#scott x wayne

[wipbigbang]

Round 2 Of Artists Claims For The Regular WIPBB Are Open! Round 2 lasts until July 31st! You may claim 3 fics this round!

This is one of the fics open for claiming...

Stranger Things #110 Title: Put me together again Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit | E Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence, Non-con/Rape Forced Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Police, Age Difference, Eddie Munson is a journalist, Steve Harrington is a boss's whore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Prostitution, non consensual pet play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Drug Dealing, Medical Examination, Dark Steve Harrington, Dark Tommy Hagan, ExJunkie Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - 2000s, improper use of a gun (because there is a proper one?!), no underage even if it may seems so, Daddy Issues, Boot Worship, Vomiting, Organized Crime, Crimes & Criminals, Murder, Forced Feminization, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Impact Play, Anal Plug, Homophobic Language, Attempted Murder, Drug Use, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Suicide Attempt Summary: Three years ago, Steve's life changed for the worse. His father died, and his mother started to use drugs and became one of Tommy "The Butcher" Hagan's whore. Trying to survive and to keep his little brother, Dustin, out of the drug lord's hands, Steve is forced into prostitution. One night, he meets Police Officer Jim Hopper, who is investigating Hagan, and the ex-journalist Eddie Munson, who is seeking revenge against Hagan for personal reasons. Is Steve the key they were looking for?

#111 Title: Sing if You're Glad to be Gay Pairing/Characters: Eddie Munson / Steve Harrington Rating: Explicit | E Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence dubious consent, period-typical homophobia / homophobic language, explicit relationship between 17 year old and 18 year old, suicidal ideation, bullying Summary: August, 1983:

Steve Harrington -- the man who would be king -- fell from the gentry's grace at the inaugural jock party of Eddie's senior year after Carol Perkins and Melissa Cargill caught him sucking off Tommy Hagan in the senior Harringtons’ suite. The Saturday soiree went from giving head to getting heads rolling as the coup d'etat kicked off. The moral majority had found Harrington on his knees, and they intended to keep him there. There was no forgiveness from his former friends; there was no atonement allowed for knowingly and willingly performing such an evil act. He was expelled post-haste from the sanctimonious sanctum of Hawkins’ high school high society.

Months before Will Byers disappears, Steve Harrington is outed, bullied, and shunned. Eddie would be overjoyed to find another gay kid in Hawkins if it wasn't THAT gay kid.

#112 Title: Pairing/Characters: Scott Clarke/ Wayne Munson Rating: Mature | M Warnings/Tags: Chooses not to use Warnings Graphic description of past injury Summary: After Wayne Munson gets a severe head wound in the war, he's sent home to deal with the aftermath. Between survivors guilt and the never-ending struggle to do day to day tasks, Wayne finds himself falling for the physical therapist making house calls.

Scott Clarke is fresh out of school and eager to prove himself as a resident, but when one truly difficult case comes across his desk, he can't help but try and make things just a little easier for Wayne. Even if that means going to his home for therapy visits rather than forcing him into the office.

The list of remaining fics and the link to sign up are below!

[chronicfandom118]

Accurate Bruce Wayne and Scott Summers introducing their sons to people: this is my baby boy

Jason Todd and Nathan Summers 6'4-6'8 'baby boy' who is built like a tank, his hands are the size of your head and is covered in scars: Sup

Person:...

Bruce and Scott: just a baby :)

[timbit-robin-art]

Top 10 comic book characters that are secretly cats (shocking).

[autistic-hc-bracket]

Round 3: Bruce Wayne vs Scott Summers

Propaganda is encouraged!

[unclewaynemunson]

It's October when the autumn chill officially dawns over Hawkins. Wayne wakes up to fogged-up windows, and his bones protest loudly when he stretches to get up and make himself some warm coffee. It's too early in the year to turn on the heating; if they start that now, they'll be bankrupt before it's even January. So while the coffee is brewing, he shrugs off the old shirt he uses as a pajama, and puts on as many layers as he'll need to keep himself warm: first an undershirt, then a soft flannel, and then a faded brown sweater that's been sitting uselessly in his closet all through the summer. It's patched up at the elbows to conceal the holes that have fallen into it, but still warm and comfortable, which is all Wayne can really ask for.

'Ed, got coffee for ya!' he calls out when he's changed into his jeans and the coffee is almost ready.

Some muffled noises sounding vaguely like 'lemmesleeeeeep' emerge from the other side of the thin wall.

Wayne chuckles as he turns on the gas, deciding he might as well make scrambled eggs for breakfast; a thinly-veiled excuse to heat up the trailer by using the stove.

'And eggs in a minute!'

Another string of muffled sounds emerges from Eddie's bedroom, 'stoocold' being the only semi-decipherable one.

For a moment, Wayne feels guilty. He knows, deep down, that this is nothing more than his Eddie being dramatic. But that doesn't change his wish that he could simply turn on the heat without giving it a second thought and make Eddie's Sunday morning just slightly more comfortable. He doesn't care about the chill in his own bones, he's had worse. He doesn't care about the condensation on the windows, that is now changing into thick droplets that are gliding down to the windowsill, leaving traces of soot in their wake. He's not even sure if he'd ever want to live in a real, proper house. But the one thing he does want, is to get his nephew through the season warm and comfortable without having to count every penny.

Eddie finally emerges from his bedroom, with only his head peeking out of the blanket he has wrapped himself in, and a sleepy look in his eyes. The phone starts ringing just as Wayne greets him, and Eddie, who's closer to it, shuffles towards it.

Almost immediately after he picks up, his eyes shed their drowsy look and light up in a way that Wayne has come to know all too well, while his mouth curves into a wicked grin.

'No, sir, he's not here,' Eddie says into the phone, his eyes wide and innocent. 'When he didn't come home last night, I assumed he'd be spending the night with you. I guess he must have a secret lover we both don't know about.'

Wayne abruptly turns off the gas and barges towards Eddie, who barks out a laugh while he jumps back as far as the phone cord allows him.

'Just joking, Mr. Clarke, he is here!' he calls out in an annoyingly triumphed tone. 'And he can't wait to talk to you, here he is!'

Wayne playfully shoves Eddie against the wall as he takes the phone from him.

'Sorry for my menace of a nephew, Scott,' he says.

He hears a chuckle on the other side of the line, slightly distorted through the horn. It's as if his hand has a will of its own, clenching around the phone and pressing it almost painfully close to his ear; like he'll be able to catch the sound of Scott's laughter better if he could only press himself tighter to his phone.

'Luckily I'm used to middle schoolers, nothing I can't handle here.'

Wayne snorts and turns towards Eddie, who is now shamelessly staring at him from above his blanket-cocoon a few steps away from him.

