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syrupfog · 6 months ago

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AU where Sanji can’t go to college because his dad is way too rich for him to qualify for FAFSA, but Sanji’s estranged so he can’t go to him for financial assistance.

He wanted food science. Still does, someday. But in the meantime he works at Zeff’s restaurant.

He meets Luffy because Luffy and Ace are notorious dine n’ dashers, and the Baratie is about the only place that doesn’t ban them, because Zeff’s secretly got too soft a heart, and because Luffy and Ace at least TRY to work their bills off, although they never last long.

Ace and Luffy drag him back to “their place”, which is a four person dorm room that’s technically home to Chopper, Usopp, Franky and Zoro.

At six, it’s a squeeze. And it stinks. Sanji complains the whole time he’s there, forces them to open a window for godssake.

But he comes back every time they invite him. He brings food.

He’d bring food anyway, but he noticed that Zoro’s clearly an athlete and he’s surviving on JUNK. Slim Jim’s and microwaved eggs and unseasoned chicken. Sanji’s disgusted, and he voices that disgust loudly.

He and Zoro get into arguments about it, but Zoro doesn’t complain when Sanji brings meals.

Sanji’s also really satisfied when he sees Zoro eat everything without even attempting to turn it down with a “you shouldn’t have” or “I’ll leave some for someone else”.

He eats everything Sanji gives him, without comment, and Sanji gets a thrill from that. A bit because he can recognize someone else who also must have gone through food insecurity.

Ace and Luffy also clearly have, but their trauma manifests in stealing right off his plate.

Which Sanji allows, of course. He’s a pushover.

When the group of six come to the Baratie, plus two new people (Nami and Robin), Zeff initially turns them away because “I can’t afford for eight people to skip out on their bills you lunatics”.

Nami pays for them in advance.

Sanji hears her telling Zoro she’s adding it to his bill.

The few high school friends Sanji had disappeared off to college at the start of the semester, so he’s happy that he seems to be adopted into this group, right up until he comes to serve their table and hears Nami call the “meeting” to order.

Sanji looks over her shoulder as he’s pouring waters and sees spread out call logs and texts and letters. Threats. Nami’s words go in one ear and out the other but Sanji hears the key; Vinsmoke. They come from Vinsmoke.

They’re all getting them, he realises. His hands shake as he listens. They’re being targeted, threatened. They don’t know why.

HE knows why.

How long has his dad known where he is? What he does, who he sees?

He backs up. Gripping the jug in a vice grip. Runs for the kitchen.

He tells Patty to cover him because an emergency has come up, and he runs out the back.

Runs for a long time.

Just runs.

He stops responding to Ace and Luffy’s attempts to contact him. He can’t talk to them. He’s going to cause them trouble— HAS caused them trouble. They’re his friends. They didn’t know what they were signing up for.

He calls off as many shifts as he can while still making rent

(which honestly isn’t a lot) and if Ace and Luffy show up he demands to be on dish duty.

Zeff sees this, but he doesn’t say anything. Sanji’s grateful. And ashamed.

He’d liked having friends. Liked that terribly crowded stinky dorm room.

It’s almost two months of hiding, although the texts from Ace and (especially) Luffy don’t stop coming.

And then, one day, he gets a pounding on his door.

Pulling it open, expecting a pissed of neighbor maybe, he finds—

“Zoro?”

Zoro looks at him flatly. “Come on,” he says.

“Uh,” says Sanji. “No?”

Zoro grabs his wrist (when was the last time someone touched Sanji?) and veritably drags him out the door.

“Shit, Mosshead, stop!”

“No,” says Zoro. “We’re tired of you hiding.”

“I’m not HIDING,” Sanji hisses, at least pulling the door closed behind him

“Yes you are,” Zoro says. “You think I don’t know hiding?”

Sanji would be surprised if Zoro knew hiding. The man is nothing but bold. “How did you know where I live?”

Zoro, dragging him down the stairs, says “Your old man told me.”

“WHO?”

“That cook. The grouch.”

“ZEFF?”

“Stop shouting, dumbass.”

Sanji fishmouths. “I can’t believe he told you,” he says eventually.

“He’s not an idiot,” Zoro says. “He knew you were hiding for dumb reasons.”

Sanji was hiding for legitimate reasons. He doesn’t say that.

Zoro drags him all the way out of the building and to an idling old van with painted windows. Oh, is he going to MURDER Sanji?

He pulls open a back door and throws Sanji in.

Sanji kicks him as he goes. Zoro curses at him.

There are no seats in the back of the van.

There’s a lot of pillows. It smells like the dorm. There’s also several six sets of eyes staring down at him from where everyone else is apparently just chilling in the back of the van.

“Uh,” Sanji says, from the floor. “Hey, guys?”

Zoro jumps in and pulls the door closed.

The van is thrown into reverse and everyone curses at Ace.

“Hey,” says Luffy. “You’re back!”

“That was the plan,” Nami says.

“Took you long enough,” Usopp says. He’s looking at Zoro though, not Sanji.

“Couldn’t find his floor,” Zoro grunts.

Sanji lives on the second floor.

“Uh,” says Sanji, still lying down. Shifting with the turns of the van. “Am I being kidnapped?”

“That would piss off your dad, wouldn’t it?” Nami muses. “Especially if someone files a missing persons report and he gets dragged in.”

Sanji gulps. They know he’s a Vinsmoke, then.

“I still say we just fight him,” Luffy says.

“We’re not fighting an ADULT,” Usopp shrieks.

“Usopp, buddy, we’re adults,” Ace says.

“Except chopper! Chopper put your seatbelt on!”

“It’s on!”

Sanji’s spiralling. They know who his dad is. Do they want to blackmail Judge? Or—

“So we’re planning a party tonight and we want you to cook for us,” Luffy says.

Sanji splutters. “Wh—“

“Yes, we were planning on driving to the store first before going back to the dorm,” Robin says.

“Here.” Zoro throws a dirty piece of printer paper and a pen at him. “List.”

“You want me to… make a list.”

Zoro settles back against the van wall, unfazed by the sharp turn. “Yeah.”

“You guys want me to… cook for you.”

“Duh,” says Luffy.

“You don’t… care that my dad was sending you death threats? Or have you just not gotten to that part in this discussion?”

Luffy laughs. Bright. Free. “Yeah that was annoying,” he says. “But my guy Jinbei’s on it! He used to work security.”

“Uh… huh.” Sanji feels sceptical. It feels too easy.

“Come on, cook,” Zoro says. “I don’t want to have to talk to your old man again. He’s mean.”

Sanji’s never had anyone refer to Zeff as his old man. He doesn’t want to object, though. “Is this not just… too much work? For just me?”

“Oh, Franky says he can help with dinner if that’s what you’re worried about,” Luffy says.

“SUPERRRRR.”

“No,” Sanji shakes his head. “I mean like. I’m not worth all this trouble. You guys were getting threats just for KNOWING me. My dad’s…”

“Just some bastard you happen to share blood with,” Zoro says, arms crossed. “Who gives a fuck? Chopper’s dad is a reindeer.”

“He WORKS WITH REINDEER!” Chopper squeaks.

“Luffy’s grandpa has tried to get us arrested, like, ten times,” Usopp says. “It’s all good.”

“Uh,” says Sanji. That doesn’t sound good.

“Don’t worry, we can outrun him,” Luffy says sagely.

“Plus he’s a bitch,” Ace yells from the front.

Sanji looks at the dirty piece of paper in his hands. There’s a boot print on it. He starts writing a list. “Fine,” he says. “But only because I don’t think you guys would leave me alone even if I tried.”

“Obviously not,” Luffy says. “Zoro’s been moping for weeks.”

Sanji’s head snaps up to meet Zoro’s.

Zoro shrugs. “I don’t like having to count macros,” he says.

“Right,” Sanji agrees easily. “Makes sense.”

He takes note that Zoro’s the one who talked to Zeff. Zoro’s the one who dragged him out. Zoro’s the one who eats everything Sanji gives him like it’s a gift from the gods.

When they arrive at the store, haphazardly parked in the loading dock, Sanji follows Zoro out.

He grabs onto Zoro’s sleeve. “You’re pushing the cart for me.”

“Whatever,” Zoro scoffs.

He does, though.

And he sits on the kitchen floor while Sanji prepares the food for this so called party.

The party is the same group that’s always there in the dorm. Sanji finds out, when he’s done cooking, that they’re celebrating his return.

He cries in their bathroom, briefly.

Then he sits next to Zoro and watches everyone make fools out of themselves as they fill him in on everything he’s missed.

It’s good.

#zosan #one piece #my writing #sort of pre slash really #but whos counting

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mattatouilletkachuk · 8 months ago

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Can you write for Quinn with the “Can I sleep with you?” Prompt pls

Oliver The Orca || Quinn Hughes

Part of The Hockey Babies AU

Prompt: 29. “Can I sleep with you?”

Warnings: anxiety, fear of the future

WC: 6.8k

A/N: This was meant to be short and sweet jfc lol. I decided because it’s so long that I’d make this the origin for them in my Hockey Babies Au.

Summary: Since moving to Michigan as a child, you’ve been annoyed by the eldest child that lived next door. Neither of your parents care and insist on a camping trip before every school year.

Camping trips were not for you. You were meant for the city or at least a relatively mid-sized town. Not trees, bugs, and a tent that you had to put together yourself. Well, that last part was only somewhat true because after failing to put your tent together three times and watching it collapse Quinn had come over to help you. By help, it meant that you stood back and made sure not to touch anything, per his request.

It happens every year. With your parents being friends with Ellen and Jim Hughes there was always a Summer camping trip before school started. When you asked your mother why she insisted that you go she simply told you that as you grow up life moves by fast and that close friends you once had growing up may not be around when you get older. Hence, the camping trip.

You didn’t know much about your mom before your family moved to Michigan. In your defense, how much was a six-year-old supposed to know about their parents?

Even when you were young, your mom liked to talk about her childhood and the one thing and person that was always a constant in her stories was a woman named Ellen. According to your mom, she and Ellen had gone to high school and college together. When they parted ways after graduation their communication slowly died out that was until you moved into your brand new house in Michigan.

As your dad drove the van down the suburban streets filled with large houses, you couldn’t help but think that Michigan didn’t seem all that much different from anywhere else you had lived in your short six years. Your younger brother was excited enough for both of you. You weren’t easily annoyed by your brother but his nonsensical 4-year-old ramblings about everything he saw made you roll your eyes. He didn’t get it. He wasn’t leaving behind any friends or starting at a new school. If your family stayed here this is all he would ever remember, not the home or neighborhood you lived in before.

Your dad seemed to notice your sour mood and tried to point things out that would usually catch your attention. He talked about how there would be more room for you to play, and that there was a lake nearby where you could swim in the summer. Your mom even suggested that you could learn how to ice skate during the winter when the lake froze over. None of it interested you until your dad told you that you would finally have your own bedroom.

That made you perk up. At some point, you were sure that you had to have had your own bedroom at some point. You didn’t remember it because for as long as you could remember you shared a bedroom with your brother. For the rest of the drive, you sat back in your booster seat, thinking about how you would decorate it and if you could somehow convince your parents to let you have your own television. When you started school you could have sleepovers whenever you wanted!

That sounded nice. You’ve been trying to tell them since the few months since your birthday that you were a big girl now and six-year-olds are too old to share a bedroom with their brothers, especially a snot-nosed tattle tale like your brother.

The rest of your family chatted merrily, talking about all the great things living in this neighborhood would have, and how your dad’s new job would be great for the family because he’d be around a lot more. Your parents didn’t try to pull you back into the conversation, knowing that a neutral mood from you would be better than a grumpy one.

Finally, when you pulled up to what was to be your new house, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. It was large and white and there was even a porch. It was like one of those houses you saw in movies or on the covers of the magazines your mom read while waiting in line to buy her groceries.

You refused to let yourself feel too excited about it, though. Your parents had to know that you didn’t approve of this move and that you were still upset about leaving your friends behind and your old home, and the fact that you had to get rid of half of your stuffed animals to make room in the van for a move you didn’t even want!

You flinched when suddenly you heard your mother shriek and nearly jump out of the car, even though your dad had yet to put it into park. You watched in confusion as your mother waved her arms about to get some other woman’s attention. It seemed to work because the other woman turned away from what you presumed were her three sons, who had to be around the same age as you and your brother and embraced your mother in a tight hug.

Finally pulling into the driveway slowly and parking the car, your dad went over to unbuckle your brother from his seat and just like your mother he scrambled out of the car to meet the children who were standing behind the woman mom was talking animatedly to. You watch from your seat as your mom introduces your brother to this strange new woman - you wonder if it’s Ellen, the one whom your mom has pictures of from when they were young. She looks similar, taller than your mom, leaner, and with the build of an athlete, and her blonde hair is a stark contrast to your own mom’s darker shade.

Even her smile is the same. You were told you were moving to be closer to your dad’s new job but now you can’t help but wonder if your mom knew that she would somehow be neighbors with her old friend.

