#pre slash

[stervrucht]

“We need to defrost the freezer,” Steve tells Eddie when he walks out carrying a tub of ice cream.

Eddie sighs, head resting on his hands while he overlooks the empty shop. “I wish someone would defrost my will to live.”

Steve finds it funny. In a guilty snort sort of way, because Eddie’s jokes are kinda dark and he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to laugh. But yeah, working at Scoops is a drag at times, and Steve understands it at some level.

It escalates from there. 

Steve will tell Eddie they’re out of hazelnut ice cream, and Eddie will get a look on his face that doesn’t promise anything good.

“I’ll hazel your nuts.” Eddie cocks his head, staring at him in that ridiculous sailor uniform with mischief painted on his face.

“What the hell does that even mean?” 

Steve tries to pretend he’s weirded out, but when Eddie laughs at him like that, Steve can’t help but crack up as well. 

But that’s the normal stuff — because sometimes Eddie’s comments are hard to play off, and Steve doesn’t really know whether he’s joking at all.

“Morrison really fucked us over with the new schedule.” Steve frowns at the paper on the wall because they got like four evening shifts that week, including Friday and Saturday, and it’s messing with his dating life — even though that’s barely hanging on by a thread right now.

“I wish you’d fuck me over,” Eddie says as he cleans the glass display window with lazy motions.

It makes Steve stop in his tracks; makes his mouth run dry and his heart rate pick up. But Eddie just stares at him, same smile as always, waiting for Steve to shoot something back.

“Maybe I should.” The words are out before he knows it and Steve feels a little mortified by how much he meant it. When he looks over at Eddie, his lips are slightly parted, cheeks a little red, and the hand cleaning the window has stopped in its tracks.

Steve thinks that maybe Eddie meant his words as well.

[guys-im-literally-spiderman]

a fic inspired by this, because i could not stop thinking about it.

“What’s your name?” The girl who’s name Eddie absolutely did not catch, yelled, while holding her microphone out to him. 

“I’m, Eddie.” He yelled back at her, not quite sure if their yelling was necessary in their quiet corner of the room, but totally loving the chaos anyway. 

“Are you single Eddie?”

“I am indeed.” 

“Would you like to change that?” 

That question was not hard to answer at all. 

“Absolutely.”

“Great, because otherwise this would have been a very short video.” Eddie laughed much harder than he expected to–and oh shit he is much tipsier than he thought. 

“So what’s your type then?” 

“You’re gonna hate me,” Eddie sighed, knowing that what he was about to say was painfully contradictory, but hey, you can't blame a guy for having his taste in men be permanently altered by a guy he had a crush on when he was 20. “So I like jocks… but like pretty boy jocks.” 

“Pretty boy jocks?”

“Yup.”

A smile grew on her face

“Oh easy, give me like 5 minutes.”

And she really wasn’t kidding when she said that. 

Eddie had barely had enough time to get himself another drink when he heard his name being called behind him. He whipped his head around to see– 

Holy shit

“Harrington?!” 

Steve Harrington stared at him with a look on his face that Eddie assumed was equally as shocked as his. But then he’s the first to move, pulling Eddie into an enthusiastic hug. 

“Eddie! Oh my god, it's been so long!” 

When Eddie is finally released from the hug enough to breathe he responds, “what are you doing here?” 

“A gay bar or Chicago?” Steve laughs. 

And, oh yeah, Eddie’s stupid fucking crush. If the butterflies are anything to go by, that’s still around. 

Before Eddie can respond the girl cuts in, “I’m sorry, what’s going on here?”

“We- uh-”

“We’re from the same town.” Steve fills in when Eddie cannot find the words to explain their fucked up found family situation. 

The girl laughs, “what are the chances, jesus!”

“But hey,” Steve smiles in a way that Eddie is sure cannont mean anything good for him, “At least you got his type pretty dead on.”

“Oh my god, I forgot I told you that.” Eddie groans and full body cringes. And Steve just laughs. A frustratingly lovely laugh. 

“I’m not surprised you were very high.” 

Jesus fucking christ.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie stands at the edge of the ruined, stinking field, heart somewhere down by the soles of his feet. He watches the grey vines creep across the rotten earth, bracketing the blackened and split pumpkins.

"This can't be happening again," Steve says next to him. There's nothing in his voice, in his expression.

And Eddie doesn't know what to say because it is happening, the Upside Down is creeping into Hawkins, Vecna defeated or not.

"We have to tell the others," is Eddie's response. He doesn't know how he sounds normal when his heart is breaking, when Steve's blankness is killing him.

They walk back to Eddie's van in heavy silence. He can't read what Steve is thinking and that's--they're not something, not yet, but they spend all their time together and it's right there, under the surface, and--

He always knows what Steve is thinking, now. Can read his face like Tolkien wrote it, no matter what's happening, but right now it's empty, unreadable, unfathomable, untouchable King Steve risen from the grave.

The drive back to Hop's cabin is silent. Eddie doesn't even turn on music, his brain can't take it.

Cars fill the cabin's driveway, everyone in attendance, everyone waiting. On the porch, they hear the TV, the tinny whirr of lightsabers. It all stops when they push open the door, movie paused, conversations broken off, every face turned in their direction.

Neither of them speaks. Looking at all these faces, the kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Hop and Joyce, the hope and trust, and he can't--he can't.

"Well?" Joyce prompts. She's working a kitchen towel between her fingers.

He nods as Steve says, "it's back."

Eddie expects an outcry, horror, an explosion, but it's quiet. Quiet enough he can hear Steve's soft breaths next to him. Quiet enough he gets to watch as the news hits on each face in the room. It's like a punch every time.

It's so much different from planning the fight against Vecna. There was so much energy, drive, to get it done, to defeat the Upside Down forever. There wasn't silence, not ever, no faces painted with grief. Even when things were at their worst, an undercurrent of hope buoyed the group.

"Are you sure?" It's Nancy who breaks the silence, of course it is.

"It's the tunnels all over again," Steve answers.

"El?" Hopper asks. "Have you--?"

Will and El are looking at each other, Eddie's sure that no one else in the room exists for them.

"We haven't felt anything." El finally says.

"Nothing?" Mike's eyes flick between them.

"Not since Vecna," Will says.

"It's--it feels--" El waves at the back of her neck.

"Blank." Will finishes.

"Blank isn't gone," Erica says.

Dustin hums, eyes distant. "So, it went dormant."

That gets all the kids going, arguing and shouting over each other, and it isn't long before everyone is involved.

Eddie throws himself into it, grateful to be back in a familiar place of planning, discovering what they're up against, fighting. They're at their best like this, all of them, and it takes the edge off the fear eating up his insides.

He doesn't really get a chance to talk to Steve one-on-one, but Eddie's aware of him always, catches the moments in between bickering with Mike and shouting with Dustin and whispering with Robin where he goes distant, empty, just like at the field, just like in the car.

Eventually, everyone trickles home for the night, Hop's cabin emptying until it's just the Byers, Hoppers, and Steve. And since Eddie goes wherever Steve is--

Steve stands at the window in their room, back to Eddie. His shoulders are rigid, and Eddie is--he's scared in a whole new way. Steve is--he's strong, he keeps them together, he. They look to him to be brave, to be the first to jump, and--

"Steve?" Eddie comes up next to him.

His eyes are squeezed shut, fists clenched.

"Sweetheart?"

Steve opens his eyes, tears track down his cheeks. "I don't think I can do this again," he sobs. "I don't think--" He presses his fists to his eyes, like he's trying to force the moisture back inside.

Eddie grabs his wrists, gentle, murmurs, "it's okay, it'll be okay, I've got you."