'Scott says you should stop behavin' like a damn middle schooler,' he grumbles.

'Yep, that sounds exactly like something sweet Scott Clarke would say,' Eddie remarks, that devilish grin still plastered on his face.

'What can I do for ya, Scott?'

'Well, I just came downstairs for breakfast, and when I looked outside, I realized this is our first proper fall day.'

Wayne directs his gaze to the wet kitchen window. He hadn't even thought to look through the droplets on the glass; but now that he does, he realizes Scott is right. The trees around Forest Hills are definitely showing more yellow and orange than they did yesterday, and some patches of fog are still lingering a few feet above the wilted grass and muddy roads. The skies are a light shade of gray, telling Wayne that even though it'll be cold, it won't likely start raining anytime soon.

'I was wondering if you have any plans for today?' Scott's continues in his ear. 'We could go for a walk in the forest, admire the colors, see if we can find some cool mushrooms... What do you think?'

Wayne wonders whether he's imagining the nervous edge to Scott's voice, merely hearing in there what he wants to hear.

'I'm free all day,' Wayne says. He clamps the phone between his ear and his shoulder, needing both his hands to fumble around in his chest pocket and find a cigarette and a lighter. 'You wanna come over after breakfast? I can make a thermos of coffee and we can head into the woods here, I know a nice path around Lov- around the lake.' He can feel Eddie's gaze burning on him, but he refuses to look at his nephew, instead closing his eyes as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it.

Scott is kind enough to pretend like he didn't notice Wayne's unfortunate stutter.

'A walk around the lake sounds perfect,' he says instead, his voice still as chipper as ever. 'I'll be at yours in an hour. Enjoy your breakfast with Eddie.'

'Real smooth, Uncle Wayne.' Eddie's amused voice cuts through the silence as soon as Wayne has hung the phone back on the hook.

'Don't be ridiculous now, boy,' Wayne grumbles. 'He's my friend.'

'With whom you're gonna hang out at Lover's Lake. Like friends do.' The sarcasm is dripping from Eddie's voice.

'I liked you better when you were still asleep in your bed,' Wayne remarks.

Eddie laughs loudly. 'You shoulda thought about that before you made me come out of it to freeze to death.'

Wayne crosses his arms and shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. 'Are you gonna do anything today or just spending your whole day makin' fun of me?'

Eddie shrugs – or rather, that's what Wayne supposes is happening underneath the moving blanket. 'I'm gonna take the kids to the pumpkin farm with Steve.' He lowers his voice and leans closer towards Wayne, continuing in an conspiratorial voice, 'We call that a date. Maybe you and Mr. Clarke should stop being cowards and come join us. Make it a double date.'

Wayne doesn't say anything; he simply rolls his eyes and walks back to the stove, lighting the gas underneath the frying pan again so he can direct all his attention to his eggs.

---

An hour later, Eddie has left – with a pit stop at the Mayfields' trailer – to pick up Steve. Wayne has done the dishes, dried the windows and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. By the time Scott parks his car in the spot where Eddie's van had been earlier, most of the fog outside has disappeared. Wayne watches him get out of his car through the kitchen window, but he doesn't come outside just yet, afraid it'll make him seem too eager.

Scott knocks on the door and then lets himself in, like he's done many times over the summer that now lies behind them. He's wearing a woolen coat in a dark gray color, with a simple black scarf around his neck.

Wayne feels his hands twitch with the desire to wrap themselves around Scott's waist, to tug him close and bask in the warmth of his body. Would his scarf feel as soft as it looks? Would he smell like fresh autumn air? Would his touch be as warm as the quilt on his couch?

'Oof, it's chilly in here,' Scott remarks, rubbing his hands together.

'I don't get cold that fast.' It's only partly a lie.

'I like the sweater.'

The easy and earnest compliment catches Wayne off-balance; he doesn't know what to do, where to look, where to keep his hands. He wants to escape Scott's approving gaze and hide away somewhere no one can perceive him.

Instead, he clears his throat and thanks the heavens for the fact that Eddie has already left.

'Ready to go?' he asks.

They head into the woods and Wayne leads the way as they stray further from the trailer park. Their feet easily find a rhythm that feels natural to both of them, avoiding the bigger puddles on the path and stopping every now and then to admire toadstools, dewy cobwebs, and fallen leaves in beautiful colors.

As they make their way around Lover's Lake, Wayne ponders what exactly the difference is between what Eddie would call a hangout, and a date. He doesn't exactly have a lot of friends who he hangs out with. He has his colleagues at the plant, of course, who he'd always kept at a distance, which proved him right when they were all too ready to come for his Eddie last March. He has some neighbors he's friendly with; he helps them with a thing or two around their trailers and in return they share a beer or a smoke with him. But he wouldn't call that real friendship either. He has learned long ago how dangerous it can be to let people come too close. Some people only wanted certain things from him, others would judge him when they'd find out a thing too many about him. And the pain of losing a rare, true friend became all too clear to him back in Vietnam.

After that, he mainly stuck to himself. And then it became him and Eddie against the world. He never needed anyone else. He was good at being alone, after all. There was a certain level of comfort to be found in loneliness.

So this thing with Scott – whatever it is – is not something he can compare to anything else. The only thing he knows is that it's definitely not lonely. And that he doesn't want to mess it up and lose the only true friend he's had in decades.

'What's on your mind?' Scott asks when they sit down on a fallen tree at the edge of the lake to enjoy their coffee. 'You've been quiet.'

'I'm always quiet,' Wayne points out.

It makes Scott chuckle softly before he takes a sip of his coffee.

'Not as quiet as you think,' Scott says. 'Today, you're thinking loudly. I can almost hear your thoughts.'

Wayne carefully places his own mug on the tree, then grabs himself a cigarette and lights it, all to buy himself some time. But even after a long drag and another sip of coffee, he still doesn't quite know how to voice his thoughts.

'Was just admirin' the fall colors,' he decides to say instead, when the silence starts taking too long.

He can practically feel Scott's eyes on his face as he stubbornly stares over the water in front of them.

'It really is the perfect day to do that,' Scott finally says. Apparently he has decided he'll let Wayne get away with it this time. Or maybe it isn't like that. Maybe he decided that he'll allow Wayne the time he needs to sort out his thoughts before he can voice them. Maybe he understands that Wayne sometimes needs a while before he's ready to talk about things. Maybe he decided that he didn't want to intrude. Maybe he decided that he values spending time with Wayne, no matter if they're talking or sitting in silence. And maybe this fall will be a little less cold than the ones Wayne has gotten used to, because when he risks a glance towards his left, he sees Scott wearing a smile that's appreciative of the nature around them. It's a smile that warms Wayne from the inside, in a way that the heater in his trailer has never managed to do.

