#Eddie got me writing poetry!!

[stagefoureddiediaz]

‘Just be silent.’ 

One story ends in silence when there are no words left to say

The next starts with a few words of affirmation,

‘You can have my back any day.’

It races through the highs and lows 

but the words are always there. 

So many left unspoken, but yet still known. 

In the depths of the soul where hope and love are formed

filling in the spaces

like kintsugi, making the broken more beautiful

climbing toward the light 

until

until

‘talk to me’

‘talk to me’

‘talk to me’

[hippiegoth97]

Random Eddie Thought #2

This one really got away from me, but it's nice to write something new again :)

18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie, smut, sex dreams/fantasies, mentions of genital piercings/oral sex/masturbation/choking/unprotected sex, invasion of privacy, erections, crying, heavy kissing, idiots in love, best friends to lovers

A Few Tags: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @babygorewhore @xxbimbobunnyxx @mediocredreams

@micheledawn1975 @slowandsteddie @bimbobaggins69 @etherealxwitch @taintedcigs

You're in the kitchen of your apartment, getting a snack to share with Eddie, your best friend, who's come to have a perfectly platonic sleepover with you. You've known each other since high school, becoming fast friends. You never fit in the with 'in crowd' and Eddie naturally picked up on your awkward and shy nature. Over the years he's managed to get you to open up more and be yourself, though it's mostly only around him, even after all these years. You tell each other everything, and have been there for one another through thick and thin.

One thing he hasn't seemed to notice, however, is your growing feelings for him. As you both matured into your mid-twenties, you've been unable to deny just how gorgeous Eddie is. With his long curls, big brown eyes, and lithe body covered in tats and piercings. Not to mention he's perpetually dressed in band tees and jeans that don't leave much to the imagination. Ugh, he's absolutely perfect. Inside and out.

That's not to say he hasn't always been hot stuff, because of course he has. But he's not the scrawny little boy who picked you out of a long line of geeks and freaks anymore. No, now he's a strong, handsome, sexy man. A man who treats you like no one ever has before. He brings you something every time he comes to see you, ranging anywhere between a new book or a pretty rock he found on a walk once. He opens doors for you, and holds you in his arms when you're sad. He makes you soup when you're sick, nursing you back to health even if it means missing work.

The only thing missing, is something you've craved since the day you met him. Something you've never spoken aloud. Something you've only verbalized in late night cries of ecstasy when you get off to the thought of your best friend. Something you've only admitted in the pages of your diary. The diary that Eddie has just found in your bedside drawer, along with a pretty pink rabbit that makes him chuckle when he first sees it.

And what do we have here?... Eddie thinks to himself, pulling the book out of its hiding place. It's thick, bound in leather, detailed with little leaves and flowers. He thinks maybe it's a poetry journal, or a sketchbook. You share his affinity for the creative. It isn't until he actually opens that he realizes what's inside. Your deepest, darkest secrets. He flips through the pages, noting the dates as he reads about strange dreams you've had, or bad one-night stands. His eyes widen when he reaches an entry from a week ago, with the opening line: I dreamt about Eddie again last night...

He debates putting the diary back, not wanting to invade your privacy. He's not one to snoop, especially when you tell him everything anyway. Well, at least he thought you did. He bites his lip, tapping his foot on the floor as he decides what to do. He really should just put it back, and pretend he never saw it (or your special toy). But something inside him begs to know what your dreams of him are like. If they're anything resembling the dirty fantasies he's had of you while alone in his bed, he can't let it go until he knows for sure. He decides to read the next few lines, after flicking his eyes to the doorway to listen for your footsteps coming back from the kitchen.

...it was the same as all the others. Eddie was in my bed, and we were naked. His soft, warm lips were on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and his hands were everywhere. It felt so good, having him kiss me like that while he explored every inch of me. His fingers were carefully thrusting inside my pussy, making me so fucking wet. I could feel his dick pressing into my thigh, and I took him in my hand. The noise he made when I touched him was so beautiful, he sounded so breathless and needy for me...

Eddie knows he should stop. This is wrong. So, so wrong. These are your private thoughts, and he shouldn't be reading them. Even if they're making a tent form in his pants. His heart races in his chest, and he feels rather hot under the collar. His stomach twists with an uneasy mix of guilt and arousal. He lets out a shaky breath, once again weighing his options. Keep reading, or put the damn thing away and never, ever bring it up. He looks down the hall, wondering how much time he has left before you come back. Against his better judgment, he gives in to his desire for you. With eyes glued to your neat handwriting, he reads on.

...I could feel him grow in my hand, fuck, he was huge. I've seen it in real life before, and not entirely on accident. Since we're so close, we change in front of each other sometimes. And even though I've never seen it hard, I can tell his dick is big. It's even got a goddamn piercing on it, shining in the light like a lure. I swear to God, it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and take him in my mouth whenever I see it...

Eddie scoffs loudly, unable to believe you've actually been checking him out. A part of him wonders if this is a sick joke, that you'd somehow known to leave this here for him to see. Any second now, you'll come busting in here and laugh in his face. Maybe even snap a picture of his embarrassingly large erection amd make copies to give all your friends.

But that's not you. You're too kind and sweet to him to ever pull such a cruel (and improbably elaborate) prank. Sure, he's wanted you for years. To call you his girl, to love you the way you should be loved. To kiss you, and hold you, and touch you in all the ways he thinks you'd like. To love you, and spoil you like the queen you are in his eyes. He's just never allowed himself to think you'd ever feel the same about him. Until now.

"What are you doing with that?" You ask softly, frozen in place in the doorway of your bedroom with a tray of snacks in your hands. Your eyes are blown wide, as you've come back to find Eddie on your bed, reading your diary, with a huge hard-on in his pants.

"I-I, I was, uh, just...um..." Eddie babbles helplessly, slamming the book shut and tossing it across the room. As if it being anywhere else will magically absolve him of invading your privacy. You just stare at him as he goes red in the face, and gestures with his hands as he fails to come up with an explanation. "...sorry." He says after letting out a long string of unintelligible sounds. He cringes at the word, realizing it's not nearly enough. But his mind and mouth can't come up with anything that doesn't sound like a feral goblin choking on a chicken bone.

"What part did you read?" You ask, your own cheeks turning a deep crimson. You really hope he didn't find your latest sex dream entry, but the glaring evidence in his jeans tells you that's exactly what he saw.

"Read? No, I was, um...j-just skimming..." He chuckles nervously, hoping you'll buy it. But the darkening blush on your skin and tears welling in your eyes lets him know he's truly caught. "Sweetheart, I—" Eddie starts, standing up as you're about to fall apart.

"Eddie, I swear, I-I didn't mean it! It was just a dream, and pfft! I was high when I wrote that!" You laugh uncontrollably as a way to hide your tears of embarrassment, frantically shaking your head. You've never been so mortified in your life, caught red handed in the worst way possible. You could've gone forever without ever letting him know how you feel. The potential rejection seemed too painful to endure. "I didn't mean it, Eddie. I didn't." Your laughter devolves into soft sobs, your grip loosening on the tray. Eddie catches it before everything tumbles to the floor, setting it on your dresser.

"Sweetheart, c'mere." Eddie takes your hands in his, and leads you over to your bed to sit beside him. You follow him, unable to do much else as tears stream down your face. "I'm sorry for snooping, angel. That wasn't right for me to do." He says sadly, stroking your soft skin with his thumbs. You nod in response. "And we can pretend this never happened, okay? Like you said, it was just a dream." He offers, his own words stabbing into his heart at the idea of never fully being with you the way he wants. But he doesn't feel like he's earned it. Not after making you so upset, and betraying your trust.

"Why did you read it?" You ask abruptly, more curious than angry. As humiliating as it is that he found you out before you could tell him yourself, you want to know how those secret words made him feel.

"I got bored, and curious. I found it in your drawer, thinking it was poetry or something. But then I found the entry of you dreaming about me..." Eddie trails off, pondering what to say next. "...and I got more curious."

"About what?" You continue, your tears drying up.

"About whether or not you want me the same way I want you." He boldly admits. He may as well, since your diary entries admitted your own wonderful, awful, heart-breaking, nerve-wracking secret to him. You don't say anything else, eyes blown wide in shock. "I want to be with you, princess. I've always wanted that." He says emphatically, making your heart swell as well as race.

"Really?" You ask, as if his erection earlier wasn't enough indication of his desire for you. You've dreamt about this moment so many times, spent numerous moments throughout the days and nights hoping one day he'd see you. You now stupidly realize, that there was never a time where he didn't.

"Yes, really. If you can forgive me for being a creep, that is." He says with a chuckle, making you giggle as well.

"Yeah, I think I can manage that." You smile, squeezing his hands with your own. "How far did you get anyway?" You ask curiously.

"Uh, right about where you talked about wanting to suck my massive, pierced cock." Eddie replies, moaning in an exaggerated way on his final words to tease you.

"Ugh, that's so embarrassing!" You groan, covering your face in shame.

"It's really not, babydoll. I'm just flattered that you noticed." He insists, pulling your hands down so he can see your pretty face again.

"I'll count myself lucky you didn't read any more." You giggle sheepishly, recalling how the rest of that dream went. You riding Eddie's cock while his large hand wraps tightly around your throat, filthy praises leaving his lips to spur you on. Him fucking you from behind, tugging your head back by your hair as he grunts and groans with every thrust. Among other equally explicit things.

"Shit, now I have to read the rest!" Eddie says impishly, diving off the bed to get the diary that still lays on the floor.