"How can it be okay?" Steve asks. His face is wrecked and Eddie's heart shatters. "This was supposed to be over, Eddie. We were supposed to be done with fighting, we beat Vecna. So, tell me how it's going to be okay."

He freezes, unsure how to respond. In the end, "you're right," he says. "it's not okay. And I don't want to pretend that it is. It fucking sucks. We did the work already. We shouldn't be right back here like it never happened."

"But we are," Steve sniffles.

"But we are. And you know what?"

"What?"

"We're going to get through this. Just like we did the last time."

"We almost lost you last time, Ed. We almost lost Max. What if--what if--" Steve's eyes fill again. "I can't do this without you," he sobs.

Eddie doesn't hesitate, pulls Steve into his arms, holds him as tight and close as physically possible. "You won't." Eddie soothes. "You won't. I'll be right here with you. I promise."

"How can you know?"

Again, there's only one answer for that. "I don't. But I know I'll never leave your side willingly. None of us would. And I know that we're going to fight--all of us--like we always do."

"How can you have so much hope?" He asks. "After everything?"

"It's hard," he answers. "I'm terrified. But I know I have you, and Robin, and Dustin, and Wayne, and--everyone. We fight for each other, you know?"

"We keep going because we have to," Steve says.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We protect each other and this godforsaken town, no matter how much it sucks."

Steve's laugh is husky and short. "It sucks so much."

"Real trash heap of a place."

"And that's without the alternate dimension and monsters."

"I think we've got a really strong ad campaign for the Hawkins tourism board." The giggle that escapes from Steve is the sweetest thing Eddie's ever heard.

Later, the lights off, Steve pulls him close. "I'm so glad I have you," he whispers, fingers trailing through Eddie's curls. "You give me something to hope for."

[cameron-s-gaskins]

It's 1980. The night before a big rain storm. The night before Sam's car skids into the canal. ...Except Sam opens a fob watch. A fan comic.

So, this is just a fun little project I decided to do in my spare time :) It's not Ashes to Ashes complaisant, I'll admit that way way way back when Ashes first started airing, I was pretty salty about the explanation that Sam died in a car accident. I know how that show ended, and what they decided to go with, but I'm still just ignoring it all together. I guess this could be a 'fix it,' I'm not sure. Just suspend your disbelief.

[diwtara]

Theres not a big gap between when Zoro heads to bed for the night and when Sanji gets up to start work on the crews breakfast.

So one night on his way to bed Zoro gave the cook a shove to help him wake up.

Just being helpful, he would say if questioned.

And he was helpful on most nights after that.

Maybe sometimes he shoved the cook right off the hamock on his way to his own

Huh, must have forgotten how light and delicate he is, Zoro would grin, watching the blondes blood pressure raise

Sanji cant even shout at him the way he wants to - at least not after the first time, when his yelling woke up the ladies on the ship. (He of course apologized profusely to them, then spent the full day antagonizing Zoro to the best of his considerable abilities)

Now on the days when Sanji wakes up with the floor rising to meet him, all he can do is quietly and furiously make vague gestures promising Zoro bodily harm once the sun is up.

It always leaves Zoro going to sleep with a grin on his face as Sanji stomps out of the boys bunk muttering curses under his breath.

And then maybe one night Zoro is exhausted - cant even summon the energy to make it the three extra steps to his own hammock - so instead he flops down directly onto the cook.

(They argue and wrestle for a few minutes, exhaustion forgotten for the time it takes for Sanji to kick Zoro in the head, give up the fight and extract himself from the bed.

He calls Zoro several choice names before heading out to start the day while Zoro goes to sleep satisfied he got the chance to bug the blonde one last time before going to sleep.)

And maybe he keeps doing it.

Not every night, but sometimes he finds he would rather lay down in an already warm bed, particularly if they are traveling through colder sections of the grandline.

Sometimes he still manages to flip the other man out of the hammock just by jumping into it himself. Knows the blonde will make the day interesting in retaliation. Looks forward to it.

And then maybe at one point, he lays down gently, softly tells the cook its time to get up, and maybe Sanji takes his time opening his eyes, stretching out his legs, enjoying the transition to wakefulness.

Maybe it becomes a thing they do sometimes. Silently enjoying each others company as Sanji wakes up and Zoro drifts to sleep. Enjoying the closeness in a bed not built for two.

Maybe the others have woken up and caught sight of the pair curled up together in the early morning. But they would simply roll over and go back to sleep, leaving the two to their morning ritual.

And if Zoro still shoves Sanji off the hammock sometimes, well, the others are used to waking up to that too

[treasureguardingdragon]

my art for @aroaceteagirl ‘s incredible fic!! this is my second @bbcmerlin-reversebang entry, and was so much fun to do!!

Summary:

When Arthur gets sent away by Uther to secure a treaty between Camelot and Tir-Mor, what should have been a normal diplomatic trip turns into more than Arthur could have expected.

Along the way, he learns valuable lessons about trust, friendship and the weight of duty.

LINK

here is some propaganda from me to make you read it:THE STORY THAT WAS CREATED HAS IT ALL- friendship, evil plots by evil people, the power of gossiping, friendship x2, arthur trying to be the best prince he can despite the entire world seemingly being against him, arthurs internal monologue consisting of endless compliments for merlin, friendship so magical that you’re absolutely certain they’re in a qpr and can knock down cities with the power of it, magic reveals, scheming (both evil and good. it’s possible), FRIENDSHIPPPP, the perspective of a merchant having their wares mocked by two idiots

CHECK OUT THEIR STORY HERE I PROMISE ITS AMAZING

[oh-my-wolfstar]

Wolfstar microfic: Not that way

@wolfstarmicrofic

Jan 2nd, 2025, prompt: first break up

word count: 645

*set fourth year*

Sirius took a deep breath, screwing his courage in place. He walked into the great hall and instantly spotted Marlene, his girlfriend. Determinedly balling his hands into fists, he made his way toward her.

"Hey, Marlene." He tried not to sound nervous.

"Sirius! Hey, do you wanna go to Hogsmead together this weekend? It could be our first official date." Sirius tried not to wince.

"Er, could we take a walk?" Sirius asked, desperately trying to change the subject. 

"Um, alright!" Marlene smiled at him and sirius felt guilt gnawing at his chest.

Sirius walked in silence, arm in arm with Marlene. He'd known he would have to do this, since the moment she asked him to be her boyfriend last week after a quidditch game and he said yes. He didn't know why he'd agreed, he'd known he didn't like her like that, couldnt like her like that. Couldnt, not when he was pretty sure he liked someone else that way. A certain hazle-eyed werewolf roommate of his, to be exact. But for a moment… 

"So, about that date…" Marlene said, trailing off. Sirius knew he couldnt delay it any longer, but he wanted two. He'd never done this before, broken up with a girl. He slowed to a stop under a tree, the grounds empty save for them.

"I can't," Her eyes narrowed and he saw a retort forming on her lips but he cut her off, "Marlene, we have to break up." There, he'd said it. Her eyes went wide and she stared at him, obviously shocked.

"What? Why?" Sirius sighed. He knew he didn't have to tell her, but he found that he wanted to. Besides, he at least owed her the truth after leading her on for this long.

"I'm gay." It was the first time he'd said it aloud, and it felt surprisingly good—nerve-wracking, but good. Marlene blinked at him.

"How- how long have you known?" His voice was soft, quiet from disbelief.

"A while, I think." Sirius winced. It had been a while, he'd realized it in his second year, back when he realized that he felt differently about Remus than his other friends.

"Then why…" Marlene asked, voice breaking just a little.

"I don't know. You asked, and for a moment I thought, maybe… But I couldnt. "

"Oh." She said, sinking to sit against the tree.

