#Eddie has been thirsting for years

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

[ineffableoutpost]

Steve Harrington on BookTok

Older Steve who downloads tik tok and begins to make book tok videos without ever having read much. Instead, he makes it like a collaborative book club where his followers suggest books and after he gives them his review.

At first people love him bc he’s this cute fifty year old man with glasses and a husband who was a famous metal star in the nineties and early 2000s. Then there are other people who give him the Pedro Pascal treatment of calling him “daddy” and thirsting for him. Steve shuts that down immediately.

The popular first request was the LOTR series and Steve has to apologize and say that his husband reads them to him and has been doing it for decades now.

Then comes Harry Potter and Steve is a little apprehensive because the author is a piece of shit. But he does read them and has a mini obsession over it.

Then he moves on to other books, and then the queer community of booktok finds him and begin requesting a bunch of queer books. Steve cries while reading The Song of Achilles, but loves it.

Then, they make him read a book full of smut, and Steve makes a video halfway through the book where he’s like;

“You guys are making me read porn!” You can clearly hear Eddie cackling in the background

- - -

Steve makes a special series where he and Eddie purposely read shity books and laugh along the way. (Colleen hover makes many appearances)

*reading about the two characters laughing at their baby’s balls*

Steve: *speechless*

Eddie: *speechless x2* and gay people are the problem?

They look at each other and burst out laughing

- - -

Steve making another series with Nancy and Robin where they look at how some male authors write female characters.

Nancy: *reading* her breasts jiggled excitedly as she descended the stairs

Robin: *laughing her ass off in lesbian*

Steve: *also laughing along*

Eddie: *pops his head into frame* I, for one can account this as true. Steve’s tits do jiggle excitedly

Eddie stitches the video with an old home movie where Steve is running down the stairs shirtless, and his tits do in fact jiggle

- - -

Steve makes a video with Eddie where Eddie explains how he annotated his books and shows his oldest copies of the hobbit and LOTR.

Then there’s a small clip of one of Steve’s annotations in one book and it says “slay”

Cut to Eddie laughing asking where Steve got that word from and how long he’s been using it secretly in his annotations.

- - -

Steve gets an opportunity to partner up with audible or some shit to make a small collection of his favorite books into a subscription bundle.

He’s so excited when he also starts seeing bookshops make a little table with a sign saying “Steve’s Favorites”

He’s so exited because reading and books was something he hated for so many years, but also something he managed to turn positive.

Some stores also display a “Steddie Favorites” with the LOTR series and some of Steve’s selected books.

[findafight]

Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 1

I am finally ready to show you all the Sugar Baby!Steve/Sugar Daddy!Eddie fic I've been working on. I'm not sure how long it will go, but Steve's going to go on a journey with this one.

But I feel I need to go into the title of this fic a bit, because I feel it’s important to talk about before starting the story.

The Caged Bird Still Sings, because they are well taken care of and has every need met. They will never starve, or thirst or get too hot or cold, they will be cared for if sick or injured. The only price is the cage.

It’s like that owl that got released from that zoo by well-meaning ‘animal advocates’ that died by flying into a high rise building. If it had still been in the zoo it would have lived for another thirty years.

So in this story Steve starts off thinking that Eddie’s love and attention is only temporary and is actively trying to get a job, make money of his own, and move out and away from needing Eddie’s money and gifts to survive so that they can be on more even footing.

But as the story goes on and he can’t get work and he meets Robin, he slips into this melancholy for awhile thinking that if he wants to continue living like this there has to be some sort of trade and thinks it’s about sex.

Which is why Eddie refuses to have sex with him during that time. He wants them to be couple and knows that Steve isn’t there yet.

It’s only at the end when Steve realizes this isn’t temporary, that Eddie isn’t just trying to buy sex from him, that he settles into being taken care of. By Robin, by Eddie, by the rest of the band. Not because they don’t think he can take care of himself but because they love him.

There will be only two sex scenes in this. Once at the beginning before the Arrangement, and once at the end when they are both on the same page and they consummate their relationship.

If you think this isn’t your cup of tea, no problem. Let me know in the comments, tags, DMs, or even asks (I’ll answer privately) and I’ll take you off the list. I already have one that has told me upfront that they aren’t interested and won’t be tagged.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story.

~

Steve sat in his Bimmer, head hung low between his shoulders, tears streaming down his face. Everything he owned was in the trunk and backseat of the car. It was his car. The title had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen.

He was still wearing the stupid little green vest and name tag that bore the name Family Video. A place he no longer worked. He’d have to return them to the store in the morning, but for now, it created the illusion of still being employed.

When he woke up yesterday morning, he had three things; a home, a job, and a boyfriend. And now he didn’t have any of that shit.

All because last night his parents came home to find him and Tommy on the sofa with their hands in each other’s pants. Leaving no doubt about what they were doing.

They kicked Steve out mere minutes after Tommy fled, his father screaming that he wouldn’t have a dirty whoring fag in his house. All while his mother cried about losing her baby to those ‘horrid queers’.

Steve had called around to his friends looking for a place to spend the night, but they were all too afraid of his dad. His father roared with laughter each time a friend turned him down.

“They don’t want a dirty fag in their house either,” he said with a sneer as Steve hung up on his last hope.

“Now get the hell out of my house.”

Steve did as he was told and spent the night in his car in the parking of Family Video. When it came time to open the store, he grabbed his clothes and work vest and got changed in the bathroom.

By noon, his life was over. Keith had sat him down in his office and told him that due to morality clause that Steve had violated, he would no longer be working at Family Video. He handed Steve his last check and told him he had to return the vest cleaned with his badge by tomorrow or he would be forced to pay for them.

Steve cashed the check. It wasn’t much as it was only the beginning of the new pay period and he had barely worked eight hours before he had been fired.

He had some money in his savings account, another thing that had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen. But not enough for a hotel. So he went to the bank and closed out the account. All total it was only fifty bucks. That might get him a night at a cheap motel, but nothing past that. He would be homeless, penniless, and friendless if he tried.

But there was another way to get a warm place to stay at least for the night without spending everything he had.

He got dressed up in the sluttiest outfit he had. He pulled on tight leather black pants and yellow shirt that barely grazed the top of his belly button. He put on a little eyeliner and mascara, then he added strawberry lip balm to make his lips pop.

Steve opened his wallet and pulled out his fake ID. The one he got when he was sixteen off his cousin.

They looked close enough to be brothers and Scott was easy to change to Steve and ta da! He put it in front of his actual ID and drove out to the Hideout.

He parked far enough away from the bar so people wouldn’t see all his stuff in the back and then walked up to the line. He was so focused on getting in that he missed all the signs.

The lack of variety in clothes from those in the line, the bouncer asking for a high cover charge, higher than normal, and the most glaring? The great big fucking stage setup with the huge ass banner that said in bold fucking letters: CORRODED COFFIN.

Nope, it took getting a seat at the bar and the bartender straight up asking if his girlfriend was a fan of the band before Steve realized his error.

He was a prep surrounded by metal fans all there to see Corroded Coffin. Steve was familiar with them. But then again you had to be dead not to know the name of the biggest band to make out of Hawkins, metal fan or not.

Eddie Munson was older than Steve by a decade, so he was only ten when the older man took his band to LA and made it big. Which if you had listened to any of his teachers or even just anyone over forty at the time for longer than two seconds they would rant about how they never thought he would amount to anything. That making music was a pipe dream and to just accept taking his uncle’s place at the manufacturing plant on the outside of town.

He also knew that they made sure to stop and play here at the Hideout every time they did any American tour just to fuck with those assholes.

So he had really picked the worst night to have his life completely fucked over enough for him to even think about coming here to get laid. Because chances were, he wasn’t gonna. He just hoped that someone took pity on him enough to buy him his drinks so that he could shit-faced enough to endure sleeping rough again.

He ordered a dirty martini and hoped to be left alone at the very least.

~

Eddie was in the back tuning his guitar when Jeff came in shaking his head.

“What’s up, man?” he asked looking back down at his sweetheart.

“Some poor bastard wandered in on the night we perform,” Jeff said with a chuckle.

Eddie raised his head and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Come here, come here,” Jeff said, waving him over.

Eddie set his guitar down and walked over. Jeff pointed at the guy at the bar. Bright yellow shirt and shiny leather pants.

“Ooh...” he said with a wince. “Poor guy. Probably had a shit day and wanted to blow off some steam and now his day is just going to get worse.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I’m half tempted to at least buy the guy a drink for the sheer fact he fucking stayed. The balls on that dude.”

Eddie watched as the guy fondled the stem of his glass. He licked his lips slowly.

“Oh no,” Jeff said, face palming. “I know that look. And absolutely fucking not. He looks super young, Ed.”

Eddie just shrugged. “He’s at least twenty-one, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past Monty.”

Jeff raised his head and blinked at him for a moment. Monty was a good bouncer who could spot a fake a mile away.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “Objection retracted.”