When your dad comes around to help unbuckle your booster seat, you sit back and let him, now eyeing the three boys in roller skates and hockey sticks. It’s the middle one you think that your brother is mainly talking to. Mainly because the youngest, either still a toddler or just a little bit older is holding onto his mom’s leg as he takes in the new people. The other one has to be the oldest, you think, with the way his face is set into a serious mask, and is the only one that has seemed to notice you.

You don’t like that he’s watching you. You don’t know him but at that same time, that’s why you don’t put up resistance to being unbuckled, where normally you would have. You didn’t want to seem like a loser so quickly after moving here. You haven’t even stepped foot into your new house yet.

When your dad helps you clamber out of the car, you make sure to grab your favorite stuffed animal that you were allowed to bring on the trip. When your parents had brought you to Build-a-Bear, they probably thought you’d get a regular bear or an expensive dog but instead, you picked an orca. An orca that you named Oliver who never once left your side.

“Do I have to meet them?” you pulled on your dad’s shirt so that you could be face-to-face with him. You could see that he was trying to hold back a laugh but a light smile still found its way onto his lips. He wasn’t fooling you, though. With as much seriousness as you could muster on your small round face, you continued, “Can’t we see the house first and see these people tomorrow?”

Your dad sighed and replied, “Your mom and brother are already over there. Your mom is catching up with an old friend and your brother, it looks like is making a new friend himself.”

You grumbled something under your breath but your dad ignored it.

“We won’t stay out here for long and it’s nice to get to know you’re neighbors.” He added. “If you get too nervous or you want to leave squeeze your stuffed animal or hand him to me and I’ll get the message that it’s time to go.”

“Oliver,” you muttered. “His name is Oliver.”

He patted down your hair which had gotten more messy as the day went on and hummed apologetically, “I’m sorry, will you tell Oliver that?”

You nodded and with Oliver tucked under one arm, you grabbed your dad’s hand with the other and walked over to the others. You dropped his hand but remained close by, even when he moved closer to your mom and threw his arm around her.

When your mom finally noticed you she introduced you to everyone, “This is my daughter,” your mom announced.

After telling them all your names, the other woman laughed. It was bright and kind. “You always did say if you had a daughter one day, that’s what you would name her.”

They shared one more laugh before your mom continued, “Darling, this is Luke,” he was still holding onto his mom’s leg and you noticed his hair was the brightest. Up close you realized that your original guess of four was wrong. He was barely three years old. You waved shyly at the younger boy and smiled, “This is Jack, he claims to like hockey more than his brothers,” which made the tallest one huff a breathy laugh. “He’s the same age as your brother, isn’t that nice?”

You weren’t sure what to say to that so you just nodded.

“This one, right here,” your mom said with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes that you couldn’t decipher, “is Quinn. He’s the oldest and just so happens to be around your age.”

You took him all in now that you were only standing a few feet away. His hair was much darker and his complexion was pale, you couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like in the winter. He didn’t smile but his eyes weren’t unkind.

He broke the silence well by holding up his hand for you to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he politely said. You replied, saying the same thing and holding Oliver closer to you.

You wouldn’t consider yourself a shy child but it was the way that everyone was so engrossed in the conversation the adults were having while Quinn kept his eyes on you the whole time. You couldn’t pinpoint how it made you feel. You were annoyed that you were singled out but at the same time, a warm buzzing feeling hummed through you as you were the sole focus of someone’s attention.

It all felt like too much, though, and eventually, you handed your stuffed animal to your dad. He was a man of his word and in less than five minutes your mom was wrapping up her conversation with Ellen.

You thought the interaction was over but as you had turned to walk away Ellen shouted one last thing that made your mom’s ears perk up. She turned around and Ellen said, “Every summer before school begins we go on a camping trip. We go for about three days. We leave in a week, I’d love it if you could all come.”

Without looking at your brother or you, or your father for that matter, your mother agreed happily. You know that meant that before you were even unpacked she would drag everyone to the store to buy camping gear.

This time you truly thought you were done because now your parents had started to walk out of earshot and Ellen had started to help Luke take off his roller skates.

However, loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough for everyone else not to, you heard Quinn utter the words, “Don’t forget to bring your orca on the trip.”

You didn’t stop, exactly. You tripped on an uneven part of the sidewalk and managed to catch yourself before falling flat on your face. You looked back at the oldest Hughes and saw that he was gone.

You weren’t a drama queen, no matter how many relatives tried to tell you you were. You were picky and you knew what you liked but you never expected others to understand, that would have been rude. However, how had Quinn known that Oliver was an Orca? Nobody knew, especially children your age. You only knew because one day your dad fell asleep watching a documentary about sea life. Every time someone would guess what your stuffed animal was they often guess a whale, which was a common misconception. One time you heard someone call it a narwhal. You were offended on Oliver’s behalf but secretly found it a little funny.

You stopped letting it bother you but the surprise and shock you felt when someone knew what Oliver was made you radiate happiness. It probably seemed ridiculous to most people but Oliver was important to you. All the grumpiness in the car from earlier had disappeared. That didn’t mean you actually liked the eldest of the three brothers. He was quiet and seemed sort of grumpy and acted like he wanted nothing to do with you.

Your first family camping trip was filled with highs and lows. Jim Hughes taught you how to fish, and you soon realized that you hated it but he seemed to enjoy it so you went along with it. You taught Luke how to make a flower crown. Your mom and Ellen gossiped about their time in school and all the time in between that they missed.

Quinn on the other hand, barely spoke to you. It wasn’t subtle either, everyone was aware and thought the two of you would work it out by the end of the trip. It’s not like you were avoiding him. Maybe a little but not as much as he was trying to avoid you.

All of it made any little spark inside you that wanted to be his friend die. So you vowed for the rest of the trip to ignore him. It felt better to be the one doing the ignoring and not the one being ignored.

When school started you were put into different classes so thankfully the only time you had to see Quinn was lunch time and even then the two of you would sit across the cafeteria to sit with your friends.

For years it had worked. You were cordial as neighbors and put on pleasant smiles for your parents when they decided to have a dinner night with both families. At school you didn’t talk, sometimes you would catch him glancing over at you but you never brought it up. If he had a staring problem that would have to be something he would have to deal with on his own.

The camping trips usually went smoothly. At least up until this last year. There was always so much to do that it was easy to shrug off any attempts anyone made for you to hang out with Quinn. You were nineteen and he was turning the same age in a month.

This could very well be the last camping trip you spent with everyone and sometimes, late at night, the feeling of not seeing Quinn again hurt but then you remembered his judgemental stares and how pretty, skinny, blonde girls would fawn over him once he became a hockey player in the NHL.

Your own thoughts startle you. What do you care if a bunch of girls threw themselves at Quinn while you were away? You especially didn’t care if he took an interest in any of them. He already went to and played hockey at the University of Michigan. You couldn’t think of one instance where he didn’t have several different options for who he spent the night with. When he goes to play for the NHL, nothing will have changed.

(Other than everything. In Michigan, you knew you would see him again. When he moved he wouldn’t be there when you came to visit.)

This was one of the reasons you couldn’t stand Quinn most of the time. He jumbled up your thoughts and you didn’t know what to do with them. With Jack and Luke, it was different,

they had become like a second set of brothers with how often they were over at your house. Quinn, even though the offer was extended to him by every one of your family members, he still never came over.

From the get-go, it was clear that ignoring Quinn for the entire trip wasn’t going to happen.

On the first night, you followed the routine that you had developed over the several years of camping. There was one problem, though, and that was since your first camping trip to now, you had never gotten the hang of putting your tent together. You tried! But someone would always have to help you in the end. You looked around for your brother or your dad but when you turned back to the pile of what was meant to be your tent on the ground, Quinn had come over and silently helped to put it together.

Few words were exchanged, such as, “Can you stand over there?”“Don’t touch that.” and “Hold onto that for a second.”

When your tent was all propped up and ready for you, you went to say ‘thank you’ but Quinn was already walking off to help your dad unload bags from his car.

By the time you had everything all laid out, your sleeping bag, an extra blanket, a flashlight, and of course Oliver the Orca, the sun had begun to set. Jim called for everyone to come gather around the campfire. You pulled a hoodie over your t-shirt and claimed a spot on the log near the fire. You weren’t the last to arrive, as you waited for Jack, your brother, and Quinn to arrive you stared into the crackling campfire.

The camping trip had been pushed back this year so now it was late September and there was a little chill in the air and the warmth from the fire was enough to warm you up.

Luckily for you, in a week you would be heading back to school for your second year at the University of Oregon. It wasn’t your first choice and you knew it would get cold there too, but when you toured the school before your first year, you fell in love with the area. It was lush and green and had everything you wanted.

Quinn gave you what had to have been a sarcastic smile when he finally plopped down on the log on the other side of the fire. You made a show of rolling your eyes at him in return. The little grin that wanted to come up was swallowed back down when you realized that you would miss this. The playfulness that snuck in between both of your two soured your mood.

Looking at Quinn brought back another thought that you’ve recently been thinking about. It was something that would nag at you as you packed up your room and took late-night walks around the neighborhood. You were afraid of getting homesick. You got homesick the first year you went away to college but you were expecting that. It was different, though, you were aching for some type of freedom. You loved your friends and family, and for the first time in your life, you would be free to do whatever you wanted without someone hovering over you.

This year felt different. Your friends from home had started to settle in the cities and towns that they chose to move to. Your little brother was looking at colleges on the East Coast and even Jack was going into the NHL draft this year. With Quinn going to Vancouver to play for the Canucks, he would be the one that you would be the closest to but Vancouver was still a distance from Eugene, Oregon. There was no chance that you would ever just accidentally cross paths with him.

For a second, you felt of pang of sadness. You’ve known Quinn since you were six and it won’t be like last year when you left for school and you would FaceTime or Skype your friends and family and Quinn would be in the background. Quinn was such a fixture in your life and now he was going to be gone too. Quinn loved Michigan, so you would probably see him in the Summers but what if after you graduate you get a job somewhere else? Somewhere where you know no one.

You're jolted out of your spiraling emotions when Jack and your brother plop down on the log next to you, fighting over a bag of unopened marshmallows. You could thank the heavens for their timing because it feels like you’ve been having more and more thoughts about Quinn, your future, and Quinn being a part of your future.

The bag that Jack and your brother were fighting over tears in half, just like anyone could have predicted. The marshmallows go flying everywhere. Some land in the fire and melt quickly but mostly they land amongst the forest floor.

What you weren’t expecting was Jack jumping up from the log and hopping around screaming in a pitch that could rival a little girl’s.

“Oh shit! Oh shit! OH SHI-!”

No one can hold back their laughter as they watch him frantically move about. Your brother nearly falls off of his log in a fit of laughter and you think you hear Quinn snort.

“Jack Rowden Hughes!” Ellen scolds but when you look at her you can see the laughter she was trying her hardest to suppress.

“Sorry, mom,” Jack mumbles but still doesn’t stop hopping around looking for the marshmallows.

“What the hell are you even doing?” Quinn asks, and unlike his mother, he’s not trying to hide his amusement.

When he laughs you feel your chest get tight. You look briefly at him when he speaks and see that he’s already looking at you. He’s not smirking or glaring. No, he’s just smiling at you. There doesn’t seem to be any hidden meaning or mocking in his eyes. He’s happy and you’re the one he’s showing it to unabashedly.

“Don’t you read?” Jack snaps, his hands overflowing with the marshmallows he’s grabbed from the floor, your mom kindly hands him a bag of garbage for him to throw away the dirt-covered sticky treat. “Bears love Marshmallows!”

“Wasn’t that a SpongeBob episode?” You inquire with a laugh, shortly followed by Luke and Quinn.

“Dear, we’ve been camping here for thirteen years.” Your mom tries to soothe Jack but everyone, including her, knows it’s futile. “No one has ever seen a bear around here.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t lurking around waiting to pounce,” Jack argues but he slowly calms down. Well, as calm as Jack can manage.

“What does “waiting to pounce” even mean? Do you think Winnie The Pooh is hiding behind that tree over there?”

“Shut up, Quinn,” Jack grumbles and is shoved down to sit back on the log by his dad.

After everyone is calmed or close enough to calm your dad pulls out another bag of marshmallows and chocolate from a bag while Ellen grabs graham crackers. Jim finds the sticks for you all to toast the s’mores with all while your mom sits back in her chair, drinking out of a thermal cup, and by her lazy smile and pink cheeks, you’re starting to think that perhaps it’s not coffee or hot chocolate.

Everyone quickly falls into the easy chatter that only forms after years of knowing one another. You hold your s’more over the fire as you sit quietly, listening to all the conversations happening around you.

You're pretty sure that whatever is in your mom’s mug she shared with Ellen because the two of them are quietly giggling after every other word. Jim and your dad are talking to Jack about his future and what the draft might be like when it comes around soon. You feel bad for the kid. You’ve heard almost every adult close to Jack give him the same speech. It’s not like he won’t have a future. You’ve seen him play hockey, both for fun and for competition, and know that he’s better than good. Every team is looking at him right now and with his charisma and the way he moves on the ice, he’s guaranteed to become a star almost immediately after being drafted.