"Yeah," He agreed softly, sitting beside her. She moved closer to him, grabbing his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder. 

"It's ok, you know." She said without looking at him.

"What?"

"You being gay, it's ok." She looked up at him then, blue eyes full of certainty and he felt his heart break just a little.

"I-I know." And he did. It had taken him a while to accept that, maybe until that moment, but he knew.

"Y'know, I don't think I ever liked you in that way. It's like you said, for a moment I thought I could but…" She trailed off. 

"I get it," SIrius said, and he did.

"You going to Hogsmeade with Marlene then?" James asked as soon as sirius walked into the dorm.

"No. We, uh, we broke up."

"What, why?!" James exclaimed, and sirius couldnt help but notice that Remus had also looked up from his book and was staring at him.

"I just didn't like her that way." Sirius shrugged, looking at his feet.

"Oh." James frowned, but Sirius wasn't paying attention. He looked hesitantly in Remus's direction only to find the boy already looking at him. They both blushed, looking sheepishly at the floor. Sirius looked back, finding Remus's cheeks still adorably pink and grinned. Yes, he was quite sure that he had made the right decision breaking up with Marlene After all, he was pretty certain that he did like Remus that way, the way he had never liked Marlene.

[mammalsofaction]

Domestic

Inspired by this old comic by @askhumanperrytheplatypus

Rating: T

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Human Perry, pre-slash, domestic squabbles, misunderstandings, teasing, Doof 101 AU

A/N: Just a little thing to help me regain some lost confidence these past couple of months

"Heinz," Clara Wells calls out from the other end of the office. She's got a huffy tone that implies she had done so more than once. "Heinz." She calls again, and he finally raises a lazy hand in acknowledgement.

"Just five more minutes, Clare."

"Your husband's outside." She counters, tilting her head to further emphasize her point. "And he's been waiting for ten."

"He wouldn't've had to if he'd bothered to read my message I sent 5 hours ago," Heinz volleys defensively, if a bit distractedly. "Or pick up the phone when I tried to call him after lunch. I'll tell him I'm almost done. Say, did we mix up the answers in the scheme for number four...? Or have these freaking papers finally done me in?"

"Let me take a look at that." He hears Dylan O'Malley quip, before he feels the man's towering presence hovering over his shoulder, peering down onto the half graded quiz papers Heinz had sprawled over his entire desk, and even a little into Bess' territory on his left side. She'd gone home hours ago, though, having finished with today's marking yesterday on account of that dinner date with her sister across town, so it's not an urgent concern.

"Oh yeah, no." Dylan adds nonsensically, pointing between the bullet points of the aforementioned question. "It's technically correct, but Clara and I technically stole these questions from the finals 3 years ago and the workings are a bit outdated with the syllabus Lang wants us to use now. It's a bit trickier cus they'd need to use trigonometry on Points S in relative to Y-,"

"You don't need to tell me that, this is foundational physics-,"

"Yeah, well, the kids aren't Physicians, so most of them seem to have gotten confused. I told my kids to table it for now until the department meeting on Monday."

Heinz stops tapping his pen, looking up to the man incredulously. "Are you telling me that I've just wasted 30 minutes of my time quizzing out a tabled question?"

Dylan's answer was promptly drowned by an extremely loud and pointed car honk, and Heinz hears a startled yelp from the pantry. He finally looks up to see Perry, naturally, parked on the lot that was technically Principal Lang's, front facing the tall windows of the office.

Heinz spreads his arms wide, meeting the man's eyes on the other side of the window pane.

Perry retorts by pointedly tapping on the face of his wristwatch, then his car.

Heinz gives him the middle finger.

Perry points at him menacingly, and gestures him to walk, with two fingers on the plane of his wrist. He taps his wristwatch again, before raising his hand, palm straight out. 5 minutes.

"Oh for Gott's sake." Heinz mutters, rapidly getting up and cleaning after himself, just as he hears Adelaide Brimming on the other side of the room go; "Oh, you guys are so cute."

Heinz snorts, shoving all of the papers into the segmented file he's going to have to bring home. "Yeah, well. When I get there I'm about to be adorable."

"It's domestic." Dylan chuckles, stepping aside so he might not interfere with the Doofenshmirtz Maelstrom as he attempts to find his loafers he'd kicked out of sight, allegedly beneath his own desk. "I didn't realize you were married, Heinz?"

The Advanced Sciences teacher frowns, straightening up. "You aren't? Well," he shrugs. "You were probably better off. I'm not anymore though."

"Oh?"

"Yes? Are you sure I haven't told you this before? You've met Vanessa."

"Oh, you meant your first wife? No, I knew that. I meant-I hadn't realized you'd remarried."

Heinz freezes, his hand on the doorknob leading out the office. "What?"

Dylan frowns. "What, what?"

"Stop being nonsensical. I haven't re-married."

Clara snorts into her coffee.

"I haven't. Why is everyone looking at me?"

"You called him your husband." Dylan points out, gesturing to the impatient be-suited man standing outside.

"Perry the- Perry? No. What? No, he's-we're-I can't-you guys are-he's-!" Heinz sputters. "He's practically my parole officer!"

Dylan and Clara exchange weighted looks, the latter with a permanent smirk etched upon her face.

"You want him to be your husband though." She says casually.

He doesn't have to stand for this. "I don't have to stand for this." Heinz says, cheeks burning all the way up to his ears. High school was high school, apparently, no matter where you were on the side of staff doors. He slams the door behind him to punctuate his indignantion, though he could've sworn he still heard Clara laugh on the other side. He's still going to have to see her tomorrow.

Despite his visible impatience not twenty minutes ago, Perry's face visibly softens as he sees Heinz rounding out to the parking lot, where his teal colored OWCA standard Sedan purra idly as they wait. And Heinz hates it, hates that he's able to tell, and how it makes his heart summersault from beneath his breastbone to his stomach with an almost childish shame.

Perry, as he was naught to do, opens the passenger side door for him, as he does to make fun of him, whenever Heinz was in a churlish mood. He's even doing a stupid little teasing bow, like an unnecessarily attractive carriage master. Or a prince.

It's mocking. But his coworkers won't know that.

Heinz grabs ahold of the door, and slams it back closed.

Perry raises a questioning eyebrow. Heinz can barely notice the awkward silence between them, frozen as he was imagining his coworkers giggling over his shame like a pair of bullies.

After a second or two, he opens it back up and climbs inside.

He sees Perry hesitate right outside his door, and when he rounds over to climb into his customary driver's seat, Heinz cuts him off right off the bud.

"Not one word, Perry the Platypus." Heinz mutters. "Not one. Word."

[slashyrogue]

It takes a ridiculously long time for Wade to realize he's pregnant.

Like, super fucking ridiculously.

Truth be told, he didn't know that getting pregnant was in the cards for him but when he did it was so anticlimactic that really understanding the gravity of the situation seemed like an afterthought.

Rewind a bit.

He should've known that getting kidnapped by the government would result in more than just waking up sore when Logan saved him only two days in but really he just wanted to be out of there.

The exhaustion - something that he rarely had with the regeneration and all that - made it easy to fall asleep on Wolvie's shoulder during the ride home but when he woke up all he did was want to be in Logan's pocket.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Wade just nuzzled his beard - which was just as fluffy as you'd think it was - and sighed. "Just wanna cuddle with my favorite kitty cat."

"Wade---"

"Pretty please?" he faked a cough, "I was tortured, Wolvie. Peanut, they cut things OUT I saw them."

Logan growled and the claws that had come out slid right back in. "Fine."