"Eddie, no! Please, it's too embarrassing!" You shriek, clamoring after him. But he's quicker than you, snatching up the book and holding it above your head. You try to jump up and tear it from his reach, but it's no use. He chuckles at your foolish attempts, slowly moving closer to you while still holding the diary above your heads. His free arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. Your hands meet his chest, a small gasp leaving your lips at the sudden movement. He gazes deep into your eyes with burning lust, a smirk plastered on his lips.

"Think of it this way, sweetheart. If I read the rest, I'll know exactly what we're doing tonight." He speaks seductively, in a way you've only heard in your dreams.

"This can't be happening." You scoff, convinced you somehow fell asleep before Eddie came over tonight.

"Is it really so hard to believe that I'm in love with you?" He asks, dropping the Casanova act for a second and tossing the diary on the bed. He cups your cheek, and leans in to kiss you. His plush lips meet yours, giving you a taste of sweet, beautiful reality.

"Mm." You grab hold of the sides of his face, deepening the kiss. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, drawing a quiet moan from you. Time seems to stop as your mouths move together as one, and joyful tears spring from your eyes. This is all you've ever wanted. To love Eddie, and to have him love you back.

He carefully leads you backwards to the bed, laying you down on top of it as he kneels above you. He pulls away, wiping the salty tracks from your face. He smiles warmly, admiring every last bit of you and saving it away to remember this forever. "Can I make you feel good, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, as if it's his dying wish.

"Please." You reply softly, giving him a nod.

"Perfect." He reaches over for the diary, finding his place as he lays down beside you. "Now...where were we?" He muses, eyes bugging out when he reads what comes next. "Christ, I picked a good night to be nosy." He turns his head to look at you, wearing a devilish grin unlike you've ever seen on him before. "I swear to god, I'm gonna make all your dreams come true, babydoll. Even if it takes all night." He purrs, before chucking the damned book away one last time and pouncing on you.

[rainylana]

favorite little boy<3

@vol2eddie

“You know he’s very poetic.” You smiled widely, stirring the spoon in your coffee.

“He used to write it, actually.” Wayne stifled a yawn. “Well, not…poetry, I guess, but words and things. Boys always had a knack for it. Got that creative gene from his momma.”

You were an early bed, so you got up extra early to make breakfast for Wayne before he went to work. It was you and Eddie’s summer break so you stayed the night there several nights. The both of you had empty plates in front of you, yellow yoke from eggs and a few pieces of crust from toast. It wasn’t even light out yet, just a small orange glow from the oven light across the room.

“He doesn’t like to talk about her much.” You cradled your coffee cup, still clad in your cookie monster pjs and Eddie’s Van Halen shirt. “I wish he would.”

“She’s a sore subject.” The old man nodded. “You’ve got to let him bring it up, otherwise he won’t talk.”

You stared off at the floor, thinking of the woman you were never able to meet. “Is he like her?”

Wayne’s smile lit up the room. “In more ways than one.”

You smiled back, taking a sip of coffee. “I’m crazy in love with your nephew, you know? You gonna let me marry him one day?”

Wayne chuckled, sinking back into his sit at the kitchen top. “Hmm, if I get breakfast like this everyday then sure.”

You stood, grabbing the empty plates and putting them in the sink. “You know, Eddie only turned out so good because of you. That’s what parents do. He’s a lot like you, also. You should give yourself some credit.”

Wayne’s face turned a warm shade. “Thanks, kid. Glad I could do good by em’.”

“Guess I’m just everybody’s favorite little boy then, huh?” Eddie made his grand entrance, bare chested in his blue checkered boxers, hair wild and eyes red from sleep. He held his arms up like he was walking into his kingdom.

“And cocky.” You smirked with a raised brow.

“Up a little early aren’t ya’ son?” Wayne adjusted his hat, sitting up straight.

Eddie ignored his uncle, pulling your arms to him so he could messily kiss your lips, your giggles making him smile. He hummed like a tiger against your mouth.

“Children.” Wayne warned. “Save it for the bedroom, please.”

[glorious-spoon]

9-1-1 Season 7 Post-Mortem

Mostly because I want to put my thoughts in order. Full disclosure: I'm really not thrilled with a lot of the choices this season made, but I'm also not at the 'fuck this show I hate it now' level either. The primary, overarching issue, IMO, is that they tried to stuff a full season's worth of plot into ten episodes, and the pacing and emotional continuity suffered badly. And also there were some writing choices that were simply deranged (and hopefully would have been reworked had they not been laying down the tracks in front of the speeding train, so to speak).

(Cut for me rambling at length)

So: Bobby and Athena were largely really solidly written. The cruise ship disaster was great: campy and OTT, but in a fun way. Their marital issues and the eventual resolution felt like a natural continuation of issues they've had in the past. Bobby Begins 3.0 was a great episode other than the cartel element, which was some ill-considered racial stereotyping (I've said it before and I'll say it again: you could have had the antagonists in that episode be a bunch of angry locals threatening people for tresspassing on their property, and the whole thing would have been 100% less gross without actually changing much of the plot. Really felt like Tim was cribbing from the similar Lone Star arc, which was also lazy and racist). Amir was a fantastic character, and while I could have done without that last scene of him offering Bobby absolution, I feel like he was generally allowed to be both gracious and rightfully angry. The cop Athena stuff in the finale was... less great, but also to be expected. I would have liked much less of that and much more time spent at Bobby's bedside.

(I'm really sad about the house fire mostly because that was one of my favorite sets, but I do appreciate the poetry of the parallel, with Bobby actually managing to get his wife out this time. Though I do wonder where Harry was that night, lmao.)

Hen was similarly wonderful. I really liked getting to see her wrestle with the responsibility of being captain, and the fallout of the car accident scene. In a vacuum, I actually like Ortiz as a villain - a complicated one, with sympathetic motivations, but still ostentatiously cruel. Were it not for the fact that there are basically NO latine characters other than Eddie who aren't villains this season, it would have been great. ALAS.

Did not love the rescue dog/foster child parallel with Mara. Otherwise really loved getting to see her settle in with the Wilsons, and I'm really glad that we got to see Chim and Maddie take her in instead of leaving her at the group home by the end of the season. Really leaned into the found family element, and Chim taking care of his best friend's child in the same way that Mrs. Lee did for him.

CHIM! Chim my beloved. 'There Goes The Groom' is the one episode that I have basically no issues with at all. The hallucinatory trip through Los Angeles, wrestling with Doug's ghost, was gorgeous. Bringing back Kevin - also gorgeous. I loved that we see the Lees explicitly framed as his real family (and am spitefully glad that his bio dad was nowhere to be found. Fuck that guy.) Kenny continues to be, IMO, the best actor on this show. He killed it. We need so many more Chim-centric episodes, because they're always SO good. He can make both humor and pathos feel so natural and human. Give us more Chim!

And of course on to Buck's bisexual arc, which was... so painfully Buck, lmao. Full disclosure: I have a lot of trouble rewatching 7x04 and 7x05 because the secondhand embarrassment is just too much for me, but objectively it feels very right and in character for him. LOVED the first kiss scene, with his dawning realization of what's about to happen and his softly stunned joy afterward. His coming out scenes with both Maddie and Eddie were lovely and perfectly appropriate to both relationships. I really liked him taking the initiative to reach out to Tommy to apologize and ask for a second chance after he fucked up their first date. Loved Tommy showing up at the hospital after what was clearly a long, miserable shift.

Their date in the finale didn't really land for me mostly because of where it was placed in the episode; if they did something with the two of them after Buck spent the entire day at Bobby's bedside waiting to see if he was going to live, it would have felt a lot more natural to me to have them exhaustedly eating takeout on the couch or something instead of having a formal sit-down date with wine and place settings. Intentionally or not, that made it feel like they're still on Date Behavior with each other and despite some gestures toward emotional vulnerability, they're not quite there yet - as seen by Buck steering the conversation back to flirting and innuendo. My overall feeling on the relationship at this point is that it's cute, but I'm not seeing any real depth of feeling between them yet.

Buck and Eddie on the other hand - look, despite my many MANY issues with Eddie's plot this season, I loved how his relationship with Buck was written. I love the intimacy and familiarity of how they are together, I loved the way Eddie let himself lean on Buck, I loved how Buck is clearly positioned as an integral part of the Diaz family.

Unfortunately, that's really the only thing I loved about Eddie's plot this season. His relationship with Marisol was ultimately pointless; she was never fleshed out enough to feel like a real character, and we never even see the fallout of Eddie's cheating with regard to her; it's all Chris. The Kim stuff strained credulity, and also I never felt like he got any kind of emotional catharsis or resolution through it; he still hasn't really confronted any of his issues about Shannon, about their marriage and how it ended. That whole arc felt really wobbly in terms of tone, as well: using plot elements of a very famous psychological thriller without actually acknowledging any of the creepiness of it. I would have liked it to lean into that more especially with the scene where Kim dresses up as Shannon, an objectively creepy and unhinged thing to do.

The Diaz parents handled the Chris thing in a selfish and opportunistic way that felt both disappointing and inevitable. Hopefully that's going to be a hook for the next season and Eddie actually confronting them, but overall Eddie's plot this season really felt like they just tossed a bunch of balls up in the air and mostly failed to catch them.

Gerrard - look, I'm not that worried about Gerrard. I could have done without him, but ultimately he's going to stick around just long enough to make his inevitable defeat satisfying. At least, that's my hope.

[buckevanley]

Little headcanon of mine but I think Eddie is actually like. Secretly really good at poetry.

