#ficlet/drabble

[princebenvi]

And in that moment, well. It was all worth it, wasn’t it?

i. have so many thoughts about trent. james lance saying his father was hard on him, expecting him to be like roy kent: macho, strong, good at football. him deciding that he would simply have to ignore is sexuality for the time being, it would be impossible for him to get and maintain a respectable job in the world of football as a gay man. pushing it down, repressing, hiding something so intrinsic to himself, ignoring the men that make his stomach tumble and a smile quirk at the corners of his mouth.

meeting his wife. he really figured it would be fine for a time, and when he voiced his doubts, his deep voice uttering the facts he’s been ignoring his whole life only for his wife to say that “everyone gets cold feet, this is your first relationship, of course you’re nervous.” resolving to continue, to try harder.

the birth of his baby girl. holding her small frame, his wife, tired, fast asleep while he holds her. feeling her breathing under his hands.

and in that moment, well. it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

here she was, his daughter. she was here, and he wouldn’t fail her. he’d do anything for her.

and he tried his best, but it’s hard to pretend you’re something you’re not. he kept up his cold walls and his put together exterior and as his daughter grew, so did his sadness. his marriage grew strained, and he knew it would begin to impact his daughter sooner or later.

and then he met ted, and there really wasn’t any fighting that particular storm, was there? ted was a bright light in what had grown to be such a cold and dark world, and the moment he said his intentions with the team, his beloved team, that he wanted to help them be the best people possible while understanding that many grew up feeling unsupported and left behind, he knew he couldn’t fight anymore.

coming out the second time was easier, in a way. and yet, so much harder, because he knew what he was giving away.

“you’re not giving me away, trent.”

trent didn’t cry much anymore. he did then, though.

and in the end, what he gained was so much more than what he lost.

if you like this, please consider supporting my top surgery fund !

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce enters the conference room on the Watchtower. He is wearing a baby carrier with a baby inside it.

There is a hoo-ha.

"Why is there a baby," whispers Flash to Superman.

Clark shrugs. "It's probably one of the Robins."

"What?" says Barry tightly. "No, none of them are that age!"

"Jesus Bar, it's like you've never heard of de-aging beams."

"I'm not feeling good about the fact that you're taking this so lightly." Barry scratches at his five o' clock shadow. "If it is a Robin, it's very weird. But it's more weird if it's not."

"Maybe it's a Batgirl," suggests Diana, leaning in. "Cass or...or Steph. The purple one."

"That fits the purple diaper," says Barry reflectively.

"Barry stop hyperfixating on this," Clark says. "Let it go."

The baby is crying a little, sucking on its thumb. Batman gives it a chew toy as he continues working, and then produces a bottle out from under his cape, and holding the baby's head at a careful angle, begins to feed it.

"Batman..." Flash says, miserably curious. "Why do you have a baby?" He points at it, as if to make clear what baby he is talking about.

Bruce looks up, his brow furrowed. "Newly orphaned. Mother threw her from the spire of a church tower in Scarecrow-fear-toxin-induced hallucinations. Then she threw herself. I could only save one."

Barry looks like the dictionary illustration for the word 'flabbergasted'.

"Oh," is all he says. "Oh. Okay."

"I've found her a good home. She'll leave in a few hours." Bruce looks down, and then mutters to himself, "I just wanted to hold her".

Superman pretends he doesn't have super-hearing.

[imheretoreadafic]

Alfred stood at the sink, scrubbing dishes with much more force than necessary. Bruce was doing horribly mentally lately. Near constant nightmares, preforming poorly in school, only talking when he was snapping at someone.

"I shouldn't have agreed to take care of him," He couldn't help but think. "I haven't the foggiest clue how to raise a child! He's better off if we never see each other again."

"Uhm, where does this go?" Alfred flinched and looked over his shoulder. Ten-year-old Bruce stood in the kitchen, holding a serving spoon.

Silently, Alfred nodded to the drawer, watching as the boy put it away and then reached to grab more clean dishes.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked and Bruce paused, looking unsure.

"I, uhm... I figured we could watch the new episode of Gray Ghost together sooner if I helped you clean up... Am I in the way?"

"No," Alfred said softly. "No, I think you're just where you belong, my dear boy."

20 years later, Bruce sits at a desk, organizing physical copies of case files. 12 year old Dick was running circles around the man and he was exhausted.

"Oh who am i kidding?" He thinks to himself. "I can't keep up with Batman, Wayne Industries and Dick. I love the kid but I have no clue what I'm doing. He's better off if he forgot he ever even met me..."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Dick asked and jeez Bruce really was tired because he didn't even realize he was in the cave.

"Since when do you file things?" Bruce joked dryly and Dick rolled his eyes.

"I want to show you a routine I've been working on and I can't do that till you finish up." Dick explained, sounding exasperated.

Bruce blinked a few times.

"You're willing to file if it means I watch your routine?" He asked bluntly. Dick blushed and scowled like the angsty pre teen he was.

"Don't make it sound all mushy..." he grumbled, crossing his arms. That startled a laugh out of Bruce and Dick looked at him in surprise. "That's what gets you to laugh?! Not my hilarious jokes?!"

Snickering, Bruce replied, "What hilarious jokes?"

Dick gasped dramatically and turned around with a flourish. He put a hand to his head and exclaimed, "Well, if me and my jokes are just getting in your way, I guess I'll leave!"

Bruce laughed and stood up. Without a second thought, he grabbed the small boy and pulled him into his arms, planting a kiss on top of his head.

"You could never be in my way, chum."

[graceful-ashes]

Hen and Chimney casually mentioned that Eddie doesn't get flustered. Buck who's sat nearby on his phone doesn't even look up when he offhandedly says 'Yeah, he does.' Hen and Chim look at him dubiously.