[moonwayne]

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶:

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

a collection of one-shots based on select songs from the tortured poets department.

disclaimer: i’ve only listed some of the songs because i felt as though i couldn’t write a story that would relate well enough to the missing tracks.

how it works: send me any character (that i write for)

< HERE!!!! > and a song, and i’ll write a fic that goes along with it!

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Down Bad

So Long, London

But Daddy I Love Him

Fresh Out The Slammer

Florida!!!

Guilty as Sin

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) | Jason Todd

‎ loml

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

The Alchemy

The Black Dog

imgonnagetyouback

The Manuscript

[madlittlecriminal]

MADLITTLECRIMINAL'S MASTERLIST

hello! welcome to my masterlist! this is the new & improved version as I figured the other ones that i had were getting old and frankly long. anywho, i hope you find this one easier to navigate! happy reading! :)

RULES

KO-FI

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid Masterlist

DC Universe:

Bruce Wayne/Batman Masterlist

Dick Grayson/Nightwing Masterlist

Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle Masterlist

Jason Todd/Red Hood Masterlist

Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow Masterlist

In Time:

Raymond Leon Masterlist

Kingsman (2014 & 2017):

Gary "Eggsy" Unwin Masterlist

Lucifer:

Lucifer Morningstar Masterlist

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier Masterlist

Charles Xavier/Professor X Masterlist

Eddie Brock/Venom Masterlist

Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto Masterlist

Hank McCoy/Beast Masterlist

Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk Masterlist

Jake Lockley Masterlist

Joaquin Torres Masterlist

Layla El-Faouly Masterlist

Marc Spector/Moon Knight Masterlist

Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist

Miguel O'Hara/Spider-Man 2099 Masterlist

Miles Morales/Spider-Man Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow Masterlist

Peter B. Parker/Spider-Man Masterlist

Peter Parker/Spider-Man Masterlist

Scott Summers/Cyclops Masterlist

Stephen Strange/Doctor Strange Masterlist

Steven Grant/Mister Knight Masterlist

Peaky Blinders:

Alfie Solomons Masterlist

Thomas Shelby Masterlist

Sherlock:

Mycroft Holmes Masterlist

Sherlock Holmes Masterlist

Star Wars:

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo Masterlist

Poe Dameron Masterlist

Triple Frontier:

Francisco "Catfish" Morales Masterlist

Santiago "Pope" Garcia Masterlist

Video Games:

-Alejandro Vargas Masterlist

-Astarion Masterlist

-Gale Masterlist

-Halsin Masterlist

-Karlach Masterlist

-Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Masterlist

-Leon Kennedy Masterlist

-Peter Parker (Spider-Man) Masterlist

-Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra Masterlist

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

You're literally so fucking disgusting (said with absolute joy).

Anyways, which of your silly little comic book yandere men are into petplay? And are they puppy-owner-coded or kitty-owner-coded?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒: 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘-𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑…

!!! GN reader, petplay, can be translated as romantic or platonic, but the innuendos are 100% intended, collars, leashes, mentions of punishments, slight manipulation, drugging, I channeled my inner pet for this.

*Pulls out my 3 hour long slideshow* I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED, ANON.

First off, all of them are into pet play if I have a say in it. You will never catch me obsessing over a character I either can’t see collaring me or wearing a collar for me. So, really, this question boils down to if they’re a dog or cat person, LMAOOOOO.

Second, they all could go either way, honestly. These are just my personal thoughts on what they might gravitate towards. If you’re a certified puppy, don’t you worry, cuz the kitty enjoyers will love you the same, and visa versa.

Now let’s get started.

Bruce Wayne: I ALREADY CAN’T FUCKING CHOOSE, FUCK. My first instinct was to gravitate towards kitty-owner, but then I thought about his need to have some sort of physical tie to you (cuz he totally keeps you chained or handcuffed to him, DON’T FUCKING QUESTION ME), so he might be a puppy-owner for the sake of keeping you on a leash. Either way, you’re totally his little lap pet while he works in his office. Petting you gives him the strength he needs to finish all his paperwork. Also, everything you own is bedazzled to hell and back, from collars to toys. He likes to spoil his beloved little pet, okay?!

Clark Kent: I’m gonna go with puppy-owner. He might carry you around like a cat, but that’s only because carries dogs around like cats, too (that’s what happens when you have super-strength; everything is just so carry-able). Absolutely talks to you in that babying voice every dog-owner uses. “Who’s a good pup? Who’s a good pup?? You are!! That’s right, you are!! Aww, look at you!!” It might be annoying, but you better get used to it if you don’t wanna be locked in your uncomfortable cage while he’s gone. He knows you hate it, which is why he hates it, but it’s the only way to get you to behave!! Be his good pup, won’t you?

Dick Grayson: Very much leaning towards puppy owner. He’s all for training you into his loyal pup who follows him everywhere. Also lowkey talks down on you cuz you’re just a cute, dumb puppy!! You don’t need to be thinking big human thoughts!! Let your loving master take care of everything, okay? Ah, ah, ah! Silly, pup! You’re not supposed to speak! Now get back on your hands and knees… puppies don’t walk like people do, remember? Or does he have to get a little mean to remind you? You don’t want that, do you? Yeah, didn’t think so. Now sit… good job!! Why don’t we give you a treat, hm~?

Hal Jordan: Another one that can go either way. Honestly, though? The more I think about it, the more I’m digging kitty-owner Hal. There are so many ways this could go that it makes my head hurt. Is he a condescending owner? “Poor little kitty… got something to say? Hm? What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Or a soft owner? “Such a pretty little kitty… did you miss me while I was away? Yeah? I’m so sorry, sweetie.” What about one of those cat-dads that started out as we-are-not-getting-a-cat and ended up getting totally attached? “What do YOU want? Huh? Whatcha up to, pusscat? AYE!! Get off of the couch!! Come on, you know better.” The possibilities are endless.

Jaime Reyes: You know, it’s kinda weird. I see him as a certified puppy by default, yet as an owner? He’s kitty-adjacent. You’re just the cutest kitty-cat ever, he can’t help but keep you as one!! Definitely gets one of those bell collars (with a cute bow on it!!) for you. It helps ease his anxiety whenever he hears it jingle. Better be a cuddly kitty, cuz he canNOT keep his hands off of you. Poor guy’s always on the verge of a panic attack at the thought of you running away. It’s a common occurrence for him to pull you into his lap, eyes shining with unshod tears as he quietly asks, “you’ll never leave me, right?” If you don’t want to sit there awkwardly while he hyperventilates, I suggest you be kind and nuzzle into him.

