. They now provide the city with a constant infusion of nerdowells and fortune seekers, and the district around them takes great pride in fleecing new arrivals of every penny to their name by the end of their first night on land. Hostels and boarding houses are usually safe, traditional vice dealers less so, and anyone selling treasure maps or magical amulets not at all. Still, they’re probably more harmless than the various mercenary recruiters and ‘exiled princes’ promising to give new arrivals exactly the thrill and fortune they came searching for.

Faction of Note: The Red Ocean Trading Company

What is now the Red Ocean Trading Company has gone through several dramatic changes over it’s eighty years of existence. First a privateer fleet hired by the Free City of Celmy during the First Armada War. Then eventually growing strong enough to seize several islands as an independent pirate state, before being crushed by the Esheri Navy during the Second Armada War. It’s remnants learned a bit of humility from that, and it is now seemingly content with its existence as either (depending on who you ask) a obscenely profitable shipping firm, or one of the most widespread criminal syndicates in the world.

The Company’s significant interests in Sethennai - nearly half the docks in Chance, guides and guards for anyone heading into the Interior, and fingers in quite a few less legitimate pies as well - are ably represented by Captain Arun Prem, a(n in)famous adventurer and scoundrel in his own right, apparently enjoying his semi-retirement behind a desk by getting outrageously drunk with his favorite mercenaries and criminals every night and swapping incredible (and implausible) old war stories.

There’s plenty of rumors, of course - that he’s here in de facto exile after angering the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he’s a thousand-year-old vampire and is the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he ate a kraken’s heart, and is immortal as long as he doesn’t lose sight of the water. That he’s biding his time to prepare an army before heading inland to carve a new kingdom for himself. That he’s only in the city for as long as it takes to carry out some truly spectacular heist. That he killed Prince Cael in a secret duel and trapped his soul in the pocketwatch he wears at all times. And so on. Of course, other rumours say that he started all of those himself to preserve his mystique as he grows fat in his old age.

Oldport

Facing out to the harbour but safely ensconced within the city walls, Oldpot is, as the name implies, one of the oldest ports in the new world - and certainly one of the busiest. Fully loaded merchant ships arrive daily, their cargoes emptied and replaced with the plunder of the New World almost overnight so they can return home on the next turn of the wind. Beyond the grand ports themselves, this district is home to all the most respectable shipping companies, merchant banks, hotels, and townhouses and apartments, as well as all the official consulates and embassies that Sethennai plays host to.

Faction of Note: First Bank of Sethennai

Despite only being as old as Prince Cael’s reign, the Bank already feels like an eternal and irreplaceable part of Sethennai. This isn’t something people are necessarily happy about, but its leadership had done a truly amazing job at keeping dissent to grumbling and resentment of the inevitable, and not actual resistance. They’re good at that sort of thing, even when they used Prince Cael’s (and, thus, the City’s) massive debts to his foreign benefactors as justification for taking control of the city’s tariffs and tolls, and began rigorously enforcing them, possibly for the first time ever.

Combined with a legal monopoly on the ability to mint coins, this has of course made the Bank incredibly wealthy. But not to the degree that might be assumed - the riches collected are to a large degree shipped back east to foreign creditors. Of the remaining, quite a bit is invested with as much an eye for politics as strict profit.

Executive Director Salman Ticaret, like most of his staff, is a Sethennai native who sought education in the Commonwealth (like most, he took a new name on gaining citizenship). Along with modern accounting and investing techniques, he came home with a firm grasp of political economy - and so for the last decade and a half has been more than happy to offer favorable rates to well positioned patrician and merchant houses, in exchange for their own favors and consideration in turn. The result is that the bank’s marble halls and adamant vaults house information as much as money. And Ticaret is perfectly willing to invest both, if the opportunity is promising enough.

Foreign Interests

The League of Free Cities

The League of Free Cities is not so much a single power as a collection of fiercely independent deomcratic city-states held together by the intertwined private empires of their leading citizens, deep and interdependent trading relationships, and a common religion that the rest of the world calls demon-worship - they view this as deeply offensive. Also they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years and they’re not all dead yet, so clearly everyone else is just doing demonology wrong. Politics are a mess of knives in the dark and openly bribing the voting populace with feasts and spectacles, with glory and riches to anyone who can hold the mob’s favor for long.

Demonic evocation - and the arts learned as a result of it, like fleshweaving, orienomarchy , breaking reality down into elemental chaos and shaping it to your whims, and so on - are in the rest of the world generally met with very thorough execution, making the freethinkers of the League the world’s bleeding edge in magical innovation. The entire culture of the League is also nearly custom-made to produce bold idiots willing to do what it takes to get rich or die trying, and the various Free City’s Adventurers Guilds are (in)famous the world over.

Until recently, the Free Cities considered Sethennai, if not one of them, then at least a younger sibling or benevolent dependency. Prince Cael’s coup has been taken as something of a wound, and the merchant interests who have lost out as he opened trade have made sure that in the decades since his name has become synonymous with bloody-handed tyranny. The first broadsheets celebrating his death will sell out in moments, and the acclaimed merchant adventurer Vyas Asraya, said to be en route to the city, is said to be very optimistic about future trading opportunities.