'When?' Chim asks.

Buck looks up, now. 'Like all the time.'

'Name one time' Chim challenges.

'I'm with Chim on this one. I've never really seen Eddie flustered.'

Now Buck is the one looking dubious. 'Um, like when...uh...' His mind suddenly goes blank.

'See. You can't even give an example.' Chim gloats.

'Hey, no that's not fair. You put me on the spot.' Buck argues. 'He...like yesterday! He made me a coffee and said he'd already put sugar in it, yeah? And I said that's so sweet of you. And he blushed!'

'Are you sure he was blushing.' Hen asks clearly not buying it.

'Yeah, maybe he was just warm.' Chim counters.

'I'm telling you, he blushed!' Buck exclaims.

Hen and Chimney continue to look at him sceptically.

'Prove it.' Chimney challenges

'What?'

'Prove. It.' Chimney grins.

Buck just stares in disbelief for a moment before he caves. 'Alright, fine. I'll prove it. I'll get him flustered and you can see for yourself.'

This is how Buck ends up making a fool of himself later in the day when they're just finishing up on a call and Eddie is just frowning at him, confused, not at all effected by Bucks lame attempt to get him flustered.

Buck walks back towards Hen and Chimney in defeat. 'We're out on a call, he probably just has his guard up.' Buck defends.

'Uh huh.' is Hen's response to that. Chimney just snaps his gum, grinning.

Buck attempts a cheesy one liner when they're back at the firehouse. This earns him a part way baffled and part way amused chuckle from Eddie when he responds with 'Alright.' looking to Chim and Hen with an ~Are you seeing this?~ expression. Hen and Chim just hide their amusement behind their mugs.

Buck tries a few more times before giving up.

'Fine. You guys were right. Eddie is unflappable. I clearly don't know what I was talking about.'

'Hey, at least it was fun to watch you try.' Chimney teases. Hen smiles in amusement.

And that was that until much later on when Buck is cooking dinner and Eddie is helping. Buck comes up behind Eddie to reach for something over his shoulder and without thinking says 'Man, you smell good!' He turns his head just shy of pressing his nose to Eddie's neck. 'What is that?'

The spatula in Eddie's hand clatters to the floor and in his panic to attempt to catch it he elbows over the salt shaker. A deep red creeps up his neck and settles in his cheeks as he rights the salt shaker. He clears his throat. 'Uh, it's, uh ,the cologne you...um got me for my birthday last year.' Eddie attempts to compose himself and bends down to pick up the spatula.

'Really?' Buck asks surprised and oblivious to Eddie's flustered state leans in for another whiff. There's a THWACK sound and Eddie winces as pain blooms in his knee from where he knocked it against the counter.

Hen and Chimney are staring slack jawed from the couch.

'You were right.' Chimney admits, shell shocked.

'Huh?' Buck lifts his head to look at Chimney and Hen. Eddie also snapping his attention in their direction.

'He does get flustered. So very flustered.' Chim says in a daze. 'Not unflappable. Not unflappable at all...'

Eddie frowns in complete bafflement, his face still beet red. 'What?'

[after-the-end-times]

random omegaverse gang leader!eddie idea that popped into my head. Not sure if I'll expand it, but figured I'd throw it out into the ether

Omega Steve who's heading back to his car late one night and gets lightly kidnapped by a local gang because they think he's the kid of a local politician.

he rolls his eyes and tries to explain that he's no one worth kidnapping, but they still tell him to get in the suv. He huffs and says 'fine, take me to your leader. we'll get this straightened out. and you're personally paying if I come back to a parking ticket.'

he sits in the backseat on the drive, arms crossed, mouth down turned, side eyeing anyone who speaks.

they arrive at some bar, motorcycles lining the front. Steve hops out willingly, but one guy still grabs an arm to pull him through the bar's door. Steve yanks his arm away, steps into his space, glares at the guy and points a finger in his face. 'what was the point of that, hm? I was already coming in! hmph! I'm gonna speak to your little ringleader about this behavior. completely unacceptable treatment of an innocent kidnapping victim!'

the guy looms over Steve (what is he? 7ft tall?? rude) and gives him a shove backwards, Steve stumbles back into someone. the guy sneers, 'yeah? go ahead. see if he cares about some yappy omega we can use to protect our pack.'

the hands on Steve's shoulders push him back to standing and the familiar voice of somebody that he used to know says, 'what's all this about a yappy omega?'

and confusing every gang member in the entire bar, Steve's face lights up. he spins around, eyes bright and grinning. 'Eddie!' and throws his arms around Eddie's shoulders in a tight hug.

Eddie's arms encircle his waist, holding on tight. after a long moment wherein not a single gang member breathed, he lifted his head from where he'd instinctively tucked it against Steve's throat and sent a cold look at the guy who shoved his Steve

[transthatmasc]

When Cas gets back and finds out that Dean adopted a dog while he was dead he insists they get a cat too. Dean puts up a little fight cause he’s allergic, but Cas touches him on the forehead and says “not anymore” and looks so pleased when Dean relents.

Dean is beyond thrilled though because for the first time he thinks this will make sure Cas always comes back and treat the bunker like his home too.

Cas is also secretly pleased that Dean was willing to let him get a pet to live at the bunker cause he can use it as an excuse to be around more often.

Sam watches this interaction with his hand on his gun because he doesn’t know if he should kill both of them or himself. (He still goes with them to pick a cat from the local shelter. He gets a laser pointer to make the cat run in between Dean and Cas while they’re having eye sex in the library)

[mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf]

Derek opens the door, lets out a shocked exclaim and slams it shut right after. Stiles rushes out the kitchen, face smudged with flour and hands on his hips, pants, "What happened? I've never heard you make a sound like that before."