Luke and your brother have given up on eating the s’mores altogether and are taking turns throwing marshmallows back and forth to see who can catch the most with only their mouths. After a minute of watching, you can safely say they’re both terrible and that ‘the bear’ coming out to eat the marshmallows is more likely than one of them catching one of them in their mouths.

You stayed quiet, not feeling like participating in any of the conversations. It wouldn’t raise any suspicions, since this annual trip began you were always worn out by the end of the day. Not talking to anyone, eating whatever your dad decides to barbecue, and falling asleep on your mom’s lap. So no one questioned you as you tried to not set your campfire snack on fire and thought about how everything was about to change after you all left the camping grounds and how you weren’t ready for it.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed that Quinn was quiet himself. Not staring down his burnt marshmallow like you put sneaking curious glances your way and silently hoping you would catch him.

With a loud slap on his knee and a groan that only fathers seemed to know how to make your dad stood from his lawn chair.

“It’s been a long day, I think I’ll try to get some sleep so I can wake up early to catch some fish.”

Jim nodded enthusiastically at the prospect of fishing in the morning and stood up as well. Both of the men helped their wives up from their seats, you smiled as they made it difficult for their husbands to walk them to their tents. The swaying a giggling never died down, even when they were inside and the tent was zipped.

You were never one for fishing and why people liked to do it so early in the day perplexed you. You had attempted fishing twice in your life, once with your dad and brother which resulted in you being pushed into the lake by your brother and the other time was on a camping trip where Jim was convinced he could change your mind about fishing. It didn’t work. So now your plans for tomorrow are to lay down a beach blanket near the water and read one of the books you brought with you.

The next ones to stray towards their tents for the night were Luke and your brother. You knew they were going to be next. They enjoyed fishing and spending time with their respective dads.

“Maybe I’ll even catch dinner for us tomorrow!” your brother exclaimed.

You wanted to gag at the idea but you saw the excited look on his face and decided against it. Instead, you gave him a thumbs up and mustered up a, “I’ll wish you luck!”

Jack didn’t say goodnight to anyone but you all saw him run behind one of the trees to vomit all of the sugar he consumed. By now he was most likely in his tent groaning or trying to get a signal on his phone. Probably both.

It didn’t take long for Quinn to stand and bid you goodnight after the other boys left. Your eyes followed him as he walked with his head down to his tent. He had no real reason for leaving. You had watched him sporadically throughout the night and he didn’t seem tired. Perhaps he just didn’t want to stay out here alone with you. You murmur a quiet goodnight back, not sure if he heard it or not but not wanting to say it again.

You weren’t ready for sleep yet. Your mind was still racing and when your thoughts came back to coming home for the holidays and everyone not being there a knot formed in your throat. You had made friends in Oregon and this upcoming year you would likely start networking, which meant meeting new people, and even though you haven’t met them yet, you knew they weren’t going to be better than the people sleeping in the tents less than ten feet away from you.

If it hadn’t been for the chilly early September breeze you probably wouldn’t have noticed the tears on your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly. Everyone had already gone to sleep so you could cry as much as you wanted to and no one would know. No one but you, and you didn’t want to deal with all of those emotions right now. You were only feeling like this because it had been a long day and what you needed was a good night's rest.

You watched the fire die down and when it was only embers left you sprinkled some sand on it to make sure it wouldn’t set the forest ablaze as you all slept. When you were done with that you crawled into your tent and tried to get comfortable in your sleeping bag.

It was futile. The extra blanket didn’t warm you up and the sleeping bag was old and had small holes in it that you didn’t notice when you had packed it. Not even pulling Oliver close to your chest made you feel better.

The tent was cold and hard and despite the rustling leaves and wind outside, it felt silent. You weren’t built to be alone and with your recurring thoughts of everyone leaving and not coming back once school starts up again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stay in your tent tonight.

You grabbed your extra blanket and Oliver and paused when you were outside. Who could you share a tent with without them making a big deal of it? Your brother and Jack were immediately scratched off that list. They had the biggest mouths known to man. You could seek out the comfort of your parents, similar to when you were little and afraid and you would crawl into their much bigger bed and cuddle between the two of them. They would worry if you did that now and you didn’t want to worry them on the first night of the trip they had come to love.

There was nothing wrong with going to Luke but your body itched to turn the other way and go to Quinn’s tent. He wouldn’t tell anyone and even if he wasn’t sharing the same thoughts out loud, perhaps he was thinking them silently, after all, he was in the same predicament.

Before you could stop yourself you tapped gently on the tent and whispered his name.

Nothing happened, so you continued just a little louder and perhaps with a slight whine. “Quinn! Quinn, open your tent. Quinn, are you asleep?”

Finally, the zipper was tugged down and a disheveled Quinn appeared. Despite his look of annoyance, you could tell that he wasn’t really upset with you. If he was he would have told you to go away by now or never opened the tent.

“What’s wrong?” His words slurred from sleep but his tone was serious.

With a weak smile, you replied, “I think there’s a bear outside my tent that thinks I’m a marshmallow. Can I sleep with you?”

To your surprise, Quinn shuffled to the side of his sleeping bag to make room for you. When you continued to look at him dumbstruck he sighed and waved at the tent flap and said, “Can you come in here already? Also make sure you zip that up. I’m pretty sure that any bear with a sweet tooth will be dissuaded by a zipper.”

You did as he asked and once you did you climbed into the sleeping bag with him. He grunted when you accidentally elbowed him in the stomach and when you kept trying to readjust in the small sleeping area that was only really meant for one Quinn grabbed your waist and rolled you so that your back was against his front. You felt breathless being so close to Quinn, no that wasn’t it, being held so close to him. The two of you grew up together so it didn’t feel strange to sleep in the same area. Sometimes you had to share a bed because your brother and Jack wanted to share one instead. One time when you were sharing an air mattress, it popped and you both had to sleep on the floor after that. You still held firm that the popping was Quinn’s fault.

This was different, though. Out of all the times you had to sleep near Quinn, he never seemed like a cuddler and yet, here you were with his arm slung tightly around you, with his forehead pressed against your neck. Slowly and without saying anything you grabbed his hand that was on your waist, holding you to him, and intertwined your fingers. It felt grounding. How could you spiral when he was so solidly here?

“So are you sticking with the bear story or are you actually going to tell me why you're in my tent?” Quinn said into the quiet darkness.

You didn’t want to answer his question. You wanted to lay here and be held and take up all of his warmth and fall asleep. You also knew that if you didn’t vocalize your fears they would only get bigger and bigger until one day you would simply combust and find yourself living in a cardboard box outside of your childhood home.

You squeezed Oliver with the hand that wasn’t holding Quinn’s and whispered shyly, “I’m afraid of what happens after this. I’m afraid that once I go back to school everything will change and I’ll come home and nothing will be how it was.”

You let out a breath of relief. Even though you couldn’t help but still fret over everything it still felt nice to get all of that off of your chest.

Quinn had remained quiet the whole time and for a moment you thought he was falling asleep until he squeezed your hand and moved his arm under your head to grab Oliver. Quinn wasn’t taking him from you but he held him gently. Almost stroking the worn fuzz on the stuffed orca.

“Things are gonna change,” he finally said. “All of our parents will still be in Michigan and so will your brother and when he goes to college I’m sure he’ll call to annoy you every day.”

You smiled sadly, it was true. Your little brother was like you. He aches for space but needs to know that the people he loves will still be there.

“Doesn’t it scare you?” It’s a whisper, you can barely hear yourself over the pounding of your heart and the blood rushing in your ears.

You didn’t know why you felt scared right now, this was Quinn, the same boy you’ve known nearly all your life. On the other side, though, this is Quinn, the same guy that annoys you more often than not. Who on most days you think he might hate you and you might hate him. Your thumb rubs circles on the hand that’s holding yours. What was it that your mom always said? There’s a thin line between love and hate.

It takes a minute and then two before you think he might not answer. Had his lips not been so close to your neck you wouldn’t have heard him. His words would have been lost with the wind outside.

“Of course I’m scared.” He finally says and before you can cut in he continues. “I’m scared that I won’t be as good as people are hoping I will be when I finally get to play. I’m afraid to be so far away from my family.” He paused again but kept quiet, there was a tension in the air and you knew he wanted to say more. “I know my family will always be there, though. I also know that my friends will be too. I just don’t know about you.”

You went to turn around so that you could see his face and hear his words when he says them. His arms around your waist stop you, though.

“Whether or not I like it, you know everything about me.” You reply, the next part you look at your stuffed Orca so it feels like you're talking to it rather than him. “I think you might be the only person who knows everything about me. You’re always paying attention.”

“Of course, I’ve been paying attention.”

You don’t hesitate and you don’t let yourself think before saying what you want to.

“Why?”

Quinn sighs your name and it sounds like a prayer. It sounds like he’s begging you to just know. Quinn is a man of few words and you want him to say it.

“When I was six a stubborn girl with a stuffed Orca moved in next door to me. You watched me, you saw me, first before you finally looked at my family. For as long as I can remember I’ve been an afterthought to everybody.” Quinn says and his words make you hurt. “I did things to annoy you just so you would notice me because I wanted /your/ attention.”

“That’s very playground of you.” You say lightly, trying to ease the suffocating air in the tent.

Quinn laughs lightly and it tickles your neck. “Then, and here’s the kicker, I get drafted to the Vancouver Canucks, and team far away from everything I know and then I remember that this girl that I’ve been annoying on purpose for years has what can only be described as an emotional support Orca. People have stuffed bears, ducks, or literally anything else. I’ve never seen someone with an Orca and for the first time everything I had and everything I’ve ever wanted became so clear.”

“And what is it that you want?”

He lets go of your hand and sits up on his elbows just so he can look at you when says, “You. Since you got out of that car gripping that stuffed animal in one hand and your dad’s hand in the other all while giving the meanest glare I think I’ve ever seen from a kindergartner.”

“I thought you hated me.”

A small smile tugs at the side of your lip, “I thought I did too. If I’m being honest, though, I don’t think I could ever actually hate you.”

The kiss is a surprise. It’s not on your lips or your neck, Quinn simply leans down and places his lips to your forehead. After that, he lays back down behind you and wraps his arm around your torso. You waste no time grabbing his hand and sinking into his embrace.

He’s solid and warm and for the first time in months, your mind doesn’t feel like it’s running a mile a minute.

“Do you believe in fate?”

The question catches you off guard. Fate? Quinn was so practical it seemed like a weird thing for him to ask. Did you believe in it though? If you were asked ten years ago, you would have said yes. If you were asked four years ago you would have said no, but lying in Quinn’s tent and in his arms, you can’t but wonder if maybe you do?

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. “Do you?”

Quinn is quick to answer, “Oh yeah, how else can I explain that the girl I fell for at six would have a favorite stuffed animal that is an Orca, while I’m about to play for Vancouver whose mascot is an orca?”

You smile at that. It did seem rather fate-like if you thought about it like that.

“Well, when you put it like that,” you laugh, as does Quinn. “When you’re off being a hotshot hockey player in Canada you have to promise me something.”

“Hmm, depends on what it is that I have to promise.”

You bit your lip and let your eyes slide down to Oliver. You hoped that Quinn would hear the true meaning of your words when you said them because you doubted you could say them out loud yet. “Just remember that Oliver is your favorite Orca when you’re out there.”

You waited with bated breath. Quinn’s breathing had slowed and for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep.

That was until he pulled you closer to himnand said directly in your ear, “Oliver will always be my favorite no matter where I go.”

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl imagines #the hockey babies au #hockey babies au #Quinn and mama #mamaqh #chaos with quinn

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ghastlyfilters · 1 month ago

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Hi! Saw you were taking Lost Boys requests...

I have a lot of silly concepts or ideas but my favorite is poly!Lost boys with a partner (I usually prefer fem reader but whatever ur comfy with is all good) who loves stealing some of their older clothes. Like, reader is smaller than them so the clothes are really comfy. Especially the older stuff cus decade+ old fabric is so soft.

reader stealing the lost boys’ clothes!!

pairing(s): implied poly!lost boys x fem!reader

warning(s): aside from paul and marko definitely paying attention to your curves, none!!

(now if i was the reader here i know damn WELL i would be stealing their clothes too. each one of their styles is literally perfection and to see that shit on vampires? HELLO? also i may have gotten a bit too carried away with thinking about all their clothing designs.. but thanks for this cute request<3)

gifs not mine! (if you know the original owner please tag them!)

HEADCANONS

• Stealing your boys’ clothes is by far the EASIEST thing anyone could do. The reason being? They quite literally never change out of the fits they’ve had on since 1987.

• The boys don’t have much of a scent, seeing as they’re all undead. So a washing machine doesn’t exist in their little world anymore. Which means they will now forever be outfit repeaters.

More fun for you.

• All of the boys have the most random shit scattered around the cave. They’re the worst hoarders you have ever encountered. Cough cough.. Paul.. cough cough..