Remy LeBeau: 100% kitty-owner. Expects you to greet him at the door when he comes home. “Y’miss me, minou? Yeah… Gambit missed you, too. C’mere.” Whether you like to admit it or not, he gives the best scratchies. He’ll have you lay against his chest for hours, softly petting your head as he listens to your rhythmic breathing. Absolutely sits you on the counter while he cooks so he can feed you small morsels as a little treat!! Every chef has to have an adorable sous-chef, no? Oh my god, he is just so soft that it makes my heart melt. You’re his precious little kitty and he’ll never let you forget it!! Just don’t be up to any trouble, okay? He may be gentle, but he also knows how to punish naughty kitties.

Scott Summers: Puppy-owner puppy-owner puppy-owner pupPY-OWNER— you bet your ass he’s training you to be the perfect little puppy. When he’s through with you, you’re gonna be the most obedient pup around. Don’t get me wrong, he’s actually a very soft and sweet master!! Gives you tummy rubs, praises, and even treats (when you’re good). However, when it comes to obedience, he’s absolutely the no-nonsense type. Do not test him; the literal leash he has on you is short for a reason. Disciplinary Scott is a very scary Scott, so I’d suggest you start acting right if you don’t want to get the cruelest punishment ever. “That’s right. Be a good little pup for me. You know what happens to bad puppies. Behave.”

Tim Drake: Have you met him? Kitty-owner for sure. He wants a lazy kitty that’ll sleep in his lap whenever he works (read: he wants to drug you so you’re constantly lethargic and can’t run away from him). Be prepared to be a weighted blanket, cuz he loves when you lay on top of him. Whenever you wake up, he’ll always be the first thing you see. “Good morning, Kitty! Sleep well? C’mon, it’s breakfast time!” Does NOT let you do anything for yourself (not like you’ve got the energy to, anyway). He loves to take care of his cute little kitty!! Also, has about 3,000 photos of you on his phone so he can look at them when he’s away. He just misses you, okay? You’re all he thinks about on patrol!!

Wally West: The puppy-owner thoughts won. He wants a happy little pup to pounce on him anytime he comes home!! Oh… you don’t wanna do that? Well, it’s okay!! He’s very good at training disobedient mutts. A quick word of warning, you do not want to trigger his stern mode. He’ll dish out the most cruel and devious punishments, all with the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” attitude. Soft and sweet owner Wally is where it’s at. Loves to make you do tricks and give you treats afterwards!! He can get a little condescending and tease you, but it’s all done out of love! Unless you’ve been bad. Then it’s completely intended to be malicious. But you would never be a bad pup for him, right? He loves so much and spoils you rotten, why would you ever be bad? Come one, now!! Walkies time!! If you don’t tug on the leash, he’ll give you a big reward!!

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 13: Snow Day (Winter Wednesday)

wc: 2.4k | Rated: T for flirtatious banter and a post-spicy-times premise | cw: A very brief (and mild) exchange alluding to Period-Typical Homophobia Tags: Stuck in Snow, Car Breakdown, Post-Coital, Getting Interrupted, Multiple/Switching POVs, Established Relationships

This is equal parts Steddie and Clarkson, so I'm tagging Queen of the Clarkson hive, @unclewaynemunson. Also thanks to @rocknrollsalad for not only indulging my Clarkson thoughts and cheerleading me on, but for also providing me with some Scott Clarke crumbs in the form of the Stranger Things comics.

Steve awakens to cold silence with a hand in his hair, fingers gently curling and relaxing in tandem with the steady breathing of the person beneath him.

Eddie. It’s Eddie. And it’s also Eddie’s winter coat, a kaki parka whose slippery material threatens to fall to the car floor as soon as he shifts a little.

He grimaces, aware now of the jeans pulled down to his mid-thigh that would expose his bare ass if it weren’t for the coat protecting his modesty. He is without a shirt too and quickly becomes aware of a tacky coldness sticking between him and his partner. Steve startles and props himself up on his elbow.

He grimaces because he is sticky. He feels sticky.

“Eds,” he mumbles, voice feeling – and sounding – like gravel.

He smacks his dry lips and gulps as he attempts to sit up in the cramped darkness of the backseat of his car.

“Mrmphf,” Eddie hums between another low snore, the hand occupied in Steve’s mussed hair now falling to his partner’s bare chest.

“Eddie, we fell asleep,” he continues, rubbing his eyes enough that he can make out the time on his watch.

He feels his eyes bulge out of their sockets.

“We’ve been out here for hours!”

“So?” Eddie stirs, argumentative despite still being half asleep.

Steve hikes up his pants and bites back a shudder (and a chilly shiver). That tackiness is a problem for Future Safe-At-Home Steve, he thinks as he searches for his shirt.

He’d tossed it off (hours ago, it seems), back when Eddie had pulled him into the back cab as music blared from the radio – a stupid alt station that falls in and out of frequency that Eddie insists is worth listening to. Then he remembers, Eddie situated him in his lap, as they tend to do when they make out in his car.

But the making out didn’t stop there and instead continued with Eddie unzipping his jeans, eagerly pushing them down and –

Well, his next thoughts explain his nakedness, his tackiness and the fact that they’d passed out moments after Dio had stopped screech-singing about…

Steve looks at the dashboard, practically diving into the driver’s seat to check the ignition. Eddie yelps behind him and Steve feels a rush of air that makes him think Eddie probably attempted – and failed – to kick at him.

“You almost kicked me in the balls!” Eddie hisses.

“And I’m freezing my balls off!” he shoots over his shoulder.

Eddie gasps at the thought and Steve can’t help but laugh for the split second it takes him to adjust into the driver’s seat properly and look at the Beemer’s ignition, right where his keys are dangling away.

Oh no.

“Eddie, we left the radio on!” he shrieks, his voice reverberating off the windows and creating a ringing in his ears.

“So?” Eddie says again, sounding like a goddamn parrot as makes a mountain of noise, palming around for some clothes.

“So!” Steve mocks back at his boyfriend, scrubbing his hand over the nearest window.

It’s snowing outside now, so much so that all he can see is white fog. He cranes his neck to get a look at the tires but soon gives up and instead settles for pinching his nose. He breathes in and out for a few moments, preparing himself for the inevitable disappointment of not starting the car.

And yeah, it does not work.

Eddie jumps into the front seat, jostling the whole front cab as he wrestles on his boots, distracted enough to not mention the barking yelp Steve gives.

“You fell asleep,” Eddie quips, shucking on his black crumpled long-sleeved shirt and coming back up with a wicked grin, “I rocked your world, baby, so you need your beauty sleep after that. Naturally, I followed suit because you’re just so warm and cosy and hairy.”

Steve turns to find Eddie making grabby hands at his still bare – and cold – chest. He half-heartedly slaps his hand away, earning a pout.

He’ll tease Eddie about the phrase, ‘Rock your world’ later.