And so began Wade's "Week of Cuddles" which was AMAZING to say the least. Logan was NICE to him, and practically babied him better than anyone EVER had. It was like Christmas and Halloween AND his Birthday fucked and had a million babies.

100/10 would recommend.

The ice creams and chimichangas were never ending; the cuddles were abundant, and he even got to fall asleep on Logan's shoulder.

He secretly loved that one the best by the way but pretended he liked the ice cream the most.

The "Week of Cuddles" was followed by "The Week of Sleepovers" and he began "The Week of Chocolate" which was, in retrospect, a big mistake.

The minute Logan brought home the Choco-Tacos (after scouring for HOURS he found one lone store that had a back inventory that was....questionable) and he devoured it in seconds a new week began.

"The Week of Is Wade Dying Again?"

It was a terrible fucking week, mostly with vomiting but also horrible stomach pains, like something was clawing his insides and not in a fun way like the Honda Odyssey.

Logan kept telling him to "go to the damn doctor already" while increasingly seeming agitated and snarly which was cute because Wade pretended it meant he was worried about him.

He knew it was because he hated the smell of vomit with his kitty cat senses.

Obviously.

Althea finally called the X-Men because she was "sick of hearing him puke."

How did she know their number?

Apparently Colossus and here were friends or something he didn't know but when they showed up and Logan dragged him off he was toast.

And he puked twice more on the ride.

Beast then gave him the news.

"Wade, I....it seems you're pregnant."

Wade started to laugh, falling back on the hospital bed, and when no one joined him he was given the results.

Those government fuckers had somehow knocked him up.

How?

Well, it seemed that his body could adapt to anything, even a reproductive system that he shouldn't have.

Logan made Beast take the tests again, and even try to pinpoint who's kid they put inside him.

And....ding ding.

"Logan, I...." Beast said, his voice shaking, "I do believe it's yours."

Wade started laughing then, unable to stop, and Logan left the room.

What a fucking joke.

He grinned at Beast as tears filled his eyes. "Isn't anyone going to throw me a baby shower? I'm sure I'm gonna need some mittens to handle this one, am I right?"

No one laughed.

And Wade got up, still wearing just his heart shaped boxers, and went to put on his suit.

"You....Wade, you have options."

He paused, holding his suit in hand, and put a hand to his belly.

Did he?

It was goddamn selfish to see this through, he knew that, but the thought of NOT seeing it through made him immensely sad.

A once in a lifetime opportunity.

He was an incubator for potentially the next Marvel Jesus. "No," he said, shaking his head, "I don't." The team tried to talk him into staying but he didn't listen and walked outside to find Logan waiting on a motorcycle. "Did you bring that here for little ol' me, Peanut?"

Logan sighed. "Get on."

Wade did just that, holding him tight, and they took off toward fuck knew where.

All he knew was that he was carrying what might be his only offspring that was going to the most wanted mutant in the world once it was born.

Whatever government had done this would come back at the finish line.

But he had scary dog privilege who was currently driving him to his nest or whatever.

They might've thought it was a funny idea to see what would happen if they scrambled the offspring of two immortals and give them something to fight for.

Joke was on them.

There was no way that if there was a baby at the end of this mess that either of them wouldn't fight like hell.

Wade could hardly wait.

And hey, maybe this would turn out to be like one of those 90s sappy rom-coms where grumpy and the baby mama fell in love.

Ha.

Wouldn't that be something?

[steddieunderdogfics]

hot (sticky, sweet) by ToEdenandBackAgain

@toedenandbackagain

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

5,594 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tags: boys flirting, pre slash, Pre-Season/Series 03, Steve Harrington's Scoops Ahoy Uniform, Abuse Of Company Policy

Summary:

"You're abusing company policy,” Steve corrects and Eddie nods, unashamed, and leans forward. “Fuck The Man, Harrington. Gimme a taste.” Or: it's the hottest day of the summer so far, and Eddie just wants his due of free samples. Annoying the shit out of Steve Harrington is just a cherry on top.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @toedenandbackagain. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[madarinniki]

After: MANA, The 3 day disappearance

[sambi-bambi]

sammy helping big brother with his fear of flying

PAIRING: sam winchester/dean winchester WORD COUNT: 1,053 CONTENT WARNING: wincest (SMUT!)

finding out dean was afraid of flying was... hilarious. he felt a little bad about it, but it was honest-to-god hilarious. watching the way dean forced himself to take deep breaths as he settled into the seat beside him—seats he complained were much too compressed—was amusing.

it was all amusing. and, well, a little sad. dean, at his big age, scared of a little flight? soon, watching him became less funny. the way every muscle in his body was tensed like he was prepared for a fight. the way his eyes were either screwed shut or restlessly darting around the entirety of the cabin. the way his hands nervously smoothed sweaty palms against the thighs of his jeans over and over and over again.

sam was concerned. how were they supposed to investigate this case if dean was terrified (and poorly hiding it)? this was high stakes. this could seriously go awry if dean wasn't focusing, or at least calm enough to think straight.

it seemed to get a lot worse as soon as the lights in the cabin dimmed down (because it was a night flight), dean's head pushing back against the headrest of the seat.

"hey, dude, seriously," sam said quietly, craning his head slightly to speak closer to dean's ear. "take deep breaths. it's gonna be fine."

dean scoffed at him, sparing a moment of open-eyes to shoot a disbelieving glance at sam. "right. yeah. getting on a flight where some black-eyed freak is trying to crash the plane—"

"shh, shh!" he replied quickly, knocking an elbow into dean's ribs.

it turned into a brief thing consisting of shoving and hushed insults and clothes rustling before the person behind them told them to quit. so they both huffed and settled back into their seats, slumping down with frowns pulling at both their lips.

still, sam couldn't shake the worry stirring in his gut. he couldn't shake the need to do something to help. so when he heard most of the passengers go quiet, probably headphones in, reading, or napping, he leaned close to whisper again. "dean?"

"what?" he grunted, taking the offered blanket from the flight attendant and pulling it over himself, sinking into it.

he scooted to the far edge of his seat, as close to dean as he could get, slowly pushing up the armrest between them. "i can help you relax, if you let me."

a hand slipped under the edge of the blanket, setting on dean's thigh. "sammy," dean hissed, eyes blowing wide. "what the hell'r you doing?" and despite the words typically being spoken in protest, dean made no move to take that hand away. in fact, he slid a little lower in his seat, making sam's palm rest higher up on his leg.

"it's physiological," sam whispered, almost pleading. "just let me help. release will help."

he watched with rapt attention as dean's lips pressed into a thin line and his head turned away. for a long moment that made his heart drop into his stomach: he thought dean was about to call him a freak and reject his offer. but then, there was an almost imperceptible nod from dean.

so his hand wandered up and up and up under that blanket, fingers tugging down his zipper and sliding under the rough fabric of dean's jeans. it was electric, so electric sam was almost surprised he didn't get shocked the minute he breached the waistband of dean's boxers. definitely a freak.

much to his satisfaction, he found dean hard in the offending, constricting fabric, his dick giving a little twitch like it could feel sam was barely a moment away from contact.

dean gasped when sam finally (finally!) wrapped a fist around his cock, to which sam shushed him. they were surrounded by people—if dean was too loud, who knows what would happen?

but at least he seemed to be somewhat distracted now.

beneath the blanket, sam gave slow, almost lazy strokes, trying to keep it slow so that the movement under the fabric wasn’t super noticeable and so he could prolong this as long as possible. sam doubted he’d ever get another chance like this again, and besides. dean would do well with having his mind off the flight for as long as he could draw it out.

he thumbed just over the crown, glancing around the cabin when dean made a brief choked sound low in his throat. the noise was accompanied by a blurt of precome, to which sam gathered it in his palm to make the slide easier.