• But the amount of clothes they have laying around is shocking. Boots, band tees, jackets, jeans, leather trousers, gloves, shirts, man you name it. They have it. Every fucking decade.

• The band tees are by far your favourite thing to run around with. Paul has a shit ton of Môtley Crüe tees, and Dwayne has so many shirts with The Doors on them. (Jim’s face is literally everywhere in the cave now. They sure as hell ain’t Christians, so if they’re selling their souls to anyone it’s the horned god below or their icon Jim Morrison.)

• They did let you away with wearing their old band tees until Marko told the boys about EBay.

When Paul found out a vintage Mötley Crüe tour shirt was going for over a grand, the mf was ecstatic..

So much so, he decided to put his own vintage Mötley tees up for bidding.

“Two thousand… three thousand.. FOUR THOUSAND… FIVE THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS!!!”

Poor Paul’s bubble was burst however when David told him there was absolutely nothing they could do with the money aside from unlimited Chinese food for the next few months.

• David’s old clothes are much different from what the others have. He was the first to be turned, therefore he’s lived throughout the most eras.

• He’s got a LOT of leather jackets and trenchcoats. Paul and Marko always joke about him being Jack the Ripper, but you see a different side to his style. There’s been many nights you actually sat down with him and asked where he’d gotten the majority of his old items. Some were by Spanish designers that had been gifts from Max whenever he’d provided David with different clothing, others were from when David had fed off multiple store owners and casually picked out what he fancied afterwards.

• It saddens you that he doesn’t wear any of these anymore. The only reminder he ever gets of them is when you put on the soft wool Trenchcoats that go right down to your ankles, almost looking like a cape. Marko makes mini conspiracy theories that maybe you’re the real Dracula.

• Dwayne’s load of clothes is FILLED with leopard print designs. He’s been a 70s boy even all these years later, and he misses that era so dearly.

• There’s this one satin leopard print shirt that actually fits you quite well in his eyes. It’s still a little baggy.. yet oddly attractive to him. You’ve claimed it as your own now, wearing it like a pj set.

• Aside from the satin shirt, literally nothing else Dwayne has fits you. He’s a muscular guy.. and a vampire. So trying to get his baggy ass clothes to even have a slight loose fit is not for the weak 😭

• Marko however, this is where the real fun begins. You can borrow anything from Marko.. ANYTHING.. and it’s guaranteed to fit.

• He was a big crop top collector. When he used to find a good shirt that wasn’t cropped however, he’d cut it up and make it into a crop top himself. And these are what he adores you wearing. They cling nicely to your curved body, and whenever you wear them you can never get both Paul and Marko to stop staring at your breasts. Assholes.

• Marko’s clothes are by far your favourite pieces out all the boys. Much like the crop tops, he really enjoyed designing all his other outfits when he wore them. And he was pretty damn good at it too. Marko can be a crafty little thing when he wants to be. He’ll even help you design your own outfits too! He’ll cut, sew, stitch, glue, draw, paint, anything you want Marko to design, he’s down. He took so much pride in his unique outfits back in the day. And if you want yours spiced up, Marko’s your man.

• You wear his old belts a lot. One time, you were rummaging through the boys’ old stuff again, and immediately fell in love with this black latex belt Marko had. He’d drawn on perfectly shaped skulls with a white acrylic pen, and added different studs around the buckle. Ever since that day, Marko pretty much customises everything you own now.

FIRST TIME WRITING FOR THE LOST BOYS!! hope you all enjoyed these headcanons and my requests are open for any lost boys related ideas you may have!! <33

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konpeitonom · 1 month ago

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Hiii!! I've been loving all your MW hcs and I was wondering if I could get some SFW/NSFW hcs for a throuple relationship between a fem reader, Curly, and Jimmy? Thank you!!

throuple with jimmy and grant curly.

sfw/nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader — cw for jimmy overall lol, he’s kinda gay here and so is curly. jim curly my beloved. they are not dating, just you dating them. minors do not read nsfw section thank you..

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; this was a bittt difficult to write for i won’t lie. jimmy is just too jealous/selfish of a character to make anything like that work! but i tried my best.. i really like the smut here!!

SFW

— i’m not going to question how this came to be. i can only guess curly and jimmy had some sort of compromise. whatever happened it’s all in the past and you’re all together like this!

— i think if you cracked any sort of joke that curly and jimmy are dating as well, jimmy would genuinely be so hurt. this is my post so i can proudly say that man is so deep into the closet. but whatever! this is an x reader.. curly would just laugh and be like ‘haha yeah’

— i think they are the perfect balance! curly can sometimes be overbearing in his love. he’s just so sweet. and jimmy. uhm. you know. you’d be lucky to get a genuine hug from this guy.

— if you guys are all hanging out together, jimmys jealousy is really evident. but for your sake and his ‘best friends’ sake, he tries to only subtly show it. even if all three of you know..

— jimmy would just stare as you two show your sickly sweet affection for one another. he’d step in, hands suddenly on your waist as he attempts a pleasant conversation with curly..

— i can only imagine the conversations they’d have about you, when you’re not in the room.. curly is the type of absolutely gush over his partner, and with jimmy dating you also it makes for a perfect situation!

— jimmy says he’s sick of it, but he doesn’t mind.

— dating the same girl would change their dynamic just a little, but at the end of the day they are still best friends. jimmy is still a very important person in curlys life, so he’ll try to keep the peace.

NSFW

minors do not read

— with sex, you usually have them one on one. because jimmy can sometimes just be so mean to curly, and you deserve to have a special moment with curly too! with both of them, actually.

— jimmy likes to go all out when it’s just you two. no stupid curly to try and mediate. leaves him bruises to look at, like between your thighs. a reminder than you’re his too.

— curly would gently kiss the bruises jimmy had given you. he’d ask if he was gentle enough, that if he had hurt you. because he knows jimmy is capable of that.

— on the rare occasion that you do fuck together, it really is like having the best of both worlds! jimmys more harsh nature goes well with curly who’s all about just pleasing you.

— jimmy bosses the fuck out of curly. like, ‘you do this, go do that’ ..

— jimmys personal favorite position is you in his lap, his dick shoved up your ass, as curly is stuffed into your cunt.. curly doesn’t mind it, as long as he can see your face clearly. jimmy is usually biting at your shoulders and neck..

— curly is also right by your ears, so he’d ask several times if this was all okay. if jimmy was too much, and if he should step in or call for a break/to slow down.

— jimmy would also like having his dick sucked as curly fucks you. it’s a sight to see, really. he feels most in control, because curlys movements choke you out a bit.

— he’d yell at curly to pick up his pace. how could he expect to please a woman when he’s going so fucking slow?

— once, he had came all over your pretty face, his cum leaking a bit out your lips. curly then reached over and placed his hand on your chin, kissing you. seeing his cum on you and curlys lips made him so unbelievably horny. dear god

— that’s kind of his go to thought when jerking off. he’s hoping you’ll recommend the two fuck as you watch one day. his cum on curly, in curly? yeah. yeah. he’s not gay though he’s just doing it for his girlfriend.

#nomnompyon #mouthwashing #captain curly #captain curly x reader #curly fluff #curly grant x reader #curly headcanons #curly x reader #grant curly x reader #mouthwashing fic #jimmy x reader #jimmy mouthwashing x reader #co pilot jimmy #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy x reader mouthwashing #jimcurly

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frownyalfred · 9 hours ago

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the idea of arkham patient bruce wayne has burrowed into the depths of my mind. this is SUCH a fascinating thought and changes so many things…how does the justice league fare without batman? how does alfred? i’d assume alfred is given bruce’s guardianship when he’s institutionalized, and i could even see him taking in the robins – finding and helping these children who remind him so much of his own boy, trying not to fail them as he failed bruce. how bruce himself does in arkham is so interesting to consider…is he kept on the same level of security as the real supervillains? is he moved there after Events? i can’t see him quietly or graciously accepting the kind of abuse towards patients that the guards and doctors like to heap on arkham’s inmates, or cheerfully putting up with attempts to “cure” him. prince of arkham brucie…so full of pain and anger and only getting angrier by the day, but full of love too, and despair that in gotham there’s almost nothing separating the mentally ill from the criminal element because in the eyes of the GCPD and the arkham psychiatrists being mentally ill is a crime unto itself…

on a somewhat lighter note, he still manages to drive the riddler batshit up the belfry just by existing. their intellectual cold war is the stuff of legend. whatever inciting thing bruce actually does to get himself admitted to arkham is negligible, in my mind he ends up staying there mostly because of the batman-level shenanigans and bullshit he gets up to once he’s inside. he’s not as violent as killer croc or joker, but he’s driven and brilliant and filled with the kind of vengeance that nothing short of complete lobotomy will take from him, and that makes him a completely different kind of impossible for the staff to keep under control. he can give jim gordon gray hairs by sitting quietly and doing nothing and that brings him all kinds of petty satisfaction

i love the superbat element to this too. i feel like with nothing else distracting him bruce could figure out Mild-Mannered Reporter Clark Kent in a much shorter period of time, and he’d totally keep clark in the dark about that while waxing poetic about how gotham deserves a hero to take care of her, not just abandon her to ruin (as the patients of arkham so often are) (as the city herself has been, because she’s only ever superman’s third thought, after metropolis and the world, and if the man of tomorrow doesn’t see the point in fighting for her than who else will bother?)

Arkham Prince Bruce Wayne??? I am obsessed. Obsessed. I imagine he’s in there because he wouldn’t stop killing people. Like the first few scenes of Batman Begins, where he’s convinced that shooting Chill will solve his problems…maybe the universe doesn’t stop him then. Maybe he never finds Ra’s. Maybe he starts going higher and higher up the chain of corruption, taking out the high profile politicians and businessmen he thinks have poisoned this city. Who were responsible for his parents’ deaths. They put him in Arkham because surely a man like that is insane. But is he?

Because yes, the two most important things he has are his brilliance and his care for the city. This Bruce Wayne doesn’t pretend, doesn’t dull himself for the benefit of the people around him. His care for Gotham is apparent in every word he speaks to Clark. And it’s his city, damn it. Even from in here.

#obsessed with this #chewing on it #seriously #batman #bruce wayne #dc #asks #anon #fic ideas #clark kent #superman

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year ago

Text

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities.

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking.

Right.

Pain management.

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot.

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice.

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit.

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer.

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open.

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it.

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed.

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up.

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick."

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed."

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit.

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it.

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store.

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted.

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand.

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed.

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed.

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture.

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.'

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday.

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire.

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it.

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights.

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two.

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this.

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight.

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches.

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over.

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home.

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it.

Not in general, and definitely not for this.

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill.

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go.

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good."

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes.

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced.

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo.

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago.

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly.

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything.

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons.

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them.

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental.

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth.

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face.

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve?

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch."

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least.

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off.

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side.

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife.

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know."

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face.

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door.

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?"

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed.

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react.

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne.

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?”

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.”

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train.

All gas, no breaks.

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant.

‘Dammit.’ Wayne thought with a sigh.

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats.

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid.

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish.

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve.

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit.

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face.

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?”

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.”

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time.

God save him from idiot teenagers.

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking.

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills.

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit.

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind.

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?”

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb.

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,”

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious.

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases.

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position.

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent.

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.”

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed.

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation.

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home.

“Good.” Wayne said.

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room.

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer.

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways.

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag.

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both.

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked.

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep.

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with.

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him.

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute.

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure.

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on.

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet.

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on.

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain.

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out.

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid.

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse.

He just had to find the right words.

#small town rumors #steddie #pre steddie #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne munson is a bamf #hey look eddie showed up!#little shit FOUGHT ME and is still fighting me a bit in the next chapter #I need him to quit being an asshole and go into more of that hurt/comfort section of this fic #hurt/comfort #enemies to lovers #sorta #its on a03 noooowstranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #beat to shit steve harrington

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lasanya539 · 4 months ago

Text

tuck your head under the covers

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Insomniac Leo - visiting various brothers when unable to sleep, or managing to fall asleep and his brothers doing anything to PRESERVE that sleep Word Count: 4635

Posted on AO3!

---

The first time it happens, Mikey doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

It’s four in the morning on a Monday, and he’s thirsty, so he gets up from his train car and walks to the kitchen. Only to find Leo sitting at the table, with a lollipop in his mouth and a Jupiter Jim comic in his hands, legs rested on the surface, humming a tune under his breath.

“Leo?” Mikey mumbles drowsily, rubbing at his eyes. “Bro, what are you doing?”

Leo startles in surprise, and sits up, shooting him a guilty look. “Mikes!” He exclaims, voice pitched low. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no.” He flaps his hand, grabbing a glass. “I was thirsty, wanted water. Why are you awake right now?”