He’s already got a pen in his hand half of the time anyway, whether it’s updating the fridge calendar or writing Chris notes for his lunches or helping Hen study for med school, he finds himself just jotting down a couple of lines every now and again in the margins of things. Sometimes they’re quick little observations, other times just him playing around with syntax and sounds, even if he doesn’t know the terms for what he’s actually doing.

And maybe Hen notices while he’s helping her study that he’s just absentmindedly been writing these really brief, beautiful little poems on the corner of her neurology notes, and she’s kind of amazed by them. So maybe she and Karen get Eddie a copy of Audre Lorde’s Coal or Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems for his birthday or something just to subtly encourage him to keep going.

And of course the rest of the 118 are confused by the present but Eddie sheepishly admits that he writes sometimes, but it’s not like it’s real poetry, guys, it’s just a way to blow off steam, but of course everyone is so sweet and supportive of it it kind of takes him by surprise.

Chimney wants Eddie to start holding Jee at group gatherings more often so his “poetic juices” will rub off on her and she’ll become a creative genius, even though she’s literally not even two yet. Bobby gets him a notebook, just a simple, plain black thing that can fit into the palm of Eddie’s hand, just so he has something to jot things down in, even if Eddie doesn’t think it’s real poetry, Bobby still claps him on the back and tells him he’s proud of him. And Buck,

Buck doesn’t get it. He so badly wants to, but whenever he asks if he can read whatever Eddie’s writing (which, unbeknownst to him, Buck is the only one who Eddie lets read the stuff he’s working on), he doesn’t understand it. Or, he doesn’t feel like he’s smart enough to understand it on the deeper level that he should, which frustrates him a little because this is a part of Eddie that’s really important to him, and Buck wants to be able to say something intelligent about it, something that says he appreciates this profound thing that Eddie is offering him by letting him read his poems. But he can’t. Not just by reading them on his own.

So he asks, shyly offering the little black notebook back, “can you—can you read it to me?”

So Eddie does. After awkwardly clearing his throat a little and stumbling his way through the first few lines, he eventually finds his rhythm, and his voice grows steady, stronger as it finds the comfortable cadence, and Buck watches his whole posture change while he reads, and he’s never seen Eddie look so confident or at ease with himself, and he’s listening to the words as Eddie reads them and oh. Oh.

Buck gets it now.

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone! Hope everyone is keeping safe and looking after themselves and each other in this here creative sandbox we're all playing in. I'm back again with another round of the fic I've been reading so far this month! You can find previous rec lists here.

16 August 2024

like i like my honey by @buick118 is a lovely one shot for some super sweet, romantic and caring domestic henren looking out for each other through the years! Hen's healing touch coming out in force to keep Karen looked after. This just made me feel so warm and happy, I love them and their love for each other so much! Plus the title is a Kehlani reference. YES.

when i see stars, that's all they are by @ithilien-writes was a gorgeous fill for the mixed media prompt of @summerofbuddie in which Eddie finds himself at a loose end and unwilling to go back to an empty home, so impulsively signs up to a community poetry class at the local library, makes some friends, and finds a way to channel his feelings. I really loved the slight fish out of water but giving it a go anyway vibe here, and how Eddie found putting his thoughts into words in poetic forms helped him to actualise his feelings.

an inch away from more than just friends by @littlespoonevan I absolutely adored and previously recommended part one which gave me all the romantic Eddie feels, and was eagerly anticipated part two and it did NOT disappoint!! In which Buck puts two and two together after Eddie shares a little of what he's been working through in therapy, and is determined to give Eddie the romancing he wants and deserves! The only problem is all the things Buck's doing to woo him it turns out he's kind of been doing all along. So so sweet, considerate and romantic. Beautifully written. I could just live here.

instructions on not giving up by @wildehacked this one's a hard hitter. Eddie's not coping and Buck is too worried to leave him alone, so invites him to join he and Tommy on their romantic hike getaway when disaster strikes. When the helicopter goes down after Tommy has a serious seizure, Buck and Eddie are grievously hurt and left to depend on each other to survive. Is rescue on the way? This packs an emotional punch but is well worth it for angst fans. Heed the trigger warnings! (Tommy is treated with respect but there is MCD, and suicidal ideation from Eddie.) Ow! My heart. It hurted so good?!

can't tell where you end (and i begin) by @absolutelybifurious Ravi invites the 118 out to a club, things escalate. Inspired by Ryan Guzman in Step Up (which I admit I've never seen but I HAVE seen behind the scenes rehearsal footage...hello), in which Eddie's got moves and Buck's got a problem about it. With a Lucy Donato cameo (yes thank you) and some very sultry dirty dancing. What more could you want?

the parts we play by @calinaannehart I have been absolutely loving following along with this actor!Buck au as a wip, and with just one more chapter to go now is the perfect time to start reading it! 'Buck isn’t a firefighter, he just plays one on TV, or at least that’s what he’s about to do. He’s offered the chance to shadow the 118 to learn what it’s like to be a firefighter. Eddie is fed up with these Hollywood types turning up and feigning interest in the job that he loves. Buck, however, is nothing like that and everyone can see the connection they have.' This feels really beautifully in character for an au and is expertly weaving in canon and reinterpreting it through the film star lens. So much fun to read.

PS - that's it for this week but as always, I'm on the lookout for henren centric fic, and early days Buck and Tommy (I like it best when it fits neatly into where we've left off in canon).

Feel free to self rec!

[loveinhawkins]

Hi! I've never messaged you before, but your writing is some of my very favorite on Tumblr! I love that you have Steve as a poetry fan, and a fan of Simon and Garfunkel! I was reading the poem Richard Cory, and it made me think of a young Steve, the one people only see as a King, as a spoiled rich boy, not seeing his pain and trauma. Even his friends seem to gloss over it. And I can imagine him and Eddie in English class, and Eddie barely paying attention, but seeing how Steve subtly reacts to the poem when they read it, and Eddie wondering if maybe there's more to him than he'd previously thought! I found out that Simon and Garfunkel made it into a song, too, and that really sent it home! I hope you have a wonderful day, thank you for sharing your wonderful stories with us!

you are so kind, thank you so much. i hope you have a wonderful day too ❤️

oh, this has so many things i love. the poem & simon & garfunkel references (cw for references to suicide in both the poem & song lyrics), how Steve views himself and his high school persona vs how Eddie sees him—like, I could quote the whole poem but:

he fluttered pulses when he said, “Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

Steve glittering as he walks! Eddie in denial that his pulse is also fluttering! ❤️

and them fleetingly crossing paths in high school is one of my absolute favourite things to think about, as well as them sharing the same English class at some point.

And when they read that poem… Eddie silently notices things. How Steve’s reaction stands out amidst the typically bored, glazed-eyes expression of other students. Eddie can see out of the corner of his eye how Steve reads the poem over and over, the subtle swallow, the shift in his jaw. The crease in the middle of his forehead that somehow seems more than just straightforward confusion.

But then he puts it out of his head—until, that is, an English period when the teacher says the whole lesson is just for silent reading. And Eddie hears a, “Psst,” coming from his left.

He doesn’t realise that it’s Steve Harrington trying to catch his attention, assumes it’s just someone trying to piss him off, so he snaps, “What?” a little harsher than warranted.

He almost does a double take at the way Steve shrinks back in his seat—not obviously so, but just enough for Eddie to notice.

“… Nothing. I’ll leave you alone,” Steve says shortly.

Eddie feels a flash of guilt. Sighs. “What?”

“Just… you’ve done this class before, right?”

“Fucking astute observation, Harrington.”

“Shut up. I just…” And Steve hands Eddie his photocopy of the poem, points at the top of the page. “Do you get this stuff?”

There’s a pause where Eddie scans the poem—and, Jesus, there’s a lot of annotations. Like, a lot. There’s even parts where Steve’s writing gets all cramped in between the stanzas, because he’s got a helluva lot to say, apparently.

Then he sees the part Steve’s pointing at, where there’s a scrawl of: Metre???

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says. “I get what… it’s, like, the rhythm of it. Where the emphasis is on each word and stuff.”

Steve actually has the audacity to roll his eyes at Eddie’s, in his opinion, very generous explanation. “Yeah, I get all that in theory, but I can’t, like, hear it, y’know?”

And well, Eddie’s in a band. He knows a thing or two about rhythm. So he leans over and taps the rhythm out with his finger on Steve’s desk. He can’t remember the proper term for it, but he rambles, “It’s the same rhythm in Shakespeare plays? Kinda like a heartbeat.”

It must click for Steve, because sometime during Eddie talking, he starts tapping out the beat, too. Their knuckles almost touch. Not quite.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says distractedly, as he takes his paper back and starts writing again.

And for the rest of the lesson, Eddie has to consider the fact that Steve Harrington truly knows his name, like he didn’t even have to think about it; like the freak moniker didn’t even occur to him.

[stellarspecter]

I'd Much Rather Be Jorting

@astrangersummer week 1: short shorts

1k, steddie, much talk about jorts

Read on AO3

Steve nearly choked on his own spit when he saw Eddie. It was the first truly sweltering day of the summer, and apparently that meant it was time to break out the shorts. The short shorts. The kind with the ragged edges and pockets hanging out the hems. Steve was almost disappointed they were black and not light wash denim. 

“Where the hell are they selling shorts like that, Munson,” he asked once he’d regained his breath.

“Selling?” Eddie quirked a brow. “Oh, Stevie. Jorts this good aren’t found, they’re made.” He did a little spin to show them off (as if Steve wasn’t already looking too much), finishing with a flourish of his hairy leg.