"There's- there's. Uh-um there's a you outside," Derek whispers, eyes wide and raising a trembling hand to point at the door.

"Huh?" Stiles asked, confused, moving closer to hug Derek. "Sourwolf, I'm right here." Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, catching his lips in a gentle kiss.

Caught in the moment, they don't notice the door slowly slide open. They jump apart when a disgusted voice exclaims, "Ugh, were you two always this gross?!"

Stiles and Derek gape at the teenager standing in the doorway. With floppy brown hair and similar moles dotting his face, he stood with his face twisted into a frown, clad in a batman t-shirt with a flannel on top.

Stiles moves closer to the boy, ignoring Derek tugging at his t-shirt from behind and gasps, "Holy fuck."

"That's ten dollars in the swear jar right there," the boy says.

"That's a bit steep," Stiles remarks, hand moving to poke at the boy's moles.

"Yeah well, we had to after you wouldn't - wait, I don't think I can tell you that." The boy says, face leaning into Stiles' touch. When Stiles moved his hand into the boy's hair, he whined, eyes flashing gold as he crowded Stiles into a hug, burying his face in his neck.

Stiles eyes widened and he turned his head to look at an equally shocked Derek. Stiles started to stroke the boy's hair as Derek walked towards them. "Tata, I was so scared," the boy whispered.

Derek placed a hand on his back, gently rubbing up and down. The boy twisted a hand back towards Derek, tugging him in, and sandwiched himself between Stiles and Derek.

"Pup," Derek whispered in awe, locking eyes with Stiles again. "Our pup?"

Stiles smiled, tears gathering in his eyes, and nodded.

The boy poked his head up and said, "Fuck, I should have introduced myself-"

"No swearing," Derek and Stiles said at the same time, giggling after.

"What - I'm not even going to address the hypocrisy in that. Anyways, tata, dad, I'm Eli Stilinski-Hale, your future son." He said, flaring his hands out after in a tada gesture.

[shares-a-vest]

'Steve Harrington – Actual Babysitter?' (Drabble Prompt: Fluff)

Eddie walks into Family Video expecting to find Steve lolling on his swivel chair behind the counter and flipping through a magazine instead of doing... Well, whatever actually is written on that clipboard Robin is typically flapping about for fear of the wrath of Keith.

But Robin isn't in today and the store is quiet. Aka, it's the perfect opportunity for Eddie to come in with Steve's lunch, where they sit together and chat. No, he doesn't bring it every Wednesday like clockwork. And no, he isn't bringing along his own lunch so he can pretend it's a date or anything.

No – definitely nothing like that.

Even if there is some banter that some people (Robin) might describe as flirting.

It's just that he has to take what he can get lately when it comes to his kinda-sorta big, fat, dumb crush on Steve. Especially now that the guy is disappointingly incommunicado on their no-longer Sunday Night pizzas.

Steve insists he isn't dating anyone – and he sure is complaining about that fact enough. But, well...

Eddie does worry.

And he damn near panics at the sight of an empty Family Video. The store is eerily silent too as he steps inside and looks around.

"St – "

"– Oovie!"

Eddie jolts with a yelp as the babbling yell of what could only be the shrill tones of a whole-ass human child reverberates around him.

"Yes, buddy," comes Steve's voice from behind the counter, "Oh – well, maybe not Rambo."

Eddie tip-toes forward and places his hands on the counter before he peers over the edge, where he finds Steve surrounded by the parts of a dismantled VCR. In his lap is indeed a human child, a boy with chestnut brown hair who couldn't be more than two.

He doesn't know all that much about kids, really, but Eddie is pretty certain the little squirt shouldn't be waving around a videotape with such force Steve might get clomped in the head at any moment.

The boy yell-babbles again and Steve swerves away from a side swipe to his beautiful noggin.

"Okay, maybe we shouldn't play with this one," Steve says, gently placing his hand on the tape and giving it a light tug.

The boy squirms, and in doing so makes direct eye contact with Eddie. They both startle, and Eddie thinks if anyone was watching, they might say his eyes look as wide as the kid's staring up at him.

The boy points at Eddie and coos with a big, toothy grin.

"Stee!"

"Can you stop –" Steve grumbles, cutting himself off as the boy begins to tilt them sideways. He looks up and gasps, "Oh!"

Steve scrambles upright with the boy, who makes an (admittedly, adorable) wooshing sound as he is swooped up and bundled into a pair of burly arms that today appear to be bursting out of the confines of a navy blue polo shirt.

Eddie blushes, looking back at the boy in an attempt to regulate his heart rate.

"What's with the baby, Steve?" he says, trying to sound biting rather than flustered as Steve props the kid on his hip like it's second nature.

Steve takes the boy's hand and bounces him a little as he tries to encourage a wave, "You know Angie, my mom's best friend? This is her kid, George."

George finally waves and Steve grins, all proud in a way that makes Eddie's cheeks blush. Shit, he really wasn't prepared for something like this to happen today.

Or maybe like ever, really.

"George," he nods, offering a two-finger salute.

"Angie stopped by and realised she forgot something over at Melvad's," Steve explains, swaying now as George looks around the store, "So I'm taking care of little Georgie for a minute."

Georgie?

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face.

"I s-see," he splutters as he comes up for air.

"And we are fixing VCRs today, aren't we, Georgie?" Georgie tee-hees at that and oh goddamn it, now the little gremlin is trying to get his tiny, pudgy arms around Steve for a hug, "Then we're gonna pick a movie for Sunday Funday."

"Oovie!" Georgie cheers.

Wait.

"You're babysitting on Sundays?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugs before looking down at George with a fond smile, "I kinda like it, y'know?"

