Sterek AU: where Stiles and Derek get away to enjoy pumpkin- spiced Fall weekend.

“How about this one?” Stiles asks, pointing to a pumpkin.

 “The side is flat,” Derek says.

 “That one?”

“Too small.” Stiles points to another. “It looks rotten.”

Stiles huffs and crosses his arms. “Look, Goldilocks of Pumpkins, why don’t you pick a pumpkin then?” Stiles taps his foot as he waits. Derek scans the group of pumpkins, then chooses two near the back.

“These.”

“Okay.” Stiles starts walking towards the attendant.

“Aren’t you even going to look at them?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs as he hands the lady cash. “They’re pumpkins, dude. You’re the one who was all picky about which ones we got. I just want to carve into them and then leave them on the back porch until around Thanksgiving when they’re molded and rotten.”

“You’re disgusting,” Derek says, holding a large pumpkin in each of his arms. Stiles leans over and kisses his cheek.

“But you love me.”

Derek just grunts.

Stiles suddenly stops and darts away to the right. “Ooh! Pumpkin donuts!” Derek hears him yell as he watches Stiles run towards a booth. Derek readjusts the slipping pumpkin in his grip as he trails after him. “I bought you one,” Stiles says through a mouth of donut. He swallows, and points to a bucket. “I also want to bob for apples.”

“That’s so gross,” Derek says, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh, shut up, you eat bunnies,” Stiles says as he cradles the paper bag with the donuts between the pumpkin and Derek’s arm. Stiles moves onto his knees as he grips the side of the barrel. He leans down, his mouth open as he tries to bite into one of the apples. They keep sliding out of his mouth as he bites down. “This is so much easier on TV.”

“It’s not that hard,” Derek says.

“Oh?” Stiles asks, turning around to look at Derek. “Fine then, why don’t you show me how it’s done.”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Derek huffs, his face pinched in a scowl. He sets down the pumpkins and donuts, and gently pushes Stiles out of the way. He leans forward and closes his mouth around the apple, extending his canines slightly to pierce into the fruit. He straightens, apple securely in his mouth. The people around the booth clap, and Stiles shoots him an exasperated eye roll. Derek takes the apple from his mouth and hands it to Stiles with a shit-eating grin.

“I saw what you did there,” Stiles says, biting into the apple. “Cheater McCheaterson.”

“I did no such thing,” Derek says, picking the pumpkins back up.

“Liar.”

Derek smirks, and Stiles slides his hand easily into Derek’s back pocket and offers him the apple.

Derek is sprawled in front of the fire in his underwear, his eyes closed as the warmth seeps into his skin. The night is cool, and they’ve created a small nest of blankets around the fire. He opens his eyes when he hears Stiles padding across the floor. Stiles is completely naked, the firelight casting a warm glow across his pale skin. Derek smiles as he watches Stiles lowers himself to the floor, careful not to spill the two steaming mugs in his hand.

“Do you like my Jack-o-lantern?” Stiles asks, glancing over to the fireplace where the two pumpkins are alit on both sides of the hearth. Stiles had tried for a complicated Batman design he found online, but it turned out to look more like an abstract piece of art.

“It’s…different,” Derek says, smiling into his cider. The hot liquid is sweet against his tongue, with a burst of spice. “Oh my god, this is fantastic.”

“My mother’s special recipe,” Stiles says, smiling into his cup distractedly. “She always made it for me and my dad when we carved pumpkins.”

“Mom liked hot chocolate,” Derek said. “But we always ate candy when we carved pumpkins.”

“Do werewolves go trick-or-treating? Did you dress up, or did you just wolf out and pretend?” Stiles grins as he nudges Derek’s calf with his toes.

“Yes, we go trick-or-treating,” Derek rolls his eyes. “How long will it take before you realize I grew up just like you?”

“Just with more hair,” Stiles says before taking a sip from his mug. He glances at the pumpkins. “My pumpkin is ugly.”

“It’s not,” Derek says.

“You must really love me,” Stiles says. “You’re lying to spare my feelings.” Stiles sets his cup down and crawls over to Derek and straddles his lap. He hooks his hands behind his head. “But at least it’s not boring like yours. Triangle eyes and a jagged mouth? Really?”

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek says, leaning forward and kissing him.

His mouth tastes like apples and cinnamon, like pumpkins and fall, like home.

stay the night

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘guard’

rated m | 532 words | cw: implied/referenced sexual content | tags: established relationship, Steve is self-conscious, they’re idiots

😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬

They’ve been dating for nearly a month, fucking for even longer. Eddie practically spends every day with Steve, most evenings, too. But he never spends the night.

Steve doesn’t ask him to and Eddie’s too scared of this new thing they have to ask if he can. There must be a reason that Eddie doesn’t get the same treatment that so many girls used to get. It has to be a problem with him.

He tries not to think too much about it. It could still be nothing. It could just be that Steve prefers sleeping alone. Or maybe Steve thinks sleeping together is more important than, well, sleeping together. He’s a hell of a romantic, so that makes sense.