“Maybe we can walk back to Johnny’s Gas Station?” he wonders aloud, the suggestion eliciting a groan of protest.

Wayne bolts upright at the sound of the ringing phone and, before he knows it, Scott is grumbling away next to him.

“You just elbowed me in the stomach!” he complains but all Wayne can focus on is the phone.

He jumps to action and glances at his alarm clock radio. It reads 3:46 am.

The cold air of the trailer hits his legs and he looks down to find himself in merely his boxers. He looks at Scott, who is now upright and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Their blanket falls away and Scott shivers from the exposure.

They make eye contact and his partner blushes, sending a flurry of their calm and quiet evening at home into Wayne’s tired noggin.

Eating dinner, watching TV all cuddled up impossibly close on the couch and then – 

Ring… Ring…

Wayne shakes his head and heads for the kitchen. Clothes (and those other recollections) can wait.

“Wayne Munson,” he answers, voice gruff to an almost comical level he’s sure Eddie would make a quip about.

“Hey, Uncle,” Eddie sighs on the other end, greeting him in the typical fashion he does when he has done something wrong.

“Are you safe?” he asks instantly, turning to find Scott dressed in a blue flannel set of pyjamas and holding the pair of sweatpants he had long discarded on the bedroom floor.

“Could you come get us?” Eddie asks.

His heart skips a beat. He looks at Scott, who mirrors his panic.

“ – My car!” Steve’s panicked voice cuts in, sounding close enough to the phone, the kid must be listening in.

Scott steps forward to hand over the sweats.

“Jeans,” Wayne mouths back.

In a flash, Scott has turned on his sock-covered heels and doubles back, grabbing his beige parka from the coat rack on his way.

“Huh?” Eddie grunts. There’s some incoherent bickering before the boy sighs, “And we need a tow… Steve’s car battery croaked it.”

Wayne sucks in a breath of relief but also bites his tongue and readjusts his grip on the phone.

“It was your fault!”

“No, it wasn’t, Stevie.”

Wayne rolls his eyes at the mischievous lilt in his nephew’s voice on that last one and moves to look out the kitchen window, only to be met with snowy darkness. He’s pretty sure he can tow Steve’s BMW in this weather. There’s no way he’d leave such an expensive car outside, nor would the boy let him.

“Alright,” he says, voice clipped, “Tell me where you boys are at.”

Whatever happened, Eddie and Steve are in for a lecture…

All Eddie can see when Wayne pulls over to the small clearing-come-makeout spot are trapper hats, his uncle’s scowl and Scott Clarke’s snow goggles. He groans and throws his head back, jostling his and Steve’s conjoined form.

“Eddie,” Steve warns, “I gotta unzip us.”

Eddie grumbles and drops his arms so his boyfriend can reach behind him and unzip the giant winter coat he had managed to coax himself into as well. He thinks they haven’t even been back at the car for all of five minutes but, as always, Wayne has come to his rescue quicker than he said he’d be.

But, as he watches his uncle open his car door and round to the back truck bed, Eddie can spot Wayne’s bristling shoulders a mile off – old Army jacket and snowy weather, or not.

He grits his chattering teeth as best he can, standing still with his hands in his pockets as Steve abandons him to give an endless torrent of apologies and offer his assistance.

“Eddie,” Scott nods.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Maybe he should chance it with his uncle, his inevitable grumpiness and Steve. Scott is all winter woollies and moustache as he removes a red tartan trapper hat, one that matches Wayne’s and is likely the one he used to give Eddie himself back before the old man ever owned anything kid-sized.

Scott offers the hat but Eddie shakes his head and gives a gloved, two-finger salute.

“Scotty,” he mumbles as politely as possible before catching Wayne’s eye.

“We’ll talk about this,” Wayne begins, waving the eyelet end of his tow rope (even with Steve close on his heel), “Later.”

Eddie looks at his partner and finds Steve nervously running a hand through his hair.

The pair turn in unison, Wayne pointing and offering instructions that Steve promptly follows and they once again leave Eddie standing with Scott, who rocks on his heels and very obviously ogles his uncle's ‘handiwork’.

He shudders and takes a step forward to block Scott’s adoration from his line of sight. But the man soon follows and Eddie huffs out a laboured breath, readying himself for an overly cheery chat.

How his uncle started dating a Chatty Cathy, he’ll never know.

“We were asleep, anyway,” Scott offers.

Eddie feels a blush creep up his neck to his snow-bitten cheeks, recalling how he and Steve had been peacefully sleeping away in the Beemer before this whole (admittedly embarrassing) situation started…

Or more, a situation they found themselves in the middle of.

They watch in silence as Wayne and Steve work in perfect sync, shovelling away the snow built up around the car’s tires, before attaching the hook, placing the Beemer into neutral and firing up the truck.

“I could have helped, you know,” Scott offers, still looking out the window, finally deciding to break the silence that has befallen the car.

Well, a silence that exists besides Steve Harrington’s snoring in the back seat, which started up a mere few minutes from the clearing the boys were stuck at on the outskirts of McMillan’s farm.

He glances at Wayne in an attempt to gauge just how gruff he is.

What type of gruff it is, too.

Wayne sighs and readjusts his hands on the steering wheel.

“Could have driven too,” he can’t help but add.

“No bother,” Wayne says before shooting a look in his rearview mirror.

“Might surprise you, but I was as silly and eager as they are too, once upon a time,” he chuckles, “I’m sure you were too.”

Wayne only grumbles.

Maybe that wasn’t the best point to make right now.

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks – even though he’s sleepy, he knows Wayne prefers to get straight to the point.

He reaches over the middle console to take the hand Wayne is now resting on his thigh. It probably isn’t the safest move considering the weather but, with Steve’s car in literal tow, they are moving at a snail’s pace.

“I worry about them,” Wayne replies, squeezing his hand, “Goin’ out and...” he trails off before changing the subject (so, if Scott knows his partner, he should consider it dropped, for now), “Besides, they interrupted our night.”

Scott smiles to himself as he continues to look out the window, watching a snow-drenched Hawkins pass them by.

He stays like that until they arrive back at the Munson’s. They stir the boys and reassure Steve that as soon as the weather passes, his car will be worked on. In the meantime, Wayne secures a tarp over the maroon Beemer and rouses the boys inside with zero promises of his famous hot cocoa.

And, just like that, Scott finds himself in bed with Wayne Munson once again, cuddling up to spoon his partner and hoping he won’t get an elbow to the ribs this time.

“No funny business,” Wayne whispers over his shoulder and Scott catches a flash of a smile.

“Not even a little more hanky-panky,” he teases, squeezing his middle.

He presses a kiss to Wayne’s pyjama-clad shoulder (a flannel set he’d gifted him at the beginning of winter).