Eddie clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Tell Chrissy to start a tab for this guy and have it be in my name and to put the word out that if anyone is seen harassing him will get kicked out.”

Jeff sighed but did as he was told. Eddie sat back down and began tuning his guitar again. He thought tonight was going to blow, but a little yellow canary just made things a hell of a lot more interesting.

~

Steve was sitting at the bar nursing his one drink for the evening and keeping his head down when a perky blonde slid up next to him.

“I need five bottles of Miller,” she told the bartender and then turned and gave Steve a once over. “And something for the fine gentleman here.”

Steve turned to look at her. Her hair was actually closer to red than blonde but she was cute in a preppy cheerleader kind of way.

“All these going on the same tab?” the bartender asked, handing her the five unopened beers.

She smiled up at him. “Yep! And all his drinks, too. All night. Whatever he wants.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow and then looked over Steve up and down. “God damn him. He’s doing it again?”

The woman just giggled and winked at Steve before taking her prizes with her.

Steve wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth so downed his drink and ordered a Tequila Sunrise to replace it.

But curiosity won out. “Do I want to know what that was about?”

The bartender chuckled and shook his head fondly.

Steve thought about saying something bitchy, but he really wanted his drinks for free and poking the bear was not a plan if he wanted that to happen, so kept his mouth shut.

The band came out and Steve knew he was in trouble. He objectively knew what the band looked like and vaguely knew who was who even. But all that blew out the fucking window in the face of Eddie Munson in the flesh.

Tight pants, leather jacket, shredded t-shirt, combat boots, and his hair whipping back and forth?

God, Steve was instantly horny and just as hard. He shifted in his pants and prayed that the tight pants kept his dick from showing too much. Otherwise, this was going be a very awkward evening.

He was listening to the band and bobbing along to the music when some dude over fifty came up to him.

“Name three songs off their third album,” he growled.

Steve blinked at him for a moment and then raised one eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just here for the booze. I’ve had a shit day just want to relax.”

“So you’re some townie who thinks that because this your fucked up hell hole that you can just take the spot of some real fan who wanted to see them more than you?”

Steve really didn’t know how to answer that. Because, yeah. That’s exactly what he thought.

“It’s not that serious,” Steve said, turning back to his drink. “They’re playing in both Indy and Bloomington. They can see them there instead of this dimly lit bar.” He mouthed ‘sorry’ to the bartender, who shrugged and tried to hide his smile.

“And how would you know that, asshole?” the guy growled.

Steve sighed and pointed to the sign behind the bar listing Corroded Coffin’s tour dates.

The guy whipped his head to look at the sign but before he could say anything else, Monty came up to the guy and quietly ushered him away, whispering furiously as the guy’s face paled.

The bartender shook his head. “These dudes never learn.”

Steve took a sip of his drink and set it down. “What’s that?”

“That the guys,” he pointed to the stage and Steve looked over his shoulder at the band kicking it on stage, he nodded, “don’t like it when fans try and gate keep. They can’t do jack shit at larger venues but place like this? They absolutely refuse to let that kind of shit go on.”

Steve looked over his shoulder just in time to catch Eddie winking at him. He blushed and turned bright red.

The bartender laughed before he moved on to take another order.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33

[starshideurfics]

Buzzed, Buzzing - part 2

part 1

Buzzed, Buzzing

JQ, you can’t go dropping TWO horny photoshoots on us in less than a week!

steddie, omegaverse, Buzzed part 2, mdni 🔞

Finally being with Eddie is a dream. At least for the week he’s in town, fully foregoing Steve’s guest room and its comfy mattress.

Instead, it’s a week of Eddie wrapped around Steve each night, skin touching skin, bodies sated in a bone-deep way Steve’s never felt before.

A week of waking up to Eddie’s lips on his neck, to whispers of, “Morning, Puppy,” and sleepy yawns, arms tugging him closer and closer.

A week of Robin saying, “I’m happy for you, truly, but could you try going five minutes without swapping spit?!” only for Eddie to look her dead in the eye and lick whatever part of Steve is closest to his mouth.

A week of Steve floating on a cloud of affection and hormones.

Then Eddie has to leave, head to Chicago and buckle down for long days filming.

Steve mopes their whole last morning, sneaking shirts out of Eddie’s suitcase until the alpha relents and dumps out his dirty laundry. “Put ‘em all in your nest, I can get new shirts.”

Steve purrs, gathers the shirts, and herds Eddie back to his room for a last quickie before Eddie’s Uber arrives.

Being apart sucks. They videochat daily, text constantly, but Steve still misses Eddie every second he’s gone. So, he’s back where he started, mooning over pics on his phone, scenting at Eddie’s boxers as he works three fingers into his aching pussy.

He’s holding out, but Steve is counting down the days until shooting wraps, when Eddie would fly straight to Indy.

Steve’s on his lunch break, typing out a response to Eddie’s latest text as he shove pretzel thins and hummus in his mouth, when his phone starts buzzing.

Robin is calling, from the other end of the building. “Hey, Robbie, need me to get you a coke zero?” he asks instead of saying hello.

“Don’t tell me you got rid of your Munson-stalking web alert, because that’s the only reason I can think of for why you aren’t freaking out!”

He did, not really needing it when he has Eddie checking in with him at least hourly. “What? Robin, I’m texting with Eddie right now, what do you think I missed?”

“Just, look him up; your ADHD gremlin boyfriend probably forgot to mention it!”

Steve opens google, starts typing Eddie’s name and only gets as far as “ED” before autofill finishes it for him.

A new photoshoot and accompanying interview. Steve gets caught by a photo of Eddie eating a peach. It’s such a thirst trap, but it makes Steve smile.

Besides, there are other notes, but Steve’s scent has always been peach-forward. It might be a coincidence. Steve doesn’t think it is.

He reads the interview; about his current project, lots on the movie coming out next month that filmed a year ago, and his costars including a chill cat.

But right under the peach picture is a question about his personal life, how he stays grounded and connected when he’s constantly moving around for work. 

Eddie starts, as he always does, with Wayne, his friends, his charity work, the arts scholarship he funds.

“The truth is that it’s all for my partner. Like, I want to put good into the world, help kids like me who didn’t have the best start in life, but my focus is on being good enough for him, being the kind of person he can be proud of.” 

The journalist asks him to elaborate.

She writes about Eddie’s smile, the small one where he averts his gaze, emotions too big to share. “I dunno, just that he’s got me beat by a mile—he’s a teacher, middle school, you know, the worst time in a kid’s life. And he loves it!”

More words on Eddie’s laugh and kind eyes.

“So, yeah, the people I love, the people who love me, that’s how I keep my head on straight. That’s what it’s all about, right? Family, friends. Pack.”

Steve’s vision goes blurry on the last little paragraph. He wipes the tears from his eyes and pulls out his phone.

Just read the article! I’ve always been proud of you ❤️

Three little dots appear immediately to show Eddie’s typing, but they disappear and instead Steve’s phone buzzes with a call.

“I forgot that was coming out today! I should have warned you!”

Steve grins. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but thank you. And it wasn’t too much? I’m trying to keep my private life private, but if I can’t talk to you, I wanna talk about you. All the time. Because I fucking miss you, Puppy.”

“It’s okay,” Steve reiterates. “I miss you, too. So much. Wish you were here.”

The whine he lets out makes Eddie chuckle, low and dark. “Wish I had you here, could show you how much I miss you. At least you’ve got some new visual aides, but maybe tonight, when I call you could show me… Get your fingers wet for me.”

Steve lets out another breathy whine. “Yeah, want that.” He presses his legs together, tries to tamp down the feelings of desire before he gets too wet at work. “Miss your fingers, though.”

“Good,” Eddie husks. Steve can hear him lick his lips, so he knows Eddie’s nervous. “And it was supposed to be a surprise. But I’ve got the weekend off. My flight gets in at 9 on Friday night.”

Now expanded into a full fic! Read here

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: In honour and love. 2562 words.

Author’s Note: We pick up where we left off.

1986

“You’re welcome…”

Your feet were planted so solidly on the ground it was as though you’d grown roots. He took the few steps needed to almost close the space between you.

“Why… why are you helping?”

Oh.

Your body had an almost visceral reaction to his voice. It was more than a familiar sound; it felt like home. You wanted to cry. “I... I… Uh- That’s hard… to explain…”

He looked you up and down, then accepted your answer with a nod.

“I need to… need to bury him,”

“Let me,” the man moved faster than you, scooping the dog’s body up and holding it against his chest.

“Oh… No… He can’t be dumped somewhere. I need to bury him. He deserves to be honoured.” You could feel embarrassment bubble up, something you weren’t used to. It was easy to talk about the craft around witches. It was easy to hide it from humans with clever language. It was entirely illogical, but you needed him to understand what you were saying. You were afraid he’d laugh or deny you this rite.

