Does Steve try to pull any pranks on Eddie for April Fools Day? I feel like we know Eddie pranks Steve for his tik tok but does Steve ever get Eddie? I don’t think Steve’s pranks would land like he intends lol. Kinda like Winston from New Girls
Oh, definitely! Steve doesn’t so much as prank Eddie as he just baffles him.
Steve has done the salted cookies. He made Eddie a cup of tea once with lemon juice instead of water. He once called Eddie over to the window multiple times to see the animal in their yard when there wasn’t an animal in their yard.
The year after they got Ozzy, Steve left to take him to the dog park and came back with a different dog. Eddie was obviously confused and asked where Ozzy was. Steve’s just like, “What are you talking about? This is Ozzy.”
“Steve, this is a Doberman.”
“Yeah? There were so many dogs there, Ed. I could barely find him. Eventually I just yelled his name and he came to me.”
“Steve, Ozzy is not a Doberman. Her collar says her name is Jewel.”
“Close enough, right?”
“Close en- You’re fucking with me. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, obviously,” Steve grins. “This was a good one though, yeah? Ozzy is across the street.”
This year, Steve took out a classified ad in the newspaper claiming to be a guy that’s looking to buy a canoe and he put down Eddie’s phone number. Surprisingly a lot of people in Chicago are selling canoes, so Eddie has gotten quite a few calls to Steve endless amusement.
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Brother's Best Friend (I Don't Care)
"God, as much as I love you, your brother will kill me if he finds me with my tongue down your throat," Stiles said, pulling away just enough to get that one sentence out before he was hauling you back in for a kiss.
You hummed, trailing kisses down his neck as you ran your hands up his stomach. "I don't care, he'd have to get through me."
"Shit, shit, baby, just... oh, who am I kidding?" Stiles muttered to himself, cupping your face in his hands so he could pull you in for another breath-taking kiss.
You grinned against his mouth, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Nobody, now," you told him, pushing him back onto the bed so that you could climb into his lap.
"Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?" he asked, sliding his hands up the back of your shirt to fidget with your bra clasp. "Because, really, you are one of the most beautiful, ethereal, b--- mh!"
"Stiles, less talking, more kissing," you said, sliding one hand down his abdomen, towards the waistband of his jeans.
The sound he let out was nearly a whimper, and it had you grinning against his mouth, especially when he looked up at you like you'd already started.
"Hey, sis, can I--- what the fuck!"
Scott was standing in the doorway, cringing away from the scene with a hand over one of his eyes, and the other was squinted. He looked so fucking stupid.
"Heyyyyyy Scotty," Stiles drawled, cringing at the sound of his own voice.
"Stiles, get your hands out of my sister's shirt," Scott demanded. "Now!"
"Stiles, keep your hands right where they are. This is what he gets for barging in unannounced!"
"You have super hearing!" Scott argued, still half torn between looking and not.
"I was a little distracted, Scott. Like you've never gotten distracted with Allison," you said, rolling your eyes.
"Allison isn't my best friend's sister!" Scott snapped.
You rolled your eyes. "What did you need Scott?"
"Right now I need to bleach my brain and my eyes. I needed the notes for---"
"No, get them from Allison or Lydia. If you can't pay attention in class, that's not my fault. Now leave, before you see something else you don't want to see."
Scott looked like he wanted to argue, but a small shift from you had Stiles making another noise, and Scott slammed the door on his way out, practically screaming.
"He's going to murder me the next time we're alone," Stiles muttered.
"Don't worry about him for right now, I think we were in the middle of something," you murmured, nuzzling Stiles' jaw.
"You're right, what was I worried about?" he asked as you tugged your shirt off.
"Exactly."
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Here it is! The fairy Time fic I promised. Be warned, it is extremely fluffy
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It is a quiet night.
Time is always grateful for those. They are in short supply on this journey, too often interrupted by the rise of the cursed Blood Moon or an outburst of beasts from under the cover of foliage. But tonight, the moon is tranquil and golden and the surrounding bushes and trees conceal nothing except chattering critters.
The heroes have settled around the fire, and are trading lazy quips. The occasional tale sneaks in between them, which quickly becomes a competition to see who has endured the more exciting experience.
Time doesn’t normally make a habit of joining in. He is content to remain just outside the conversation, close enough to comment if necessary, but far enough to merely listen. Such peace and joy are precious things – as precious as every moment spent by Malon’s side – and they surround him like a warm blanket.
Tonight, however, that wonderful feeling is making it rather difficult to remain awake.