it was a repetitive of a motion, but oddly soothing because of that. maybe sam was weird (well, he already knows he’s a freak). he twisted his wrist at the top, gaze stuck fast to the way dean’s eyes closed tightly shut, the way his teeth sunk roughly into his lower lip.

sam couldn't help it. he wanted to see more of that expression. maybe because he thought the release would help him too. maybe because he missed sex. maybe because he missed pleasing. maybe because he... had missed his brother. yeah. definitely a freak.

he fisted dean's cock faster, the slide so much easier from the tip weeping precome, dean's hips making the tiniest little twitches up into sam's palm. it was good, so good, he just wished he knew what exactly dean was feeling—

release.

hot and thick over his fingers, dirtying the inside of dean's boxers. majorly unfortunate considering they were stuck on this flight for a long while still, but watching the tension melt out of dean's muscles probably made it worth it. there was no fear anymore, just post-climax bliss. a haze.

sam (begrudgingly) pulled his hand out of dean's pants, missing the weight of his brother's cock in his grip. was that odd? definitely odd. definitely a freak. he wiped his skin clean with his shirt, stamping down the urge to lick his fingers clean. definitely a freak.

definitely a freak, but hey. at least dean was calm now. and at least they'd both managed to stay quiet about it.

and if sam quietly made his way to the bathroom to blow his load in the plane's cramped bathroom, hunched over the toilet and desperately stroking his dick, then that was his business.

definitely a freak.

[mrspasser]

The things he does for his pack

Pinterest showed me a tweet from someone who fed his co-workers pot brownies because he didn't want to be the only one dirty on the random drug test. I had some thoughts about that and the result is this Sterek fanfic :-)

Read it on A03

There’s a chilly wind blowing that he can barely ward off with the upturned collar of his jacket, his ass has gone numb from the hard bench and a few rows below him there’s a man eating nachos with the most obnoxious artificial flavouring Derek has ever smelled. 

The things he does for his pack…

At least the game isn’t a total shit show. He isn’t all that fond of lacrosse - he was on the basketball team himself, but most of his pack plays. Boyd is the newest recruit and though he’s sitting on the bench next to Stiles right now, he’s scheduled to take his place in the goal for the last two quarters. Jackson, Isaac and Scott each usually play the whole game and Stiles plays a quarter here and there - as long as he doesn’t annoy the coach too much.

They’re ahead, with only a few minutes left of the second quarter. The Beacon Hills Cyclones started off strong and scored six goals already, to a meagre two of their opponents. If they keep this up, they’ll win the game by a landslide. Stiles might even get to play. 

Besides him, Erica cheers loudly as Isaac scores the seventh goal, right before the referee blows his whistle. The team gathers around their coach to hear his instructions, though a few of them are more focused on the water cooler than game tactics. They’re laughing and bumping into each other, ignoring Finstock when he calls them to order. It seems like they think the game is won already. Derek hears both Scott and Jackson berate their teammates. If they win this game, they’ll compete in the state championships, so there’s a lot riding on this game.

“Go get ‘m, babe!” Erica yells when Boyd jogs towards the goal after the break. The young werewolf looks back and lifts his stick in response and Derek gives him a supportive nod. Boyd joined the team mostly because of his pack mates and the role of goalie fits him well. He’s not flawless, he doesn’t have enough field experience for that, but his werewolf reflexes make up for a lot.

The game restarts and it only takes a few minutes to see that a good part of the team doesn’t have the same focus as before their break. “What the fuck are they doing?” asks Erica, gesturing towards the field where two players seem to be performing some kind of dance. It’s uncoordinated and barely recognizable as dancing, still, it is anything but lacrosse. Jackson yells at them until they get back in line, which they do with a lot of giggling.

Derek frowns at the spectacle below. The visiting team scores two goals in succession: the first is a clever trick shot that he really doesn’t fault Boyd for not catching and the second shot goes in because one of the Cyclones actually hinders his own goalie on purpose. To say the team isn’t happy with that is an understatement. Within minutes the whole game is in disarray and when one of the players stumbles off to the sideline to be sick, the referee calls the whole thing off. It’s a big mess. Derek’s proverbial hackles go up: this whole thing reeks. Something is wrong, but what?

Down on the field Jackson yanks his helmet off and tosses it down on the ground, swearing loudly. Both Isaac and Scott take it upon them to direct their unruly teammates back towards the locker rooms. “It’s like herding cats,” Derek hears Isaac complain when some of his teammates start up an impromptu game of tag and run back onto the field, leaving the young werewolf standing.

Coach Finstock is almost purple from all the yelling he does and all over the bleachers there’s confusion and amused chatter to be heard. Most people have left their seats and gone down to the field. Erica stands next to her boyfriend, who is gesturing angrily at some teammates who stumble past. 

Derek gets up and scans the field for his pack. He has a nagging suspicion of foul play and it bothers him that he can’t sense any danger. As far as he can tell, it’s just the humans and his own pack on the field. There’s no-one else. The werewolves all seem to be acting normal, which leads him to believe there was something that affected the humans. 

Stiles. Where is Stiles?

Now that he thinks of it, Derek kinda expects Stiles to be at the forefront of this whole mess, yet the lanky human is nowhere to be seen. That can’t be right. The nagging sense of discomfort that sat low in his belly turned into alarm.

The Alpha werewolf lets his enhanced senses work for him as he urgently searches the crowd, though it still takes him a while to spot the Cyclones’ number 24. Stiles is lying underneath the bench, curled up against some bags of sport’s gear. He took his protective gear off and cuddled with the shoulder pads in his arms like it’s a teddy bear. Derek rushes over, unsure of the condition his pack member is in. It’s only when he’s close that he can hear his slight snores over the din of the crowd. Relief swoops through his stomach.

“Stiles!” There’s no reaction, not even when Derek calls his name a second time. He crouches down to shake the boy’s shoulder. “Stiles! Wake up!” 

Stiles wakes up with a mumbled “Huh? Wazzit?” and a lolling search of his head towards the sound. His eyes blink open unevenly. One eye focuses on Derek and a lazy, contented grin appears on his face. “Der-bear.”

Derek rolls his eyes at the stupid pet name, though he can’t hide the relieved smile that breaks through. He helps Stiles roll out from under the bench, preventing him from bumping his head into it when he tries to sit up. “What are you doing on the ground?”

Another loopy grin. “I was sleepy.”

If Derek didn’t know any better, he’d say Stiles was drunk. He’s acting even more uncoordinated than usual and he has trouble focusing his vision. Thing is, he can’t smell any alcohol on the boy, just sweat and sweets. And he knows Stiles isn’t a big fan of drinking, having seen from up close what alcohol can do to a man. Derek has to hold Stiles by the arms to keep him sitting upright; he would pitch right over otherwise. “Stiles? What happened?” 

“I dunno,” Stiles answers, slightly slurring his words. He grips onto Derek’s forearms and tries to look around him at the field. “Is the game over? Did we win?” 

Derek jostles him a little to get his attention back on him. “Stiles. Focus!” 

Erica and Boyd come up to them, giving Stiles a scrutinising look. “What’s wrong with him?” Erica asks, cocking her head as she looks the boy over. 

“I don’t know,” Derek grits out and tries to get Stiles to stand up. It’s like wrestling an octopus. The boy is not cooperating at all and after a few moments Derek gives up and lets him sit down on the bench. At least that way he isn’t on the ground anymore. Stiles immediately tips over to lean against Derek’s hip, all heavy and loose limbs.

Boyd chuckles lowly. “Dude, is he stoned?”

“Stoned?!” Erica bends over to grab Stiles by the chin so she can look into his face. “He is!” she cackles in delight. “His eyes are all red!”