But even that seems strange because Eddie’s done everything to show how much he cares about Steve without actually saying that he loves him. He’s gone through all the stops. He’s done more flower buying, jacket sharing, hand holding, cuddling than he ever thought he’d do with a partner.

He’s sitting on Steve’s bed, waiting for him to finish showering after a long work day, when he decides he’s gonna ask. Steve has the start of a migraine and he wants to be here to hold him and make sure he takes medicine and gets decent rest so it doesn’t get worse.

Steve comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders. Eddie’s human; He looks him over from head to toe.

“Can I wear your shirt to sleep?” Steve asks as he grab sweatpants from his drawer.

“The one on my body?” Eddie asks, looking down and back up. Steve nods. “Sure, if I can stay the night.”

Damn, that was easier than he thought it’d be. Steve left it wide open for him to be able to sneak it in.

“Oh,” Steve sounds unsure now. “Um.”

Eddie waits. He’s pretty sure saying anything to try convincing Steve will just make him more nervous and feel more pressure to say yes, and as much as he wants him to say yes, he doesn’t want him to feel like he has to.

“Yeah. I just, um.”

Eddie stands up and takes a few steps until he’s close enough to Steve to cup his face in his hands.

“It’s okay if not. I just wanted to see if you were ready for that,” Eddie offers. It really is okay, but it doesn’t mean Eddie isn’t gonna cry about it on the way home.

“No, no. I just have um.” Steve breathes out, closes his eyes. “I have to wear a mouth guard when I sleep?”

Eddie blinks slowly. “A mouth guard?”

“Yeah, uh. I had braces when I was younger and started grinding my teeth together and I had to start wearing a guard for my teeth,” Steve explains in one breath. “And it looks stupid so. I just didn’t want you to see that.”

“But. Other people have, right?”

Steve shakes his head. “I usually skipped it if I had someone over one night.”

“So-“

“I want you here all the nights, not just one.”

“Oh.” Eddie smiles. “So I can stay?”

“Yeah, please stay.”

The Cards We're Dealt

A.N. This is for sterek week. @sterekweek-2024 Prompts tarot cards and dealer's choice (the second one I definitely took too literally lol) Hope you enjoy! :) Oh and this is only part one, part two is hopefully out tomorrow.

Word count: 9,668

Whether you play fast and loose, bet it all, or are simply looking for an answer the cards always deal their own fate. 

Derek knows there's no such thing as luck. 

Stiles knows there's no use in trying to change fate. Derek has been a dealer for long enough to have learned the house always wins, but even try as he might to find some trick behind Stiles' tarot reading his warnings ring true and he can't see a single tell in his eyes. 

Stiles' fingers have always found the right card, but what if this tangle with fate is less about reading it and more about following it.

Sometimes you just have to play the hand you're dealt, even if you pull the death card for your future.

****

The table creaked and thudded as it ominously rocked back and forth, the candles flickered in the chilly gusts of wind, the table cloth rustled delicately as the various strings of beads harshly swung and jangled together. Stiles' eyes were rolling back into his head as his nails harshly dug into the plush velvet table. 

"She has a message for you." Stiles gasped out as if he was being choked, his voice strained. The veins on his neck bulged to the point of almost being able to see his heartbeat. 

The man had wide fearful eyes filled with tears and yet he sounded hopeful when he pleaded, "Yes, yes? What is it?!" He was crumpling the brochure that Stiles had given him at the beginning of the reading with trembling hands. 

"Sh-she says, she misses you. And she doesn't want- d-doesn't want you to... To worry. And she told me to tell you how much she loves you." Stiles gasped in a big breath at the end of his sentence and his eyes were starting to come back into focus as the tension slowly was leaving his nails. 

"Wait!  She didn't say anything else?" 

Stiles not only rolled his eyes back into his head with a jolt, but also rolled them sarcastically in his head. "She- oh no I think I'm going to lose her! Wait, no- She says add more spices. Double the amount of cumin and it'll taste like her recipe." Finally Stiles let all the tension over his entire body go and he collapsed forward on to the table. 

The man was freely weeping now. "Oh thank you! Oh thank you! You don't know what you've done for me!" The man reached over to vigorously shake Stiles' hand once he had perked up a bit. 

Stiles mopped some sweat from his brow. "Yes. It is so very draining, but my exhausting work must be done to help lost souls just like you." Stiles hated this part, why couldn't they just pay and leave. "It's not often I get such a strong connection." Stiles faked a loud yawn. "I get so tired after channeling a spirit as wonderful and filled with love such as your grandmother." 

Steve’s used to not being loved.

He’d known his parents didn’t love him since he was a young child. He’d known that the girls he casually took on dates and occasionally fucked didn’t love him. He’d known Tommy and Carol didn’t love him like friends were supposed to. They all loved his reputation, sure, but not him. It was easy though because he didn’t love them either.

He’d loved his parents once, a long time ago. Back before they were practically strangers, but that love had been the obligation of biology. He’d thought he loved Tommy and Carol, but it had all been too surface level and focused on popularity.