“Huh?” Steve said faintly. All he could think about was the pale expanse of thigh, visible for the first time, being paraded in front of him.

“You’ve never made jorts?” Eddie asked, the most adorable pout on his face. “Well fuck, babe, we’re gonna have to fix that.”

And Steve couldn’t help it. When Eddie called him that, he was weak to his every whim.

Which is how he found himself sitting at his kitchen table, a pair of jeans and scissors in his hands.

“Step 1 of jorts: choose the jeans,” Eddie instructed across from him. “You want a pair that’s well-worn, so that you’re not wasting too much fabric by cutting them.”

Steve glanced at Eddie’s own selection, which were more holes than denim at this point. “So your whole wardrobe?”

Eddie snorted. “Okay, rich boy, sorry I’ve got style.” He winked, which Steve was not equipped to deal with at the current moment. He cleared his throat and looked back at his soon-to-be-jorted jeans. 

“What’s next?”

“Deciding the length,” Eddie answered. “The holes in mine usually decide for me, but you can do whatever feels right.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Steve muttered. He stared at the jeans in front of him, wondering how he was supposed to conjure a leg measurement out of nowhere. 

“You don’t like ‘em?” Eddie asked, clearly teasing.

Steve blushed. “I didn’t say that.”

Eddie smirked, satisfied at his reaction. “That looks like a good length.”

Steve looked down to find a line drawn in washable marker on his jeans. Maybe about mid-thigh? Whatever. He’d wear whatever, as long as Eddie said it looked good.

“Okay. So now we cut it?”

“Got it in one,” Eddie confirmed with a smile, and Steve had to focus hard on his scissors to make sure he didn’t accidentally cut himself while he was busy daydreaming about his friend’s lips.

“And there we are! Some brand new jorts to welcome in the summer,” Eddie announced, holding his own up proudly. These ones were regular blue jeans cut to a much more conservative length than the pair he was wearing.

Steve held up his own pair, a bit uncertain that they were going to be any good. He’d only ever bought clothes from a store and thrown them out whenever they got their first tear. Cutting clothes up on purpose felt blasphemous. But, he supposed, Eddie had been doing it for years, and clearly he pulled it off.

“Do I… try them on?” He hazarded.

“Yes, try them on! See how they feel!” Eddie waved him towards the bathroom to change. 

He came out with his new shorts on, tugging awkwardly at the hems. They sat a bit higher than he’d anticipated, but still nowhere near as short as Eddie’s.

“So?” Eddie waited expectantly for his verdict.

Steve shrugged. “They’re okay.”

“Okay?” Eddie exclaimed. “Just okay? Steve, jorts are more than okay, they’re great! They let you partake in the act of creation! That’s the kind of thing people write poetry about!”

“Poems,” Steve repeated flatly. “About jorts. Sure, man.”

Eddie squinted at him, then stepped away from the table and drew himself up to his full height. “The days of spring will surely bring the birds and bees cavorting,” he recited, the sing-song cadence making it clear that this was a poem. “But since I am a gentleman, I’d much rather be jorting. Hempstead Snarlton, 1943.” He paused, clearly expecting Steve to be proud of him for reciting poetry from memory.

Steve leveled him with a look. “You just made that up.”

Eddie squawked. “No I didn’t! It’s a real poem, look it up!”

“The word ‘jorts’ didn’t even exist in 1943!” 

“You don’t know that!”

Steve scoffed. “I can take a pretty good fucking guess.”

“Whatever,” Eddie sulked. “You just don’t think that gentlemen should be jorting.”

Steve blinked in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself when you talk.”

“Do you?” Eddie retorted. “Are you saying we’re not gentlemen? You don’t think I’m a gentleman, Stevie?”

“Why is this the hill you’re dying on?” Steve wondered out loud, baffled that this is the same man that scrambles his brain with just the sight of his legs.

“Because I’m jorting!” Eddie exclaimed.

Steve shook his head in bemusement and put his sunglasses on. “I’m gonna go back outside. Have fun with your… jorting.”

“Oh, I will,” Eddie shot back. “Outside, also.”

“Just can’t stand a single minute without me, can you, Eds?” Steve teased as he slid the back door open and ushered Eddie ahead of him. 

“What can I say, Stevie,” he sighed, “You and me are like gentlemen and jorting: we just belong together, don’t you agree?” He dramatically rested a hand on his chest and gave Steve a simpering look. 

Steve couldn’t ignore the flutter in his heart at hearing him say that they belonged together. Despite his ridiculousness, he couldn’t deny that he was still madly, deeply, head over heels for this man. As he watched him scamper off to wet his feet in the pool, he sighed. 

“Yeah, Eds.” Lovelorn on the deck, he watched his jorts-clad crush send ripples through the water. “I do.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics

title and poem and general inspo from bdg's "how to make jorts" video, because i am, to my core, silly. thanks for reading

[blushweddinggowns]

I know your on a break from universe trapped in your skin but I was rereading some of it last night as I am want to do and I wanted to tell you how truly amazing it is. One of my favorite fics ever. Thanks for writing it!

I want you to know that this ask single-handedly had me open up that doc again. Because I have been so stuck and season 4 is soo messy but this is so fucking sweet damn. Motivating.

And below is a tiny lil dialouge clip of what I do got (she messy. Not final product but she's around!)

“I’ve had him locked down since 1981,” Steve said simply. Like he wasn't breaking Chrissy’s brain.

Eddie shook his head with a fond little smile, “More like 1973-"

“Okay” Robin interrupted, squeezing the bridge of her nose, “We’re not going down that road. You’re both dismissed.”

Steve perked up at that, "Does this mean we can start holding hands again now?"

"If it will shut you up."

Robin turned to her with a shrug, “They’ll start waxing poetry about each other if you don’t cut em off.”

[focusfixated]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

thank you for this! i think my favourite fics i've written are the ones that are basically like. my thesis statement. if you ask me about these characters, i will slide you one of these fics and say: here's my dissertation on the subject. everything you need to know about how i feel is in there.

can't get a life (if my heart's not in it)

libertines rpf | peter/carl | M | 20.9k

When Peter came to London, Carl was waiting for him under the hanging clock in the middle of Waterloo station. It had been romantic, in the way that Peter saw all their meetings as a little romantic – a song in the making, all Terry meets Julie and a sunset over the river. Or: the early days of Peter & Carl's love affair with London - and each other.

note: i wrote this one during my first year moving to london. inhabiting this story with these people and their music helped me settle there. this was also my way of taking every insanely romantic and toxic thing peter and carl did or felt about each other in those early years and weaving it into one point of reference.

on the wings of a nightingale

good omens | aziraphale/crowley | E | 11.1k

Aziraphale liked his body. He liked the shape of it, the way it moved and touched the world, a type of sensory feedback that made him understand the shape and extent of his corporation. Like he wasn’t just an ephemeral vessel. Like he was flesh. Or: Aziraphale gets a tattoo. Crowley is an accessory to this crime against good sense. Everyone’s kinks are very poorly disguised.

note: i think this is the one where i really got to grips with my authorial obsession with bodies, embodiment, sensation as existence. it's probably one of the most personal things i've written, too, in terms of its dissection of touch, and espousing thoughts on faith as tangible feeling vs abstract thought. this is the aziraphale that exists in everything else i've written in this fandom.

i hope i find my home

it chapter 2 | richie/eddie | E | 53k

The peak of summer is long gone, if it ever came, but the funk of stagnant air still hangs low over the suburban streets. Richie Tozier – sallow-skinned and puffy-eyed, wearing a too-small denim jacket that smells of sweat and mildew – hasn’t slept in several days, and he's trying to remember how he got here in the first place. Or: Coming back to Derry, Richie hadn't expected to live. Eddie hadn’t expected to die. In the aftermath of Neibolt, they’re both confronted by another shot at life.

note: possibly actually my favourite thing i've ever written out of all of these. features this ongoing obsession with bodies, though this is from a more confrontational perspective than the good omens one - there's an element of body horror, a sense of fear and discomfort about the body, and grapples with embodied repression. took me two years to write this one. it was a labour of love and hard work, and a proof of my commitment to getting this story about survival and recovery told.

le temps qu'il faut

disco elysium | harry/kim | T | 5k

Snow blows in from the east. It falls on Martinaise, thickening the frigid air like cornstarch, thick enough to chew on. Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi stands – quiet, watchful, an oddity placed at the centre of a racket – collar turned up against the weather. Or: winter is tough and so is Kim, but a lot can change in ten days.

note: a story where i feel like i got the closest to capturing the mood of the original media. it was such a fucking pleasure to write something that was almost pure atmosphere. felt right that the poetry came out of this cold and battered landscape, and really solidified my interest in capturing environments. (who needs plot when there are buildings and lakes covered in snow).

when we fight about love

our flag means death | multi | E | 41.2k

Bonnet took a dainty sip of rum, then put the mug down with a fussy finality. “Look, I’m not interested in deals and riches and who gets what from who. I want to find Ed, that’s it. You’ll come with us, and you’ll guide us to the Revenge, and when we’re done, you can have my other ship to do with what you like. Sell it, sail away, set it on fire, I don’t care. Do we have an accord?” Bonnet held out a hand. His nails were ragged, and there were blisters on his fingers. Somehow, he still smelled of lavender. With all the recalcitrance of reaching towards an open flame, Izzy shook it. (Or: after brokering an uneasy peace, Izzy Hands, Stede Bonnet and the rest of the Revenge’s depleted crew are thrown together for a mission: find Edward, snap him out of his terrible madness, and then – and then.)

note: this is the one. the story that sums it all up. "how do you feel about izzy? what do you think was going on with him? how would a coherent version of him, flaws and all, realistically interact with the people most important to him during this time?" well: like this. focuses on repression, again, a key theme for me. though the repression here is not just physical, but mental, too. this was an exercise in finding a way to present a dislikeable, misguided, unreliable narrator as a point of view character and still finding meaning and empathy in his perspective. one of the most satisfying things i've ever written.