“And you call me a dirty old man,” Wayne quips before sighing, “Don’t think we’ll get too much’a that now that the boys don’t have a car between ‘em.”

He shifts on the spot and readjusts his arm under his pillow.

“Is that what’s got you all grouchy?”

“We’ve only got so much time over the holidays, is all,” Wayne says with a hint of sadness that sounds more like he has to admit to being disappointed.

“What about you get the boys to work on the car together,” he smiles into his shoulder, “That’ll get them out of the house.”

Steve all but runs into Eddie as he exits the bathroom, finally warmed up and wearing his old Hawkins High sweater.

At least he intends to stay warm, an idea that begins to quickly fade considering Eddie won’t budge an inch as he munches from a bowl of Honeycombs – his go-to emergency snack in lieu of hot cocoa.

Eddie points his spoon in the direction of Wayne’s bedroom and glares as milk drips from the end of his utensil.

“You hear that?” he bites conspiratorially.

“What?” Steve asks, lightly pushing past his boyfriend to dump his towel and soiled clothes in the hallway hamper.

“They’re giggling,” Eddie recoils.

“They’re cute,” he chuckles, “Anyway, shove off! I’m gonna start freezing my balls off again.”

Eddie darts out of the way, his disgruntled frown turning serious.

“Yes, shoo!” he hisses, “Go get all toasty. I’m very concerned about what your balls have endured this cold dark winter night, Big Boy.”

He taps at his shoulder with the commanding spoon before jabbing him with it.

“You think Wayne’s really mad?” Steve can’t help but ask as he throws back the bed covers in Eddie’s room.

“Nah,” Eddie drawls, abandoning his bowl on the nightstand, “You’da seen that vein on the side of his head explode.”

He all but cackles at his joke and beats Steve to get under the covers first, twisting them all about as he flops down.

“And you think he’ll get me a good deal on the car?” Steve wonders, adjusting the covers as he slips under them too, “It’s more than just a cooked battery, it turns out.”

“Hell, he’ll probably get us to work on it,” Eddie gripes as the two of them snuggle in, limbs intertwining on instinct, “I’m sure there’s some lame lesson we are supposed to learn from tonight.”

“And what would that be?” he teases.

“Don’t make me say that screwing each other’s brains out in the back of your car is something we shouldn’t be doing,” Eddie whines.

“You mean, ‘rocking my world’,” he giggles into his boyfriend’s not-borrowed yellow sweater.

[wipbigbang]

Round 3 of the Regular WIPBB art claims is live! You may claim as many fics as you want, just fill out a separate form for each and give each claim a different username.

Art claims for this round will be open until August 7th!

This is just one of the stories still available for claiming...

Stranger Things #112 Title: Pairing/Characters: Scott Clarke/ Wayne Munson Rating: Mature | M Warnings/Tags: Chooses not to use Warnings Graphic description of past injury Summary: After Wayne Munson gets a severe head wound in the war, he's sent home to deal with the aftermath. Between survivors guilt and the never-ending struggle to do day to day tasks, Wayne finds himself falling for the physical therapist making house calls.

Scott Clarke is fresh out of school and eager to prove himself as a resident, but when one truly difficult case comes across his desk, he can't help but try and make things just a little easier for Wayne. Even if that means going to his home for therapy visits rather than forcing him into the office.

And here are the links to the claims list and the form to claim fics:

[mikyapixie]

🦇HAPPY BATMAN DAY🦇

Happy 85 years of Batman!!!

V1

I made this while listening to The Future by Mystery Skulls, unexpectedly it was good motivator!!!😁😁😁

[elegantwizardtree]

Like how I’m tired of the batcat relationship (pls bring back Talia or literally someone else for Bruce’s romance partner) I’m tired of the Jean/scott/logan love triangle- please bring in Ororo x Logan for the new xmen plans marvel. I am begging you!

[griefabyss69]

Gone Fishin'

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

‘HOLE’ wc: 404 | rated: G | cw: none there's only peace and love on planet earth, outsider POV, this is both a wayne x scott clark and a steddie fic

Wayne takes Scott fishing on a beautiful spring morning, and they make a little wager.

Sunshine crests at the horizon, kissing the far end of the lake with gold as it shoulders the pale blue of early morning.

Scott breathes deeply, the fresh air energizing as Wayne readies their little fishing boat. He sweeps his eyes over where his strong hands are working with the ropes at the dock, all of their gear inside waiting for them.

Wayne had promised to take him to the "fishin' hole" back in October, and now that it's spring, Scott finally gets to spend a peaceful morning alone on placid water with him.

He hadn't expected such a big body of water, but he's trusting that Wayne knows what he's doing. It certainly seems so, as he climbs in and gets the motor running, gesturing for Scott to come aboard.

"Easy," he says, his hands steady as solid ground when he guides Scott's way.

The ride to the middle of the lake is pleasant; Wayne kills the motor early and uses an oar to keep the momentum of the boat, so they don't scare all of the fish away. Scott tries not to get lost picturing the ripples of sound that would reverb through the area, and wonders what the fish think of their noise.

"How's this?" Wayne asks as they settle, bending to open the tackle box.

Scott has no idea if this is a good environment for fishing, but he's content. Wayne's wearing his fishing hat; a gift from Eddie. The ironic text embroidered on it reads:

Let any fish Who meets my gaze Learn the true meaning of fear For I am the harbinger of death

Truly a message fit for Eddie himself, but it kills Scott with fondness whenever Wayne wears it.

"It's nice," he answers, looking out at the distant trees. "We should invite the boys next time."

"If you survive actually catching somethin', yeah," Wayne teases, drawing Scott's eyes back to his expected smirk.

He's still getting used to how the teasing makes his heart-rate speed up, and he feels a blush coming on.

"I'll make you a bet," he says, straightening. "If they start dating before June, I'll clean a fish for you."

Wayne's eyes sparkle even under the shade of his cap.

"And if they don't?"

"Well, then I get to meddle."

Wayne laughs, shakes his head.

"For their sake let's hope they get their shit together soon," he says, picking up a fishing rod.

[unclewaynemunson]

Thanks to a conversation I had with @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe and @stevesbipanic about this post by @piratefishmama about Scott Clarke helping middle schoolers with sexuality crises I wrote a lil something :)

Scott Clarke has been worrying about Eddie Munson ever since the boy first set foot into his classroom. He was tiny for his age and thin on the verge of being scrawny, with big, scared eyes in a pale face. With his long, dark curls he was the kind of boy who would unavoidably be called names for being too much like a girl, and Scott wasn't surprised that it only took one week before the boy came in with his hair all buzzed off, pulling even more attention to his expressive eyes instead.