Stiles grabs Derek’s leg for stability, winding his arm around it, and sits up a little straighter. “I have red eyes?” He looks up at Derek and grins. “You hear that, Sourwolf? I’m the Alpha now!”

Boyd crosses his arms in front of his chest and regards them with a knowing smile. “He’s baked.”

“No, I didn’t!” Stiles flails and Derek has to grab him by the back of his jersey to prevent him from headbutting the werewolf in the crotch. The boy refuses to let go of his leg. “Greenberg did the baking. They were delicious!”

“What are you talking about?” Derek keeps him upright as much as he can, which is surprisingly hard when Stiles resembles an octopus ragdoll. 

“Pot brownies.” The voice of Jackson cuts through and all heads turn to the team’s co-captain that comes walking up to them. He’s looking cross. “Fucking Greenberg fed the whole team edibles before the game.” 

“They were very edible,” Stiles mumbles. His voice kind of gets lost under the astonished exclamations of his packmates. He snuggles a little closer to Derek’s leg.

“Why would he do that?” Derek growls. It’s clear the rest of the team didn’t know anything of this plan, which basically means the guy poisoned his team mates. 

“To fuck with the mandatory drug test they were gonna have us take after the game,” Jackson explains curtly. “A random check. We weren’t supposed to know about it, but Greenberg got into the coach's papers or something.”

Derek huffs. “That doesn’t explain why he fed the whole team drugs. Why risk getting kicked out of the competition?”

“Dude’s a stoner. He didn’t want to get caught.” 

Erica laughs. “That is kinda genius, if you think about it.” At Derek’s ornery look she explains: “Chances are they would dismiss the test if the whole team tested positive. They’d think it was a faulty test, or something.” 

“Yeah, or they would just suspend the entire team,” Boyd corrects her. “Where is that asshole now?” he asks Jackson. That is something Derek wants to know too.

Jackson points a thumb back over his shoulder. “Back at the locker room. Coach is ripping him a new one. Scott and Isaac are with them.”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. His first reaction was to join coach Finstock in yelling at this Greenberg idiot, but was it really his place to do so? After all, most of his pack was unharmed and the one that did get affected was just high as a kite. And cuddly. He grips the back of Stiles’ neck to keep his head still, so he wasn’t affectionately rubbing his face on Derek’s hip. He sighs. “Let’s go home.” 

That does get Stiles’ attention. “Home?! I can’t go home!” He clumsily tries to get to his feet, using various body parts of his Alpha as a handgrip. Derek hauls him to his feet with a hand in his armpit before it can get any worse. “My dad can’t go home! I mean, I can’t go there. My dad is at home.” He pauses for a second. “Which means he can’t go home either, because he’s already there. Huh. What was I saying?” 

“Well, you can’t stay here either,” Derek answers impatiently. “You’ve got to sleep this off, or something.” 

“I don’t know, I kinda like him like this,” Erica smirks. She shows her teeth when Derek glares at her.

“I can sleep here.” Stiles tries to turn to pat the bench he’d been sleeping underneath earlier, almost falling over the thing in his attempt. Derek gets a hold of his arm and resigns himself quietly to not letting go until Stiles was safely at home, in bed.

“Guys! We’re getting a rematch next week,” Scott announces from afar, jogging over to them. Isaac follows him in his wake. “What’s the matter with Stiles?” 

“He ate three pot brownies, that’s the matter with Stiles,” Isaac deadpans after one look at his pack mate. 

“He ate three?!” Erica guffaws.

“They were really good!” Scott hurries to say. “Besides, I had two and I feel fine.” 

“That’s because you’re a werewolf, dumbass,” Jackson hisses and for once Derek is glad that Jackson said something so he didn’t have to.

“Oh. Right.” Scott has the decency to look abashed. He moves a little closer to his friend, who resorted back to leaning up against Derek for support. “Will he be okay?” he asks the older werewolf.

“Should be fine,” Derek grunts. “Just has to sleep it off.” 

“Oh, yeah, that should work,” Scott nods sagely. Then his face clears. “Shit! He can’t go home, his dad will know he��s high!” 

“Yeah, Der! Dad will know!” Stiles agrees vehemently, turning fast to slap Derek in the chest for emphasis. “Ohh, I feel sick,” he groans immediately afterward, his face turning white as a sheet. 

Recognising what is about to happen, Derek moves them a step away from the others and holds Stiles steady as he suddenly lurches forward and pukes on the grass. Behind them, the werewolves make various noises of disgust. Derek isn’t a fan of the stench of vomit either, but Stiles is trembling on his legs like a newborn foal and making pitiful noises in between heaving up the contents of his stomach, so he supports him with a hand underneath his chest and rubs comforting circles on his back with the other.

When his stomach is finally empty, Stiles leans forward with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Scott helps his friend drink a cup of water from the team’s water cooler. Stiles is too out of it to do much to help. “I feel like shit,” he says in a wobbly voice. 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees gently. “Let’s get you home, alright? You can stay at the loft until you feel better.” The boy will probably be alright after a good sleep.

“Thanks,” Stiles sighs and closes his eyes. He even starts tipping forward alarmingly. 

“That’s it,” Derek decides out loud and scoops Stiles up so he can carry him to the car. “We’re out of here.” He walks off in the direction of the parking lot, Stiles dozing in his arms, trusting the rest of his pack to sort things out when it comes to grabbing their stuff and finding their own way back to the loft. 

Stiles wakes up a little when Derek positions him carefully in the front seat of his car. “Der?” he asks, his head lolling back against the seat. 

“Hmm?” Derek reaches across him to fasten his seatbelt. From the corner of his eye he can see Stiles following him with his eyes, a smile on his face that’s a cross of loopy and fond.

When Derek leans back, sitting on his haunches next to his car, Stiles strains forward in his seatbelt conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Scott, but you’re my favourite werewolf,” he whispers.

Derek huffs a laugh despite himself. He shakes his head and gets up to close the car door.

“You gotta promise, Der,” Stiles urges. “You can’t tell Scott!” 

The werewolf nods indulgently. “Sure.” 

But Stiles isn’t happy with that answer. “You gotta promise!” When Derek doesn’t react to him sticking out his pink, he shakes his hand in front of his face and urges: “Pinky swear that you won’t tell!” 

“Stiles, come on, lets just get you home.” Derek is a grown ass Alpha werewolf. He isn’t gonna pinky swear with a teenager that’s still pretty baked. 

Stiles points at him with a stern finger. “Pinky swear or you’re no longer my favourite werewolf!” 

And Derek…. Well, he can’t help it. As much as Stiles can be annoying and a handful, he’s also smart, loyal and, God help Derek, funny. 

“Can’t have that, right?” Derek chuckles and hooks his pinky finger around Stiles’. He’s awarded with a bright grin when he declares solemnly not to tell Scott that Derek is Stiles’ favourite werewolf.

With Stiles satisfied, Derek can close the car door and finally get into the car himself. Stiles watches him start the car with bleary eyes. He’ll probably fall asleep soon. 

“Don’t puke on the upholstery,” he warns his young packmate, just to be sure. 

“I promise,” Stiles responds, as serious as he can while breaking into a yawn. He’s still a bit pale around the nose, though Derek suspects he can keep himself collected during the short ride to the loft.

It’s quiet for a bit as Derek navigates the school parking lot and drives out onto the main road. “Hey Der?” it sounds softly from the seat next to him after a few minutes. 

“Yes, Stiles?” Derek signals for a corner.

“Am I your favourite human?” 

The tentative way the words are spoken makes Derek look over. Stiles actually seems bashful, it’s an odd look on him. 