[teddywesworl]

Writing Patterns Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thank you for the tags @postmodernau and @jamiethegardener55!!

There isn’t really an after in the way Steve thought there would be, when he dared to think about that kind of thing. (A Gem Beyond Counting | The postcanon sex pollen fic)

SOL STD DATE 02.06.2185—18h44 (Dossier: The Agitator | Mass Effect AU: the sequel)

Dustin cracks an egg and swears. (He Knows Only Two Stories | New England farm AU)

You must understand: these nether-spaces form an imperfect bridge between your world and mine, but they are the words in our vocabulary; they are the poetry through which we might commune. (Who Shall Sing Me Into Deathsleep | Iron Age fantasy AU)

Steve’s not sure how he got here. (🪑 | The postcanon rope bondage fic)

When Eddie emerges from the gate, baring his sharpened teeth and snarling with the effort of the climb, Steve grabs Dustin by the arm and throws him behind himself on raw instinct. (Schiava | vampire!Eddie fic 1)

There is a unified flock: one body made from many bodies beneath a single will that thrums in every heart and claw and tooth. (Carménère | vampire!Eddie fic 2)

Eddie trembles in his arms, beautiful and intoxicated, mumbling half-formed words under his breath like please and Steve and oh and fuck me, fuck me. (Sangiovese | vampire!Eddie fic pwp coda)

A girl who is not a girl sits naked on a stool in a glass box under sterile lights. (Dissonance Theory | Westworld AU)

The smell is the first thing he’ll remember—or maybe the beeping. (In the Kitchen or the Tulips | Soulmate AU)

the pattern is that they're all steddie because variety?? i don't know her

also i can't believe vino grabbed me by the throat so hard that chair fic is already halfway up this list. wasn't that just yesterday

No-pressure tags for @geddyqueer @r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e @occasionaloverboy @jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s @oakenorcrist @stevehairingtit

[ghost-proofbaby]

fic authors self rec game

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

thank you so so much for the tag @thecreelhouse <3

the shire is burning (eddie munson x oc) - ao3 linked

shire will always, always, always have a very near and dear space in my heart. it is the proudest i have ever been of any fanfic i've ever written, and one of my only works i can consistently reread and admit to myself that i wholeheartedly enjoy. it's not perfect, it's not everyone's cup of tea due to being an OC fic, but it's my baby. i sat down in a booth at denny's one night in 2022, said i wanted to write an eddie munson fanfiction, and did it. i think it's my best work for capturing canon eddie, and any time i reread any bit of it, i just get the warm fuzzies all over. there are so many wonderful memories attached to it (from writing it, to experiences it led me to), and it brought me so many friends in this fandom that i love very dearly. i just love it, and even if i have to drag myself across the finish line, i will be finishing the sequel/fix it fic for willow and eddie. their love story is one i'll probably get to carry with me forever, which is pretty fucking neat, all things considered. <3

2. the moon will sing (astarion ancunin x oc) - ao3 linked/tumblr here

the moon will sing (i loved you like a sun) is still a fic currently in progress, but i really enjoy the concept, and i'm really excited to see where i take it! just like shire was my ultimate love letter to eddie munson, this fic is my ultimate love letter to astarion <3 it's got just as many, if not more, moving parts and i like the challenge it presents to me as a writer. i've always been the type to know every single experience my characters go through (both borrowed loves and original characters), and having to write a character with a strange sort of amnesia has presented a wonderful stretch for muscles i didn't use previously. it's also been really interesting writing astarion, because as a character, he's pretty different from eddie (who is my easiest character to write due to practice). he's canonically a wild card, a whole bundle of contradictions, and i constantly find myself making notes along the way in these drafts to overexplain and remind myself of his motives. i just really love it. i just really love him <3

3. house song (eddie munson x fem!reader)

this is from my 1k celebration, and it's definitely one that didn't get much attention. and probably for good reason. it has little to no dialogue, it has little to no actual interaction between eddie and reader. at the end of the day, it's long form poetry at best, and a nuisance of an elongated metaphor at worst. but i am really proud of it still. i had an entire version of eddie set up in my head, an entire reader with her own backstory, and whenever i reread it, i think that really shines through. it was a quiet softness about the boy we all still continue to love, even two years later, and i think it even perfectly shows why i still love him as the years pass. just a love note, rather than a full love letter.

people (fictional and real) don't always make good homes, but i think eddie munson might just be the exception. and that's why i stick around.

4. sweet like honey (steve harrington x fem!reader)

now for one from my 3k celebration! and i don't think this list would be complete without some sort of smut. i once had this fic quoted back to me from a friend (who i fucking adore with all my heart), and i didn't even recognize it as my own. it's no love letter to steve harrington (that one is in the works, trust me), but it's fun, and it hits all the right spots for me. i like steve harrington putting up a cocky bastard exterior only to be cracked wide open to find all that softness inside. this fic doesn't quite crack him open, but it definitely showcases that image of 'king steve' that i think we all enjoy fantasizing about a lot <3

this last one is hard. very, very hard. i have three fics that still come to mind that i'd love to put on this list, because in a strange turn of events, being in this fandom has taught me to love my writing far more than any fandom before. it's taught me my words are worth something. not in a money way, but in a 'i have something to say, a story to tell, that is worth yelling to the void - regardless of how many people will listen' way. and i've just been lucky so many of you have been willing to listen.

i'm giving honorable mentions right now to twenty four hours (because how could i not? for all the hell it gave me writing wise, i still like it, ya know?) and kissing lessons. the latter didn't make the list solely because i'm so new to writing robin, and it was a really tough subject matter for me despite being such a sweet fic. it's hard sometimes to love what you make out of a bad thing, even if the end product is something far more beautiful and healing than the reality of it all.

anyways, enough yapping.

5. who could stay? (you could stay.) - eddie munson x reader

this was one of the scariest fics to ever post. it was a request, and it was something i knew all too well, and it was putting a lot of myself into a reader. most of my fics that are this personal/include so much of myself never leave the google drive (and i have a few). half the time as i wrote it, it felt like just another diary entry. the other half, it felt like i was making some momentous mistake and shouldn't project so much of myself onto someone's request. but you know what happened? instead, all of you who have read it and showed it any love cradled it carefully in your hands and said "i see you" or "i am you", and reminded me it's alright. sometimes experiences are unique, sometimes experiences are factory-born. either way, posting this fic taught me i'm not always alone. and sometimes that isn't a great feeling (we all want to feel special, right?), but sometimes... it's a nice feeling. a giant group hug over the internet. i've definitely written similar fics in the same vein as this one since, and i don't know if i'll ever post them, but it proved to me that if i do choose to post them - it's safe. or at least, as safe as the internet can get. basically it was one giant lovely reminder of the space i've managed to create here on my blog and the type of people i've managed to attract to this corner of the internet, and i'm grateful for it. <3

alright. this was one of the hardest things i've ever done (i've obviously led a very privileged life). i'm gonna shut up now and reread some old writing because i feel like i just chose my favorite kids and now i need to reassure all my silly fics that i also adore that i totally still love them just in a different way.

no pressure tags: @andvys @hellfire--cult @hellfirenacht @lokis-army-77 @rosewaterandivy @take-everything-you-can and anyone else who wants to partake, because we all need to show our fics a lil love. you're your first reader, first and foremost <3

[indecisive-dizzy]

Hi I’m having so many Latter/Eddie ideas im in love with them they are beloveds

I can totally see Latter having a crush on Eddie from the get go. He took one look at that beautiful southern mailman and fell in love

The idea of Eddie dating Latter while being Howdy’s ex makes me laugh so hard, especially if howdy gets bitter about it

I could totally see Eddie being sweet to Latter and Howdy complaining to Seeya about it. He pulls out the “I was bisexual first!” argument /hj

Latter writes poems about Eddie but keeps them to himself. Hes too embarrassed to share them

Ironically they’re actually some of his better work

Latter/Eddie/Frank is now something I need more people to love too because I do

They do little smooches. Like, they’re both so nervous they can barely kiss without herring all flustered and shy

Hugs, they hug a lot :)

Latter wraps his wings around Eddie EHEN they hug, but he never mentions it

They write letters to each other all the time, they love writing about the other

They go on walks together, its calm and they don’t have to deal with neighbors/family members that treat them poorly

They move in together /hj

I need them to get married

sniff theyre soooo <333

Took one look and fell in love you say? Of course he did who wouldn't! fr tho Latter had One Positive Interaction with Eddie (Eddie waved at him) and he was head over heels.

Damn Eddie I thought you were afraid of bugs- sjfhjdsgbjsghjds. Howdy is SO bitter. Especially because Latter and Eddie have a better relationship than his and Eddie's. Also bc Latter does Not shut up about him. He's throwing Eddie themed poetry left right and center and Howdy is this close to putting up a "No Latter" sign at the shop.

Latter's better poetry being his love poems to Eddie is so sweet. His best work comes straight (Ha!) from the heart <3

Idk how Frank and Latter would get along,,, I think Frank would enjoy some poetry but he may only tolerate Latter's extensive poetics for Eddie,,,, Hmmm

Call those Butterfly Kisses. jsfjsf they're so cute hhh just little pecks here n there but its got them both all flustered.