“Eh, you know, same old, same old. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mikey hums, taking a languid sip. His tired eyes catch a giant mug on the table, black as tar coffee peeking from the bottom, a pack of pink Starbursts with wrappers, and what looks like the crumbled remains of the pecan pie April’s mom had lovingly gifted them. If he was a little more awake, he’d be a lot more pissed about that, but for now he just sighs and stretches.

“Did you at least try to sleep?” He asks, knowing the answer.

“Yeah, of course.” Leo replies easily enough, turning away to flip another page. “But that’s the problem with insomnia, my friend, it kinda makes the ‘fall asleep’ thing not happen.”

Hm, not good enough. Mikey waddles over closer, physically pushing his brother’s head up so he can study him. Leo’s eyes are just barely bloodshot, cheeks hollower than he’d like to see on him.

“Can I help you?” He asks, bemused.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Somewhere in the evening, I got a cat nap in. Don’t worry, Mikey, you’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.” He retorts around a yawn. He plops down in a chair next to him, picking up an uneaten Starburst and chomping on it. Leo tsks at that, but he ignores him, folding his arms and resting his head comfortably.

“You just brushed your teeth and are supposed to be asleep, why are you still here?”

“Moral support.”

“Moral support from what? I – okay,” Leo stands up, all big brother voice. “C’mon, up.”

Mikey whines, not having enough energy to fight as Leo physically picks him up and throws him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Grk–?” He chokes out in surprise, when the hell did he get so strong?

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

Leo plants him on the bathroom floor, and pointedly stares at him as Mikey brushes, having to actually count each stroke on the rows of teeth under the scrutiny instead of a quick wash. As soon as he rinses his mouth, Leo picks him up again.

“You realize I have feet.” He said, flopping his limbs in defeat and letting himself be carried lifelessly.

“You think I don’t know you were planning on dragging more ass by suggesting a movie night or something? I’ve taught you all my tricks, I know how your brain works.”

Mikey tries to keep in his smile at how well his brother can read him, and gasps dramatically. “Language! I’ll tell on you to Raphie.”

“If you make it to morning asleep like a good turtle, I’ll tell Raphie, how about that?”

Mikey gets tossed on his bed, the springs creaking under his weight. His favorite quilt is thrown over him, and his stuffed crocodile is tucked in between his shoulder and neck, just how he likes it. The warmth immediately makes him even drowsier, but he blinks up at Leo and invitingly opens his arms.

“Sleep?” He suggests, making the motion of scooting over to make room for him.

A few seconds, but Leo eventually sighs, far too susceptible to the prospect of little brother cuddles. He sticks his freezing feet into the tangle of limbs, making him hiss, but settles in comfortably on his pillow. Arms wind around him and squeeze affectionately.

“Better?” Mikey asks.

Leo hums on top of his head. “Yep, thanks Angelo. You can pass out now.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to do so. Unfortunately for him, when he does wake up to his 9 A.M. alarm, the side of the bed is cold and the corner of the pillow undented. Outside, he sees Leo casually do the crossword puzzle with Dad with a newly filled mug of coffee in his hand, looking like sleep never graced him at all. Mikey sighs, but sets to making breakfast.

–

The second time it happens, Donnie is pulled out of his whirlwind of thoughts by a single hand on his shoulder.

Naturally, he jumps, not having expected that contact when he’s working in his lab alone, smack-dab in the middle of the night. He’s too scientific and logic-driven to ever assume the existence of ghosts (which are different from spirits, thank you very much Michael), but the sudden touch makes him doubt that fact for a second.

Leo backs up with his hands up apologetically, and Donnie realizes with some amount of mortification he actually hissed at him. The mortification lasts for all of two seconds before he scowls at his twin with all the irritation in the world as he turns off his loud music.

“What the hell do you want?” He groans at Leo, rubbing his sore eyes.

“Just checking in.” Leo says, sounding normal enough, though Donnie picks up a strange note in his voice. He peeks at him between his fingers and catches his eyes look up from his torso just in time.

Looking down, he sees his other hand gripped into a fist, sharp claws extended, held right to the middle of his chest. Shit, he was scratching at his plastron again, the dull ache finally registering in his brain.

It’s a nasty habit he’s had since he was very young, all the complicated feelings of the big, bad world too much for him to handle. His family has been trying for years to help him work through his emotions instead of immediately resorting to this, but apparently all the effort goes to shit the second it gets to debugging, the devil’s favorite method of torture. Donnie turns away, embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

Leo thankfully doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and flops onto the back of his chair, resting his head at the top. “What are you working on?”

“Setting up face identification in the scanners in the Hidden City.” Donnie replies tiredly. “The mystic orbs they use as cameras are advanced enough to pick up magical signatures, but somehow not enough to track facial features of their various species of mutants and Yōkai. So, I’m doing it for them.”

Leo snorts. “Wow, how altruistic of you.” He leans in further, presumably to try to read the strange symbols that make up their programming language, before Donnie swats at his face.

“Stop, you’re ruining my concentration.”

“Shut up.” He swats back. Annoying

Donnie’s eyes flick over to the corner of the monitor, looking at the time. Wonderful, it’s another night of no sleep for his insomniac twin brother.

He sighs. “I’m assuming getting bored to death from Papa’s speech on the various opera singers of the 20th century somehow didn’t lure you to sleep?”

“What, are you telling me you don’t care about the 1950s Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi drama about their different vocal techniques? It’s the hottest tea from that side of the century, Don-Don, I’m disappointed in you.” He dodges the swat from him this time.

Donnie turns up to look at him, noticing his brother’s heavy eyelids blinking over his sharp eyes, far too awake for someone who hasn’t slept in Gaga knows how long. He’s wearing his soft blue hoodie, the big one that he makes sure is always washed with the rose scent beads for the comforting smell.

“Is there anything specific that is keeping you up?” He asks, worried.

“Nah, not really. Unless you count my dumb brain as a whole, nope.”

“Don’t call yourself dumb.” Donnie says, practiced. He stands up and stretches, hearing some impressive cracks from his neck that Leo whistles at.

“Is there anything I can say that will make you try to sleep again?”

“Probably not, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t argue. If there’s one thing he knows about his twin is that badgering him about his sleep intake, no matter how worrying, is the best way to get completely shut out by him. And as annoying as he finds Leo on a day-to-day basis, he’s rather fond of the time he gets to spend with him in the middle of the night when it's just the two of them, the disaster twins. “Do you wanna play some Mario Kart instead?”

Leo brightens up. “Snacks?”

“Of course we’ll have snacks. I may be crazy, but I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, you’re a civilized demon-possessed genius, right?”

“Exactly right, my dear brother.”

The twins grab enough popcorn and candy from the pantry to send a tiny child into a coma, but as soon as Leo’s hand moves to the coffee machine, Donnie whacks it with a box of Nerds. “Dude, ow?”

“No more caffeine.” He says sternly.

“Oho, that is rich coming from you—”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. Otherwise I’m switching the kitchen permanently to decaf and making myself a secret password protected machine with the good coffee, the extra dark-roasted one.” That shuts Leo up fast.

They play and bicker loudly in the soundproof lab, up until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, Donnie falls asleep with the controller in his hand, only to wake up in the afternoon and find himself resting on the cot with his favorite blanket, battle shell and mask off. His sleepless twin nowhere to be found.

–

The third time it happens, Raph is having a nightmare about the Krang.

It’s par for the course, really. In the morning, he happens to overhear one of Mikey’s favorite YouTubers talk about their grief over their late friend who was lost to the bubblegum aliens, so he spends the most of the day in a haze, keeping to himself in the dojo, training, and eating his dinner alone while reading news articles about the reconstruction in New York to repair the damage from their fight.

One trigger after another. So it’s no surprise that his dreams are filled with sick pink flesh and yellow eyes, tentacles worming over his body, digging into his brain, sadistic voices of the hive mind overpowering his screams, the feel of a lithe figure in his clutch, nails scratching onto his hand as he tightens his grip on his victim, his brother—

The part that’s surprising, however, is the other presence in his room, comforting, safe. Soft words spoken over his whimpers, warm hands smoothing over his shell as he regains consciousness. “Deep breaths, big bro, you’re okay, you’re safe, I promise you. Try to breathe, please.”

He breathes, turning away from the damp pillow, lifting his head up by his elbows to blink the sleep away. Blood pools back into his body, bones creaking in protest. All four limbs, whole, green, normal.

Raph takes in one deep breath, and lets it out with meditative precision. His vision finally clears. Leo is sitting on the corner of his bed, hands anxiously rubbing together but giving him space to get up on his own. Worried eyes ticking over his face before latching onto his, relieved.

“Hiya, Raphie.” He says with remarkable poise. “Okay?”

Raph slowly scoots up to sit properly, picking up one of his stuffed bears and hugging him. Embarrassment keeps him from meeting Leo’s eyes, burying his face in the soft fake fur. “Mhm.”

A hand gently strokes his leg, a comforting, involuntary motion. “Long day?”

“...You could say that.” He agrees. He clears his throat. “What time is it?”

“Just after 2.” Leo squeezes his knee. “Do you want me to wake Dad?”

Raph scoffs. “What is Dad going to do in the middle of the night? Let him sleep.”

“Okay, how about the other guys? We could turtle pile.”

He shakes his head before Leo finishes. “No, no, it’s not important, Leo. Let them all sleep.”

“It is important.” He replies sharply, and Raph blinks up at him. Leo’s sporting his own version of a Raph Chasm, eye-ridges pulled together in a gut-wrenching frown, lips turned down. “You are important.”

A lump rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. He’s had enough of Leo stubbornly insisting that he stop dismissing his own emotions over the years, so he says nothing, instead lifting up an arm. Leo immediately snuggles in next to him, shell fitting perfectly under his arm.

The tension falls off his frame as his little brother wiggles to get comfortable. Raph sighs, the dregs of his nightmare-fueled dread seeping away with Leo right next to him, the scent of roses in his nose.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers.

“Pizza Supreme, no.” Raph snorts, making Leo huff.

“Okay.” He agrees easily. Then, “Oh, I almost forgot!”

From the pocket of his hoodie he pulls out his phone, tapping at it for a couple of seconds before holding out the camera. “Snap streak.”

Raph snorts again but obliges his younger brother, putting on some version of a smile as he takes the picture, adding a bunch of unicorn emojis in the corner before showing it to him for approval.

He takes the phone, but immediately frowns, zooming in to study Leo’s face. Even though he’s grinning, the exhaustion is practically radiating off him. The red stripes under his eyes are marred with purple bags, eyes squinting with the effort of staying up. He looks like he’s about to pass out almost any second.

Raph sends off the streak, and starts arranging the pillows and stuffed animals around him to make space for two sleeping turtles. He pulls his blanket over Leo’s head, which he, of course, shoves back. “What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in.” He informs him, dragging him down. “We’re going to sleep for a very long time.”

“Sure, Raphie, whatever you say.” Leo says too easily, and he immediately calls bullshit.

“No, we’re really going to sleep. No more pretending.” He glares at him with one eye open. “Promise?”

Leo hesitates, but then forcibly relaxes himself, nuzzling closer. “I’ll try, promise.”

As good as he’s going to get, Raph thinks. He squeezes his brother tight enough for him to wheeze and laugh, wishing him goodnight and eventually falling asleep, nightmares far away. When he wakes up, Leo is on the floor next to the bed, face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen, playing a game of chess. The eye bags seem heavier than ever.

–

The fourth time it happens, April is trying to catch up on physics homework.

It’s actually ridiculous how she, a journalism major, has to study physics at all, even as a gen-ed. She’s a sophomore now, for god’s sake, she’s supposed to be interning at CNN and MSNBC, or at least spearheading some kind of journaling initiative with a bunch of her classmates. But no, Eastlaird is forcing her to calculate angular momentum and torque for a homework that is apparently not due on Monday, but in the morning on Friday, which is tomorrow. Or more accurately, today, she thinks, warily eyeing the clock on the table that reads 3:35 A.M.

She has maybe one more problem left before she can finally get some sleep, and hopefully get to stay over at the lair for the weekend. She hasn’t seen her boys and her Pops in over a month, and the joy of destroying Donnie in the Just Dance competition of their lives is the only motivation getting her through this.

April sighs and stretches, cracking her back, before she hears a notification from her phone. Picking it up she sees, ‘nardo💙 sent an Instagram reel.’

She sits up in surprise. Why the hell is this idiot awake? And why is he sending her Instagram reels of all things?

‘awake???’ she texts back, worried. ‘why??’

Seen immediately, typing. ‘YOU awake why??’

‘homework’

‘yuck get away from me’

April picks at her bottom lip, watching the clock on her desk tick. If Leo’s awake at four in the morning, he hasn’t slept all night. She considers texting one of her other brothers to force him to sleep, but hopefully they would all be in bed by now, Donnie included.

‘how much coffee did you have in the evening’

‘...’

‘Leo.’

‘okok four cups’

‘nardo you gotta be kidding me’. April rubs at her face, sighing. Leo knows better than to lie to his big sister, so he’s definitely telling her the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Four whole cups of coffee?