It doesn’t help that the healing spells he had cast in the aftermath of today’s battle have left him feeling drained. With the traveler down and their potions used up, he had had little choice but to act. And he doesn’t regret it in the least. But that doesn’t negate the fact that healing magic has never been his strong suit.
Every fae possesses the power, yet not all have the strength to employ it in such a measure as he had today. Healing is a delicate act. It requires attentiveness and care, dedication and focus. He had poured all of that and more into his spells, used his heart and mind, his soul to heal his brothers’ wounds and save their lives. And in the moments afterward…had collapsed.
He is fortunate his brothers had been there to catch him. Too many times before he learned his limit, this weakness had spelled his doom. He has scars on his wings to prove it.
Still, he is practically useless, even now after the impromptu nap. He feels dried up and hollowed out, limbs heavy with the same exhaustion that drags his eyelids downward. And though he would normally protest at least a little at the prospect of staying in his current position, he cannot dredge up the will to do so.
So, here he remains, curled up on his side on Wind’s lap, Warriors’ scarf a silken cocoon about his body, one giant wing draped over him like a comforter.
He shifts with a small sigh. The sailor giggles, ever amazed at his fairy form, and reaches out to run a finger over Time’s wings. He is gentle, careful in every movement. Still, Time is a bit surprised at the lack of the fear that usually bubbles up whenever anyone touches him in this form.
He has had too many injuries, too many close calls with death or worse. They have made him wary. But he trusts the sailor. Wind is nothing if not kind.
He is safe here.
The knowledge hits him harder than any monster blow.
You are safe here.
Something breathtakingly warm wells up in him at that thought, similar to the feeling he has been basking in since he awakened, yet unique all the same.
“Alright, old man?” A soft voice asks, now, and Time pries open the eye he hadn’t even registered closing. Warriors grins down at him.
Time’s soft hum quickly dissolves into a blissful sigh as the captain tucks him more securely into his bed of softness. He allows his eye to slide shut again, his body to relax more fully. He allows the sensations and sounds to envelop him, surround him in warmth and comfort. To pull him down into blessed darkness once more.
“He’s adorable like this,” Wind says, his noisy whisper breaking through the haze. Another giddy giggle bursts forth from him like gurgling water.
“He is, isn’t he?” It’s Twilight now. Time can imagine the dirt-eating grin on his face, the same one that spreads across Malon’s when she beats him in yet another race around the pasture. “Though I doubt he wants us calling him that.”
There’s a pause, then in a disapproving whisper-yell, “and he definitely doesn’t want that. Put that slate of yours away, champion!”
There is the distinct sound of a camera snapping a photograph. Laughter ripples through the group like the wind through the trees.
“When he kills you all, don’t come running to me,” Twilight says, though there’s laughter in his voice too.
Traitors, Time thinks, lazily, all of them.
“Oh, come on, Twi. Look at him! He wouldn’t hurt us! Not like this anyway.”
“Then, you haven’t gotten a good look at his wings,” Legend pipes up, drily. “They’ve got eyes on them, you know.”
“Ooh.” Time can feel Wind’s breath ghosting him as the boy leans down to get a closer look. “I wonder if they make up for the one he lost. I’ll bet he can see us through ‘em!”
If Time wasn’t quite so tired (or finding this quite so exasperatingly comical) he would correct that assumption. But then again, what’s the harm in allowing a little rumor like that to spread and strike some healthy fear into the hearts of his would-be blackmailers?
“Come on guys.” Warriors’ voice rises above the hushed clamor of the others, all bickering about Time’s ability, or lack thereof to watch them through his wings. “He’s exhausted. Let him sleep.”
The heroes try to quiet, though their efforts are about as successful as Time suspected they would be. Whispers and barely stifled laughter continue to weave their way gallantly through the night.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
…though a few more telltale clicks of Wild’s slate cement his decision to play a prank on him as soon as he regains his strength.
“He’s so small,” someone murmurs, now as the hubbub begins to subside, sleepiness getting the best of even the most energetic among them. Sky, Time’s mind slowly supplies, putting a face to the voice that wafts gently around him. “To think, he healed us all while in that form…”
“Something you get to know very quickly about Sprite is that size doesn’t bother him,” Warriors replies, fondness in his tone. “Even as a kid, he could take out groups of monsters much larger than what we faced today.”
Sky chuckles, soft and almost sad. Time is too far gone to decipher why.
But he can’t deny the sudden rush of warmth when the chosen hero whispers, “thank you…little one.” And when, in the next moment, Sky ghosts a finger over the very tip of his wings, Time is unafraid beneath his touch.
He drifts off not long afterward to the sound of tired murmurs, the crackling of the campfire, and a soft song played upon an ocarina, the notes drifting up toward the moon.
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