Holy Illyric Empire

Technically speaking a vast and sprawling feudal state unified only in the person of the Sovereign (Empress of Illyrin, Queen of Belthaya, Defender of the Hierophant of Imir, Grand Duchess of Abhari, etc, and so on, and so forth), the Empire dominates the better part of two continents, and in terms of size and prestige is unquestionably the foremost state on the globe. It is also a bureaucrat’s nightmare, its aristocracy distracted from their internal feuds only when they need to defend their ancestral rights from central overreach.

Ancient controls and long established relationships make Imperial binders the most fearsome conjurers and thaumaturges in the known world, a process not at all hurt by the wholesale incorporation of any powerful spirits or terrestrial god who will sign on the dotted line into the official pantheon. Illyrin Paladins are also easily the most storied heavy cavalry the world has ever seen, and Abharic necromancers are generally held to be the heirs (or direct pupils) of the inventors of the craft.

Illyric interests have prospered under Prince Cael’s reign, but the last years have seen Sethennai become a haven for heretical priests and radical binders, something Ambassador Konrad Reingard has been rumored to be increasingly frustrated with, though no one heard a word from his Oldport estate since the chaos began.

The Sublime Esheri Commonwealth

A thoroughly modern and enlightened state, the Commonwealth is history’s gift to the cartographer, an empire with firmly delineated borders and clear, rationally determined administrative divisions. Governed by a Janissary Corps educated and conditioned from childhood to put principle above self interest and the good of the Commonwealth above friends or (nonexistent) family, the Esheri control far less land than the Illyrin Empire, but has been able to fight it to a standstill and even force it to abandon certain far flung dependencies over a series of wars across the last century.

Beyond a ruthlessly efficient system for taxation and conscription, the Commonwealth’s military might is credited to two sources - on the one hand, its marines are the finest and most disciplined line infantry anyone is likely to ever see, experts in the use of gas and artillery and famously cool under fire. One the other, their heavy automata are an answer to any conjured devil or bound beast, enlightened clockwork providing enough force to cleave through scales and enchanted plate without missing a beat. But the Janissaries are as happy as their enemies to admit that they prefer unfair fights - though they credit their infamous spy network to the fruits of their scientific studies of society and history, while their enemies instead blame the corrupting effects of gold, blackmail, and a complete indifference to the morals of those they work with.

While the Commonwealth does have an embassy in the city, it mostly exists as an appendage of the First Sethennai Bank, the private institution responsible for printing and guarding the solvency of the city’s currency, its entire upper rung staffed by experts trained in the Commonwealth and generally considered Prince Cael’s way of paying back their support for his coup. More recently, it has been rumored that the Secretariat has taken an interest in the struggles in the interior. Coincidentally, an ‘Academic’ has been seen floating around various less than reputable bars in Chance, ostensibly as part of a project to record the city’s myths and folklore.

The Warlord States

For the last two hundred years, the interior has been an evershifting patchwork of successor kingdoms, native revolts, monstrous empires, released horrors, and stranger things besides, the unending tide of weapons and adventurers ensuring that no single player was ever able to secure dominance (and the various rulers of Sethennai have certainly played their part in keeping things that way). At the moment the foremost powers are a giantblooded kingdom led by a messaniac priest-king claiming to be the reincarnation of a Titan, a personal union enforced at sword point between a Khasli pirate queen and a goliath ‘emperor’, a red dragon who has claimed an old giant palace and forced the dwarves living in the mountains around it to provide tribute and worship, and several dozen more minor principalities. It should go without saying that war is the natural state of being, and soldiers are sucked up like ships in a whirlpool.

Adventurers are the lifeblood of Sethennai, and they don’t only flow one way. A constant stream of veterans - either enriched or embittered - skulk, limp or run back once they’ve had their fill of the wonders of the new world, usually missing something important or carrying something priceless - sometimes both. The courts and inner circles of every powerful warlord are composed exclusively of this sort of hard, tricky and generally insufferable type of rogue, and they’re often the only agents trusted enough to be dispatched on delicate missions. The line between warlord and criminal kingpin or pirate magnate is also extremely thin - sometimes nonexistent - as smuggling, sabotage and assassinations are simply basic tools of statecraft in the ruthless arena of the interior. More than once, an ambitious Prince of Sethennai has attempted to recreate their ancestor’s short lived empire, only to be found butchered in their bed but the agents of one warlord or another.

The Warlord States view Sethennai as a vital artery for supplies and funding, and for manpower to refill their armies with disposable bodies for their constant border wars. On a grander scale, those with ambition view it as either a crown jewel and future capital, or a bleeding ulcer on the land which needs to be razed to its foundations. In either case, few are interested in a strong, stable government for it. Regardless of their opinions, sending emissaries and embassies to the city is the first (and often only) diplomatic initiative of every new warlord state - though in truth their role is often closer to mercenary recruiter and fundraiser.

#this is theoretically a writing blog #D&D #abhari #well D&Dified but mostly #worlbuilding

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