‘did you try melatonin? helps me sleep a lot better nowadays’

‘apes do u even know me, obv melatonin doesn’t work on us’

‘damn’

‘ur taking it tho?? don’t take too much, not good for u’

‘yeah dum-dum, no sleep is not good for YOU have you thought about that?’

No response. Two minutes later, a funny reel.

She huffs frustratedly, thinking, before finally deciding to call him on FaceTime, setting the phone against a textbook.

The face that greets her is so fucking worrying that April gapes, not responding to Leo’s raspy greeting. His eyes are completely bloodshot, face gaunt, red stripes practically completely purple now.

“You look like shit.” She says, uncharacteristically blunt. Maybe the lack of sleep and physics is getting to her. How the hell does Donnie do this all the time?

Leo scowls, putting the phone down so all she sees is the dark ceiling of the kitchen. “If you just called me to insult me, I’m hanging up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She raises a hand in surrender, pulling her notebook closer and picking up her pencil. “Science is turning my brain to soup, I lost my speaking filter. You’re still very pretty.”

A second, and Leo’s face comes back into view. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” She nods, smiling as Leo grins, as brightly as he can with fatigue coming off him in waves. “What are you up to?”

“This guy on YouTube is reviewing the older JJ movies, it’s a four hour long video. And I have Sour Patch Kids, so I’m happy.”

April bites back the hundreds of worried comments she comes up with, deciding to think a little more tactically. She doesn’t want to piss him off again, so telling him to sleep or pointing out his eye-bags is off the table.

“You wanna hear about my homework? It’s so difficult and horrible, I hate it.”

“I respect your degree, I do, Apes, but how hard can journalism homework even be?”

“It’s physics, man, that’s the thing. I’m going to jump out of my window.” She groans, equations swimming behind her eyelids. “I’m like ninety percent sure if I tried explaining this to you I could bore you to sleep.”

Leo chuckles, but there’s something tired and morose in it. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”

She blinks at the bitter tone of his voice, but doesn’t call him out on it. There’s a lost look in his eyes as he stares off to the side, chewing slowly on his candy. Her big sister instinct rears its head immediately at that.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” April assures him, deciding fuck it, opening up Chegg to find the answer to this last question so she can finish this as fast as possible. “I’ll be done in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you tell me what this random guy has to say about Pluto Vacation IV, and I’ll tell you how valid that is.”

By the time the sun rises, and Leo hangs up to go help Mikey make breakfast, April has turned in not only physics, but has finished all of the rest of her homework. She starts to pack, a plan ready in her mind.

–

They don’t let it happen a fifth time.

Leo sighs, letting his head fall onto his bed, hiding his eyes from the fairy lights in his room. Normally, they look so pretty and aesthetic, but ever since this new bout of insomnia hit him, a lot of things have been bothering him more than usual. And he’s currently too exhausted to get up and turn it off on his own.

He groans, reaching for his phone, because what else is he going to do? His brain is too tired for anything other than mindless scrolling, and if Raph asks him to train today he might just burst into tears. The time reads 12 P.M., a very productive time of day for the majority of planet Earth. The minority includes him apparently, as he pulls up one of his old blankets over his head, and settles in for an afternoon of TikTok.

The door to his train car opens quietly. Leo blinks, emerging from his nest to look up.

Mikey stands at the doorway, sunshine smile on display. He sees his eyes scan his face, and the sunshine dims a bit, but he still says excitedly, “Hi, Lee! April just got back, we’re doing a sleepover!”

“Oh – oh yay!” His delayed response throws his act off a little. Don’t get him wrong, he is so happy his sister is back, it’s just he’d really rather not do a sleepover tonight where he has to spend another eight hours pretending to be asleep next to his peacefully resting siblings. “That’s great, I’ll be right there.”

Mikey nods but doesn’t leave, so Leo has to go through the excruciating process of forcing himself up and out of the room with a performative smile painted on his face. Mikey hooks his elbow with his, walking in step with him to the living room.

He finds Raph and April talking, a bag carelessly dropped next to her feet. She catches sight of him and grins immediately, raising her arms. Leo can see the conscious effort it takes for her to not linger on his eye bags, he’s been needing a lot of that too lately.

“Hi, Apes.” He mumbles into her shoulder as she tightly squeezes him.

“Hi, Leo.” She replies warmly. “Missed you so much.”

A large hand rests on his shell, and he looks up to see Raph smile down at him. “Wanna join in on the hug fest, Raphie?”

“Ha, don’t worry, there’s gonna be plenty to go around in the sleepover soon.” He chuckles.

“Soon?” Leo asks, and Raph points a thumb to the entrance. Leo turns around to see Donnie and Mikey walk in with a bunch of blankets and pillows in their arms. One of the spider limbs in Donnie’s battle shell is holding Raph’s largest teddy bear, the other holding his blue hoodie he couldn’t find in the morning.

“We’re doing a sleepover now? It’s literally noon.”

“We’ve hit critical condition.” Donnie informs him primly, dropping the blankets in the middle of the floor. “You’ve been awake for too long.”

His mood sours immediately. He knows, okay? He’s aware that not sleeping for days at a time isn’t healthy, and he knows he looks like shit, but people don’t have to keep commenting on it.

“Don’t pout.” Mikey wheedles into his side, giving him another squeeze. “We’re gonna help, I promise.”

“Right.” Leo says, disbelief clear in his voice, before something rose-scented smacks him in the face. “Hey!”

“You’re welcome.” Donnie responds, starting to move the furniture to make enough room for the blanket fort. “Your favorite hoodie, freshly washed with softener and your scent beads.”

Leo pulls it over his head, the familiar comforting smell easing some of his tension, the soft texture making him feel like he’s being swallowed whole. “Thanks.” He says quietly, hoping they can’t hear the croak in his voice.

Donnie pauses in his ministrations for a millisecond before getting back to work with more gusto, him and Mikey setting up an impressive fort that could withstand five siblings. While Leo watches them, Raph taps him on his shoulder, and he’s offered a cup of freshly made chamomile and lavender tea, steam curling on top. The thoughtfulness almost makes him cry as he gives him a wobbly smile in return, taking a sip. It’s the perfect temperature, splash of milk and sweetened with honey, just how he likes it.

He feels April at his back, gently untying the knot of his mask, carefully folding it and walking to his room to put it away. She comes back with his fuzzy Christmas socks.

“You guys.” Leo tries, feeling emotionally wrung out and sore. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” Three turtles reply in unison, breaking out into chuckles. Raph guides him to the center of the fort, making him sit down and rest on the biggest pillow. He finishes his tea as Mikey puts the teddy bear under his other arm and April puts the socks on him, brain too fuzzy to protest.

He jolts out of his fog when he feels something pressing down on him. He looks up to see Donnie tuck him in under his purple weighted blanket, the one he uses on his bad days. He’s awash with the clean scent of roses, as tears fill up in Leo’s eyes unbidden. He tries to blink them back. “Don…”

“Hush.” Donnie replies, quietly, and Leo sees the lights in the room have been dimmed, his other siblings wearing their pajamas and getting ready to pile. “Stop using your brain. It’s sleeping time now.”

“Wow, I never thought there’d be a day when Hamato Donatello would actually tell me to ‘stop using my brain’.” He croaks out.

Leo prepares for the obligatory joke about him not having a brain in the first place, but Donnie just gives him an amused look in return, speaking softly but matter-of-factly, “Your brain is hurting my twin. So stop using it.”

A ball of emotion lodges in his throat that keeps him from speaking out loud, so he just nods. He gets a head pat for his troubles that he’s too emotional to block away.

Eventually, Donnie lies down next to him, their arms pressed together. Mikey nestles into a ball on his other side, snuggling close. Raph settles behind their heads, turning to his side and curling around them all protectively. April throws her feet over their legs, playfully kicking him in the shin.

Leo chokes on a laugh, tears soundlessly rolling onto the pillow. This has been one of the longest weeks of his life, hours in the middle of the night spent staring mindlessly at the ceiling, into the middle distance, into the New York skyline. The darkness seeping into his body, harsh, cold. A high pitched hum in his ears, heaviness in his eyes.

Right now though, he feels warm and loved and exhausted beyond belief. But not alone. Never alone.

“Thanks, guys.” He finally whispers.

Donnie gently bonks his head with his own, affection clear in the action. Mikey presses a loud kiss onto his bicep. “You’re welcome, big bro.”

Raph strokes his head. “Sleep, Leo.”

“We love you, Nardo.” April says, nudging his foot. “We got you.”

Leo smiles. He trusts them, they got him. He closes his eyes and pulls on his night mask. The demons of the night don’t stand a chance against the warm glow of his family. He finally falls asleep.

#tmntwritefight #tmnt write fight #rottmnt #rottmnt fic #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april

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lovecla · 3 months ago

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TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter four:

➴ chapter warnings: drinking and kinda suggestive? sex is mentioned!

➴ word count: 3k

💌 from me to you: i think one of you cast a spell on me because i cannot wait until friday to publish this. also, i listened to self righteous by bryson tiller while i wrote this. just saying!

౨ৎ

2024, APRIL.

liked by nickharris_img, imgmodels, lhughes_06 and 390,813 others

madisoncarter mood because bella and i are the newest vancouver girlies

View all 1,283 comments

vic_alonso 🤩🤩🤩

ellecanada Welcome, love 💛

madisoncarter_updates Omggg we’re so excited for you babe!!!!!!!

user1 she’s never beating the “idk who the hughes brothers are” allegations

nickharris_img I miss you already Mads 💔

lavieenrose Welcome home, Flower! 🌷🌼🌹

user2 bella looks so cute

౨ৎ

“WHAT DO you think, baby?”

Bella stared at you before she started running around the place, sniffing every corner.

It was officially your first day living in Vancouver. You had been coming and going to Vancouver ever since you’d signed your contract with La Vie en Rose, arranging things and getting your shit together.

Nicholas was right, their team took care of everything, and they got you a nice place too. You still had to pay rent but at least you didn’t have to go apartment hunting, which was something you hated.

You and Bella landed in Vancouver last night, and you didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay on your bed with her and sleep the entire Saturday. It was Sunday now, and you were trying to get Bella used to the rooms before you had to leave for your first shooting on Monday.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” You asked her, putting your hands on your waist. “I think it’s nice.”

Your phone rang and you picked it up, reading Quinn’s text with a smile on your face.

You’ve been texting everyday since that day at his house, and you felt like the world was finally spinning right again. Having Quinn back in your life— and consequently Ellen, Jim, Luke and Jack as well— made you so happy it was almost unbelievable.

He texted at weird hours, sometimes at three a.m. and sometimes at six p.m., but he always asked about you and how you were doing. Have you eaten? How’s the moving going? Do you need any help?

You’d stare at those texts and ask yourself the same thing you’ve been asking since you were eleven: why he was so kind to you? Not that you were complaining. It just felt weird to have someone who cared as much as he did again.

You told him you were now permanently living in Vancouver and he told you he’d come see you whenever he got back from Seattle. You felt your heart beating faster just with the thought of him at your place, both of you alone for the first time after that awkward moment at his house, with you hangover as fuck.

Now you would be sober and in your space, not his.

You sighed, watching Bella preparing herself for a nap in her massive bed by the balcony and you decided that napping was the right solution for you too.

౨ৎ

YOUR FIRST day at La Vie en Rose had been a success, not that you expected anything else.

Turns out your editor-in-chief, Victoria, was one of the nicest people you had ever met; she talked you through the process of working for La Vie en Rose and answered all of your questions with patience and kindness.

“You were our target for a long time before we managed to snatch you,” she joked when you mentioned that working with them was a dream come true. “So we’re the ones who should be thankful.”

She took you to her favorite restaurant and bought your lunch while she talked your ears off, in the best way possible. You never had a girl friend before. Between casting and auditions, you never got to make many friends. And in the world of modeling, there weren’t friends— you had to see the other girls as your opponents, people you had to defeat. Your body had to be better, your hair had to be shinier, your catwalk had to be smoother.

So when Victoria treated you as a friend, even if you’d met each other a few hours ago, it was like the universe was being kind to you again.

You were on your way home, enjoying the view as you walked down the streets, grateful that you still didn’t have a car because the city was really beautiful, even with the cold weather.

You arrived at your apartment, going all the way up to the ninth floor. When you opened your door, Bella almost knocked you down, jumping on you and licking your face.

“You’re going to hurt mommy, baby,” You laughed, caressing her fur. “I missed you too.”

She barked and you got up, finally closing the door and removing your heels. You left your bag on the couch and ran to your bathroom, desperate for a hot shower and pajamas. The best part of your house was the central heater system, and the fact that you got to wear your tiny pajama sets even when it was snowing outside.

You did your nightly skincare and spread the vanilla scented lotion on your entire body, before applying your favorite perfume— no need to specify the scent. You were a vanilla girl through and through and you would never leave the house unless you smelled like a bakery.

It was only eight p.m. but you were so tired that all you wanted to do was crash in your bed and sleep, but you still had to give Bella her dinner. So you walked to your laundry room, where you kept all of her things— you were that king of dog mom who buys your dog three hundred winter clothes and five hundred chewing toys— and grabbed her food pot, shaking it lightly to grab her attention.