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie chronically leaves his rings at Steve’s place to the point that Steve checks the bathroom and kitchen sink every time after he leaves, only to find one of them there every time.

Not that Steve is entirely complaining since this means he gets to call him and Eddie gets to stop by on his own to pick them up.

But when they’re at the Wheeler’s place, and Eddie says he’s going to the bathroom, Steve says, “Be careful not to leave one of your rings behind,” with a wink that has the kids exchanging confused looks. But Steve doesn’t notice because he’s too distracted by the light blush coloring Eddie’s cheeks.

“Why would Eddie leave one of his rings behind?” Dustin asks Steve when Eddie’s out of earshot.

Steve laughs. “He leaves one behind every time he washes his hands I swear. I don’t know how he hasn’t lost one at this point.” But his amusement is quick to die down when he realizes the kids are staring at him as if he’s absolutely insane. “What?”

They all glance at each other, and Steve is surprised when Mike is the first to pipe in, “He never leaves them anywhere. They’re like his prized possession. I’ve never even seen him take them off.”

Steve frowns and glances around at everyone, sensing that there’s definitely something he’s missing, so he’s quick to lie, “Well, I guess it was only once or twice that it happened. Maybe it was my fancy soap. Made things too… slippery.”

He gets a few eye rolls at the comment, but the group is quick to move on especially when Eddie comes back a few moments later with all his rings on his hands.

Steve gives him a quick smile, and Eddie is quick to return it, eyes lingering on him for a few seconds longer than necessary and the same blush from earlier returning.

It hits Steve very suddenly.

The rings are an excuse to come back.

And with this knowledge, Steve’s let’s his own gaze linger on Eddie longer than he usually allows, moving into his space more often than not, and carefully keeping track of time, waiting for the hang out to end.

When it finally comes to a halt, Steve is quick to say his goodbyes, hoping that Eddie will join and let the kids have their unnecessarily prolonged goodbyes in private. And luckily, Eddie is quick to move out of the basement, following after Steve in a way that’s supposed to look causal but is anything but casual now that Steve knows to look for the signs.

When he and Eddie silently go out the front door, Steve is quick to turn to him and hold out his hand. Eddie gives him a confused look but offers his hand which Steve takes and slides one of the rings off of.

Eddie stares at it for a moment, looking slightly frightened, as if he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

Steve is quick to soothe the fear as he pockets the ring and says, “Just so you’ll have an excuse to stop by later tonight.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush bright red and he runs a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Steve laughs, “So it has been on purpose?”

“No,” Eddie clearly lies, pulling a strand of hair in front of his face.

“And what if I told you I wanted it to be on purpose?” Steve asks.

Eddie freezes for a moment as if he’s waiting for Steve to tell him that he’s joking, but Steve sits in the silence, letting the question settle between them.

“Then,” Eddie starts, taking a small step forward into Steve’s space, “I would-”

The door behind them bursts open and Dustin yells, “Hurry up I have a curfew!” as he races off to Steve’s car.

Steve rolls his eyes at the kid and takes a step back as everyone else makes their way out the door to the cars or their bikes.

Steve and Eddie linger behind for a moment, which Steve uses to quietly ask, “I’ll see you tonight?”

Eddie gives him a bashful smile in return and nods. “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”

Steve resists the urge to celebrate in any way in front of the kids and instead puts his hand in his pocket, fingers curling around Eddie’s ring.

As he gets into his car, ignoring Dustin bitching and complaining, he slips the ring over his finger and smiles at it.

He notices the car go quiet and he nearly groans at his mistake.

“Is that Eddie’s ring?” Dustin screeches.

It’s going to be a long drive home, but Steve doesn’t mind when he has Eddie to look forward to.

[hello-sweetheart]

Spirit medium! Steve

Guys, it’s almost Halloween (I say in March) so I was thinking of Steve being a medium but not really knowing. He works completely on vibes alone and just never questions them.

This, of course, concerns Eddie who, despite his dark aesthetic, really does not fuck with the paranormal. He’s Appalachian, the general rule is: if you see something, no you didn’t.

It starts with something small and more confusing than creepy. Quirky even! Eddie takes Steve with him to the thrift—more like Steve has latched himself onto Eddie and now each time Eddie runs the most mundane of tasks like looking for winter coat, Steve insists on coming—and Steve drifts from his side over to the shelves of trinkets to closely inspect a small doll.

It’s tiny, palm sized, and would be cute if Eddie didn’t have an innate fear of porcelain dolls. Steve picks it up and follows Eddie around for 30minutes and all the way to the register with the thing where he proceeds to purchase it for 50 cents.

“Dude, why?”

“I just like it. She’s cool.” Note, Steve says this as he places the tiny doll in is shirt pocket, it’s creepy little face peaking out.

Eddie laughs, thinks Steve is trying to be silly. “So what are you gonna name it then?”

“Why would I name her, she already has a name. Her names Felicity and she’s an old woman, really sweet actually, used to be a teacher.”

“Okay??” Whatever, maybe robins eccentricities and imagination is rubbing off on him.

Except the next time Eddie visits Steve, the thing—Felicity—is perched on the kitchen window sill, staring out into the yard.

“So what’s she doing here?” Eddie is hovering by the door of the kitchen like a nervous dog. He did NOT expect to have another encounter with the doll.

“She likes to look at the birds.”

“The doll, likes birdwatching.” Steve kicks his shoe.

“Don’t be rude.”

At this point Eddie is throughly creeped out and just nervously laughs. He quickly and awkwardly offers a “sorry ma’am” towards the doll just in case and walks out of the kitchen.

Eddie brings this up one day with Robin who just makes it worse.

“Oh yeah, that’s just Steve’s thing. I think he can tell when stuff is haunted or something, it’s really eerie actually. I try not to think about it.”