He had loved Nancy though. He finally found someone he could start to be his true self with and he loved her and he thought she loved him, only…only she didn’t.

He couldn’t blame her. After a while, when the same thing keeps happening, you kind of have to look for the common factor in all those loveless relationships and see what the real issue was. Simply put…

Steve was just unloveable.

you're the only one who knows, you slow it down

For @astrangersummer week 13 prompts 'cat' and 'farmers market'. Title from Look After You by The Fray. And yes, I watched A Quiet Place Day One and was obsessed with Frodo...

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1791

Tags: Modern AU, No Upside Down, First Meeting, Steve has PTSD, Steve has a service cat, Steve wears glasses, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, panic attacks, Eddie takes care of Steve, referenced child abuse, autistic Steve (not overly relevant here but still)

Summary: Eddie's at a farmers market when he's approached by a very determined black and white cat. On a whim, he follows him to a young man having a panic attack in the woods.

___

Eddie’s browsing the little jewelry stand at the far end of the Farmer’s Market, glancing over hand-made leather bracelets and cheap silver rings while the old lady behind the table watches him hopefully. Over a blare of emergency sirens from the street in the distance he can hear Wayne behind him bartering with someone who’s wanting to buy one of his plants, the plants Eddie had been roped into carting there from the van in boxes that were too fucking heavy and he’d been drenched in sweat almost immediately under the summer sun.

He looks up briefly, regrets it immediately because the vendor’s eyes light up and fuck now he’s gotta buy something…

He’s interrupted by something soft brushing against his ankle.

Hanging up a black leather band, he looks down. Blinks a few times, confused.

There’s a black and white cat butting its little head against his leg. The cat stares back up at him with yellow eyes, wide and imploring.

Apols for the delay but Swimmer Steve is back and pretty much exactly where we last left him.

(part one | part six)

"Fuck," says Steve. "Fuck." He hasn't said much of anything else since he came out of the changing rooms, still damp and kind of stunned-looking.

"Fuck," Eddie agrees.

Steve looks at him, a smile starting to spread across his face, going on and on like it might be endless.

God, he's handsome.

God, Eddie is stupid in love with him.

"Olympics, baby!" Eddie crows. They've already hugged; Steve got a hug from everyone, as soon as he emerged. Eddie wants to hug him again, but that would probably be too much.

"Fuck," says Steve and sits down on the floor between their two beds.

Eddie shrugs to himself and sits down with him.

They've only come back to the hotel so Steve can get showered and changed before the celebration dinner that the kids have planned. Or, actually, Steve has come back to the hotel for that; thinking about it, Eddie's not sure why he came with, except that it just felt natural.

Either way, looks like they're going to take longer than expected.

"All good?" Eddie asks, just in case.

"Jesus Christ," says Steve, which is a change from fuck and laughs. He lifts his hands up to cover his face and when he lowers them again, his eyes are wet. "The Olympics, Eddie."

Eddie nods, can't do anything but smile stupidly back at him. He doesn't think he's ever seen Steve this open and relaxed and delighted. "The Olympics, Steve."

Steve rubs at his eyes with his fingertips, mostly just making his eyelashes damper and darker from his happy tears. "You know when you've wanted something your whole damn life, but you never really thought you'd get it? It feels fucking wild to get it."

"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

It's Wednesday, peeps! Post a brainworm, tag some friends!

Today, I'm thinking about ...

... Eddie playing guitar in the band on a luxury cruise ship. Sure, the passengers are a bunch of snobby assholes with an abominable taste in music, but Wayne was so eager for him to fill in when his coworker's son broke that arm, and the pay is decent. Almost worth putting on the straightjacket of a suit and the bowtie that makes him feel like a clown.

At least he isn't stuck doing the entertainment programme for the passengers’ spoiled little brats. He's seen the stupid, cheap costumes in the staff garderobe. The seams on that Peter Pan costume are frayed and coming apart, and whatever poor girl has to play Tinkerbell will barely be able to cover her ass in that flimsy dress.

Except the person who shows up to collect the brats on the first day, clad in sheer tights and the skimpy green atrocity, glittery tulle wings strapped to their back, isn't a girl. Eddie’s fingers fumble on the guitar strings - not that he can be blamed, he thinks - and Tinkerdude turns and fucking winks at him. He herds the brats out and into the waiting arms of his partner, a lanky, freckled chick wearing what looks like … yup, the Peter Pan costume. Then he's gone, leaving Eddie marveling at the vision he just beheld.

He meets Tinkerdude in the garderobe later that night (and absolutely doesn't almost swallow his own tongue, thank you very much), and the next night, and the night after that. Over the course of the cruise, Eddie finds out more and more about him.

His name is Steve. He's set to study business economics. He'd rather do something with kids, but his dad insisted he take over the family business. Right now, he's doing a gap year, getting to know different jobs on the cruise line. He wears the skimpy fairy costume so that his partner Robin won't have to. He likes sports and 80s pop music, he has a heart of gold and a delightfully bitchy sense of humor, and he makes the sweetest little noises when Eddie fucks him against the wall of the staff garderobe on the last night of the cruise.