Derek hesitates for a second, but… Whatever. They’re alone and there’s a chance that Stiles won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow anyway. The werewolf puts his hand on the boy’s knee and squeezes. “You are, Stiles.” 

“That’s nice,” Stiles says in a whisper. He sounds pleased. And half asleep, that too. However, half asleep as he is, Stiles still holds out his hand with his pinky outstretched. “I won’t tell Scott,” he promises when Derek hooks his own pinky in after just a short moment. 

“Good,” Derek agrees with a smile. The childish secret between them makes him feel oddly giddy. 

The boy sleeps for the rest of the ride and doesn’t wake up when Derek lifts him from the car and carries him up the stairs. He gently tucks Stiles in in his bed, figuring he can stand to have his bedding smelling like his favourite human tonight. When he gets back downstairs, his betas look at him questioningly, but they don’t say anything, especially not after he gives them his credit card to order dinner. 

Stiles wakes up around nine PM, hungry like a wolf. He scarfs down the pizza the pack left for him in a remarkable show of restraint and resigns himself to their teasing easily. It looks like he indeed doesn’t remember all that much from what happened. More importantly, besides ‘feeling a bit crunchy’ - Stiles’ own words - he’s not much worse for wear from the whole thing. Perhaps Derek really doesn’t have to go after that idiot of a Greenberg. 

By eleven, Derek evicts his pack from his home. He loves them, honestly, but there’s only so much teenage bullshit he can stand. He makes Scott drive Stiles home in the Jeep, not listening to Stiles’ protests and even flashing his red eyes when the boy doesn’t give in quickly enough. Stiles wrinkles his nose at him, though he complies easily after that. 

Around midnight, when Derek is reading in bed, his phone lights up with a message: [ FYI. I changed your name in my contacts from Sourwolf to F.W. So now we match! ]

Derek texts back a question mark. It’s a common occurrence when texting with Stiles.

A moment later there’s a reply. [ Can’t have Scott find out, can we? ;-) ] 

It’s only then that Derek notices that the name on the texts doesn’t say Stiles, but Favourite Human. He has no idea how or when Stiles got a hold of his phone this evening.

He thinks about changing it for a second, but puts his phone back on the nightstand instead and shuts off the light so he can go to sleep.

The things he does for his pack.

[cameron-s-gaskins]

Decided to make a Life on Mars/Doctor Who crossover comic, about Sam being the Master, that no one asked for and is about 15 years too late 😂

Chapter 1 is almost done, I’ll hopefully have it posted here and on AO3 in the next week. Thinking of naming it “Sam Tyler Doesn’t Exist.” First chapter will stand alone, but I’ve written a script for a second chapter already. Mostly ignores Ashes to Ashes, and anything after series 4 of Doctor Who.

Gosh!

[farfaras]

Steddie week. Day 7: Free space. 2.1k words. Ao3 link.

@steddie-week

I’m late but I really wanted to finish the week. So here it is! The last one!

~

“What’s Eddie short for?” Steve asked Robin. They were on their break, now working at a record store after they got fired from Family Video for missing work too much.

“Why are you asking me?” She shot back. Steve simply shrugged. It honestly just occurred to him that he didn’t actually know if that was Eddie’s name or if it was a nickname.

“I was just thinking about it. You don’t know?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” That was disappointing. Robin seemed to be getting along with Eddie. Maybe they’re not that close. Would Dustin know? “You know, I think I asked him once.”

“Really? And what did he say?” She should’ve mentioned this first!

“I think he just started laughing and then deflected. Never answered me.” She stood up. They had to go back to work already. It was slow today, not much customers around so they kept chatting. “Why did you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Steve really was just curious. “We’ve all been friends for a while and I just realized we don’t actually know if ‘Eddie’ is short for anything.”

“He actually seems like the type of person to just be called ‘Eddie’. Like just ‘Eddie’, full stop.” Even if that’d be funny, it’s probably not it. “Anyway, just ask him.”

“Is that not weird?” He wondered.

“I asked him. He just didn’t tell me. Maybe you’d have more luck.” She smirked and it looked like she knew something he didn’t.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I will.”

“You’re the one who wants to know.”

“Do you think he didn’t tell you because the name’s embarrassing or something?”

“He’s done so much embarrassing stuff, his name can’t be that bad.”

—

The next time he saw Eddie was when they were playing DnD, at Steve’s house. For some reason Eddie managed to convince Steve that hosting their nerd game was a good idea. He was sure it was his puppy dog eyes. Steve was not immune to those. Robin took advantage of that, constantly.

Steve almost forgot that he was gonna ask Eddie, it was when everyone left and it was just the two of them that Steve remembered the question he had been meaning to ask.

“Hey, Eddie.” He called out to catch his attention.

“Yeah?” They sat down on the couch after cleaning up.

“Is your name short for anything?”

He did exactly what Robin said he did when she asked him. He just started laughing, out of nowhere. Steve didn’t understand what was so funny.

When Eddie stopped laughing, he let out a sigh. “Anyway, what movies do you have?”

“Wha– you’re changing the subject! Why?” Steve was starting to get suspicious now.

“Why do you ask, Steve?” Eddie looked at him.

“I was just curious.” It’s true, Steve was curious. But now it felt like his name was actually something embarrassing, because why else would he avoid answering it in the first place.

“Sureee.” Eddie did not believe him. “To answer your question. Yes, my name is short for something.” Steve figured.

“What is it?” It couldn’t be bad. Steve only knew a handful of names that could be nicknamed Eddie, and those weren’t that bad.

“Ha! I’m not telling you that.” Eddie joyfully replied.

“What– why not?”

“I have to keep the mystery going.” He explained, tone completely serious.

“You’re not mysterious.” Steve deadpanned.

“Shut up, I so am.” Eddie bit back.

“It takes like, one conversation with you to know that you’re not mysterious.” Steve said. It was true, Eddie might have the intimidating look going on, but it was easy to overlook it as soon as he opened his mouth.

Eddie glares at him. “Are you done?”

“You still haven’t answered!”

“‘Cuz I’m not gonna.” Eddie grinned, he was just enjoying having something that Steve wanted to know. “Maybe you can guess.”

“Ugh” Steve fell further into the couch. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Just because I’m a generous and giving person,” Steve perked, he didn’t know why he wanted to know so badly. Maybe so he could use it whenever he wanted to scold him like one of the kids. “I’ll make you a deal.” Disappointed, Steve sighed.

“What’s the deal?” He asked.

“If you guess it,” Eddie put his hand on his chin. “I’ll give you something, anything you want.”

“What? Like a prize for guessing your name?” Steve scoffed. “What am I? A dog?”

“So you don’t want anything?”

“That’s not what I said.” Steve had a feeling that making a deal with Eddie was like making a wish to a genie. Eh, he would still get something out of it. “Whatever, sure. It’s a deal.” He just had to start guessing, until he got it. Shouldn’t be that hard.

“If you say so.”

“Is it Edward?” He gave his first guess.

“Well, that’d be too obvious.” Steve still waited for an actual response. Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not. Close, though.”

“Edison?”

“I’m so grateful it isn’t Edison.”

“Edmund?

“Oh god, they keep getting worse.”

“Yes or no?”

“No! Why would you think my name is Edmund? Do I look like an Edmund to you?” Eddie asked, scandalized.

Steve stayed quiet. “You want me to answer that?”

“Actually, let’s just watch a movie. That’s enough guesses for today.” Eddie went to shuffle through their options.

“I just started!” Steve protested. He should’ve known Eddie wasn’t gonna make it easy for him.

“I don’t feel like answering more. Try again later.”