The man looked from you to the dog. “I know where to go. If you’ll take us,”

“How… Do… Do you remember? Being a bat?”

He nodded. “I am… starting to.”

As the vampire dressed in borrowed clothes, ones that fit more poorly than the last, you picked the best apple in your fruit bowl and a piece of Apache Tear obsidian from your crystal collection, stashing them in your bag.

You checked outside the trailer for nosy neighbours. The coast was clear and you walked to your car. The man had never been in a car. He’d seen them. Knew, in theory, that he just had to sit in it. Still, it presented a challenge.

When you unlocked the passenger side door and opened it for him, he stood awkwardly for a second. “Unless it's close enough to walk?” you asked him. He shook his head and got into the car, holding the dog’s body like a security blanket.

As you drove out of Forest Hills, you stopped at the main entrance. “Which way?”

The man nodded north.

You turned the radio on to fill the silence, assuming there was no conversation to be had.

“You do not belong in this place,”

“No. I don’t,” you agreed. “I used to be. Before the town, before… this lifetime… I lived here with my sisters,”

“They are not here now,”

“No. I’m the only witch here,”

“A witch,” he repeated, nodding to himself.

“Do you know what that is?” you asked.

He looked at you, his eyesight unaffected by the night. “I… may,”

“Oh… Okay. Well. Are you remembering anything else? About what you are?”

“I need blood.”

Of course, he’d know blood. “You will die without it. Well… A kind of death. Eventually. That would be very painful for you though,”

“Yes,” he said, like he knew that. Perhaps the thirst for blood was so innate that the knowledge he’d die without it was too. “Vampire.”

The word startled you. It was still surreal. It was as if a Tasmanian tiger or woolly mammoth were to walk out in front of your car.

He was a vampire. A vampire you had helped. A vampire you had taken a living thing to, to kill. It hadn’t occurred to you until then that you could have simply healed the ridgeback. You could have healed all the animals in Hawkins Kennels, instead you took one to its early death and devoted time to a vampire.

You focused on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“Do you know your name?” you asked, needing the conversation as a distraction. Once telling him yours, you waited, but he shook his head. “We might need to give you one. Or, at least, a nickname.”

Between your limited knowledge of the roads of Hawkins and the fact he’d only ever seen it from the sky, it took a while to locate the place he intended to bury the dog. It wasn’t unpleasant driving empty streets with him though. You wondered if it should have been.

A partially overgrown road, unpaved and a threat to your car tires, was where he lead you. As natural landmarks began to come into focus, the moon’s rays the only light for miles, you felt the growing sense that you’d been to this place before.

When your car came to a dead end, you cut the engine. “Is it far?” you asked.

The man shook his head and waited for you to open his door.

He walked in front of you, flattening a path. Over the tall grass you could see you were coming to a wooded area. You smelt the oak before hitting the edge of the trees.

“Was this a witch?” the man asked, stepping out of your way.

Before you, constructed between two tall sycamore trees was a doorway of sorts. Hundreds of branches and sticks had been used to create a near-perfect circle. They were woven and stuck together to build an arch over and under. A gateway to the woods, not one that defied science, but still an oddity seemingly supernatural in origin.

“How… how do you know this place?”

He had no answer, so he stayed silent. It was just one of many parts of the flatlands, of Hawkins, that as a bat he watched over. He liked the forest doorway though, as much as he’d ever been able to like anything.

“I think… I think I’ve been here. I think I made this,” you said, voice dropping low.

“You cannot remember?”

It made no sense. You should have been able to remember. An unsettling feeling washed over you. Someone had been tinkering in the vampire’s mind, dislodging memories and letting them freefall. Surely, you didn’t have that in common.

When you didn’t answer his question, he asked another. “Is this a place… to honour?”

The dog.

“Yes. Yeah, it is.”

You took the lead, walking through the forest gate and looking back to see what would become of a vampire crossing a witch’s threshold. Nothing. Whatever magic had been there was long gone.

Not far from the gate, you stopped. The vampire understood, carefully placing the dog on the woodland floor. He stayed knelt on the ground and began to move sticks and brush out of the way. His movements gained momentum and soon he was moving faster than your eye could read. He was a blur, then he was standing next to a deep grave, the soil of which was dark under his fingernails.

You nodded when he looked to you for approval, then he laid the dog in the ground. While the vampire buried his victim, you gathered tokens from the nature that surrounded you.

Upon the grave, you laid butterfly weed and echinacea flowers, the apple, and obsidian.

“Hel, comforter in grief,

We ask you to receive this soul.

They lived pure, good, and true.

Hel, watcher of the dead,

We ask you to receive this soul.

Go peacefully now, no lament, no sorrow, nor rue.”

Standing side-by-side with a hexed vampire, you committed the dog to the earth not with a spell but a blessing, and grieved for the oath you’d broken.

“Go now,” he spoke. “I will come soon.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the vampire had gone from your side into the night. You waited in the car for fifteen minutes, the heater blasting stuffy air onto you. When he didn’t return, you drove home alone, only to find him perched on the roof of the trailer.

“That seems very dramatic,” you told him as he followed you inside. He was silent and all but invisible out there, still it seemed even an amnesic vampire couldn’t forget to have an operatic flair.

The trailer was warm and the artificial lighting soft. When you turned to him, you could see it on his face. The colour high on his cheekbones. The red on his lips. He’d found his way back to you, by way of more death.

…

1836

He watched you while you built the gate. Although he wouldn’t reveal himself, you could feel his curious gaze. It sent electricity buzzing through you, though you would burn at the stake before admitting that to yourself.

When he felt sure no townsfolk or coven members were joining you, he sauntered through the field, parting the long grass at will.

“Little witch. Why are you playing with sticks?”

You paid him no mind, which you knew would drive him crazy. He walked through the gate and around it, poking at the branches and making noises of discontent.

“If you aren’t going to help, you can go be a nuisance to your own kind,” you warned him, a stick pointed in his direction.

He swiftly grabbed the stick, tugging it hard, pulling you into him. It was the first physical content you’d made. The stick was forgotten as his cold hands wrapped around your upper arms, your chest pressed to his. He looked down at you, bared his sharp teeth in a smile.

“You don’t want me to go. Do you?” Your blown pupils were answer enough. He grinned again. “How can I help?” he asked, voice softening as he let you go and stepped away.

“I need… more…”

“More…? Sticks?”

You nodded dumbly.

He stayed close, within your sight, and moved at the speed of a human. You steadied yourself, regained your composure, and continued with your task.

The circular doorway would allow humans and witches to pass safely through the woods. It worked like a protection spell, once through it the individual would exist within a bubble, the bubble would take them through the dense and dark forest untouchable to vampires and foes.

On the other side of the woods, your mother had created one just like it, though she preferred to work in the daylight. Your penchant for twilight walks and midnight magic had, so far, gone unnoticed by the coven. Moonlight was a strong conductor, after all.

When the doorway was complete, holding strong against push and pull, you considered sending the vampire away. Somehow though, your magic felt stronger when he stood next to you. So, he stayed.

“Bloodline magic, far and wide,

Enchant this doorway so friends may hide.

Leaf and petal, wood and stone,

Protect our friends, return them home.”

You painted a circle of salt, sage, ground black cat bone, and mud around the doorway while reciting the spell. Then stood on the opposite side to the vampire.

“I dare you to cross through,” you said to him, a coy smile warning him of your witchy mischief.

“You wouldn’t be trying to kill me, would you, little witch?”

“If I were, it would not be with sticks and stones.”

He laughed, then considered you, his head cocking to the side. “If you want me to cross through, it will not be for free.” It was obvious he wouldn’t be able to walk through the circle, but the damage he would sustain was a mystery. What price would he put on shame or pain?

You huffed and crossed your arms. “What do you want? More stolen apples that you can’t eat?”

“A kiss,” he replied.

Your expression stayed playful; you held your nerve. He didn’t miss the way your breathing hitched though.

“For that, I want more,”

“Of course, you do,” he laughed, motioning for you to continue with a wave of the hand.

“Your name. A kiss will buy me your name.”

The vampire was quite pleased with himself for having held back that detail. He had predicted it would become useful. Witches and their silly little words and silly little names. It was all so important to them.

“You have yourself a deal.”

You clapped with joy, then bowed at the gate. “Please cross this witch’s threshold,”

“Oh, I do love it when you speak so filthy,” he quipped.

Tentatively, he approached the gate, waiting to feel his skin burn or something mystical and unholy. You watched amused at his sudden caution.

“Nothing will happen until you cross through,” you told him, trying to hurry him along.

He shot you a dark look that ought to have frightened you. Instead, you giggled.

The vampire took a useless breath in and jumped off the ground. He hit the circle like it was a brick wall, then was sent on a harsh rebound from the trees and into the tall grass.

You covered your face to conceal the laughter, waiting for him to reappear, ego bruised.