“You believe in ghosts?” Eddie is judging hard.

“I saw a monster made out of melted people parts, Eddie. At this point, the paranormal may as well exist.” Fair.

“So you don’t mind that Steve just has a doll around in the kitchen?”

“Felicity is pretty chill, actually. Not like— Steve brought home an old teacup one day, said he feels like it belonged to a little girl named Debra. Except he kept it in sunroom and suddenly the room felt really fucking weird all the time. Like your being watched, you know?”

“Sure.”

“Anyways, one day it was just gone, I noticed cuz the room felt lighter somehow, and Steve said he had to get rid of it cuz he didn’t like that Debra gave him nightmares.”

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Felicity hasn’t done anything freaky though, so I guess she’s alright.”

Eddie does not like this little hobby thing—whatever you can fuckin call it. He doesn’t like Felicity, he doesn’t like how Steve will sometimes seemingly name random objects, and he certainly does not like how Steve doesn’t even seem to think that any of it is weird.

But Eddie likes Steve, like-likes Steve, so Eddie has learned to deal with Felicity, and Bernard (this chewed up looking teddy bear that sits on the bookshelf that apparently does not like when people don’t use their inside voices, and Cherry.

(Cherry being a mug that used to belong to Wayne, but when Steve came over and pointed to it, said Cherry liked that mug because it was from one of her favorite places on her last roadtrip, Wayne just took it down from where it hung on the wall and gave it to Steve without a word. Steve looked absolutely stoked. Neither Wayne nor Eddie have brought it up, and it’s unlikely they ever will.)

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve and Eddie work together in an aquarium, and Eddie is losing his mind. He's in love, he's got the most embarrassing crush, but Steve doesn't even notice him.

They barely interact, and Eddie only knows Steve's first name. He doubts Steve knows he exists, he's just one of many tour guides (but he's amazing with kids and especially teenagers, so he's actually a great tour guide, thank you very much!)

Back to Steve. Steve, with his lean muscles, easy smile, thick hair and beautiful, but somehow sad eyes. That Steve.

The Steve who works in the aquarium as a merman.

Eddie could watch him for hours, floating in the tank with grace Eddie didn't know existed, with his sparkly yellow mermaid tail, flowing hair and chest hair, and that man can hold his breath for so long? Think of the options, the possibilities!

The mermaid show is insanely popular among all the kids and teens, even adults. His best friend Chrissy was the one who recommended Eddie to the aquarium, she's the main mermaid, and god, if Eddie wasn't gay, she'd have him at her feet. She always looks so effortless, twirling underwater in her emerald green mermaid tail, spinning around Steve. They make such a beautiful pair, it makes Eddie want to weep.

Fortunately, she's already in a happy relationship, so Steve is reportedly still single. Chrissy makes Eddie massage her feet in the evenings - he offered, they're cramping from a bad fit of the tail - and graciously answers all Eddie's reasonable questions, such as "how do his hands feel?" ("Wet. We're swimming, remember?").

She keeps telling Eddie to ask Steve out, but Eddie isn't stupid. That man is the god Poseidon himself, and Eddie is but a humble crab in his kingdom. So he admires him from afar, longing, pining and making Chrissy's head hurt.

But Steve's just so good with kids, Eddie can't keep his mouth shut. He always mutters something to Steve as he's ushering the kids away. "Great show, sweetheart," or "I love that smile, Stevie," or "need help getting that tail off?" He's only a man, and no one can hear him.

Except for a nosy tour coordinator listening in through his earpiece, Robin Buckley. She also happens to be Steve's best friend, Chrissy's girlfriend, and a menace to society.

And maybe one day she tells Steve to just smooch the tour guide, maybe she spills a few of the longing whispers and wishful stares, but she's only human too. A human who's had to listen to Steve's ramblings about the cute guy who always pulls the kids' attention like a magnet, who even through the blurry glass tank seems to be having an amazing time. Steve sometimes asks Robin for an extra earpiece and listens to the rest of Eddie's tour after the show. He loves his enthusiasm. Once Eddie even drew a heart on Steve's tank, can you imagine that, Rob?!

Maybe Robin and Chrissy have to work together to give the two idiots what they need, because Eddie considers himself too nerdy and plain for Steve, ans Steve thinks he's too dumb and shallow for Eddie.

Maybe Chrissy fakes slipping into the mermaid tank and drags Eddie with her. Maybe Robin is there and quickly gets Steve to jump after him. Maybe she makes the innocent mistake of insuating that Eddie can't swim.

And maybe, when Steve and Eddie are back on firm ground, confused and wet, Chrissy splashes them with water and asks if pretending that it's mouth to mouth resuscitation would help, or if they can finally kiss and stop pining for each other.

And one more maybe...maybe in a few weeks, when Eddie ushers the children away after the show, he kisses his palm and presses it against the tank, and watches Steve do the same, before he can give him a proper kiss after their shift.

[angel-fruitcake]

can't stop thinking about the concept of post-canon Destiel reunion where Dean confesses his mutual romantic feelings and Cas is so happy, don't get him wrong! but even though he's grown fond of this vessel that he's had for years, for some reason Cas can't seem to get past his worry and insecurity that maybe Dean isn't 100% sold on the whole idea of being intimate with a man.

so without meeting Dean's gaze, Cas hesitantly offers with a touch of sadness, "if this vessel isn't satisfactory for you, i-i could perhaps try to procure a female v-"

and Dean grabs Cas by his heated cheeks, promptly shutting him up with a kiss.

once the initial shock subsides and Cas finally starts to relax, Dean pulls back just enough to whisper against the angel's lips, "i want you just like this. this," Dean squeezes Cas' face for emphasis, "is the Cas that i met in that barn all those years ago. this is the Cas that pulled me outta hell." Dean trails wet kisses along Cas' stubbled jawline, pausing when his lips reach the angel's ear. "this is the Cas i fell in love with."