Steve crossed his arms and pouted. When Eddie looked back at him, Steve stuck his tongue out, like a toddler. Eddie chuckled.

–

“Edwin?”

Eddie gave him a thumbs down.

–

“Edgar?”

Eddie spelled “no” with his fries. He proudly showed them to Steve.

Steve ate them.

–

“Edrian!”

“Where’d you even come up with that one?”

“I heard it somewhere.”

“Well, that’s not it.”

–

“Is it, like, just Ed or something?”

“Life would be easier.” Eddie dreamily looked to the sky. “So, no, it’s not.”

–

“I’m like, out of ideas, Robin.” Steve didn’t know whether to give up or look in the library.

“Maybe you need to look for obscure names, like really weird ones.” Robin made some hand gestures that he didn’t really know what they entailed.

—

“Can I get a hint?” Steve gave it his best shot at puppy dog eyes, he had big eyes, right?

Eddie wasn’t looking straight at him, he took one glance for like half a second and then decided to look forward. “I already did.”

“No.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “When?”

“With your first guess. I don’t think you need anything else.”

Steve let out a frustrated groan.

—

At the end, he didn’t guess shit.

Steve was dropping by some cookies he made, they were Eddie’s favorite. Steve wanted to improve some skills in the baking department, it was a win win. He got practice, Eddie got cookies. It didn’t mean anything else.

The government gave the Munsons a house after everything, it was on the outskirts of town. When he pulled up, he noticed that a letter had fallen down from the mailbox. When he picked it up he saw who it was addressed to.

Eduardo Munson.

There was no way.

Steve ran so fast his head almost clashed with the door. He knocked frantically. Eddie opened the door, Steve didn’t even wait to be invited in. He ran to the kitchen to set the cookies on the counter and raced back to where Eddie was.

“Your name is Eduardo?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “How’d you find that out?”

Steve just handed him the letter he found on the floor. Eddie’s mouth formed an ‘O’, but he didn’t say anything.

“Well?” Steve crossed his arms.

“I guess now you know.” Eddie opened the letter to read it, he made his way to the couch and sat down. Steve followed.

“Is that why you said I was close with the name Edward?” Steve didn’t know anyone named Eduardo. Well, he thought he didn’t.

“Eduardo is basically the same name, but in Spanish.” Eddie, no, Eduardo nodded.

“Why– who decided that was gonna be your name?” Did his parents just like Spanish, or something? Steve thought. He obviously didn’t say it.

“My mom. She was Mexican. This letter is from my grandma.”

“Oh. Is it…” Steve didn’t actually know where he was going with that.

“Most of my mom’s side lives in cali, or Mexico.”

Eddie had the letter opened on his lap, Steve peeked. He didn’t want to pry, it was just a quick glance. Even if he wanted to read anything though, he couldn’t.

“That is, fully in Spanish.” His face was a mix of confusion and shock.

“Uh huh.” Eddie was holding back laughter. “What about it?”

“You speak Spanish?!” At this point, he didn’t even care if he was being loud.

“My grandma calls me regularly, like, once a month. She doesn’t speak an ounce of English.” Eddie’s face was fond. That shouldn’t be as cute as it was.

Steve’s jaw was on the floor. Never once did he expect to learn all of this just because he wanted to know if the name “Eddie” was actually short for another name. Eddie reached out and closed his mouth. Steve took some time to get himself back together. He collected the cookies and brought them back for Eddie.

“So, I didn’t guess.”

“No.”

Steve sighed, forlorn. “So, deal’s off, I guess.”

“Mmhm.” Eddie was concentrating on the letter in front of him. Steve slapped his arm. “What was that for?”

“You can read that later. I brought you cookies.”

Eddie snatched them, he started almost inhaling them. Jesus Christ. “These are great.”

“Thanks.” Steve blushed.

After that they were content to just hang out, doing whatever. Eddie told him more about his mom’s side of the family. There were a lot of family members that Steve couldn’t keep track of. He talked more with his grandma, aunts and uncle. Steve found out that his mom taught him Spanish when he was little. When she died, and his dad ended up in prison, his closer relative was Wayne so he moved in with him. His mom’s family always kept in touch, though. The last time his grandma visited was before Christmas in 1985.

“Say something in Spanish.” Steve was surprised with himself for asking that. Where did that come from?

“What am I? Your personal clown?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “It just hasn’t registered in my brain fully, that you speak Spanish. Maybe I have to hear it.” Steve tried. It was a cheap attempt at just wanting to hear it.

“What do you want me to say?” Eddie replied. Was he actually gonna do it?

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. An idea came to him, he straightened up. “What about the way your grandma greets you on the phone, or the way you answer?”

Eddie scrunched up his nose. Cute. “Ugh… she’s so mushy.”

“Now I have to hear it.” Steve clasped his hands together, battling his eyelashes.

Eddie just accepted defeat. “Fine!” He was now avoiding Steve’s eyes. “Whenever she calls she always starts with something like ‘¿Cómo está mi niño hermoso?’ Or she’d call me ‘mi vida’, or ‘mi cielo’. Honestly she calls me a lot of things.” Steve had no idea what that was, nor what it meant. But his eyes never left Eddie’s lips, not once. Hearing that was doing things to Steve. He suddenly felt hot.

“What does it mean?”

Eddie flushed red. He turned to Steve, eyes deadly serious. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, but I really do.” Eddie shook his head no. “You have to tell me or else I’m just gonna start calling you that.” Eddie’s face was so funny, he looked scandalized at the possibility. “What was it again? Cie- cielo?”

Eddie swung his hands and arms around. “Stop! Don’t you dare continue.” Steve mimed zipping his mouth. “If you must know. She just asks how I am and she calls me her boy and other pet names.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, assessing him. “Is that the truth?” Eddie nodded. “I’ll accept that, for now.”

They spent the rest of the day watching tv. By the time Steve was leaving the sun was already setting. Eddie walked him to the door.

“What would you have asked for?” Eddie blurted. “If you had guessed my name.”

Steve glanced down at Eddie’s lips for the second time that day. He looked up at Eddie, even if they were almost the same height. Steve shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sure I would’ve come up with something.”

Steve leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“See you, Eduardo.”

He stepped outside and walked to his car. He heard a loud thumping noise coming from inside the house and chuckled to himself.

–

Bonus:

Steve: he speaks Spanish, Robin!

Robin: I heard you the first time, dingus.

Steve: I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation.

Robin: *blank stare*

Steve: I can’t believe I have to date him.

Robin: you don’t have to.

Steve: no, no. I’m gonna.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

Oh my God. 

Their faces are suddenly so close. Like, so very, very close. 

Stiles tries to tamper down his nerves (completely unsuccessfully, of fucking course) by taking a much-needed breath.

He then stammers out the words, "I've, uh, I've, I've never, um—"

Calm. The fuck. Down. 

"It's the same as it is with a girl, Stiles," Derek says, all matter-of-factly as if they're not just about to kiss.

Holy fucking shit!

"Just… hairier," the big guy adds.

Stiles wets his lips and nods and states, “Because you're a boy," oh, so intelligently. "I mean, y'know..."

Gulp!

"A m-man."

One of Derek's thick eyebrows slowly climbs his forehead, face looking as if the haughty display should be taken as some sort of admonishment and it is so fucking hot that Stiles's ridiculous dick jumps for joy inside of his khakis.

Traitor. 

"Actually, I'm neither," says the dude who would put any of the Greek Gods to shame and he flashes that rare, toothy, wicked-sexy smile.

Fuck! 

Then Derek shifts and growls, "I'm a werewolf," before licking the gasp right out of Stiles's mouth.

.

for @greyhavenisback (and now i really must try and go back to sleep, zoiks!)