The wind whistled through the air and you thought perhaps you had pushed the vampire too far. Carefully, you followed his path from the gate out the woods and to where the grass began.

“Oh, vampire!” you called sweetly.

His voice came from all around you. All-encompassing whispers of, “Little witch, little witch, little witch!”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

The whispering stopped. You walked into the tall grass and found him lying on his back, casually lounging.

“Have you come to shower me in kisses?” he asked, fluttering his long eyelashes as you.

You knelt next to him, leaning over so your arms were either side of his head. “Give me your name,” you demanded, eye to eye with him.

“When I was born into this world, my mother named me Edward,” he said so casually, like it had never been a secret.

“Edward,” you repeated, a tone in your voice that made him smile.

“Are you disappointed? Would Molech suit better? Abaddon? Paimon? Or perhaps Lucifer Morningstar is what you expected?”

You looked down at him and saw through the shallow humour. “There’s a boy in the village. His name is Robert. It means bright star. His mother calls him Bobby and he answers when she calls,”

“Are you trying to distract me with a lesson?”

“Edward is of Old English origin. It means both fortune and guardianship. Which, in your case, does not fit quite right.” You didn’t reveal that his name was relatively new in human history, leading you to conclude he was not an Ancient vampire.

“Do your arms tire, Amabel? May I take this weight from you?” With vampire speed, he sat up, pulling you over him, your legs straddling his lap.

The game was fun. You held your arms out straight, letting them lean on his shoulders. “My assertion is that like Bobby, you will answer to a different name. I think I will call you… Eddie.”

You half expected him to argue. Instead, he smiled tenderly and snaked his arms around you. “You can call me whatever you want, little witch.”

Eddie listened to your heart, how it began to beat faster as you leaned down and ran the tip of your nose against his. His lips touched yours, his cool to your earthy warmth. You had kissed witches and humans and a few fae folk too. Nothing… absolutely nothing compared.

You rolled your hips against him, begging to be held tighter, instead he maintained the space between you, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, in a moment of honest vulnerability.

Willing yourself not to cry, you left his sorrow unanswered and instead, leaned in to kiss him again.

End Note: Not me agonising over US English versus Australian. The Grimoire and timeline have been updated (links at top of post). Reblogs encourage me to keep writing! And, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl

[steddietogo]

Made With Love

Steddie TikTok au: Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

———

Bobin_Buck Posted 20 mins ago

———

Caption:

Get ready with me: Date night edition

———

Robin and Eddie are rooting through Robin's closet for a perfect date outfit for Robin. Steve has been banished to the bed due to conflicting opinions. He pouts and complains about it for a long time.

"You should totally do that, you'll get so much more views then," Robin says after Eddie suggests that Steve should make a suggestive thirst trap male chefs on the cursed clock app can't stop making.

"I'm not smacking a chicken thigh to get more views, thank you very much." Steve protests, lying upside down with his head hanging off the side of the bed.

"Oh don't act like your above it, Steven, we all know about your several slutty exploits-" Steve launches a cushion into her face, making her scream bloody murder.

"You could make one wearing just your apron," Eddie suggests and wiggles his eyebrows at Steve, making him snort out loud.

"Ew. that would be so embarrassing," Robin fake gags.

"Well, unlike you Buckley, I can appreciate a good looking man-" In the background. Steve rolls over to hide his face in the pillows as Robin and Eddie continue to bicker.

———

Eddie is holding the phone, filming himself. "Passing the phone to someone who acts like dog with the zoomies after a single cup of coffee,"

Cut to Robin, who says, "Passing the phone to the someone who routinely gets bullied by kids several years younger than him,"

"Passing the phone to someone with chronic foot-in-mouth disease and was too scared to talk to their crush that they hid in men's bathroom for a full ten minutes." Steve says, sending a withering glare to someone off camera.

"Passing the phone to the person who got chased by a damn poodle into the- HEY!" The phone gets yanked out of Robin's hands halfway through her sentence.

"Passing the phone to Tinker Bell who is dying because he isn't getting enough attention." Steve says, then shoves the camera towards Eddie who is dramatically pouting on the couch then immediately perks up when he's given the phone.

———

There's a montage of Robin showing off different outfits. Eddie and Steve are sitting on the couch with table tennis racquets on their hands with 'YES:) and 'NO:(' scribbled on each side to rate each of her outfits.

A green sweater vest with a white shirt underneath gets an immediate no and Robin walks back into her room like a sad tom cat. A blue crushed velvet shirt under suspenders gets a maybe. The winning combo is the one with a black suit vest underneath an oversized pinstriped suit jacket and high waisted pleated pants.

Eddie leaps from the couch, exclaiming, "I know what this outfit needs- chains!" then bounds off to his room to pick some out.

———

Bonus clip:

Robin and Steve are piping cream puffs and Eddie walks past them, takes one look at it and says "Me, when I- when-". The video loops back to the beginning just as the three of them dissolve into cackles.

———

Comments:

user 80085: Slutty exploits??? We need details

Corrodedfan: Did Eddie publicly announce getting creamp— *g^nshot*

Dustin H: Goodluck with your date Robin!!

———

[buddie911abc]

I reblogged this on another post with a bunch of other things, but I thought I would give it space to itself. It is my gift to everyone who has read through my mopey posts lately. It is Buddie positive.

Poem rewrite: "What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude." It was like someone giving you a glass of water, I answered. Before you knew you were dying of thirst.

"What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy. It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence."

"What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow." It was like time slowed, One answered. And the taste of his blood became the specter of my nightmares.

"There was a long pause before the other responded."

It was like... three minutes and seventeen seconds.

---

quotes --Lange Leave

My insertions are based on my interpretation of Buddie scenes.

First, is Eddie's POV- Inspired by what I think he would have felt in the moment, he realized Buck did not set him up on a blind date like everyone else did. Instead, Buck had brought Carla to help him find a way to help Chris. It was the first time anyone had offered to help him with zero expectations or ulterior motives. (My personal headcanon is that this is the moment Eddie fell in love.

Second, is Buck's POV- I didn't change the poet's original words because I feel they reflect what Buck has said repeatedly throughout the past 5 or 6 years. He is searching for someone who sees him and listens to him.

The third is from Buck and Eddie's POVs.

Buck-Based on the events of the day Eddie was shot in front of him.

Eddie- Based on how Eddie corrected the other firefighters at the poker game. They talked about Buck's death and how he had been dead for 3 mins., but Eddie interjected that it had been 3 mins 17 seconds. When your soul is being ripped from your chest, the extra 17 seconds make a difference.

[fxnfiction]

Buddie Fic Recs! (pt 2)

Shes back with Buddie fic recs part two! (Find part one here)

I love you fanfiction authors! Please send over your fav fics and remember to leave kudos & comments when you can!

ripples all the way down by iriswests | 57k | M

With some coercion, Buck allows Maddie to set him up on a date. Surprisingly, the date goes well — and it keeps his mind off the unnamable feelings he’s been studiously ignoring for his best friend.

Until Christopher’s science report on gentoo penguins — no, seriously — sets off a series of events that has him somehow spending more time at the Diazes’ side, and he feels like he’s going just a little bit insane trying to juggle a burgeoning relationship, his jealousy over Eddie’s own new relationship with Ana, and his inability to move on from the place that’s been his for three years in the Diazes’ lives.

Oh, and Eddie keeps looking at him like he has something to say — except he never says it.

This is the tumultuous road to finding out what Buck truly wants, paved by pebbles.

--

or; christopher partakes in some parent trapping

-

Let My Ink Stain Your Pages by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels | 107k | E

Having just killed off his popular character, bestselling author Evan Buckley needs some new inspiration and fast. Luckily for him, Det. Eddie Diaz is about to stroll into his life.

The last thing Eddie needs is a reckless mystery writer partnering with him and causing trouble. Or, rather, the last thing he needs is an inappropriate crush. Too bad he doesn't have a choice, because he's about to become the main character in Buck's new book series.

…everyone, place your bets.

-

i like you so much (it's kinda gross) by aficatyourfingertips, brewrosemilk | 10k | E

Buck Buckley (@firefighterbuck):@eddiediaz I’ll never be able to tug your hair now, huh?

Eddie Diaz (@eddiediaz):@firefighterbuck It’s against the rules, anyway. You don’t look like a fighter, though. What situation would we be in that would make you want to tug my hair?

(Or: Eddie is an MMA fighter and Buck thirsts on twitter.)

-

The Definition of Love and All Things Ineffable by ElvenSorceress | 29k | T

Maddie asks him, like she’s been waiting to ask him, “Does Christopher call you ‘Uncle Buck’?”

It’s… it sounds so casual. Nonchalant. Maybe even reasonable? And like there’s something she’s trying to figure out, but why would Chris ever call Buck his uncle? He’s Jee-Yun’s uncle. “No,” Buck answers. “Why?”