You got a mailman who is on his way to a Best Hugger Award and a Giant Butterfly with Six Arms. Those are some damn good hugs! And I am a sucker for "wrapping wings around partner"

ah writing letters, Eddie's personal favorite love language that he introduced Latter to. Eddie gets normal letters that also have poems attached. Eddie send him paper crafts with his letters.

Going on walks is nice! What if they held hands !

[infinite-orangepeel]

hi friends ! i’m marissa (she/her, 25)! any free time I have is spent obsessively writing steddie angst/smut. i currently have 2 wips in progress (both angst w/happy ending), as well as, a handful of completed smutshots.

you can find me on ao3 here

you can find me on twitter here

you can find me on tiktok here

my ko-fi (if you’d like to buy me a matcha or support what i do 💛)

masterlist

✰ steddie ficlets/ask prompts

gym partner steddie: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3 (complete)

scarred love (excerpt from my in progress ao3 fic it's rotten work)

steddie hickeys (completed)

steve's pretty little noises (completed)

shhh, use your words; ft. ftm!steve harrington & steddie mutual masturbation (completed)

steddie valentine’s day edition (completed)

kas!eddie/steve (potential to be continued ! just posted so waiting to see if that’s something people are interested in)

rockstar!steddie with baby girl steve (completed)

steddie phone sex (completed)

perv!eddie/camboy!steve (to be continued…)

on this blog i post/reblog about:

✰ steddie (a lot of steddie, mostly steddie tbh, i think about them 24/7) incorrect quotes, headcanons, ficlets, blurbs, & general ramblings

✰ babygirl steve harrington

✰ joe keery (and djo), joe quinn

✰ gay stranger things ships/content

✰ ronance (my beloved angel girls, nancy wheeler made me gay)

✰ the fruity four, the spicy six, jargyle, lumax, byler, etc.

✰ wip excerpts & fic updates

general notes:

✰ i occasionally post nsfw content, hence this blog is 18+ only

✰ currently accepting prompts/requests for steddie (including nsfw) ! feel free to submit, it's open for anyone :)

other things i'm into that i'd love for you to come talk to me/ask me about in my inbox or dms:

✰ i'm a slut for steddie ? did i mention that yet ?

✰ richard siken and/or gay literary icons in general

✰ the catholic girl to queer girl pipeline (yes, i have religious trauma and yes, my fics often contain religious imagery in an nsfw way)

✰ books, book recs, fic recs, fic writing, fic writers, words, poetry, the thesaurus, word vomit, writer's block, etc.

✰ t.v.: stranger things, lost, alice in borderland, white lotus, got/hotd

✰ movies: horror (genre), wes anderson, ari aster

[bitterspoons]

"Happy Birthdays at Privet Drive"

CHAPTER ONE

Edith Dursley Series by Bitterspoons

slowburn fred weasley x Fem!oc

SERIES MASTERLIST✨

in which: a half-giant bursts into a quaint hut with a cake after the Dursley's ran away from the post and owls.

word count: 4.4k

next chapter coming soon

“Here, let me help.” Quickly flipping the pancakes and bacon while the dark harried boy rushed to deliver coffee to her dad. 

It was a special day for the Dursley’s—it was Dudley’s birthday but more than that—it'd be the day our story begins (Dudley should feel honored.)

While Edith hated the way her parents acted on his birthday (and occasionally Dudley) she still cared for her brother—even if her cousin, Harry, was more of a brother to her than Dudley would ever be. 

Still, it was a small chance to bond with her brother since the relationship between the two Dursley siblings was…strained to say the least. 

In their defense, it was mostly their parent’s fault for how the two had become competitive. 

It started out when Edith’s reading comprehension passed Dudley’s, despite him being a year older than Harry and Edith. She was showered in attention and praise.

That sparked into a new challenge for the two, trying to surpass each other in every way possible. 

Two specific competitions drove the two apart. 

Kindness, Compassion and Emotional Intelligence. 

Dudley had never been one for empathy, having become a “bully” in their school. While the two siblings were both popular, Edith was the kind spirit—helping younger kids find their way to classes and solving playground disputes. 

This was especially impactful to Harry Potter—their orphaned cousin who had been living with them since he was a year old. 

Maybe it was because Edith was closer in age to him, being only 2 months older while Dudley had been 14 months older. Or because Harry looked more like Edith. Or because Harry came up with Edith’s nickname, Eddie. 

One thing was clear. Edith and Harry had a strong bond while Dudley did not. 

Edith had a keen eye for sadness. At first it was small things when they were children like giving Harry some of her toys or holding his hand when they tried to walk so he wouldn’t be left behind. 

As they got older, her support increased. Giving Harry snacks, pillows, blankets, stuffed animals. Soon it was money she earned from her lemonade stand, notes for homework (albeit they weren’t great unless they were for English) but she tried. She cut his hair so that it stayed long and fluffy but didn’t get too tangled or past his eyes unlike her mother who tried unevenly buzzing it off, just for it to grow back in a matter of days. 

And if Dudley couldn’t be the best, he would be the worst. 

Edith would spend money to fix the glasses that Dudley broke. Or cleaning up food that Dudley spilled so that Harry wouldn’t have to. 

Dudley hated English, despised it. Words weren’t meant for anything more than speaking. Journaling, plays and books were all futile.

Edith loved words, writings of all sorts. Poetry was her favorite, playing with words in a way that perfectly encompassed how you felt and conveyed meaning with small detail. It was a delicate craft. 

But there was one other thing that caused quite the rift between them. 

Petunia’s Love

Their mother was quite the character. Edith only heard bits and pieces about her sister, Harry’s mom but it seemed enough. 

She cried over her, she yelled over her, she swooned over her and sometimes she’d lull herself to sleep, pretending to say goodnight to her. 

And she’d call Edith by her name. 

I’d like to say that Petunia’s jealousy towards Edith started after some argument between them. But that would be a lie. Instead, it started before Edith was even born. 

Lily Potter—or rather Lily Evans was apparently the poster-perfect child. Her parents raved about the school she went to and it seemed like Petunia was left in the dust, just to be bitter. 

So when Edith was born, Petunia was overjoyed to see that Edith had her own big blue eyes and dark hair like her father, Vernon. 

But then Edith turned 9 months old, and what used to be brown hair had a shade of copper to it. And as Edith grew older, her hair solidified into a dark auburn—Petunia’s ginger genes shining through ever so slightly. 

Unfortunately, Edith was blessed with the Evans look—having only inherited dark hair from her father instead of the blonde hair that Dudley and Petunia had. Otherwise, she was a spitfire between Petunia and Lily—as if her grandparents had another child. 

This was a horrible thing, as while Edith was very pretty—Petunia could not escape her sister, even if she had died. 

Dudley, who was constantly showered in affection and attention because looked like his father with Petunia’s hair and eyes—a man she loved and a woman she had grown to love too. 

But Edith looked like Lily and Petunia. A woman Petunia hated, loved, envied and missed and the inferior sister. 

Petunia’s attitude towards Edith differed drastically. Either Lily was the reason Petunia looked in the mirror and sighed, or she was a sister she never got to apologize to. 

In rebuttal to her unresolved issues with her sister, she treated her daughter similarly. 

Either Edith was brushed off, cursed, or simply ignored like Harry or she was love bombed with flowers, money, gifts and apologies. 

The push and pull of it all was exhausting, especially since Dudley seemed to get all her affection without a weird grieving ultimatum or any effort on his part at all. 

And when Vernon had sexist prejudice—his son was always the more important one in the family, being the eldest child in their care and a boy—it seemed as though Dudley had everyone while Edith had Harry. 

But in dear time, that would be all she needed. 

“I want everything to be perfect for my Dudley’s special day!!” Petunia cooed, leading him to the living room where piles of presents lie. “Aren’t they wonderful darling?” 

“How many are there?” Dudley asked, looking over at the colorfully wrapped presents, his nasally voice projecting through the room. 

“Thirty-six.” Vernon bragged. “Counted them myself.” 

“Thirty-six?” Dudley clarified, outraged. “But last year—last year I had thirty-seven!” 

Edith handed him a plate of bacon and pancakes. “If you don’t want them, I’ll take ‘em.” She sassed, turning back around to flip the eggs. 

Their mother doted on the boy, smoothing this hair out. “Oh now, now, now,  this is what we’re going to do. When we go to the zoo, you can buy two new presents!” 

They finished breakfast quickly, wanting to get to the zoo before the traffic started. 

Edith went down the stairs, carrying a small brightly colored box. “Dudley!” She called softly, handing him the gift with a tightlipped smile. “Gift number thirty-seven.” She labeled as he took it. 

Taking the present with grubby hands he returned the awkward smile, the two siblings stiffly hugged before getting in the car. “Thanks…”

She mumbled a “Happy Birthday” before buckling her seatbelt, waiting for her dad to stop gripping Harry by the hair outside the car. 

She leaned over from the middle seat, opening the door from the inside and cut Vernon’s warning to Harry short—saying something about Dudley’s impatience so he’d stop tugging Harry’s roots. 

Her dad shoved Harry into the car, and Edith pulled in him before Vernon could shut the car door on him and the family went on their way to the zoo. 

Their zoo day wasn’t half bad—even Harry agreed. Edith and Harry walked around together, admiring the animals and even got their own ice creams (even though Harry’s was Dudley’s rejected ice cream, it was still a win.) 