And if Eddie gets a call a few weeks later, asking him to play guitar on another ship because the son of the cruise line's owner specifically requested him? We'll, he's about to find out one more thing about Steve.

Some no-pressure tags: @eyesofshinigami @a-little-unsteddie @steddie-island @vegasol @medusapelagia

@sunflowerharrington @matchingbatbites @devondespresso @tangerinesteve

So I love mutual pining as much as the next fanfic enthusiast but what about:

Stiles just blatantly thirsting for Derek.

Like just outright, can’t mistake it, everyone knows it. That Lydia fascination switches gears to Derek at whiplash speeds. Every chance he gets he’s complimenting Derek on his biceps, on his face, on his hair, on his clothes, on his shift, everything. At first it’s all physical stuff, but as they go on Stiles starts peppering in flattery about Derek’s personality and training and brilliant mind.

And Derek has no idea what to do with any of it. Stiles isn’t really actively seducing him, just seems to be appreciative, if you will, and Derek’s never really been just casually flirted with, everyone who hit on him just wanted to get him into bed.

After the first couple times Stiles makes Derek blush, Stiles ends up asking if Derek would like him to stop hitting on him. Derek manages to get out that he would absolutely like Stiles to continue, thanks. And Stiles makes some throwaway comment about Derek returning the favor.

It escalates.

Stiles’ compliments go from tame to dirty in the blink of an eye, just blatant come-ons. He still gives Derek the sweet flirting too, but now he’s also giving him a little grin and looking at Derek with heat in his eyes, adding in some of the best and the worst pick-up lines Derek’s ever heard. And there’s apparently never a bad time for it, either.

They’re researching something that’s trying to kill them late into the night? Stiles looks up from some ancient book written in another language when Derek brings him coffee and says in a sleepy-rough voice, “Derek, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.” Then he winks, takes a drink of his coffee, and gets back to a crash course in... that actually may be a dead language, Derek’s not sure.

They’ve just killed something that was trying to kill them? Derek’s in shift, still looking as menacing as ever, and Stiles sidles right up to him withi his bat over his shoulder, scratch on his cheek, and says, “Hey, you got a Band-Aid?” He grins and points to his cheek. “I scratched myself when I fell for you.”

The turning point comes when they’ve killed something that tried to kill them, and almost succeeded in killing Stiles. Derek’s sitting in his hospital room like the creeper he swears he isn’t, dodging suspicious looks from the Sheriff, who’s only just now in the know about werewolves and supernatural things since Stiles’ wounds are pretty hard to explain otherwise. And Stiles finally starts coming awake, squints at Derek in the dim light, and manages a crooked little grin as he croaks out, “Is this heaven? Or is God just missing an angel? Oh shit, hi, Dad.”

After that, Derek thinks about Stiles saying he could “return the favor,” and about Stiles in a hospital bed after nearly bleeding out in his Camaro.

So it escalates again.

He’s rusty, is the thing. His first attempt does not go smoothly. After a pack meeting, when Stiles is still healing but able to hang around as long as there’s somewhere for him to sit, when everyone else is gone, Derek clears his throat and looks down at where Stiles is laying back in the arm chair, eyes closed but still awake.

“What are my chances of getting you into bed?” is what he manages. Which is honestly less pick-up line and more obvious innuendo, that actually can’t be acted on because Stiles still runs out of breath walking up the stairs right now.

Stiles grins though, eyes closed still, knows exactly what Derek’s trying for. “Pretty good, but you might have to carry me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.”

Derek snorts and bundles Stiles up in the Camaro, drives him home. He helps Stiles up the stairs, helps Stiles get changed - and oh, Stiles is a goldmine of pick-up lines and innuendo in that situation - and gets Stiles into bed. He stays until Stiles is asleep (and then honestly a little while after that), and then he slips out the front door instead of the window, like a person, as Stiles would say.

And then he goes home and Googles pick-up lines. He’s gonna need to build up a stash if he’s going to keep up with Stiles’ repertoire.

“can you imagine the faces their children could make” (X)

n-no~ /sobbing

In my headcanon the sheriff would love whatever Stiles would present him as a grandchild.

(original grandthing made by spaggel I just borrowed it)

SCREAMING

GRANPA STILINSKI’S PRECIOUS ANGEL. 

I was crying about this at work today and Spag had to send me fucking this:

“yeah, can you imagine first seeing him?”