“He called me Aunt Maddie.” She tips her head curiously, brows knit together. “You’re far closer to him than I am. I thought if I’m his aunt, you’d have to be his uncle. Why wouldn’t you be Uncle Buck?”

There are pieces of chicken mushed into Jee’s fingers and carrots sticking to the bib draped over her front and what might be peas caught in her hair.

And Buck doesn’t really have an answer.

It’s just. It’s wrong. He’s not Chris’ Uncle Buck. Maybe he should be? Maybe he’s supposed to be? Or maybe Chris doesn’t call him that directly because he’s always been BFF Buck or His Buck. He shrugs and uneasiness settles in his stomach.

What more could he ever be to Chris but an uncle?

~~~

In which Buck processes his breakup, learns his place in his family, has a huge crisis of sexuality, and finds the truth about love beating in his own heart.

-

Still Waters by MilenaDaniels | 7k | E

As Eddie lays on the hot pavement bleeding out, his eyes locked on Buck’s bloody face, his hand reaching out towards him, what washes over him isn’t his hard-earned stillness nor is it shock.

It’s clarity, edging slowly into focus from off-stage.

And when he wakes up in the hospital bed and registers a soft, slim hand in his, he thinks, "no, that’s not it".

----

Or, Five Ways Eddie's Body Feels Different After the Shooting

-

One Week by elisela | 3k | G

Christopher's week revolves around Buck.

-

wastin' my time when it was always you by heartbeatdiaz | 20k | M

"Do you think it'll be like this forever?" Eddie whispers, as low as he can, so as to not wake Maddie up.

"What do you mean?" Evan tilts his head and frowns, confused.

"You and me. Us, being best friends. You think we can have this forever?" Eddie really hopes so. He likes building blanket forts with Evan and his sister, he likes going on adventures with his best friend and pretending they're pirates together. He likes all of it and he doesn't want it to ever end.

"Yeah, Eds. Duh!"

"You promise?"

"Promise." They both hook their pinky fingers and maybe they don't know it then, but that will be one of the most important promises they make in their life. And one of the hardest to keep as well.

or;

The one where they're childhood best friends, life separates them and then, years later, they find each other again.

-

and oh dear lord, think im buried in too deep by parker_kingofbees | 3k | G

“Oh, sorry,” David says quickly. Then, after a pause and a confused look sent Michael’s way, he elaborates, “Just, Michael had told me you two were dating.”

Well that’s a little weird. Buck doesn’t know Michael too well, but he’s talked to him a few times at group gatherings. Michael thought he and Eddie were a couple this whole time? He looks at the man in question quizzically.

“Well, that’s what May had told me,” Michael explains defensively. Buck and Eddie then turn their eyes to May, who looks a little like a deer in the headlights.

“Wait, but Mom said-”

Before the blame can even properly be placed on Athena, she interrupts. “Bobby told me himself that you two were dating.”

Finally, Buck and Eddie face Bobby questioningly.

“What do you mean, you aren’t dating?” Bobby asks, looking about as confused as everyone else.

//

aka literally everyone thinks that buck and eddie are dating

-

the darker side of lust (the other side of us) by anonymous | 11k | E (tw cnc)

Buck explains himself as best as he can, hedging a lot and making it clear that he’ll have no trouble living without this if they decide not to go ahead.

Eddie listens carefully, asking judgementless questions and considering the hypotheticals, all without betraying what he’s feeling. Then, when they’ve exhausted all of the possibilities and Buck’s already preparing himself to be disappointed, Eddie smiles and says, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

They buy what they need the next day.

Buck and Eddie try a CNC roleplay.

-

Enjoy! Let me know what you think. Part three out soon! xoxo

[bidisasterevankinard]

Wip Wednesday

Tagged by lovely people 💙💙💙💙 @panbuckley @hippolotamus @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 @jesuisici33

You would not believe what happened, but I finally did not bad beginning for Vegas drunk marriage

timeline: evening after bridge collapse in 6x18

“How do you feel? You hit your head pretty bad as you lost consciousness for a second,” Eddie could try to hide how worried he is, but he's tired and, honestly, he doesn't want that at all. Buck deserves to know that people care about him. That Eddie cares about him.

“My head is ok, just a little pain. I still don’t feel dizzy or nauseous,” Buck says quietly, after which he turns his full attention to Eddie. “I promise I’m ok, but if I feel even a little bit strange I'll let you know right that moment,” they both know what Buck is hiding behind those words. “I remember you told me what my death did to you. I promise that I will tell you if something is wrong without hiding it.” 

Buck looks from Eddie's eyes to his ribs.

“But now I’m more concerned about your ribs. You do understand that with a crack on the rib, you should rest no less than with a broken rib, right? Because you should understand I will not let you do more than just rest in your bed or on the couch and watch TV or read something. I will let you go only to the toilet, shower, or backyard where you're only allowed to sit on the porch or on the grass. Nothing else,” Buck says it all with a confidence that makes Eddie think that if he doesn't, Buck will tie him to the bed. Not that one day he would mind being tied to the bed if Buck tied him up. But now it's definitely not a conversation about sexual adventures. And Eddie just smiles, looking at the man he loves, who finishes his sandwich, not looking at him in return.

“Buck,” Eddie starts but is abruptly interrupted by Buck.

“No, Eddie, it's not even up for discussion. You're a medic and you should know that cracks in the ribs are insidious. If they don't heal properly they can lead to internal bleeding or,” Eddie is not even surprised that Buck already knows all the possible consequences of his injury. His incessant thirst for knowledge and a huge heart that cares so much about people, and somehow very much about Eddie, were and remain one of the main reasons why Eddie fell in love with him. But he stops Buck before he starts a real lecture about cracked ribs, fueled by Buck's anxiety.

“Buck, I was just going to say thank you,” and it’s not a lie. Eddie knows a year ago he would be trying to prove it’s ok, he can suck it up and move on, and he doesn’t need help. But he changed, his connection with Buck changed, so he accepts all the support and overprotectiveness from Buck with a smile, though small due to fatigue and pain, but real, because Eddie no longer knows if he will ever be able to fake smile at Buck in a way that is enough to be convincing.

“And yes I understand I should rest a lot. I promise I will do anything I can to make my rib heal faster and it heals quickly and properly,” Buck smiles back and Eddie is glad that he was able to calm Buck's nerves at least a little. He knows he's not the only one in this room who's scared at the prospect of losing his partner. 

After starting his therapy, Buck confessed to how scared he was during and after the shooting. It was a difficult conversation in which they both shared a lot of emotions, and after it, Eddie feels like an invisible glass barrier has disappeared between them. It was as if they had been together for a very long time, saw each other, but did not quite understand that they could not reach out, that they could not touch. Now there is no barrier and Eddie feels lighter, freer, closer. Closer to Buck than ever before. Perhaps he is not the only one in this room afraid of losing the love of his life who is also his best friend. He really hopes so.  

Tagging (no pressure): @911onabc @bekkachaos @ebdaydreamer @elvensorceress @heartbeatdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @littlebitofdiaz @lover-of-mine @wildlife4life @paranoidbean @buddierights @housewifebuck @buckitup @buck-coded @rogerzsteven @transbuck @transboybuckley @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @the-likesofus @thebravebitch @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @gayedmundodiaz @oliverstaark @barbiediaz @cowboy-buddie

[vampiremeerkat]

Is there anything you've made (whether it be art or a fanfic or whatever) that you regret/disown?

To me, to regret/disown something would entail crying big tears and pretending it never existed, but I document my stuff, regardless if it's dead, alive, or never lived. But here are some projects I remember killing out of dislike:

I deleted a storyboard music video starring Edd from Ed, Edd n Eddy called "Where Will Edd Go". Found the imagery and song used too dramatic for the topic it discussed, which was his messy hair. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I deleted a drawing/fake playing card starring Edd, again. I included it in another Deviantart submission featuring a bunch of unposted stuff, eventually. It's shrunken down to size, but you can see it was parodying Edd fanart. Didn't find it ironic enough and was too over the top, so removed it. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I deleted a Goofy Movie fanfiction that was still going. It was about Max going crazy after failing to save Goofy in that waterfall scene. I think it sat on Fanfiction.net for some years and might've been my first entry, but remember the writing being long-winded and it was another one of those edgy projects I couldn't stand anymore. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I deleted a video of me playing around with a stuffed Simba toy and singing a Lion King inspired rewrite of "Mamma Mia" by ABBA. As you can imagine, I was a preteen at the time. Or was I. The only comment it garnered was critical and I rightly concluded to be a failure and thus removed it. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've never reuploaded certain Youtube videos after getting banned multiple times. This concerns all kinds of projects, mainly dubs, music videos, and comedic snippets of Inuyasha and Disney stuff. The reason is more or less the same for all videos: They were a product of the time and objectively unfunny. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I cancelled a Beetlejuice (cartoon series) comic that was mostly done. It starred a developing romance between Beetlejuice and Lydia, but he's known this girl since 6th or 7th grade, I can't cheer for that. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I cancelled a Portal 2 fanfiction around chapter 2 or so. Wheatley is human in that one. I like some of the ideas presented, but I don't care for his thirst for Chell anymore, if I ever even did. A strange fanfiction. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I cancelled the prequel to How to Save a Life after it was mostly done. It's that Ed, Edd n Eddy fanfiction where Edd is a rabid vampire and has to be put down like a dog. Vampire Edd is flirting with Sarah in the prequel, but this bitch 12. I don't think I had officially settled on everyone's age back when How to Save a Life itself was being slapped together, hard to say. Coming back to the unfinished text document, I couldn't continue. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I cancelled a Mioo, Dorost Ast joke animation starring human Persian trying to kiss human Meowth after it was mostly done. It didn't take long to make it and I hated it at the end. Looked bad and was too nonsensical to want to redraw it.

[newtonsheffield]

when they were younger and being fwb for a while did they ever have a pregnancy scare and anthony being really scared and kate being a little hurt while saying don’t worry it’s negative ?

I don't think these two have ever had a pregnancy scare. Well, Kate has but she knew it wouldn't have been Anthony's.

There are a few reasons for this but mostly being, until recently, It was like a... one hookup every nine months situation between them. They hooked up once when they were eighteen and never really spoke about it because neither of them had been ready to deal with what it actually meant. And then Edmund died and Anthony's outlook changed and it didn't happen again for years.

It's just been a sort of here-and-there situation until now when it's started happening more and more. And I think honestly, had it come to Kate thinking she might be pregnant and both of them not really knowing how to process their feelings on it because Anthony

Would love his and Kate's child so desperately he can hardly breathe

Would live his entire life terrified of leaving this child alone

Meanwhile, Kate's in love with Anthony and she wants children and a family of her own but she only wants it if Anthony wants it as well.

If it had come to that I think their friendship would have suffered and they'd definitely probably never sleep together again. It would just be too emotionally fraught for them both I think.

But of course, when they're officially dating I think it's a different story, in fact, I think maybe even just a few months into their relationship Anthony comes home to find his girlfriend waiting for him at the door nervously, her lip blanching between her teeth.

"Okay, I need to take a pregnancy test and I need you to not freak out because we both decided condoms weren't for us and honestly, I feel like you're a bit more liable because you keep thirst trapping me with those pictures and-"

"Kate." Anthony cut her off with his arm around her waist and his lips on her temple. "Let's go."

They sat on the bathroom floor together with their fingers intertwined and the test on the counter above them, Anthony jittering away beside her.

"I'd... I'd love our baby." Anthony said softly, his eyes burning into hers, "I know I told you a thousand times before that I never wanted to get married or have kids but I meant what I said at Eddie's wedding: This is it for me. I want kids, and I want our whole life to be incredible."

I caught in Kate's throat, tears stinging in her eyes as she nodded, "I'm probably not pregnant, just being safe but yeah, I'd love our baby too."

And when the timer goes off neither of them can move for a few seconds until Kate reaches up, kissing Anthony's forehead quickly as she does

"I'm not pregnant."

He should feel relieved, he knows he should, It's not the right time, and they've just moved in together and he hasn't proposed yet and they aren't ready but he feels a flicker of disappointment anyway, and Kate sees it written all over his face.

"Hey, one day we'll have a baby okay? This just- this isn't the right time."

Anthony nodded, "Yeah I know I just... I got a bit excited. I really... do want to be a dad and I pretended for so long I didn't and it's all just happening and I just... I feel like I wasted a lot of time and I thought a baby would be cool is all."

Kate smiled as though she understood because of course she did, she understood everything. "I want us to have kids as well, you'll be an amazing Dad, but now isn't the right time."

"Yeah, it's not the right time." Anthony agreed, kissing her softly.

"And we aren't having twelve."

"I'll settle for six."

"You'll need to find a new mother for the last three then."

"Hardly worth it then."

[staceymcgillicuddy]

Day One: First Time

It's #hellcheervalentinesweek, and I can't resist a challenge. Thanks for running this one, @amandaashplease!

Eddie’s sitting on the rumpled bed when she steps out of the bathroom, flipping through her latest Cosmopolitan, tie around his neck and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. It's where she left him thirty minutes ago when she went to blow dry her and tweeze her brows and do her make-up and, honestly, she loves him, but a little effort would be nice. 

“Seriously, Munson?” she says, and she wants to be annoyed, but the way his face softens when he sees her has her heart tippy-tapping in her chest. 

“Wow, you look pretty.” He tosses the magazine away and stands, striding forward like he’s dying of thirst and she’s an oasis. 

Chrissy demurs, says the bridesmaid dress is ugly and lets him kiss her anyway. Leans up on her toes because she’s waiting until the last possible second to put on her shoes and mumbles something about her lipstick rubbing off on him. 

“I’ll wear your lipstick any day,” he says, a faint bubblegum pink sheen clinging to his mouth when he pulls away. 

“I’d settle for you tying your tie.” 

As remarks go, it’s pointed, but she doesn’t expect his muttered, “God,” followed by a half-hearted tugging at the silky, dark grey fabric before he buttons his collar. “I’m trying. Just…” 

“Eddie, come on. It’s one day.” 

“I know, I know. You’re right. It’s only, uh, the tie thing… it’s sort of my first time?” 

“Your first time what?” 

“Um. Tying one?” 

Damn it. Of course. They’ve been together nearly two years, and she still does this. Forgets that their lived experiences have been worlds apart and that the things she takes for granted that a boy will know how to do, Eddie sometimes doesn’t. 

“Sorry,” he says because she’s waited too long to respond. “I thought I’d just figure it out. How hard could it be, right? Wayne did it for me when my dad was in court, and—” He cuts himself off as Chrissy moves closer. “Anyway, it’s not like I spend much time in monkey suits.” 

“I know.” She doesn’t make a big deal of it when she reaches for the silky, polyester tie he picked out on their thrift store suit-shopping jaunt. Evens it out before beginning to tie a half-Windsor knot, just like her mother had taught her. 

Eddie studies her as her fingers wind the fabric around itself, tucking and tugging, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. “You, uh. You’re good at that.” 

“Yes, well.” She snugs the knot into place and pecks his lips for good measure. “I must be good for something. Come on, handsome. Let’s get this over with.” 

[final-girl96]

Joseph Quinn’s upside-down year

He’s gone from hustling for bit parts to playing a beloved character in one of the biggest shows on TV, thirsted after by fans and fellow celebrities alike. Inside the surreal year of 2022’s buzziest British breakout

By Jack King

5 December 2022

Coat, £1,970, Jil Sander by Lucie and Luke Meier. T-shirt, £7.90, Uniqlo. Hat, £325, Lock & Co. Hatters.Ben Parks

When Joseph Quinn took the call that would come to change his life for good, he was standing in his kitchen in South London. His agent was on the other end of the phone. “He called me, like, ‘Who’s that?’ And I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ So he goes, ‘I’m sorry, is that Eddie from Stranger Things?’” Quinn recalls. “I literally fell to my knees. Like, What? Are you sure? It felt like it’d just fallen out of the fucking sky.” It was November 2019. Only three weeks prior, in the very same flat, he’d recorded his first self-tape for the hit Netflix series with the help of his then-girlfriend and flatmate. “Obviously, at that point, I’m just fucking suspicious about the whole thing. This never happens. And here we are.”

Flash forward to today: after storming into the public consciousness as the sci-fi throwback’s latest anointed breakout, starring as punkish pariah Eddie Munson in Stranger Things series four, the 28-year-old has just flown out to LA for the third time in his what-the-fuck year. It’s a rhythm he’s still very much getting used to. Resultantly, we’re chatting over Zoom, myself in London’s Mile End, a short swim down the Thames from the unassuming world of his adolescence. “I love South London. I still live there – you get accused of heresy if you leave,” he jokes. “I might want to branch out somewhere different, because you don’t want to feel stagnant. But my life’s there: I went to school there, it’s where I met all of my friends.”

Jacket, £1,400 and trousers, £725, Etro. Shirt, £99, Boss. Boots, £1,750, Dior. Ben Parks