Scott was known for worrying about the nerdy kids, and even though it wouldn't be obvious to everyone right away, he immediately noticed that Eddie was one of those. He wasn't the kind of nerdy kid who would sit in the front of the classroom, hanging onto Scott's every word while avidly scribbling down the secrets of the universe that Scott liked to share. No, Eddie was the other kind of nerdy kid: the kind who would often be called dreamy, or imaginative, or quiet, or lazy. The kind who would retreat to the back of the class and get low scores on their tests because they were spending their time sneakily reading comic books underneath the table or staring out of the window with their mind completely elsewhere for hours on end.

Middle school wasn't an easy place for kids like Eddie, as Scott knew all too well. The only thing he could do, as a teacher, was try to make it a little bit more bearable for him. He was glad when the boy took him up on his offer to spend his lunch breaks in the science classroom instead of the cafeteria or the playground. Soon, it became a habit that Eddie would be on the other side of Scott's desk reading his way through some big book while Scott was grading papers or preparing his next lesson.

Scott knew that with patience and kindness, all kids like Eddie would eventually come out of their shell and start trusting him. So he asked about the books Eddie brought first, proceeded to topics like music and games he liked to play later, and eventually could ask him about his home life.

Whenever he'd talk about his books or his music, Eddie's eyes lit up and his smile widened. Scott soon found out that, when Eddie was at ease, he could talk a mile a minute and bounce around the classroom, caught up in his stories with all kinds of excited hand gestures. At those moments, he was nothing like the quiet boy with the haunted look in his eyes who Scott met two months ago.

But Eddie never disclosed much about his personal life. He didn't mention his mother even once and he didn't tell Scott much more than that he was living with his uncle in Forest Hills because his dad was “unavailable” to take care of him.

Scott doubted whether Eddie was much better off living with his uncle than with his father. Judging from the meager lunches he brought with him, the shabby and ill-fitting clothes he wore, and the fact that the man never once came to drop Eddie off or pick him up at school, Scott was skeptical, to say the least.

He started worrying even more when one day, Eddie lingered in the classroom after the last lesson of the day, saying he wanted to ask him a “science question” with a certain dread in his eyes that Scott had never seen there before.

“There's nothing I love more than a good science question,” Scott quickly reassured him. “Tell me, what is it?”

“The other kids,” said Eddie, “Brendon and Mark and, you know... They call me names.” His voice was soft and his eyes were aimed towards the ground as he spoke. “Queer. And fag. And...” He shrugged. “Y'know.” He raised his head up again, big scared eyes meeting Scott's.

“I – I think they're right,” he said, almost in a whisper. “How can you stop being gay?”

And oh, this was a conversation Scott had experience with. He had been a teacher at Hawkins Middle School for almost two decades and there had always been kids he worried about, who would open up to him about this exact topic.

So he sat Eddie down at his desk and patiently talked him through everything the boy needed to know; God knows his trailer park uncle most certainly wouldn't. He told him all about science and nature and feelings and, most importantly, being perfect the way you are, no matter who you love.

More than two hours later, Eddie finally left the classroom with relief in his eyes instead of dread. But Scott kept worrying: Eddie's uncle hadn't so much as called the school to inform where Eddie was. Who was looking out for him after the last school bell rang and the kid rode his bike out of Scott's sight?

Not long after that conversation, Scott finally got to meet Mr. Munson for the first time. He was one of Scott's last appointments of the yearly parent-teacher evening, and Scott half expected him not to show up. But he was right on time, even though he looked almost comically out of place when he walked into the science classroom.

He was exactly what Scott would've imagined of a man living in Forest Hills: washed-up jeans and a worn-down flannel, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and a gruff frown hidden underneath a faded gray trucker's hat. He walked up to where Scott was seated behind his desk in a few big strides, and Scott couldn't help but think that there was something almost intimidating in merely the way he carried himself. Not exactly the kind of man who radiated safety for a boy like Eddie.

They shook hands and Scott felt rough callouses press against his own chalk-stained fingers.

While Scott talked Mr. Munson through Eddie's grade list – a list that at this point was barely enough to get him into the next grade – Mr. Munson didn't say anything. Only when Scott asked him if he had any questions, he opened his mouth.

“How're the other kids treatin' him?” the man asked him in a thick southern accent.

“It's not easy for him,” Scott answered in all honesty. He wondered how much Eddie told his uncle about what his days at school usually looked like.

Mr. Munson bowed his head. “I know,” he mumbled.

“Eddie is a sensitive kid, he –”

“I know what kinda kid he is,” Mr. Munson interrupted him immediately. It sounded sharp and Scott wondered if he should be worried about Mr. Munson having a temper.

“Of course,” he cautiously retreated. “I just assumed, since I've never seen you at the school before, sir, that you might not be aware of what exactly he has to deal with in here.”

“Maybe you should do less assuming, then,” Mr. Munson answered bluntly. “You think I should be at the school more? Drop Eddie here in the mornin', come pick him up in the afternoon, all that?”

Scott wondered if Mr. Munson was mocking him.

“Well, I think it might be good for Eddie if –”

“You know why I ain't never at the school? 'Cause I'm tryin' my damned best to keep that boy's stomach filled. When should I be at the school, exactly, between my day shift at the quarry and my night shift at the plant?”

“I – I'm sorry,” Scott backpedaled. Suddenly, the frown lines in the tired face of the man in front of him had gotten a different meaning. “I didn't know. You're right, I shouldn't have made assumptions.”

“Look, I dunno how much he shared with you, Mr. Clarke, but I know he looks up to you. So I think you should know that he's the kinda kid who got in trouble at home for bein' “too sensitive.”” He shot Scott a meaningful glance. “Boy was cryin' to me on the phone, 'cause of what his daddy did to him, so I picked him up and drove him here and I made it my mission, as his uncle, to protect him, to shield him, and to take care of him as best as I possibly can.”

Scott had always prided himself on being a good judge of character. He wondered if he had ever been more wrong about somebody before in his life.

“I know he thinks highly of you, Sir,” Mr. Munson continued. “And I'm very grateful that you're keepin' an eye on him when I can't. But at some point, he may trust you with some very personal information about himself, and you better have his back when he does.”

He knows, Scott realized with a shock. He tried to give Mr. Munson a reassuring smile, but his heart was beating in his throat with what he was about to tell him.

“I was a sensitive kid, myself, Sir. I promise you Eddie is in good hands with me.”

Scott wondered whether Mr. Munson caught the message in those words while a long silence stretched out. Their gazes were locked: Mr. Munson's eyes were bright blue, completely different from Eddie's but just as expressive. His gaze softened while the seconds passed and underneath his graying beard, his mouth twitched.

“I was a sensitive kid, too,” he eventually said.

And Scott's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. This man, with his big calloused hands and his trucker's hat and his undeniably manly demeanor?