Castiel melts against Dean with a whimper.

[bumblebecc]

the time that frank thinks mel is dating someone else and nearly loses his mind

Whitaker and Santos get into a huge blowup fight 10 months after PittFest. It’s ugly. Whitaker has been hired on as an intern for the ED and is finally making money for once, but Santos doesn’t want to admit she feels bad for Huckleberry, so she won’t accept rent from him—

And Whitaker storms out in the middle of the night and spam texts Mel about the whole thing (they’re kinda friends now, bonding over their mutual love and hatred of Star Wars and sharing breakroom snacks). Becca’s recently moved in full time with her care center, so Mel happily offers Dennis a place to crash for awhile in her spare room—she doesn’t make a fuss when Whitaker insists on contributing to the grocery fund. Instead she just slips the same hundred dollar bill back into his wallet without him noticing.

It’s two weeks of this before Frank overhears Dennis asking Mel when she’s headed back home, he’ll meet her at their bus stop, their bus stop, and realizes THE TWITCHY NEW INTERN IS LIVING WITH MEL.

Langdon’s Mel.

And she didn’t tell him. Not when they got dinner last week. Or on their phone call the night before. His mind scrambles. Why wouldn’t she tell him? He’s not bothered. No. Why would he be bothered? It’s not like he’s in love with Mel or anything. It’s not like he’s jealous.

It’s not like he only feels like he can breathe when Mel, golden and kind and all things good, enters the room.

Or as if when she cries, nose going pink, big eyes wet with tears, his heart feels like it’ll implode in on itself until she smiles again.

Or every time he scoots past her in Trauma One, his nose fills with the scent of her shampoo — strawberry hibiscus — and he feels the closest thing to euphoria since he kicked the benzos.

Or when Mel off-handedly offers to babysit his kids if he and Abby ever have plans, he imagines her holding his daughter on her hip, smiling softly. He has to sit down for five minutes before he can get back to work.

(He strategically informs Princess after that conversation that he’s very divorced. Like the most divorced a man can get. Has been since he got out of rehab. He sadly asks for her discretion and she agrees eagerly.)

(The whole ED knows by the end of the hour.)

(Mel sadly gives him a warm sweet-smelling hug in the breakroom once she hears the news. “I’m so sorry, Langdon,” she says in her small voice. Frank feels like the hugest pervert in the world because all he can think is that his divorce lawyer was worth every penny if all he gets is Mel’s arms around his waist, her cheek against his chest).

He reassures himself: it’s not like Whitaker and Mel are a thing. She probably just feels bad about Whitaker having to live with Santos. Yeah. Who wouldn’t feel bad for the poor shmuck?

And then he sees Mel pat Whitaker’s arm gently in sympathy when Robby gives him a problem patient (vomit, irritability, a recipe for disaster). And he no longer feels bad for Whitaker, actually the opposite, he wants to strangle him where he stands.

But he can’t do that, because Mel would be very upset with him.

So when he finds her on the roof after a her shift humming to herself and her face brightens with a smile, he can’t hold it back — “Are you and that kid dating?”

And Mel has to recalibrate, brow furrowing, fair eyebrows scrunching like when she’s confronted with a social cue she doesn’t entirely understand. She’s sitting criss-crossed, looking up at him, vulnerable and soft and small from this angle.

“Who? Dennis?”

And oh fuck, they are dating, she calls him by his FIRST NAME, and she’s never once called him Frank and…

He is fucking in love with her.

“No,” she says. His world stops imploding in an instant. She doesn’t even seem offended. She merely blinks. “Dennis and Trinity are in a fight. I’m letting him crash in Becca’s old room until they make up.”

“Oh. That is… very generous of you, Mel,” says Langdon stiltedly, a rush of relief running through him so quickly, he feels dizzy.

“Yeah. And actually, it’s nice having another person in the house since Becca left,” says Mel wistfully. “She hasn’t wanted to come back since she’s so used to her routine at the center.”

She’s told him about this over ramen cups in her warm, colorful kitchen. Deep green curtains, an amber lamp washing her in red and gold light. Her eyes, misty and lonely. Her chin in the curve of her palm.

He has to stop himself from telling her to kick Whitaker out and he could move in instead. Because that would be crazy and irrational and impulsive.

Fuck it. “I don’t like him living with you, Mel.”

Her eyes widen. “Um. Why? Whitaker’s a perfectly reasonable roommate. He does his dishes and is very neat for a man.”

“No, it’s not that.” Langdon feels like he’s on the edge of a steep precipice, like how he feels looking over the edge of the hospital roof, like the rush of adrenaline after a tense save. “Because I want to be the one to keep you company. To come home with you after a long day. I want to take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

Mel’s mouth opens and shut. She’s shocked. He knows the minute details of her face, the flutter of her pale eyelashes, the tense curve of her mouth. “I… I don’t…”

“I’m in love with you, Mel,” he says, and keeps talking, even though his ego is blistering to admit, “and I’m actually going kind of crazy from jealousy over here. Like behavioral room type crazy. I keep imagining that you and him are…”

“No!” Mel is suddenly on her feet. She looks like she’s glowing. In the distance, there are the wail of car horns and the sounds of the city. The flare of ambulance lights. But all Langdon can do is stare at Mel King. The rest of the world doesn’t really exist. “You’re serious, right? This isn’t, um, a joke or—”

“I would never do that to you, Mel.”

Mel takes a shaky breath. “Oh. I know that.”