He scored his first job, on the 2015 TV drama Dickensian, in his third year at LAMDA (“I was a jammy fucker,” he says), the hallowed Hammersmith drama school where British acting royalty – Cumberbatch, Cox, Ejiofor – cut their teeth. It was while he was in his graduating class, in fact, that he met Fabien Frankel, then a first year, now enjoying his own rise apropos of the Game of Thrones spin-off House of the Dragon.

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Quinn says of Frankel’s new-found stardom. “We’ve shared similar anxieties about the ridiculousness of our situations.” The two are good friends; Frankel, for his part, brims with praise. “As much as it pains me to say, he was always just a brilliant actor,” he says of Quinn. “There was always some magic on stage. Sadly we’ve never got to work together, but we’ve always stayed close.”

Quinn’s early luck with Dickensian, as it turns out, was a touch premature; after that show ran its course, Quinn didn’t work for nearly a year. But an influx of parts eventually came his way: first a gig as a Stark soldier in an episode of Game of Thrones, then, suddenly, a job on stage opposite Olivia Colman at the National Theatre. “He is utterly joyful, naughty, and fun,” Colman says of Quinn. “He puts the work in. You know you’re in safe hands.”

Coat, £3,200, shirt, £1,950 and trousers, £1,300, Prada. Shoes, £980, Church’s. Ben Parks

A steady trickle of work followed: BBC’s Howards End mini series, opposite Matthew Macfadyen; as the tragic revolutionary Enjolras in the Beeb’s not-a-musical adaptation of Les Mis, reuniting with Colman; under Steve McQueen in the first part of his critically acclaimed anthology film series, Small Axe. “I’ve been so lucky that I’ve not had to graft, and wait tables, and do the traditional catering jobs in between to keep the lights on,” Quinn says. “I’ve been fortunate enough, and savvy enough with my money just about, when things are looking a bit bleak, to book another gig. And that keeps the wolves from the door.” It was around the time of the London Film Festival premiere of his first major indie film, the psychosexual slow-burner Make Up, that he sent in his Stranger Things audition tape.

A few days after the call came in, he met the sibling duo who puppeteer Stranger Things, the Duffer brothers, over Skype. “They were very nice, and very kind,” Quinn remembers. “I was very disarmed by the whole thing. Kind of like, ‘Are you sure?’ And they said, ‘Yeah, we really want you to do it.’” In total, 287 actors read for the part, according to the Duffers, who describe the process as one of the longest casting searches they’ve ever had. “At one point, we remember getting nervous,” they say. Munson was abrasive and unlikeable on the page; they needed him to be lovable, without wanting to be loved. That confluence of traits seemed an impossible bullseye, until Quinn’s reels arrived. “Joe was hilarious and charming, but with an unpredictable, wild edge about him,” they recall. It was a no-brainer. The call was a formality. “He’s a director’s dream because he takes what’s on the page and sprints with it.”

Blazer, £2,360, and shirt, £500, Gucci. Ben Parks

Quinn’s anecdotes from those early days are cut with the sincere self-deprecation you might expect of a guy still scrambling to catch up with his own ascent. This is the stuff that Faustian bargains are made of, after all: over a billion hours’ worth of Stranger Things series four was watched within the first month of release. That’s a lot of eyeballs. “I was talking to Dan Cohen, the [executive] producer of Stranger Things, about it,” he says. “He talked about the over-nightness of these experiences now, with these streaming platforms. One moment you’re fine, and then it drops. It’s on in millions and millions of houses. After that, it just kind of snowballs.”

The first table read came next. “It was a very weird experience. I was sat next to the lovely Jamie Campbell Bower, who’s had experience in these bigger shows before,” he remembers. “Obviously, because everything has to be documented on this show, they were filming the table read to keep the fans satiated. The setup was that the pre-existing cast were on a very long table, and we were behind them, being kept secret from the cameras. We were shouting, delivering the lines to the back of the cast’s heads, which felt very odd.” Both he and Campbell Bower, as Quinn recalls, were “shitting it”. Following that, he had weeks of fittings, kitting him out in the idiosyncratic metalhead threads that form Munson’s outcast armour. He had his first day of shooting, and then… whiplash. “[Stranger Things co-director] Shawn Levy came out at the end of the day and said we’re going into… a lockdown of some kind,” he says. “A hiatus of two weeks. Which would’ve been nice.” It would be another six months before Quinn returned to set.

Shirt, £500, Gucci. Trousers, £924 and loafers, £650, Dolce & Gabbana. Ben Parks

What felt to him like a decade later, the show finally bowed to the masses. He watched the Stranger Things series four finale, wherein Munson goes out with self-sacrificial aplomb, with his little sister, dad, and his dad’s wife. Do they treat him differently now? “No, definitely within your immediate circle you hope nothing changes. It’s a very weird thing to comment on… [if] you take into consideration the actual fucking fresh hell that people are going through now, it feels like an arbitrary thing to feel threatened by,” he says. “Eighty per cent of it is amazing. Professionally, 100 per cent is amazing. 20 per cent of it is… fucking bizarre.”

Somewhere within that 20 per cent: the online drama between co-star Noah Schnapp and Doja Cat soon after the season aired, when the former publicly shared a DM from the rapper asking Schnapp to play Cupid between her and Quinn. “I’m kind of hesitant to talk about it really, because I didn’t do anything,” Quinn notes. “It’s not something that I put out into the world. But I do think she’s an incredible artist. It’s flattering.” This intrusive level of public scrutiny obviously comes part and parcel with sudden, incandescent fame. The tyranny of Instagram gossip and fans reading telescopic paparazzi photos like tea leaves are the unfortunate by-products of being at the top of the screen-acting game. Nevertheless, it must be difficult to adjust to. “People will weave narratives about you that aren’t true, I guess,” he says. “And I think accepting your powerlessness over that [is best]. If you’re going to correct people constantly, you’re going to end up exhausted.”

Blazer, £2,360, shirt, £500, trousers, £890 and boots, £1,230, Gucci. Ben Parks

But being famous, a term he loathes to use for himself, isn’t all bad. Take the sudden groundswell of cultish Munsonmania, perhaps no better demonstrated than at London Film and Comic Con this summer. “It was the first time I’d ever encountered the fandom,” he recalls. There were rumours that Quinn was “mistreated” by the staff during a meet and greet, blindsided by the sheer number of Munsonites, but he was quick to debunk them, a point he reiterates now. “It was very overwhelming. I don’t think the Con were prepared for the numbers. I certainly wasn’t.” In a viral video widely shared online at the time, a fan expressed their impassioned gratitude: for Quinn’s time at the Con, for bringing Munson to life. Quinn seemed emotionally overwhelmed, dabbing away tears with the inside of his elbow, barely conjuring a murmur. An outsider might conclude this to be the moment that the pin dropped. “I don’t want to sound too saccharine about it, but it is moving,” he says. “If you have a curiosity about people and storytelling, for a character you’ve created with the help of others… for that to resonate with people, it feels very profound, you know?”

And then there are the holy-shit moments. First up: in late July, he made his chat-show debut on Jimmy Fallon, though that came within a whisker of being cancelled. “I was sick before I went on,” he says. “I stupidly had oysters for lunch on the day, thinking that I needed some vigour and vitality and that’d get me through it.” Turns out his mind was playing tricks: that stir in the pit of his gut was the product of acute anxiety, per the show’s backstage nurse. But he still went on. He met Kevin Hart, “a consummate pro,” in the green room backstage. “The nerves just bounce off him, I think, whereas they were just leaving bullet holes in me,” Quinn says. A month before our interview, he was named one of Variety’s 10 Actors to Watch for 2022. Patton Oswalt introduced himself to Quinn at the swanky brunch coronation thereafter. “He just feels so many miles away from my life. For him to come up to me was very weird.”

Jumper, £1,050 and shirt, £680, Dior. Ben Parks

Stratospheric parts like Eddie Munson are a “lottery ticket,” as Quinn puts it. And at the end of it all, he’s effectively coming away with a blank check. Is he going to put his energy into indie roles, like the drama he finished shooting over the summer, Hoard, or is he marching up to the Broccolis to demand Bond? “Yeah, I’ve just got off a Zoom with Barbara, actually…” he jokes. “I don’t know. It’s such a fucking cliché, but it’s about connection to the material. With Hoard, I’m specifically excited for the director, Luna Carmoon, and the lead, Saura Lightfoot Leon. That’s a lovely experience, completely different to these behemoth sets. But you want range.” A judicious answer. Really though: Bond? “I think I’d be fucking stupid to say no to that,” he says, laughing. “But, come on, it’s not even worth entertaining.”

Even that is on the presumption that Munson’s Stranger Things journey is over. “Yeah, I’ve said I don’t know because I really don’t know,” Quinn says. “Shawn Levy has said it publicly. I think [his return] would be very, very, very unlikely. He seems pretty fucking dead to me,” he says, punctuated by a sharp chortle. He takes a moment.

“It’s just a beautifully written arc. The beginning, middle and end are so powerful as it stands, so I think to just crowbar him into a narrative… you don’t want him to overstay his welcome,” he continues, ever the diplomat, seemingly wary of disappointing the legion of fans who made him. But a sense of certitude undergirds his prudence; the feeling that, after years of cohabitation, he’s ready to let Munson go.