But little did they know as they walked into the Reptile House—this was the beginning of the rest of their lives—and it’s quite the story with bits I wrote tediously, so do try and keep up. 

Edith looked at the snakes with awe, they were very pretty creatures that deserved to be admired—although the ethics of this specific zoo were a bit questionable. 

One snake in particular caught their attention. 

It laid in its enclosure with a particular tiredness. Edith could practically feel the sadness radiating off of the poor thing, the will to be free only to be trapped in a glass cage. 

Rapping his hand against the glass, Vernon commanded the snake. “Move!” As Dudley complained of the snake's lack of curiosity to see him. 

Dudley learned from example, banging his fist with more vigor than Vernon. “Move!” He yelled louder, causing some people to look their way. 

“Will you stop it? He’s sleeping!” Edith pulled his hand away from the glass. 

“He’s boring.” Dudley mumbled distastefully, waddling off to a different enclosure.   

Harry looked back at the snake and began hissing at it. 

The snake perked its head up, slithering closer to Harry. Harry continued to hiss at the snake who nodded and shook its head in response. 

“Good god, my family is weird.” Edith said aloud before getting trampled to the side by her idiotic brother. 

Groaning as she ate a faceful of floor, Edith propped herself back up seeing that Harry was also shoved aside by Dudley. 

And that’s when Harry sent a particularly spiteful glare at Dudley and the walls of the glass snake enclosure simply disappeared. 

Dudley fell in with a splash as the snake quickly took the opportunity to slither away, nodding at Harry before booking it for the exit.

“From his behavior, you’d think he’s trapped in there.” Edith mumbled, annoyingly flicking her wrists to get dirt and pebbles off them. “Just get out you big oaf—” Her words fell flat when the glass reappeared before her eyes. 

Her parents ran to the cage, banging their fists against the glass and screaming as their son stood stuck in the glass enclosure. 

With that they were ushered home, Dudley in a wrap of blankets and jackets as he sobbed. Harry was shoved into his “room.” 

Petunia rushed Edith into her room, closing the door. “Lily, you always mess things up!” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Edith protested despite actively being called the wrong name. 

Harry was similarly getting framed by Vernon, being locked in the cupboard. “I swear, one minute the glass was there and the next it was gone! It was like magic!” 

But of course— “There’s no such thing as magic.” He barked gruffly, quickly waddling over to his darling boy to comfort him during these traumatic times. 

And that’s when the letters started. 

Edith watched the first owl arrive in Privet Drive, having been sat on the roof of her house. 

She liked talking to the stars before she slept and after the day had taken an exciting yet exhausting turn—she hadn’t the energy to go back down to her bed. 

But you can imagine her curiosity when she awoke and saw an owl staring straight at her. An envelope with a red wax seal was in its mouth. She gently took it before going back into her room, ready to tell Harry about the weird interaction she just had. 

She walked downstairs to Dudley’s photoshoot for his new school, a foul smell laced the kitchen as Petunia boiled down Dudley’s old uniform as she explained how Harry had to wear those next school year. 

“But they’ll fit me like elephant skin!” Harry protested, pouring Vernon coffee. 

“They’ll fit you just fine.” Petunia sneered before commanding him to go get the mail for the day. 

Edith followed him to the hall. “Don’t worry, Harry—You can wear some of my black clothes. They’ll fit you better than those, that's for sure.”

Giving a tight lipped smile, Harry picked up the letters for today. “Thanks, Eddie.”

Harry sorted through the mail, as Edith remembered the letter. 

“Oh! I got the most peculiar letter today from an owl, it’s addressed to both of us.” Edith took the letter from her pocket, showing him the front of it. 

“An owl?” Harry clarified, walking back into the kitchen and handing people their mail. 

Dudley shoved some eggs in his mouth. “What owl?” He asked, mouth full of chewed food. 

Edith looked at him with disgust. “Just a dream I had.” She brushed off, sitting down on the couch with Harry, handing him the letter. 

To: Mr. H Potter and Ms. E Dursley—Cupboard Under the Stairs and Rooftop of 4. Privet Drive Little Whinging, SURREY. 

Harry and Edith glanced at each other, curious as to if all posts had to be that specific with addressing. Harry began gently peeling the letter open when it was snatched out of his hands. 

“Dad! Harry’s got a letter!” Dudley shrieked, handing it to their dad laughing. 

“Shove off, it’s ours!” Edith argued, trying to reach over Dudley to take it back. 

“Oh please, who’d be writing to you two.” Petunia scoffed, leaning over Vernon’s shoulder. 

Harry and Edith seethed together when Petunia and Vernon’s faces went pale, staring at the stamp on the back of the envelope. 

The next couple of days Edith and Harry spent together, either waiting on the roof together for the owls to fly by or in Harry’s cupboard, watching the letterbox like hawks. 

Everytime, the letters ended up ripped or burned or destroyed and soon, Vernon nailed the letter box shut entirely. 

“What happens when bills come in!” Edith protested, trying to pry the nails off with her fingers. “Didn’t you say Aunt Marge is ill? What if her death notification comes in the mail!” 

But the letters were still kept from the two kids. Owls littered Privet Drive to the point where newspapers were reporting an unusual amount of owl sightings and little kids were making feather keychains to sell to their friends. 

Vernon and Petunia even tried changing the two’s locations in the house—giving Harry Dudley’s old second bedroom and giving Edith the entire basement and still all the changed was the address on the letters. 

Petunia spent her days clawing at her hair in frustration and blending up letters and Vernon spent his nights burning letters in the fireplace. 

And it changed on sunday. 

“Fine day, Sunday.” Vernon smiled, happy with himself as the family sat in the living room. Harry walked around with a tray of biscuits and Edith was making Harry and her hot chocolate. “Favorite day of the week. Why is that, Dudley?” 

Dudley shrugged so Harry answered for him. “No post on sundays?” 

“Right you are Harry! No post on sundays!” Vernon cackled to himself. “No post on sundays!” He repeated gleefully, picking up a cookie. “Not one, bloody letter! Not one!” 

But as it seems, that was quite the ironic thing to say when a letter came flying out of the fireplace and knocked the biscuit right out of his hand. 

The house rumbled and Edith was quite sure an earthquake was happening when letters began flying out of the fireplace like confetti. 

The two cousins looked at the scene unfolding in awe before jumping into action.

The letterbox broke open, letters fell from the sky as Harry darted to catch them. 

Edith darted for the floor, trying to grab some herself before her mom picked her up and forced her to stand, pinning her arms to her sides. “Don’t you dare, Lily.”

“You’re the one who named me woman! How can you never remember it!” Edith cried out with annoyance. 

Harry tried to catch letters while he could only to get tackled by Vernon. 

"We're going away!" Vernon announced, holding Harry down. "Far away! Where they can't find us!" 

Harry squirmed from under Vernon, annoyed as he was limited from grabbing the letters due to his stance on the floor being practically maimed by his uncle. 

"Dad has gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked, horrified at the scene. 

Petunia just shook her head, pushing Edith to the wall so she couldn't grab any of the letters either. 

Harry and Edith's protests were heard from the whole neighborhood as they were shoved into the car. The Dursley family threw some essentials into the car and drove off—leaving the letter filled house in the distance. 

They traveled from hotel to hotel, making small stops at gas stations but no matter where they went—which hotel chain or motel chain—the front desk always informed them of an influx of letters to an Edith Dursely and a Harry Potter

So it was time for more drastic measures. The family of Durseleys and Potters rented a boat, rowing their way to a distant run down hut on a rock. . 

The pouring rain made their journey treacherous and when they finally got inside, they all panted and wrapped themselves in blankets. 

Petunia and Vernon took the bed, Dudley took the couch which left Harry and Edith to lay on the floor with a blanket and jackets. 

Edith rummaged in her pockets, grabbing a small tissue and wrapping up some coins into a little package. She tied a little ribbon on the package and drew little stars on it with an old marker that was left behind by the past renters of the hut. 

Harry drew out a little birthday cake on the dirtied floor, writing a small birthday note to himself and checking Dudleys watch for the time. 

Pinching some sand, Edith sprinkled it onto the 'candles' of the cake and placed her gift in front of Harry before quietly singing Happy Birthday to him. 

Harry opened his small gift, appreciating the effort she made to get a gift despite being on a hut on a rock in the middle of nowhere. 

It was a small little hut. Wind rattled the filthy windows and you couldn’t escape the smell of seaweed. Edith wondered how much one had to pay to stay in an estate like this. 

Dudley’s watch beeped and Harry blew out the dust candles they had made. Edith clapped a little but was quickly interrupted by a loud bang. 

Edith ushered Harry into a corner as the bangs got louder, louder than the lighting crashing down near them. 

The door shook vigorously, waking up Dudley and her parents as the hinges of the door rattled for their lives. And soon, the door fell down. 

Petunia quickly switched a light on, her husband pointing a gun at the door when an extremely tall man stood in the doorway. 

Shaggy bushy hair almost covered his whole face, and he had hands as big as trash can lids—which he promptly used to pick the door back up and try to prop it against the doorway. “Sorry about that!” He said casually. 

 “I demand you leave at once sir!” Vernon squawked, pointing his gun. “You are breaking and entering!” 

The giant of a man walked up to him and grabbed his gun—twisting the metal up with his bare hands so it would shoot up at the ceiling. “Dry up, Dursley, you great prune.” He snorted. 

And that’s when Edith let her shoulders relax, deciding she liked whoever this intruder was and figured they were probably less dangerous than her dad with a gun. 