His feelings of astonishment must have been visible on his face, because Mr. Munson chortled softly.

“Didn't see that one coming, did ya?”

Scott laughed, too, making the last bit of residual tension between them disappear. “I'm sorry, Mr. Munson. I had no idea.”

“'S okay,” Mr. Munson said. “'s good to know that Eddie has someone lookin' out for him here. Um –” He scraped his throat. “I um...” He abruptly averted his gaze back to his lap again, where his fingers were nervously fumbling with the cap he was holding between his hands.

“I always make Eddie dinner,” he finally said. “'S one of the few things I can do for him, y'know. It'd probably be better for me if I took a quick nap 'tween my jobs, but it's the only time of the day we got together. I'm not much of a cook, but I try to get him to eat somethin' healthy and warm, and we talk about stuff, whatever it is he wants to talk about. So um... If you ever wanna join us – that is, if you don't mind comin' to the trailer park... We don't have much, but I'm sure we can fit another chair 'round the table. I think it could be good for Eddie.”

Scott could barely believe what was happening. To think that only a few minutes ago, he had been worried about this man having a temper or being neglectful towards his nephew...

Wayne Munson was shy and soft-spoken and he loved Eddie with a passion that sparked a fierce protectiveness. And after having Scott judge him based on the way he looked and a bunch of false assumptions, he showed him nothing but genuine goodness.

He felt his lips bend into a smile more authentic than he'd been able to give in a while.

“I'd love to join you sometime,” he told Mr. Munson. “For Eddie – but I also wouldn't mind getting to know you better,” he added in a sudden spur or braveness.

And he could swear that something suspiciously like a smile matching his own was hiding beneath Mr. Munson's beard.

[flowercrowngods]

in which i have the steddie&clarkson (wayne/mr clarke) brain worms and decided that teacher student steve should get some help from mr clarke. everyone is soft

🤍 also on ao3

Eddie grabs the massive mug Wayne just filled with coffee and leans against the counter beside him. 

“Have they made any progress at all?” 

Wayne just grunts and takes a sip of his coffee, neither of them taking their eyes off Steve and Scott at the dinner table. “Your boy’s stopped groaning. Guess that counts as progress.” 

Eddie snorts and smiles into his mug. “Oh, that’s definitely progress.” 

They watch as Steve despairs over turning the vague plan of his lesson into a detailed, fleshed out, all things considered version. He gets frequently gets lost in all the possible ways that things could go wrong that he loses track of the golden thread that Mr Clarke keeps reminding him is the most important thing.

“I’m an idiot,” Steve mumbles where he has face planted into the papers and books laid out on the table in front of him. 

“You’re not an idiot, Steve, and you never were. Being overwhelmed is the most natural thing, it happens to the best of us.” Mr Clarke has a hand on Steve’s back and talks in that kind, patient voice that everyone in this house loves so much. “Do you wanna play it through?” 

Steve perks up at that, lifting his head from the paper just barely to look at Mr Clarke. “How do you mean?” 

“Well, you seem to worry that nobody will understand the task. Or be able to follow you. So what do we do then?” 

A frown appears between Steve’s brows and he sits up straighter, looking down at the plan he’s already made. “Try again with different wording?” 

“Exactly!” Mr Clarke says. “Or we look at the way your task is phrased and see if we can already find alternatives, how ‘bout that? Baby steps, sure, but everything stands and falls with your questions and tasks. And when you have the right question, you also know what exactly it is that you want them to find out and tell you. So, for now, why don’t we start with that?” He smiles at Steve and reaches for one of the sheets of paper. “You’ll be an amazing teacher because you already care whether they’ll get it. Believe me, you’ve absolutely got this.” 

Seeing Mr Clarke be so supportive of Steve and never once making him feel stupid or ridiculous for getting overwhelmed warms Eddie’s heart time and time again. He even jokes with Steve that he only ever comes over to spend time with his uncle’s boyfriend instead of Eddie — and the other day he’s overheard the same jab from Wayne directed at Scott. 

“They’re kind of adorable, aren’t they?” Eddie mutters so only Wayne can hear him. When his uncle doesn’t answer, Eddie looks over to find the softest of smiles on his lips, and he can’t help but join. 

****

Two hours later, Steve finally has his lesson planned properly and he comes over to Eddie, burying himself in that warm embrace. 

“Hi, professor,” Eddie mumbles and Steve just pokes him in the side with a light chuckle. 

“Asshole.” Burying deeper into Eddie, he lets a beat pass before, “Hi.” 

“You all done?” He brushes kisses to Steve’s head and just holds him. 

“Really fucking done, yeah,” he sighs. “At this point I’m gonna owe Mr Clarke my entire teaching career.” 

“Not your dashing boyfriend and his sanity-saving hugs?” 

“Sure,” Steve laughs lightly. “That, too.” 

They stay there for another while, holding onto each other, an exhausted Steve recharging before he’s ready to resurface. 

****

In the living room area, Wayne places a mug of steaming coffee in front of Scott. “For your troubles.” 

Scott’s laugh is like music to his ears and his smile lights up the whole room as he gratefully reaches for the mug. It’s one of the greatest gifts, Wayne thinks, the way Scott reacts to his remarks. Delight where there should be wariness, gratitude where there should be offence. It’s a gift, really, the way he just lets Wayne be himself and learned to understand, to appreciate, to… to love. Maybe. 

“You’re an angel,” Scott says before taking a long sip of his coffee. “Though you probably shouldn’t support my caffeine addiction that much.” 

“Probably,” he shrugs, before pointedly finishing the rest of his own coffee. “But that’d make me a hypocrite.” 

“Oh, we don’t want that,” Scott nods sagely, smiling into his mug. Wayne can’t look away. His hair is a little rumpled from working with Eddie’s boy for hours, his bow-tie has come off and the first button on his white button-up shirt is undone. His eyes are closed, the mug of coffee right under his nose so he can inhale greedily. He looks like he’s right at home. 

It does something with Wayne that he never really expected to be feeling. But he does. What does one do with such emotions? 

He carefully places his hand in Scott’s hair and combs it into the right direction so it won’t stick out anymore. If Wayne’s breath hitches when Scott leans into his touch, then that’s his business alone. 

“You need anything else?” he asks quietly, because that’s one thing he can do. Words were never his playing field — it’s, quite frankly, a miracle that he and Eddie are related. But bringing Scott coffee, combing his hair, massaging his shoulders where they’re tense from sitting in the same position all evening? That he can do. Acts of service, Eddie calls it. 

“No, thank you, love,” Scott says quietly before plucking Wayne’s hand from his hair and pulling it to his lips. “I’m perfectly content.” 

@unclewaynemunson it aint much but it's honest work 🤍