“It’s okay if all you want is a friend,” says Langdon, even though that would be excruciating. “Tell me to kick rocks, if you want. I just couldn’t keep it inside for any longer. I couldn’t go a day without letting you know that you’re loved.”

He wants to say more, but he can’t. Because Mel is kissing him.

Her arms are around his neck. Her lips hot on his. It’s awkward and clumsy, because he’s taller than her and she’s on her tip toes, and he hasn’t kissed anyone in a very long time, but then he slides his arms around her waist and yeah. She makes a noise, a sweet noise deep in her throat, and he chases that sound, deepens the kiss, and he forgets about Whitaker, about the ER, about the long hot shower he was looking forward to after work, because Mel is in his arms, her braid loosening under his hands, and she tastes like mint gum and Diet Coke and love.

When they separate, her mouth is flushed and her eyes are glossy. A wisp of honey gold hair brushes her cheek. “Hello,” she says.

“Hello,” he whispers back.

“Let’s go on a date soon?” she asks, because she’s the smartest person he knows.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says and then nothing else for a long time, his mouth occupied with far more important things.

(And if, the morning after their kiss, he drags Santos and Whitaker into an empty patient room and watches as they argue and bluster and finally agree to move back in together because maybe you’re an alright roommate, Huckleberry, and okay, yeah, I miss my bed—but you need to let me at least buy the groceries, then that’s nobody’s business but his).

[doitbuckley]

36, 37, or 41 for the setting prompts ☺️

for the setting prompt 036, a long, winding road (8x12 coda)

“Someone peed.”

There’s silence for one unbearable second, and then Buck’s voice crackles over the line, muffled and thready but there. Always there. Thank God, Eddie thinks. “Huh?”

Buck is usually the one in charge of saying something off-the-cuff when he picks up the phone. And then Eddie will say Hi, Buck, and Buck will say Hi, Eddie and get back to whatever it is he needed to say, unperturbed. “Someone peed in my backseat,” Eddie sighs, rolling his window back up so he can hear better. They have to be down, usually, when he’s by himself. The whipping of the wind manages to loosen some sort of invisible noose cuffed around his neck, whatever’s been making him feel suffocated and hollowed out. Eddie’s alright with being trapped for now, stuck inside of the familiar four walls of Buck’s voice. “My last rider today. He was really drunk.”

“Oh,” Buck coughs out, like he’s holding back a laugh maybe for Eddie’s sake, but it doesn’t really work. Something similar to relief skitters down Eddie’s spine, settling down near his tailbone. “That’s, uh, geez.” He clears his throat, swallowing down the rest of his laugh. Eddie can imagine the twist of his mouth, a peek of pearly white coming out to bite down on his bottom lip. “How even–did he just like, whip it out or something–”

“You don’t wanna know the specifics,” Eddie interrupts before Buck can let his imagination run wild, a shiver running through him at the not distant enough memory. “I had to perform black magic to get the fuckin’ smell out.”

Eddie turns right, the road long and winding before him, seemingly endless. If he had to choose one thing to miss about El Paso, maybe it’d be the sunsets. They were always so orange, almost angry in their vibrancy, setting alight all the buildings and the roads and the yuccas. “Sorry,” Buck says, and he has the audacity to sound genuine. “If I were your passenger, I’d at least have the decency to not do it on your seats.” 

“Ah,” Eddie says, cranking up the shitty AC that doesn’t blow nearly hard enough, undoing the top button of his shirt. The driver’s seat will probably don a permanent sweat stain in the shape of his body soon. “‘Preciate it, bud.”

There’s the scrape of a chair against wood on the other end, an exasperated groan. 

“Old man knees,” Eddie says.

“Fuck off,” Buck huffs, but there’s no trace of heat behind it. “One to talk, I can hear your bones when you sit down.” There’s some shuffling, a puff of breath. “I could,” Buck corrects himself softly, almost like Eddie’s not supposed to hear it.

Eddie swallows, dryness creeping up his throat in one fell swoop. The road keeps winding, the sky darkens to something more burnt and final, contrails making pretty patterns in it. “Hey,” Eddie speaks up after a beat. “Chris hugged me today.”

“That–” There’s a pause, and then the shuffling stops. “Shit, Eddie, that’s great.”

He sounds so pleased about it that Eddie can’t help but smile to himself, rubbing over an aching spot in his chest, tender like a damp spot of soil.

“Mhm. Thanks for, uh, getting me out of my head.”

“No biggie,” Buck says, and Eddie can picture the boyish up-down flop of his shoulders as he shrugs, his no big deal, just doing what I do shrug. He’s probably ducking his head too, though, blinking and looking off to the side like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Eddie shakes his head even though Buck can’t see him. “Yes biggie. I know it’s not all fixed, but. You really helped a lot, Buck.”

Silence, then clinking. He must’ve sat down for coffee, probably his second of the day. It’s early enough in LA for it. Something constricts inside of Eddie’s chest then, like a big old iron fist clenching at the cage of his ribs. “Okay,” Buck acquiesces, so gentle Eddie barely hears it. “What are you doing? Anymore rides for today?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I’m driving over to Red Sands.”

“Red Sands?”

“I guess it doesn’t technically exist, it’s not regulated. It’s sort of what people call that giant desert area in the East—you know Hueco Tanks?”

“Of course.”

Yeah, Buck probably knows about every state park in existence. it just seems like something he’d be into. “Yeah, it’s not too far from there.”

The East side off of Montana Ave, Eddie remembers. He and Shannon used to drive out around Hueco Tanks in his beat up truck to get away from the city, park it, watch the sky. Maybe fuck on the truck bed under a blanket if it was dark enough, but that was neither here nor there. He’d look up and he wouldn’t feel so trapped for once, those precious minutes of stillness and quiet, the sky endless and all-encompassing. He didn’t know shit about constellations, so he’d make stuff up just so Shannon would laugh and bury her cold nose into his neck. 