Which worked momentarily because next thing you knew the doorbell was ringing and Bella was running to the door, barking loudly.

“Bella!” You reprimanded her, putting your index finger in front of your mouth and shushing her. “Quiet, please.”

You opened the door even without knowing who was on the other side, which was probably a bad and dangerous thing to do, but it was just Quinn, wearing a suit and holding a suitcase.

“Quinn?” You watched as Bella jumped on him, excited to see someone else. “Bella, down, please. Leave him alone.”

“Oh, hello there,” he bent over and patted Bella’s head, caressing her fur while she licked his hands. “Who are you, hm?”

“That’s Bella,” you said, opening the door so he could get inside. You watched as he got up and stared down at you, eyeing you up and down. You followed his gaze and realized that you were still only wearing your pink, almost see through pajama set and with the cold breeze that hit you when you opened the door, your nipples decided that now was a good time to mark through your shirt. “Um.”

Something flashed through Quinn’s eyes, but you didn’t know what. He coughed, closing the door for you. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“O-oh, right. Bella,” you looked at her, watching as she sniffed Quinn’s things. “I adopted her when I moved to LA. We were both alone and she was living at a shelter.” You smiled, remembering the day you took her home. “She was so small and so scared. She was sitting alone at a corner and I just… I couldn’t leave her there.”

Quinn chuckled, nodding. “You’re still the sweetest person I have ever met.”

“Oh, stop it,” you croaked, smiling.

“Just saying,” he shrugged, putting his hands on his pocket and resting his body against the door. “I just came to check on you. Nice place you got here.”

You looked around, agreeing with him.

“It is, I was just telling Bella this,” you started. “It’s not big but it’s perfect for us. I like it a lot. Especially the heater.”

“That’s nice too,” he agrees. “What are you having for dinner?”

You stared at him, confused. Only that you couldn’t tell him that dinner wasn’t something that happened everyday in your world.

“Hum,” you stutter. “Nothing? I was just ready to go to bed, actually.”

“That’s too bad,” he removed his shoes and started walking around your place like he’d been there a million times before. “I’m starving. We just got here from Seattle. What do you want me to cook?”

“You don’t need to cook anything,” he cocks his head at you, eyes staring deep into your soul. “I’m not hungry. But I can cook something for you if you want to.”

“I don’t like eating alone. And you can’t just go to bed without eating anything.”

“Quinn…” you sigh, placing your hands on your hips. “Don’t do this. Please?”

“I’m not doing anything, I’m just saying. So,” he claps his hands. “What are we having?”

“Jesus, I forgot how annoying you are,” you roll your eyes, holding back a smile. “We can maybe have a salad.”

“If you want to kill me, there are faster ways to do it,” he whines and you laugh. “Can I take care of dinner and you take care of Bella while I cook?”

“I wanna help.” You pout and he smiles.

“You can help by sitting there,” he points at your dinner table. “And looking pretty. You’re good at that anyway.”

You laughed out loud, wrapping your arms around your chest. “You’re old and annoying, Quinn Hughes.”

He opened your cabinets, searching for something with his eyes.

“What do you think about rice and salmon?” He asks, picking up the rice package.

“Maybe potatoes instead of rice?” You suggest, pointing at the potato sack sitting in your kitchen trolley.

“Alright,” he pulls up the sleeves of his suit, and goes to the sink to wash his hands. “Let’s get to work.”

To your surprise, Quinn moved around your kitchen with ease, even when he had never visited you before. He finely chopped the potatoes, putting them in the oven to let them roast before he moved to the salmon, seasoning it with the spices you had in your cabinet.

He listened to you the entire time, with you yapping about your day and how nice Victoria had treated you and how Nicholas had called you mid-shooting to ask how you were doing.

“What exactly do you do?” He asked, while you grabbed a wine bottle from your fridge.

“Well, it depends,” you replied, grabbing wine glasses from your cabinet and opening the bottle. “Sometimes I just take pictures all day, in different locations and outfits. Sometimes I have to go to runways. Sometimes both. Not to mention the social media work, the TikToks and all of that.”

“I don’t even wanna hear about TikToks,” he rolls his eyes, making you laugh. “The Canucks media team are always asking us to do stupid trends and answer weird questions. What does ‘very demure’ even mean anyway?”

“You’re too old for that, Quinny,” you joke, filling your glasses up. “Do you know what I think?”

“Hm?”

“I think you should come see me at a runway show,” you suggest, knowing damn well Quinn would never sit on a chair for an hour and a half just to watch women wear weird, provocative clothes and catwalk on a platform. “It’d be interesting.”

“Only if I get to bring my team with me so it’ll be less boring.” He fires back, checking on the salmon in the pan.

“I’m sure they won’t mind watching women in underwear or something similar.” You smile, watching as he nods with his head and sips on his wine too.

“I’m sure of that too.”

He resumes cooking while you finish your first glass of wine, already in for your second. You set the table, turning the TV on for Bella— she likes watching TV sometimes, and that’s fine!— before sitting down to eat Quinn’s tasty-looking meal. After you got your first bite of the salmon, you couldn’t help but moan.

“I didn’t know you knew how to actually cook, Quinn Hughes,” you say, chewing on the fish. “When did you even learn that?”

“I’m a grown man now, Maddie,” he laughed and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Like that means anything. I know Ellen would cook for you everyday if you asked her to.”

“Yeah, but I’m not around her so much anymore, so I just figured out it’d be good for me to know how to take care of myself. And turns out I really like cooking.”

“This is heavenly, thank you so much,” you sip on your wine as the same time he sips on his, smiling because you liked his company a lot.

౨ৎ

“AND THEN, Jack asked them to flash him and the worst part is that someone caught that on camera.”

You laughed, letting your body fall forward, feeling lighter than ever. You and Quinn were sitting on your couch, already in your second bottle of wine. Bella was chewing on one of her toys and it was already ten thirty.

Quinn was now wearing just his white, dress shirt with the first two buttons open, his jacket lost somewhere alongside his tie. You couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of the shirt held his muscles in all the right places, getting tighter every time he flexed his muscles.

Quinn was hot, and he had always been in your eyes. He was only twenty-four, almost twenty-five, but he looked older, mature. Something about him being a hockey player, the captain, made you feel confused and hot at the same time.

“Jack girlies must have gone crazy with that video,” you add after you stop laughing, watching as Quinn nods.

“Tell me about it,” he runs his fingers through his silky, somehow hydrated hair, and you find yourself wondering how it’d feel for you to do the same. “It was crazy. But I don’t really get the appeal.”

You scoffed. “You don’t get the appeal? Have you seen you or your brothers?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “So what? We’re alright, I guess,”

“You’re crazy,” you roll your eyes at him, incredulous. “I spent my teenage years ignoring guys because you ruined all of them for me and you’re saying you’re just alright?”

He chuckles, turning his head around and staring at you, blue eyes darkening.

“What do you mean by that, Madison?”

Maybe it was the fact that it was already late at night and you were tired, or maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the fact that the last time you had had sex with someone had been more than six months ago, but something about the way Quinn asked you that question, calling you by your name out of all things, made you wonder.

You were both grown up now. You weren’t fifteen anymore, innocent and afraid of voicing your needs. And Quinn looks like he knows how to make a woman see stars…

Besides what they say about big noses, you caught yourself thinking, before you could even stop yourself.

Crossing your legs and unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, you answered, softly:

“It’s silly,” you bit your lip, unsure of what you would even say. This is definitely the wine’s fault. “I had a crush on you growing up.”

You expected him to laugh and play it off, like he used to do whenever Jack or Luke mentioned that one of their girl friends had a crush on their older brother, Quinn. You expected him to give you that brotherly look he used to give you when you were younger and asked him questions about his life and family.

But the look he gave you had something different, something rawer. Something that made your skin crawl in the best way possible, that lightened something inside you.

“Did you now?”

“Mhm,” you nod with your head. “That’s why I’ve never had any boyfriends or hook-ups, even after you left. You ruined them all for me.” You wanted it to sound like a joke, but it hadn’t. How could it, when you were telling the truth.

“Should I apologize, Maddie?” He manspreads on your couch, and you let your gaze fall on his thighs for a brief second— just not brief enough for him not to notice.

“No, it’s— it’s fine. I’m not fifteen anymore.”

“I can see that,” he whispers, and you can feel yourself slipping into his little trap, slowly.

You were so fucked. Ultimately, stupidly fucked, and not even in the way you wanted to. After all these years of swearing to yourself that Quinn wasn’t meant for you, and that you wouldn’t see him again with lovey eyes anymore, you couldn’t believe the reactions your body was having to just his words and stares. This isn’t normal.

You needed to do something because— you will not fuck this up again. Quinn’s friendship’s too precious for you to ruin it with horny thoughts.

So what if Quinn looked like he could fuck you six ways to Sunday? He was your friend. It hadn’t even been a month since he got back in your life.

“Yeah, but I’m over it now,” you brushed it off, making a pft sound with your mouth. “Grew up and all of that.”

He takes a while to answer, but when he does, you can feel he wants to say something else.

“Got it.”

After that, the tension between the two of you is almost ten times bigger, and you have to stop your brain from blaming yourself. Whatever happened between you and Quinn seconds ago could never happen again. He was your friend.

“Think I’m gonna go now,” he says, getting up. Bella runs to his body, licking his hands and asking for pets. “Hey, baby girl. I’m going home now.”

“You don’t have to,” you suggest, the thought of him leaving because of you making you sick to your stomach. “I have a spare bedroom. You drank, it’s not safe.”

“You’re right, but I’m not drunk and I’ll drive slowly, I promise,” he smiles, leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead. “Great to see you.”

“Drive safe, please,” You watched him leave with Bella by your side, heart squeezed tightly inside your chest. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do it.” He answers, before putting on his jacket again, grabbing his suitcase and closing the door of your apartment.

And just like that, you had to spend the night trying to convince yourself that you did the right thing by pushing whatever that was away.

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

#quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl players #hockey #TYPA

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midsummer-semantics · 5 months ago

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if the world was ending

Okay, I told myself I wasn't going to write anything for @steddieangstyaugust but apparently I lied (I'm sorry)

Here's for day 1: Second Chance

CW: Slight agoraphobia

[not posted to AO3 but you can find other things there.]

When the earthquake hits, he’d like to say he thinks about his parents first. That he wonders where they are and if they're safe or if they’d hear about it from wherever they are in the world. If they’d call to check on him, even though they never did before.

He'd like to say he thinks about Robin, who's two states away studying for a graduate degree in International relations and communication, and likely doesn't feel the ground moving beneath her feet like he does.

Hell, he'd like to say he thinks about the kids, but most of them are scattered themselves, starting college programs (Will, Mike, Dustin) or sports training camps (Lucas) or exploring the West Coast (Max and El).

No, Steve is alone in his big, empty house when it hits, and the only thing on his mind is that they were wrong. Indiana doesn't get earthquakes, so something else has to be afoot. Six years since they defeated Vecna, since everyone tried to move on with their lives while Steve stayed because that's what he does, he stays.

A touchstone Dustin had called him once. Something to do with foundation and a connecting center. Steve still thinks it might have just been him and the rest of the group trying to make him feel better about still being stuck in the same house, in the same town, doing nothing and going nowhere.

He's alone and he thinks 'This is it. What I've been waiting for.'

He has a 6-year-old emergency pack stored that should have more dust on it if it wasn't for the way he chronically checks it. His trusty bat and a duplicate he made just in case, plus the ax he used the last time, are all near enough to the door. He's not sure what the protocol is for earthquakes, having grown up in the Midwest, but he's pretty sure he's not supposed to be indoors, right?

It doesn't last very long, but it doesn't matter. A few seconds of the ground shaking and rolling beneath his feet are enough to jumpstart him into action.

He's gathering supplies, cursing himself for taking too long, when the phone in the kitchen rings.

He should ignore it, knows that whatever or whoever it is can wait until he's secured the area and alerted the cavalry that something is happening. It'll take days for people to get here and Steve thinks he might he able to hold off whatever's coming out of whatever rift has sprung up until then, but he doesn't have time to think about it too hard.

The phone rings off the hook as Steve takes too damn long to double-check that nothing is in the house before he even attempts to go outside, and Steve knows he can't just leave it. Not in case it's someone who's still in town who knows he's here: Mrs. Wheeler, Claudia, Jim or Joyce.

He nearly rips the cord out of the wall when he answers.

"Stevie?!" comes the frantic voice of the person he least expects to be on the other side.

"Eddie?"

"Steve, oh my god." He can hear Eddie panting. "Are you okay?"

It's the first time Steve's heard Eddie's voice in five years. Since Eddie made good on his promise to run like hell out of here, something he'd repeated to anyone who would listen until he finally did. Five years since Steve had realized he was halfway in love with him after saving the world and never got to say anything because he was a coward and Eddie was leaving anyway so what was the point?