And so, Stiles and Derek are not ready for parenthood and are totally freaked out by their weird son:

Derek’s quiet for a long time, staring blankly, before he eventually offers, “This isn’t what I expected.” Stiles frowns down at the baby in his arms. “I know, right? They won’t take it back; I already asked.” Derek leans over him, peering down at the weird little face. It’s unsettling how thick the baby’s eyebrows are. “Are babies born with teeth?” “Not usually,” Stiles replies. “His grody little snaggletooth is creeping me out.“ “His everything is creeping me out,” Derek retorts, dropping into the chair at the side of the bed. “I’m pretty sure this is because you got possessed by that demon.” “Aw, hell no,” Stiles argues. “That thing was in me for like five minutes, tops. This thing - ” he nods toward the baby in his arms ” - you don’t absorb this kind of evil in five minutes. This is like ten years possession minimum.” “What are we going to name him?” “Beats me. Calling him after your dad seems kind of disrespectful to your dad, doesn’t it?” Derek sighed heavily. “He probably would have found this hilarious. I told you my family’s cursed.” He squinted over at Stiles. “You sure it’s even a boy?” “Dude, I’m not sure it’s even human,” Stiles replies. “Seriously, how come shit like this always happens to us?” “Because the universe knows we’ll grin and bear it,” Derek sighs again. “You sure we can’t send it back?“

“No,” Stiles grumbles discontentedly, and straightens as his father steps into the room. He cradles the baby protectively to his chest; even if the thing’s weird as hell, it’s still his. “Whoa, Dad, before you pull out your gun and shoot the baby, I can promise you, with about ninety-percent certainty, that I did not give birth to a cave beast, even though it may look that way. And maybe this is our fault because Derek’s so fricken possessive of his jizz and refused to use a surrogate so we had to resort to black magic and give me a magical womb - so actually this is Derek’s fault, really - this is your grandson. Probably. We’re not too clear on the gender right now.”

The sheriff sighs, as he so often does when confronted with his son’s verbal onslaught, and holds out his hands, a silent give me the child. Stiles puckers his mouth and hands over his son and watches the sheriff’s face cycle through several emotions, ending, bewilderingly, on happiness.

“He’s beautiful,” his father croons, and Stiles looks over, bewildered, at Derek, who mouths He’s not lying. He looks just as perplexed as Stiles. 

“Just wait until Melissa sees him,” the sheriff says cheerfully, pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees slowly. He’s already regretting having shown his father how to use the camera on his phone. “Just wait.“

Newly Grandpa’d Stilinski show’s pictures of his most PRECIOUS OF ALL GRANDCHILDREN to who he’s interrogating so that if they look at the face of SUCH AN ANGEL they’ll confess and lead a good life.  

THIS IS THEIR COME TO JESUS MOMENT.

Sorry, Spag, if the first one was stupid, then this one’s just idiotic. I’m going to bed. This is your fault.

They name it Herald. It was supposed to be Harold, after Derek’s grandfather, who Derek says was a weird old man and Stiles says that’s fitting, then, but Stiles was asleep when it came time to fill out the birth certificate and Derek couldn’t remember how to spell Harold, so he sounded it out. 

So their kid’s name is Herald, but mostly they call him It. They don’t tell him it’s because they didn’t even know if he was human when he was born because he may be a little weirdo, but he’s their little weirdo, and they don’t want to stunt his mental health. Stiles almost tells him it’s because they loved The Addams Family, but then he thinks about how Cousin It was a weird thing covered in hair and maybe that’s not a great comparison. 

It creeps them out. He is unnaturally silent, always with this bucktoothed little smile on his face that makes Stiles sure that he and Derek are going to be killed in their sleep. Stiles distinctly remembers playing hide and seek with him when he was young, Stiles and Derek crammed together in a cupboard and Derek mumbled, “I can’t hear his fucking heart,” and then It’s creepy little eye was pressed up to the crack in the door like the killer in a slasher fic and Stiles screamed like a little girl. 

Still, they’re sad when he grows up and heads off to college. He’s still creepy; he’s got bad skin and his heavy eyebrows almost touch in the middle, but they kiss him on the forehead and say “We’ll miss you!” which is probably true. And when he drives off into the battered Jeep, Stiles says to Derek, “I think we just unleashed a hellion unto the world,” and Derek says, “Too late now.” And Stiles does miss him, up until a few days later when he goes to clean It’s room and finds a box of desiccated frog corpses under his bed. 

They don’t hear from It that often, which isn’t unusual, nor unexpected. One time they lost him for a few days and Stiles found him sitting in the attic, perfectly still. He said he’d been counting heartbeats and neither of them really wanted to ask whose. Still, they miss him. Probably.

One morning Stiles goes downstairs and there’s a stranger standing in the living room. It’s near Christmas and he has a vague idea that It should be coming home soon, but he is not prepared for the sight of a handsome young man standing next to the Christmas tree. Stiles screams. 

“That’s It,” Derek says from behind him. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles says. “Where’d our ugly little boy go?“ He’d told It once not to worry about his looks, that everyone starts out awkward. Look at your dad, Stiles said, pointing Derek. He had to grow into those stupid buck teeth and big ears, and It had turned his eyes on Derek and didn’t blink for five minutes. Stiles hadn’t really believed that It would ever, uh, grow into himself, but it appears he was wrong, because his weird kid has turned into a GQ model. “Just like his dad,” Stiles says out loud, and Derek pushes him down the stairs. 

I couldn’t help it….

sorry;;;;;;

It’s back on my dash… And someone made it better. Every time it shows up, I laugh hysterically, and the thing is always longer and better than before.

I will never not reblog this

I’ve been looking for this post for weeks!!!!!!!