“Why’re you going there?”

“See the stars,” Eddie says. The sun continues to retreat farther, hiding itself away, and everything blazes red.

“Oh,” Buck says kind of wistfully. “Feeling sentimental?”

“Something like that.”

Eddie used to hate the sand. The desert, it just stretched on for miles and miles, that boring, ugly sand. He doesn’t really mind it now.

“Looks just the same,” Eddie says as he slows down on the road. Red-orange sand, dunes, small hills, sagebrush and yucca. There’s a couple of people zipping over the sand. “White guys love to come out here and ride their ATVs.”

Buck snorts. “I bet they do.”

Eddie wishes, with a sudden blinding ferocity, that Buck were there with him. He could picture it, even, Buck riding one of those eyesores over the blazing red sand dunes, the mostly reformed adrenaline junkie that he is. 

“Wait,” Buck says suddenly. Eddie can hear him set down his mug. “Let me tell you what to look out for in the sky.”

That aching feeling intensifies tenfold, unrelenting. No matter how hard Eddie rubs at his chest, he can't work out the knot.

“Hm. Oh! You should be able to see Jupiter with your naked eye tonight. Mars, too.”

“Got it,” Eddie says, digging his knuckles into his ribcage. It hurts something fierce, but he keeps nudging. “I definitely know what those look like.”

“You can’t miss ‘em,” Buck insists. “You’ll know them when you see them. Trust me.”

Well, Eddie has never had any reason not to. “Sure,” Eddie says. “Yeah, just call me Galileo.”

Buck huffs and then laughs in that way he does that calls Eddie lame without actually saying it. “Man,” Buck says suddenly, forcefully, like it’s bursting out of him. “I really love you.”

Eddie swallows, the ache spreading down to his stomach, stale water trickling from a leaky ceiling. “Hm?” he asks, even though he heard Buck loud and clear.

“I didn’t.” There’s silence. “Mean to, uh.”

Eddie blinks at his steering wheel. “So you don’t love me?”

“No! Uh, yes? Uh, no, I just meant. That.” Eddie wishes he could see whatever face Buck is undoubtedly pulling right now. “That felt weird.”

Eddie doesn’t want to think about why he doesn’t like that. “Why?”

“Maybe, I-I don’t know, because. We don’t really. Say it, I don’t know.”

“Friends love each other,” Eddie says, and it doesn’t feel quite right.

There’s more silence. Eddie feels wrong-footed all of a sudden, cold sweat on his brow. Man, I really love you. Of course Buck loves him, that’s—of course he does. Eddie already knew that. Of course. But it hits him then, like a horse kick to the chest, how they don’t really say it. They just do it.

Man, I really love you, it knocks him right upside the head.

“Yeah,” Buck says after what feels like an eternity times two. He sounds muffled and far away again, and Eddie wants to tell him to speak directly into the microphone, maybe get him to say it again with even more certainty and veracity, but that’d be asking too much. “Yeah, they do.”

The desert stretches on for miles. The wind whips. The ATVs sparkle under the last dying rays of sun. Man, I really love you.

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows, keeps rubbing at his chest that must be caving in. “I love you too,” Eddie says, and it feels too raw. “For the record.” 

Buck laughs, more of an exhale of air than anything else. “Yeah. Yeah, good to know.”

Eddie is able to see Jupiter that night. Mars, too.

[kitchen-spoon]

Recently found out the house in the Slipknot duality music video was actually a fans house. they gave the band permission to film their music video there and have a mob of people destroy it.

Now imagine Dustin being a huuuuuge corroded coffin fan and hearing the band is going back to their hometown Hawkins. They are looking for a house to film one of their music videos in. Issue is they want to trash the place and invite all their fans to do it with them. In comes Steve who was given his parents mansion but left Hawkins years ago. The house has been sitting and rotting for almost decade. Naturally Dustin BEGS Steve to let them use his house so Dustin can meet the band and of course do them the honour. After weeks of pestering from Dustin and forced googling by Robin, Steve agrees. And its definitely not because he has a giant crush on the lead guitarist Eddie Munson.

Months later the band come to Hawkins and Dustin’s dreams come true. He, Steve, and Robin all get to be in the video. And once Eddie hears about the circumstances of the house (through some over sharing on Dustin’s part) he insists Steve be the one to at least kick the door in and destroy his old bedroom. Steve is nervous though so Eddie is given the camera and they go alone.

Steve leaves the shoot that day with years of repressed anger and resentment relieved as well as the phone number of a famous rockstar.

Dustin never shuts up about being the reason they are together.

[mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf]

Stiles was feeling restless and antsy, laying on his side, chest to chest with Derek, who was trying to fall asleep.

"Derek? Der-bear," Stiles whispered, poking a finger incessantly into Derek's cheek.

"Sleeping, shh," Derek whispered back.

"But I'm bored," Stiles whined, finger tracing Derek's lips and slipping inside. He smiled when Derek opened his eyes and snarled, revealing his descended fangs and rubbed over them.

Derek playfully snapped his teeth and caught Stiles' finger in between his jaws, sucking it into his mouth.

"Mmmm, sexy time?" Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorted, releasing Stiles' finger and rolling them over so he was laying on top of Stiles. "Just made you cum three times, greedy boy, and you want more?"

"Always want more with you, Der," Stiles said, trying to catch Derek's lips with his own.

"Sleep first, sweetheart, please. You wore me out," Derek groaned.

Stiles giggled and tugged Derek down to rest their foreheads together. "You have 30 minutes," Stiles replied, his eyes flashing gold in response to Derek's red.