He'd gotten one phone call when Eddie arrived in Denver and it's been radio silence since then. Truthfully, he couldn't blame the guy, but Steve had had... thoughts... feelings... probably brought on by end-of-the-world shit but nonetheless. And then Eddie just—

Vanished.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" he asks.

"We're good," Eddie replies, and only then does he hear the rough grumble of Eddie's uncle in the background, asking why Eddie's on the phone at nearly 3 in the morning.

"Earthquake, old man," Eddie shouts, still too close to the receiver for Steve's already damaged hearing.

Oh.

So, Eddie's in town. Cool. Steve had no idea. Doesn't know when Eddie got in or if he ever intended to tell Steve he was here at all. That's fine.

"Sorry, Stevie. Woke Wayne up. Shit— did I wake you up too?"

Steve swallows harshly, shaking his head even though Eddie can't see it. "No, I was already awake."

"Me too," Eddie replies. "Jet lag. Just got in a few hours ago. What a welcome home, huh?"

"Sure," Steve says, wondering what the point of this call is. "Look, I'm glad to hear from you, but I really need to—"

"Wait!" Steve shuts his mouth, his teeth clacking harshly. "It's fine. Everything is fine."

"Dude, there was an earthquake just now—"

"And it wasn't You-Know-What related," Eddie states, a bit of his franticness back in his voice. "They're leveling part of the plant for safety issues. Wanted to do it at night so no one would freak out." Steve cringes. Hawkins wasn't exactly magnanimous about the rebuilding efforts last time, but he doesn't go to city council meetings to hear about what the efforts might have been since then. "That's part of why I'm home. Wayne's got an extended leave until they sort out what else to do."

Steve sighs, dropping the emergency pack on the floor and leaning the ax he'd managed to grab against the wall. "Oh. Great. Wish they'd have told everyone else just in case."

"I know, sweetheart. But everything is okay."

Sweetheart.

Steve's actual heart skips a beat hearing that again.

"I'll be back, sweetheart. I promise."

"So... you're here then? In Hawkins?"

There's a beat of silence, some shuffling on the other end. "Well, yeah. I told you I'd come back."

"For your uncle."

"He's part of it."

Steve hesitates, hating himself for even considering getting his hopes up.

"And the other part?"

"My guy is here."

When the earthquake hit, he’d like to say he thought about his parents first.

No, he'd thought it was the end of the world. And above that, all he could think about was Eddie.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddieangstyaugust #second chance

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fluentmoviequoter · 7 months ago

Text

Jim Street, Instagram Boyfriend

Requested Here by @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses

Pairing: Jim Street x shy!fem!reader

Summary: You want a picture but are too shy to ask anyone to take it. When Jim Street sees you waiting, he becomes the Instagram boyfriend he was born to be.

Warnings: so much fluff, Luca and Hondo (lovingly) trash talk Deac and his advice

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Los Angeles looks different from the top. Standing outside the Griffith Observatory, most of the LA basin is clear in the daylight, and all the people taking pictures in front of the view prove its beauty. You’d like a picture, too, but between your shyness and not seeing anyone who looks like they’d be willing to stop for someone other than themselves, you’ve taken to standing at the side and waiting for the right moment. When – or if – you see someone who looks nice enough that you could ask for their help, then you’ll worry about getting the right words out.

“Why are we here again?” Street asks as Luca leads him around the observatory.

“We’re scouting,” Luca answers.

“Scouting what? You can’t see anything clearly from up here, man. Except the restaurant that you promised to take me to.”

“After I finish my errands,” Luca reminds him. He slaps Street’s back and adds, “Let me do what I need to do.”

Street sighs as he nods. Once Luca has walked several paces ahead, Street mumbles, “Sure, I’ll just be here. Starving.”

While Luca approaches a telescope, Street shakes his head and looks out over the overlook balcony. There are couples taking pictures, men and women posing for quick selfies, and… someone else watching the other people. Street forgets about his hunger, though it had been slightly played up for Luca, as he watches you. You’re nervous, he can tell that easily, but as he watches your eyes flit from person to person and sees your bottom lip drawn between your teeth, he knows that he needs to do something.

While you turn toward the view momentarily, Street approaches you. Even if his team thinks differently and reminds him often, he is a good man and would do anything to help someone who needs it. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, he’ll try to help. You look up just as he reaches you, and he smiles easily.

“Hey,” Street begins. “Do you need some help?”

Your breath catches at the view. Not Los Angeles below you, no, you’ve seen that, but the man standing before you is so handsome that you have to remind your body to breathe. At your silence, he raises his eyebrows but continues smiling.

“I- uh- would you maybe be willing to take my picture?” you force out, mentally kicking yourself for how small and shy your voice sounds. Who could blame you? another part of your mind wonders.

Street releases a breath, relieved that you are okay. He’d been concerned that something had happened, but now that he hears you and connects the dots, he can see that you just wanted a picture but are shy. Just looking for the right person and time to ask, he assumes.

“Absolutely! I’ll take as many as you want,” Street answers quickly.

You smile and turn your chin to the side, growing shyer at his undivided attention and the sound of his voice. The observatory relies on the beauty of the heavens for advertising, but you think the real beauty is standing before you. And asking for your phone, you realize with a start.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you pass your phone to him.

“No worries,” he assures. “What kind of picture do you want?”

“Is there more than one?” you inquire, tilting your head to the side.

Street chuckles at the curiosity in your body language and wonders why more people haven’t taken pictures of you. You’re stunning, and even if you’re too shy to ask, surely someone else can see that your beauty needs to be captured.

“In that case,” he begins, “I’ll take the pictures and you just keep doing what you’re doing, being gorgeous.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, and they warm as you smile.

“I’m Street, by the way. Well, Jim Street, but everyone calls me Street because…” Street rambles.

You introduce yourself in reply, and he watches you on the phone screen. Seeing you through the camera lens is different, and Street’s words dry up. “Okay, I’m going to take pictures,” he whispers.

Street bends his knees and squats, trying to find the perfect angle. He moves one foot back without standing, and your smile widens at his dedication.

“Hey, if I fall to my death trying to get this right, make sure you get the picture, alright?” Street requests. “I’ll throw the phone back up to you.”

You laugh, not the shy, swallowed chuckle from before, but a real laugh and Street taps the screen so many times he momentarily worries that you’ll run out of storage space.

“That’s awful,” you chide lightly. “There’s no way a picture of me is worth that.”

Street lowers your phone to send a serious look over the top. “Don’t do that.”

You sober quickly, your laughs dying at the tone of his voice. “Okay,” you whisper.

You bring your hands together before you, and Street snaps another photo as he stands. He opens your camera roll and begins swiping backward to check the images he captures. When he sees the first picture of you laughing, he freezes. In a moment, looking at that candid, Jim Street falls for you, and he falls harder and faster than if he had gone off the side of the balcony.

“Do they look okay?” you inquire.

Street looks up but can’t find a single word to say. You’re just as beautiful in person, yet he can’t communicate all the feelings in his chest right now.

“Let me get one more,” he forces out.

“Sure.”

“Put your left hand on the railing,” Street instructs. “Good, now turn your chin toward me. Perfect.”

He drops into what you can only describe as a Spider-Man pose and leans to the side to take the picture. Your smile turns genuine while you watch him, and he hums contentedly as he finishes testing the angles.

“Thank you so much,” you say as he stands. “I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

Street nods but doesn’t look away from your phone for a moment. When he hands it back, your fingers brush his, bringing all those sudden feelings he felt before back like a raging flood.

“Thank you,” you repeat, quieter.

“I hope this wasn’t too forward, but I texted myself, so I have your number if you need anything,” Street responds. “Amateur photographer or otherwise.”

You drop your chin but force yourself to hold eye contact with Street as he speaks. With your fingers curling into a shy, nervous fist, you nod.

“That’s fine,” you assure him softly. “And… I’d like to talk to you since you have my number.”

“Great.”

“Street! Let’s go!” Luca calls from across the balcony.

“That’s my cue,” Street tells you. “I’ll talk to you later, pretty girl.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep your emotions somewhat contained. “Good.”

Street smiles at you once more before he turns and walks away. You watch him for a moment, then look down at your phone. As you unlock it, it buzzes with a new text. The contact’s name: Jim Street, photographer for the prettiest girl in the world makes you smile. Once the text thread is open, however, your smile drops as shock takes its place. Street sent himself a picture of you laughing, not just a text. When you look up again, he and his friend are gone. At least it’s a good picture for once, you think.

“Who was the girl?” Luca asks.

“What girl?” Street counters.

“What girl? The girl at the observatory.”

Street tells Luca your name but doesn’t explain how you met or started talking. You’ve been on Street’s mind since then, but you’re shy and he doesn’t want to scare you away by rushing into anything. He fell hard and fast, but that doesn’t mean he should try to force you to do the same, especially when it could risk scaring you away.

“Are you going to see her again?” Luca asks.

“I want to,” Street admits. “It’s too fast, you know. We just met.”

“And you were looking at each other like you were fifteen seconds from going to Vegas and getting married. Text her, call her, whatever it is you do.”

“But-“

“Don’t argue with me, Streeter. I’ll call Duke in here to tackle you.”

“With what strength?” Street argues. “Kisses?”

“Or I’ll tell Deacon and let him know you want relationship advice,” Luca challenges with a knowing smile.

“You’re evil, Luca. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Luca turns away from Street and answers, “It’s been mentioned, but they usually take it back when I’m their groomsman.”

Street rolls his eyes but reaches for his phone regardless. He needs to see you; more than the picture that has become his phone’s home screen and consumed all his thoughts, he needs to see you in person again. The text he sends is simple, just an explanation that he thinks you are beautiful and kind, and he wants to spend time with you.

Street begins to put his phone away, but your response is nearly immediate: I think the same about you. When and where?

Street throws his fist up in victory and ignores Luca’s muffled, “I told you!” from the other room.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” Street says during your date.

You look just as beautiful as when you met, and you’ve slowly opened up to him. At that comment, you shake your head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you asked me out,” you reply. “I mean, I fell for you the moment you walked up.”

“Then I win.”

“It’s a competition?”

“Of course.”

You nod but remain dubious as you ask, “Then wouldn’t I win, since I fell first?”

“I fell for you in the time of a camera shutter, so no.”

Your smile drops as you watch Street. There is no reason you shouldn’t believe him, but men like Street don’t usually fall for women like you… if they fall at all.

“Hey,” Street calls. “Don’t do that. Whatever is going on in that breathtaking head, stop.”

“I just-“

“Don’t believe me?”

“No, it’s not that, just… why me?”

Street pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and slides it across the table. You see the picture of you as his wallpaper and quickly look back at Street. He smiles and takes your hand over the table.

“I mean it. Even if you did laugh when I talked about dying,” he promises.

You laugh yet again, and Street’s world lights up.

“Can I take another picture?” Street asks excitedly.

“One condition,” you answer through your laughter. “There has to be a date for every picture.”

“That’s going to be a lot of dates,” Street points out. “Did you see how many I already took?”

“I did. That’s why I disagree with your title of ‘amateur’ photographer.”

“Maybe I’m just… what are they called? The guys who do whatever their girlfriends ask to get the perfect picture?”

You roll your eyes, but squeeze Street’s hand as you answer, “You, Jim Street, are most definitely an Instagram boyfriend.”

Street pulls your hand gently, and as you bend over the table, he raises his other hand to your chin. “Did you just call me your boyfriend?” he asks. “This moment deserves a picture.”

Bonus:

“Street, your phone is ringing!” Hondo yells. He leans over and looks at the caller ID before the call goes to voicemail.

“Sorry,” Street apologizes as he walks into Hondo’s kitchen. “Forgot where I set it down.”

“No worries.”

Street picks up his phone, but doesn’t leave before Hondo asks, “So… you take selfies with girls now, playboy?”

“Something like that.”

“She’s pretty.”

“I know.”

“I’m happy for you, Street,” Hondo adds. “It’s obvious that she’s good for you.”

Luca walks into the kitchen as Hondo finishes speaking, and agrees, “She turned playboy Street into puppy dog photographer Street.”

“Who did?” Deacon asks.

Luca presses his lips together to hide his smile but shrugs as Street glares at him.

“Well, Deac,” Hondo begins. “You’ve got another boy ready to settle down. Care to tell him how it’s done?”

Street directs his glare to Hondo, but it disappears when Deacon double-taps Street’s back and says, “I think he’s got it figured out.”

“Are we talking about the same Street?” Luca asks quickly.

“I’ve seen the pictures,” Deacon explains. “They’re good without my advice.”

Deacon steps out, and Street’s phone rings again. He answers and disappears into another room, leaving Hondo and Luca alone.

“I didn’t think I’d live to see it,” Hondo muses.

“Wait until you see them in person,” Luca says. “Jim Street, puppy dog photographer, is more fitting than you’re thinking.”

#jim street x reader #jim street x fem!reader #jim street fluff #jim street fic #jim street imagine #jim street #swat cbs #swat x reader #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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