Odds Are

Based on this post or Eddie gets his hand stuck in the Family Video return slot… and Steve finds him.

read on ao3 • rated T • cw: mention of injuries

Slamming his van door, he hurried through the parking lot towards Family Video. He knew they were probably closed but he needed to return his rental. Eddie was very high, but not as high as his late fees.

Getting to the front, he yanked hard on the obviously locked door.

“Fuck!” He looked around, remembering Wayne saying something about an after hours returns slot.

Finally locating it on the side of the building, he peered at it, crouching down to see how it worked. It was just a metal flap that opened into the building. He frowned. Was there a soft landing for the tapes? A pillow? What if the tape got damaged and they charged him for it even if it wasn’t his fault since he was just using their shoddily designed returns slot? He couldn’t afford to replace this tape. He was here because he couldn’t afford another dollar late fee.

Stomping around the parking lot, he couldn’t decide what to do.

He pulled his trusty D20 from his vest. Crouching down again by the wall, he rolled. A three. Well. That wasn’t hopeful.

paint it black 🎂🖤🎂

Steve’s hands are stained black when he greets Eddie at the front door. His nails, his palms. Eddie follows the trail of dark speckles up Steve’s forearms to the smeared streaks on his apron, the smudge at the tip of his nose. It’s all over his mouth, too, like he tried to eat black lipstick.

“You going for a goth look today, baby?”

Steve put his hands on his hips; presses his lips into a flat black pout. “Food dye is a dangerous business.”

“Oh?” God, he loves when Steve gets all grumpy baker boy on him. He wades into Steve’s space, fingers hooking into his belt loops, pulling him flush and planting a soft kiss behind his ear. “So if you’re covered in food dye…” His tongue traces an inky smear on the side of Steve’s neck, “does that mean I get to eat you?”

“Oh, my god,” Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him, a brilliant blush working up the tight set of his jaw. “The kids are about to be here any minute.”

“Mhmm,” Eddie agrees and wiggles his fingers over the lip of Steve’s jeans.

Steve bats his hands away. “So behave!”

“Fiiiiine.” He lets go and throws up a Vulcan salute. “Scout’s honor.”

“Dude,” Steve despairs, covering his face with both hands. “No. Can’t believe I let you fuck me.”

Eddie cackles, and Steve grabs him by the hand and leads him into the kitchen. There, on the counter, stands a homemade birthday cake, made to look like the 20-sided die from Eddie’s favorite set.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes. “You made this for me?”

Steve’s pretty pink blush is all the way up his cheeks now. “Yeah.” Jesus fuck. Eddie might cry. “Happy birthday, baby.”

All you have to do is ask

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, March 2024 edition.

Prompt: pin, 388 words

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Recreational drug use; Horny disaster Eddie Munson; Some light feminization kink

In retrospect, Eddie’s gonna blame the weed.

They’re lying on the trailer roof, Steve and him, finishing their second blunt. Or third? It’s hard to tell with the thrum in his veins, with Steve’s head tucked against his shoulder. Steve’s eyes outshining the stars.

“Bathroom,” Steve murmurs, and then he’s up and climbing through Eddie’s window with a grace belying his buzzed state. “Be right back.”

Eddie finishes the blunt, watching the smoke curl up into the night while he mourns the loss of his warmth. Tells his stupid feelings to fuck off for the thousandth time. Steve will never be into him like that, so-

“Erm … Eddie?”

Okay, so vampire Eddie is a pretty standard trope at this point, but may I offer...Twilight vampire Eddie who is absolutely pissed off about his sparkly existence?

Eddie actually isn't that old, he was turned in the 80s when he was around 20. He lives with his small and not only vampire family. There's patriarch Wayne, his partner Scott who always becomes a teacher no matter where they move, Claudia Henderson and her son that have been with them ever since Scott noticed Dustin being unusually quiet in his class and soon after, Wayne kicked out his abusive father.

The problem with living with a smart man who loves educating people and a man who never received the education he deserved is - they take school really, really seriously. Whenever they move, Eddie usually has to re-join high school, it's all "just so that you have some socialization! Also we need to be able to blend in, so look around and see what's normal with young people! Also I'm pretty sure some of the stuff we know is now obsolete or disproven, so make sure to tell us!". And Eddie loves Wayne and Scott, he really does, but he had trouble blending in even when he was alive, so now? Impossible. As for gathering information, Eddie has been trying for decades to explain to Wayne that even if becoming a vampire healed the wounds from the lynching mob, it didn't do shit for his ADHD, so there. Wayne finds Eddie banging his head into a desk one day and chanting "WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-TIK-TOK?!"

So yes, Eddie hates being a forever highschooler, but it also means he can run DnD clubs everywhere he joins and he's not even lynched for it like in the 80s, so hey, progress! He gets mostly content with his existence, except that he's fucking sparkly and can't turn into a bat, so what's the point?!

But then a huge group of people moves from the close town of Hawkins, they had a really fucked up earthquake - Wayne told him all about it, he often volunteered in rescue and high risk works, and he's never seen anything like it - and their little town becomes way more crowded. There are high school freshmen just begging to be introduced to his club, Hellfire, although one of them is scary observant and Eddie is really sure that Jane knows he's a vampire.