The man turned to Dudley with a surprised look. “Mind, I haven’t seen you since you was a baby, Harry but you’re a bit more along than I would have expected.” His voice was very friendly and joking. “Particularly ‘round the middle” He laughed. 

Edith walked a bit closer to the man, Harry trailing after her. 

Dudley stumbled over his words. “I-I’m not Harry!” He explained quickly, voice shaking. 

Harry peeked his head from behind Edith. “I am.” He spoke up. 

Turning around, the man’s smile got bigger. “Why of course you are! And you must be the ‘ittle Edith! You look strikingly similar to your aunt, Lily!” He admired the two children. 

“So I’ve heard.” Edith replied, still quite confused by the situation. 

He turned around, rummaging through his jacket. “Got something for you!” He said, taking out a box. “‘Afraid I might’ve sat on it on my way over but I imagine it’ll taste just the same.” 

Harry took the box gingerly, opening it up to see a cake—messily coated in pink frosting with the words “HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY” scrawled on top in green. 

“Baked it myself, words and all.” Bragging, the man sat down on the moth-eaten sofa. 

“Thank you,” Harry looked up at the man with genuine gratitude, the stranger having celebrated his birthday more than his aunt and uncle combined. 

“Isn’t everyday that you turn 11 now is it?” He smiled, taking out an umbrella and pointing it at the old fireplace. A ball of fire shot out from the tip, landing in the kindle and bringing warmth into the rundown hut. 

Harry and Edith looked at the now-lit fireplace in awe. “You are so awesome.” Edith said, mesmerized by the flame. 

The man chuckled as Harry put down the cake, gingerly sitting down next to him. “Excuse me, but who are you?” 

“Rubeus Hagrid!” He introduced himself, eyes like black beetles peeking from the bushy hair. “Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” 

Edith furrowed her eyebrows. “Hogwarts?” In her mind, she questioned whether it was circus a�� or a farm. 

“Of course, you two already know all about Hogwarts.” Hagrid brushed himself off, ready to move onto the next topic. 

Harry and Edith glanced at each other, a mutual confusion. “Sorry—no.” Harry blinked at the man. 

“No?” Hagrid repeated, confused. “Blimey, Harry. Didn’t you ever wonder where your mum and dad learned it all?” 

“All of what?” Harry said, a bit oblivious. 

“Yer a Wizard, Harry.” He said, eyes glimmering with mischief. 

Harry’s eyes widened with pure confusion. “I’m a what?”

“A wizard!” He repeated. “And a thumping good one, I’d wager—once you’ve trained up a little. And if Edith is as similar to Lily as she looks, I’d say you’re on the same path.” 

Edith pointed at herself, bewildered. “I’m a wizard?”

“A witch.” Petunia interrupted, correcting her daughter. “You’re a witch.”

Twirling around, Edith looked at her mother, pointing at her and then back at Hagrid, mouth gaped open before turning back to Hagrid—processing. “Am I going crazy?” She asked herself. 

Harry was going through a weird state of denial as well. “I mean, no—I can’t be a…a wizard—I’m Harry! Just Harry.” 

Hagrid chuckled at the two once more. “Well, just Harry. Have you ever made anything happen?” He asked. “Anything you couldn’t explain when you were angry or scared?” 

The two kids had their share of unexplainable things.

 Harry’s magical growing hair or the snake exhibit, the time where Edith’s clothes all turned blue after her mother told her it was a boy-ish color and when Harry ended up on the roof after escaping Dudley’s taunts and bullies. 

There was also a time where Edith woke up one day with a black eye, having wished that Vernon had punched her instead of Harry and Harry’s wound was gone. 

Hagrid saw the realization in their eyes and pulled out an envelope. A letter Harry and Edith had been trying to get ahold of for weeks. 

Edith leaned over Harry’s shoulder, reading aloud the contents. “Dear Mr. Potter and Ms. Dursley—we are pleased to inform you that….you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” 

Vernon quickly waddled over to the two kids. “They will not be going!” He announced in a hush voice, having found his audacity again after his initial shock. “We swore when we took him in, we’d put a stop to all this rubbish!” 

“You knew?” Harry exclaimed, betrayed. “You knew this whole time and never told me?” 

Petunia scoffed, crossing her arms. “Of course we know. How could you not be?” She said bitterly. My perfect sister being who she was…with that Potter.” She paced around. “My mother and father were so proud the day she got her letter. I was the only one who ever saw her for who she was—a freak.”

Edith flinched. “And me? Did you know I was a witch?” 

Petunia practically rolled her eyes. “We were hoping you weren’t. But when you started floating instead of crawling, we were pretty confident you had taken after her. And then she got herself blown up and then we ended up with you and Harry. The two abnormal children.”

“Blown up?!” Harry yelled. “You told me my parents died in a car crash!” 

“A car crash?” Hagrid repeated incredulously. “A car crash killing James and Lily Potter?” 

“We had to say something.” They excused themselves. 

“It’s an outrage! A scandal!” Hagrid shouted at them, waving his umbrella. 

“They will not be going.” Vernon stuck up his nose. 

Hagrid mocked them. “Oh and I suppose a great muggle like yourself is going to stop them, are you?”

A quick beat of silence as the argument fizzled out for a moment. “A muggle?” Edith questioned. 

“Non-magic folk.” Hagrid defined before quickly jumping back into the argument. “This boy has had his name down ever since he were born! He’s going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world and she’s going with him! They will be under the finest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore!” 

The two children beamed up at Hagrid, having someone defend them for once in their lives other than each other. 

Face turning red, Vernon raised his voice. “I will not pay to have some crackpot old fool teach him magic tricks!” 

Hagrid stuck the flame-thrower-umbrella in Vernon’s face. “Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me.” He warned, tone harsh and dry. 

The room went silent, the only noise heard was Dudley, snacking on Harry’s birthday cake in the corner. 

Hagrid stuck his umbrella towards him, a beam of mist shooting out and at Dudley. A pig tail emerged from Dudleys behind, swirling around as Dudley shrieked and squawked. 

Panicking, Vernon and Petunia started screaming as well—chasing after Dudley as he ran around the room in circles. 

Harry laughed as Edith smiled, covering her mouth. 

Leaning down a little, Hagrid lowered his voice into a whisper. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone at Hogwarts about that. I’m not supposed to be using magic.”

They nodded feverishly, as Hagrid thanked them—taking out a little pocket watch. “Ooh, we’re a bit behind schedule. Best be off!” 

He headed towards the exit, looking back at the cousins who hadn’t moved yet. “Unless of course you’d want to stay?” 

With that, Edith slipped on her shoes and walked out the door, Harry stumbling after. 

END OF CHAPTER ONE

[murdockbuckley]

omg 10 wips?? which one is your favourite?

better yet, what is your favourite line from each??

i cannot pick a favourite but here are some snippets from a few!!

1. aroace eddie

It was forced upon him with the expectation of a domesticity pertaining to romantic love. An expectation he could never live up to, for a reason he could never admit to - for fear of being known, of being shamed, of being different.

2. girldad!buck

I remember the first time you told me about the family you made for yourself in LA. About how your Captain felt more like a father to you than Philip ever did. About Hen and Chim who felt like your older siblings. And how Athena marrying Bobby made her your sort-of-not-really-but-kinda mother. I know the bond you all have has only grown stronger through the years. They are your family. Her family too, introduce her to them. Let her know her grandparents and her aunts and uncles; Maddie is right in that they would all love and accept her, no matter how long you think you’ve ‘kept her secret’.

Ask them for help. They will help you without any hesitation, okay?

I know Eddie is probably there with you, or you’ll be telling him as soon as you’ve finished reading this. Lean on him. Accept his help. Talk to him. You are each other's safety nets, so don’t be afraid to fall into him.

3. poet!buck #1

Later that week, Buck found himself alone in his apartment with the rain pattering gently on the windows. Not the most ideal weather for him, but if he wants to write about his thoughts from that night, and everyday since, he supposes it’s a fitting choice. Maybe The Universe is trying to help jog his memory - it’s not as if he remembers every excruciating detail of every moment.

He sat, with pen in hand, on the floor in front of the coffee table. Maybe not the wisest decision because his leg pain will inevitably flair up, especially if he’s not careful. But he got some floor cushions, the big and comfy circle kind - they’re not bean bags Eddie - that he brought for the purpose of playing board games with anyone who would keep him company.

Buck supposes trying to hack into his ten year old self’s brain to write some shitty poetry is also a good use for them.

4. poet!buck #2

They were sat just far enough from the others Eddie didn’t feel bad about starting this conversation now. Besides he was curious, and he’s almost died enough times to satisfy that curiosity (Buck had already taken care of the being brought back part of the idiom).

As Buck was about to say something more, a grape hit him in the forehead. He reeled back with an offended look and Eddie hid a chuckle behind his drink.

“What are you two love birds talking about?”

“None of your business, Howard.” He threw the grape back at Chim, Eddie laughed at his offended expression.

“Oh come on. Were you just flirting with my brother in law, Diaz?”

Eddie smirked, “Oh yeah. I was telling him all the things I would do to him when we make you look after Chris next week. Like-”

“Oh gross. I love you boys but I do not want to be hearing about your sex life,” Hen interrupted, Chim exaggeratedly nodded along with her while the others laughed at her disgust.

“Chim asked! Besides, I never said it was about sex.”

“Alright, knock it off now. The actual kids are coming to eat, let’s keep it age appropriate?”

Buck floundered, “But- but I know so much about your sex life because of Bobby that’s not fair.”

Athena shut him up with a warning glare, Bobby pressed a smiling kiss to her temple.