And then there's Steve Harrington. A young man with the prettiest hair ever who joined Eddie's class, apparently he needs to repeat the last year too because if your school burns down, you can't take final exams. He's stupidly pretty, snarky, bitchy, and even though he could be partying day and night and spending the rest of his time on dates, he prefers to hang around with the freshmen. Lucas tells him one day that Steve got badly hurt when he was digging through the collapsed middle school, finding and rescuing their whole group, and well...Eddie respects that. Dustin absolutely loves Steve and maybe Eddie feels a bit jealous, but he has to admit - the guy is cool.

The problem with Steve Harrington is this - he's seen so much shit that nothing really fazes him. Eddie loves shocking people. Steve is unshockable. It becomes their little game, they get close, Eddie realizes he has an embarrassing crush, all that jazz. He tries dropping hints, he slurps his bloody lunch from a bottle that has a "THIS IS DEFINITELY TOMATO JUICE AND NOTHING ELSE". He wears a cape. He adopts a horrible Dracula accent. Nothing works. Steve always just laughs and tells him that he's weird and that's why he likes him.

Finally, Eddie has enough. They walk in the woods to get high, Eddie decides to break the ice, he scoops up Steve, does his whole dashing-through-the-woods thing, and he hopes that he can finally share his secret with Steve.

Except Steve just pats his back and says "Wow, that was cool, man! You'd be amazing at track. Great core strength too," and Eddie's head implodes.

"Okay, Steve. Don't you think there's something rotten here?" he tries.

"I mean, it's the woods. Of course there's something rotting all the time."

Eddie tries again. "You've noticed something strange, haven't you. I'm inhumanly fast and strong."

"I sure didn't expect that! You must be secretly training. I didn't know this town had a gym."

Again. "My skin is pale white and ice cold."

Steve is watching a nearby squirrel instead of looking horrified. "Yeah, not all people tan great, Robin is like that too. And I told you, man. Your circulation is shit, you need better socks and some gloves too."

"My eyes change color."

"Yeah, I know, I do envy you that you can wear those cool contact lenses. My eyes are too dry for that."

Eddie is growing desperate, he's gesturing at the trees because Steve doesn't listen. "I speak like I'm from a different time."

"80s slashers will do that to you. You basically live on those. But I gotta admit that they're pretty fun. Oh look, she's got an acorn! Clever girl!"

"Very clever. Also I never eat or drink anything."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Some people prefer one or two meals in a day instead of the whole five meal thing."

Eddie feels like howling and he isn't even a werewolf. "I. DON'T. GO. INTO. THE. SUNLIGHT."

Steve's eyes finally leave the squirrel. "Duh. We've already established you can't tan."

And Eddie's had enough. He tears off his t-shirt, marches directly into the sunlight and throws the biggest tantrum of his life. "STEVEN HARRINGTON. PAY ATTENTION. I am 20. I have been 20 for a while now. You know what I am, right? I am a vampire. So ask me the question, what do we eat? That wasn't a fucking tomato juice Steven!!!"

Steve just watches him with quiet amusement, as if he's waiting for something.

Eddie doesn't notice. His monologue is reaching its most dramatic part. "I've killed people before! I'm the world's most dangerous predator!"

Steve snorts. "I saw you trip over your own feet in the cafeteria."

"Not the point!"

"You told a waitress "you too" when she told you to enjoy your meal."

Eddie actually howls now. "THE POINT IS." He spins in the sunlight and sees the reflections of light off his skin. "I wouldn't have minded becoming a vampire, but let me tell you. Being stuck in high school forever? Sucks. Craving chips and throwing them up whenever you try them? SUCKS. And thinking you've become the legendary creature of the night when you're a glorified glitter mascot?! And you can't even fly?! DOUBLE SUCKS."

He points at his bare glittering chest. "THIS THE SKIN OF A FUCKING DISCO BALL, STEVE!"

Steve just laughs and gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on. "Thanks for sharing. I was kinda hoping you'd finally ask me out since this is the first time we've had some privacy, but this was interesting too."

Eddie's sharing mania suddenly stops. He realizes he's shirtless in the middle of the forest, and his yelling has scared off the squirrel. He promptly grabs his shirt and puts in on. "Um. You...you wanted me to ask you out? Because I totally want to do that. Yep. But I thought it would have been unfair to ask you before I told you-"

"That you're a vampire? Dude, I know."

Eddie blinks once. Then again. "Excusemewhat?"

Steve smiles at him and touches his hand. "Look. After what happened in Hawkins, I know the smell of blood. I knew it wasn't tomato juice. Also I've accompanied the kids to enough monster flicks to know."

"Oh." Eddie licks his lips and doesn't really know what to say. "Um. What...does that mean for us?"

Laughing, Steve grabs his other hand too. "Definitely two things. One - you can and should kiss me. Two - you can stop wearing that cape. I got your point."

"Oh okay. Cool. Will do. Both."

And since Eddie Munson is a vampire of his word, he does.

(Wayne is absolutely delighted that Eddie is dating, he watches sports with Steve and discusses the pros and cons of Steve becoming a paramedic. Scott helps Steve with some of the subjects he's struggling with. In return, Steve works with Robin to find a makeup brand that is fully sparkleproof, giving the vampires a chance to walk in the sunlight again. And sometimes, he helps them answer the questions that have been plaguing the Munson-Clarke-Henderson household for years...such as: what is TikTok?)

(oh and also. Turns out Steve really thought Eddie was wearing creepy contact lenses. That one aspect of vampyrism he found very cool)

Sterek AU: They meet for the first time in the hospital while Derek is visiting Peter and Stiles is visiting his dad after a heart attack. By the time a release date for the Sheriff is set, they keep wanting to exchange numbers or ask each other out but afraid of being rejected.

I honestly tried to resist the last four times this was on my dash, but turns out I can’t. ;_;

  Stiles is on Plan 13.

  If he’s entirely honest with himself, most of his Plans don’t really deserve the capital letter. There was the one where he’d simply walk up to Seriously Hot Guy and ask for his number, but he’d chickened out of that one before he even got to his feet. There was the one where he’d ask Danny to hack into the hospital records to find Seriously Hot Guy’s contact information, except he didn’t even know the guy’s name and besides, what would he do then? Call him up and say, “Hey, I just happened across your number in a totally non-creepy, non-stalkerish way and was wondering, would you like to go out for a coffee? Because I noticed you drink that dishwater from the hospital cafeteria and seriously, man, you could do so much better if… oh, this is Stiles. From the hospital? No, from the waiting area, with the… of course you have no idea who I am, never mind.”

  Yeah, that’d work.

  If Stiles is entirely honest with himself, his plans kind of suck. A lot.

  He prefers not to be honest with himself.

  It’s just that… Seriously Hot Guy is just so… well, for one thing, he’s seriously hot. But he’s also had that look in his eyes almost every time Stiles has seen him; something a little lost, like he needs someone to help him with… with something, okay, and just doesn’t know how to ask for it. And Stiles likes helping people, especially people who are hot and bring books like Wolves and the Wolf Myth in American Literature to read while they’re waiting for news about… whoever they’re waiting for news about. While reading books like that when they’re not pacing, so they have to be smart, right? Seriously Hot Guy has to be smart, and Stiles has always had a thing for smart people. And hot people. And maybe-a-little-bit-needy people.

  Basically, he’s been doomed from the moment he saw that guy.

  So, Plan 13. It’s a good plan, fully deserving of the capital letter. All Stiles has to do is:

  Obviously, Stiles’ brain isn’t quite up to the task. What Stiles’ brain needs, right now, is chocolate. Chocolate always makes everything better.

  There’s a vending machine down the hall. Stiles picks a row at random – he doesn’t care, as long as it’s chocolate – and bounces a little on his feet as he waits for the bar to drop.

  Which it doesn’t.

  “Aw, seriously?” Stiles pushes at the vending machine, but his chocolate is stuck. That’s just… that machine has no idea what’s at stake here! If Stiles can’t get his chocolate, he can’t get a date, and if he can’t get a date, he might as well give up now and become a hermit because how hard can it be to ask one random stranger for his phone number? “Fuck!”

  “Hey.”

  Stiles flinches so hard he almost crashes into the machine. He turns and there, standing not three feet from him, is Seriously Hot Guy, with that earnest look on his face like he’s waiting for the world to kick him if he should so much as try to smile.

  “Uh,” Stiles says intelligently.

  “Candy got stuck?” Seriously Hot Guy asks, tilting his head at the vending machine.

  This is the opportunity Stiles has been waiting for. This is where he says something meaningful that will make Seriously Hot Guy want to know more about him. This is where he says,

  “Uh. Yeah.” He searches desperately for something to add. “And my money’s gone,” he offers.

  Oh god, what is he doing? He’s never lost for words! If anyone played a word association game and Stiles’ name came up, 90% of the time the answer would be, ‘talking.’

  The other 10% would be Jackson and he’d say, ‘loser,’ but whatever.

  Seriously Hot Guy nods like that’s the most significant thing anyone has ever told him.

  “I, uh.” He clears his throat and looks torn for a moment, like someone’s torturing him. “Maybe I can invite you for a coffee instead?”

  Stiles’ mouth drops open.

  “You’re kidding,” he says, and maybe it comes out a little bit like an accusation because Seriously Hot Guy looks even more pained than before, and oh god, what. “No,” Stiles hurries to add, “I mean, yes. Yes to the coffee. Yes, I want to have coffee with you. Coffee is great. Did you know that Hawaii is the only state in the US that grows coffee?”

  “It’s in the coffee belt,” Seriously Hot Guy says solemnly, but there’s a smile twitching at his mouth now.

  “Yeah!” Stiles beams at him. He’d known the guy was smart.

  So, turns out that Plan 13 is a total wash.

  Stiles still gets Derek’s number, so that’s okay.