“He did the job that the Duffers wanted him to do,” Quinn says. “By no means am I ruling it out. That’s a decision for the grown-ups to make. But Stranger Things was doing fine without Eddie. I think they’ll be fine next season without him, too.”

PRODUCTION CREDITS

Photographs by Ben Parks

Styling by Fabio Immediato

Grooming by Brady Lee

Jacket, £239, shirt, £99 and Boss Bottled parfum, £86, Boss. Ben Parks

[steviestits]

Ummm, both your gladiator and your back to the future fic sound super hot. Like very often my go to daydreams are your aus, like so many of your WIPs I am absolutely thirsting for.

If you’re still taking prompts, Steve being increasingly feminized in retaliation for his alpha king Steve years? A whole king to princess moment with humiliation and begging for Eddie to suck his big tits and breed him

Aw, thanks! I'm glad you like them! I'm glad people are thirsty for pregnant, feminized Steve as much as I am.

Do you think you can be a little more specific? I've been trying to plan out the setting for this, but it sounds like it's set after Steve has graduated, and I feel bad punishing a Steve who has already redeemed himself. So, just wanted to know your thoughts.

[discordapples]

PT. 1 - The Sallow Twins (Sebastian POV)

Word count: 1.8k (8 mins read)

Characters: Sebastian Sallow, Anne Sallow, Solomon Sallow.

Summary

The shy August wind needles through the greenery, but to Sebastian Sallow, it is the irksome tick of a clock. A year, that's how long he has to find a way to cure his sister's curse. A powerful relic, the Promissum Mortis, is hidden in Hogwarts' Room of Requirement, and Sebastian is desperate to find it.

Read (or listen to) the first chapter below. 🎧

TW: Nudity, mild allusions to a taboo relationship, drug use.

Sebastian | Feldcroft, Late August, 1893.

Curls of steams slink over the bathtub's lid. The heady aroma of wisterias reels Sebastian Sallow out of his daze.

He blinks once, twice, and his mother's warmth winnows away.

The washroom's air is thick with moisture. The wooden floorboards drink the flood water avidly.

With an irritated sigh, Sebastian dispels the Everstream Chalice and catches it before it falls to the floor.

Beneath a blanket of mist, his twin sister, Anne, sleeps soundly. She must've dozed off as he hummed the lullaby their mother used to sing:

Under the willow, where thrushes peep;

I will lay your heart to sleep.

Under the elm, where dreams take flight;

I will guard you through the night.

In this enchanted, moonlit glen;

Rest, my loves, till morn again.

Has he been gone for long?

His mouth is pasty with thirst, his mind, cottony with confusion.

Again, Malisect warped his sense of time despite Garreth Weasley's promises. The red-head's words swim up Sebastian's mind.

Some memories are more worthwhile than others, wouldn't you agree? What's sacrificing the gestation period of the Thestrals for another taste of your first kiss?

It isn't his first kiss, Sebastian revisits over and over again. It's the feeling of his mother's arms around his shoulders as they rode the carriage back from Hogsmeade.

Under the grip of Malisect, he can smell the dust sidling through the heap of books his mother hoarded in the compartment, he can sense the calidity of the summer dusk tease a lash of sweat on his nape, he can breathe the Plumeria and orange blossom fragrance of the oil his mother rubs into her hair, he can feel her heart pulse steadily against the boning of her corset.

She is alive.

Her scent grows, her warmth eddies, her research rattles in the compartment with each tremor of the wheel.

In this version of reality, she still has a future, no matter how immediate and limited it is.

It is so easy to sacrifice your own to give the dead a moment of respite from the permanent stillness.

Maybe his mother, too, can revisit these moments when he does.

The swirls of mist clear little by little, and Sebastian looks at his sister.

Anne's hair tendrils around her face; strands of golden brown locks that make her look every bit like an angel. Beneath the water, her lithe frame is immobile, frozen in time.

Sebastian hikes on his knees without a care for the damp circles the water-logged planks leave on his trousers.

She is beautiful in the clutch of slumber.

She is free.

No blustering pain, no spiny curse gnawing its way into her navel or noosing around her neck.

She is like a princess of yore, locked in her glass coffin, and perhaps Sebastian should award her this small mercy.

He palms his wand; the tip stopping inches away from the steaming surface.

"Avada—"

The incantation calcifies in his throat.

He has to mean it; he knows.

How many vials of Malisect would he need to swallow to relive moments with her if she was gone?

Weasley would have to slave in the potion's class for the brunt of his life if he hoped to satiate Sebastian's cravings.

No.

Anne needs to live.

And full of life she is, despite her peaceful inertia.

From where he stands, Sebastian can make the soft veer of her chest, the tiny ripples it sends along the surface, the whorls of steam she pushes away with her breath.

He lets his eyes wander to the slants and valleys of her body, to the pit of her sharp collarbone, constellated with freckles, the outline of her small, flecked breasts, the pinkish blooms of her nipples, and he stops his course there, wondering if any boy has rolled them between his fingers or sucked them between his lips.

Heart caroming against his ribs, Sebastian ventures a look across the white, silky expanse of her abdomen. His gaze beaches, for a while, on the reef of her hip. It catches in the nest of curls between her thighs, and his mind teems with images that aren't his to conjure.

He imagines a faceless boy dragging his thumb against her navel, then drawing circles in the crux of her hip, bound ever lower until he lands where the heat simmers. A finger slips inside, and the boy feeds her knuckles until her breath hitches. Then he pushes some more, wearing her tattered while her nails dig away into his back.

A loud thud resounds outside, and ripples churn the vision away. Sebastian gasps out of his trance as Anne startles awake.

"The towel," she says, panic bleeding through her eyes. She stands and Sebastian wraps it around her, rubbing her shoulders with his hands. "Sebastian..."

"What?"

Her eyes ream with white. "Leave. Now. Before uncle Solomon sees you."

Sighing, he grabs his wand and scrambles for his empty vials of Malisect before stuffing them into his pockets, then throws the door open. The mildewed air of the cottage claws its way into his throat.

Solomon is in the garden, wrestling with the water pump, and judging by the ruckus, he is in a despicable mood.

A single apple rests on the chopping block, its skin flecked with bruises. Sebastian cuts it in quarters, then sets it on a plate. In a cupboard, amidst a colony of breadcrumbs, he finds a dusty preserves jar of beets; wrapped in a linen rag, spoils a wedge of hard cheese. All of it, Sebastian arranges in a miserly pantomime of a dinner.

Soon, his last school year at Hogwarts will begin.

Soon, he'll be able to treat his sister to a proper meal, but for now, it'll have to do.

When Anne joins him in the kitchen, he is sitting at the table, before the silverware his parents used to dust for the Yule feast, the one his uncle Solomon still hasn't sold for a handful of Galleons.

He will soon enough, Sebastian knows it. His uncle has appraised most of his parents' heirlooms.

Anne gives a surprised smile. "What's all this for?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Can't say I never did anything nice for you."

A brow hikes up her forehead. "Practicing your good deeds for the House cup, brother?"

"The House cup is for star-eyed first years. I've long outgrown this childish competition."

Anne sits at the table, a smirk etched on her chin. "Have you outgrown Quidditch, too? I sure would enjoy to be spared from your whining every time Slytherin takes a bashing."

"Don't you get it, Anne?" He asks with a feigned offense. "I have to pretend like I care about Quidditch. Finding common interests is how you make friends, and having friends is like... Well... I guess it means you're a likeable person."

"Sure, Sebastian."

Sebastian says nothing else, careful not to err too close to all the things she misses so painfully.

She eats in silence, her gaze set on an invisible point in front of her. Through the fabric of her slip, Sebastian spies the shape of her breasts.

Will she ever know the youthful thrills he has?

Staying out past curfew, the lick of rebellion curling up your spine? Drinking until the walls shiver and the stars dip and the ground soars to meet you? Sliding your tongue past someone's lips to taste the sweetness of young love and feel like the world has stopped to take a breath?

The door swings open and Solomon drops a bundle of firewood next to the entryway with a groan.

His coal-black eyes hook on Sebastian, basting through each of his sutures in search of malice.

Sebastian raises a brow. "Need a hand?"

"Shouldn't you be on your way to Hogwarts?" Solomon asks curtly. "It's a long way on foot. You'll miss your ceremony."

"I've attended seven already. They're always the same."

"I heard there's a new student," Anne says. "An eighth year."

And a transfer from Kyiv's Winter College at that, but Sebastian has kept it under wraps, to avoid flaunting it in his sister's face.

He knows she has long resigned herself to her fate, but as his last year looms upon him, he knows it casts a taller shadow on his sister.

She will never attend graduation now. Next year, she will be far too old for it.

Knife in hand, Solomon endeavors to cut the branches from the logs and Sebastian rises to help him.

The vials clink in his pocket.

Enough to arouse his uncle's suspicions who unspools his spine slowly.

"Sebastian, is it what I think it is?"

Sebastian's palm closes around his pocket. "Galleons, that's all. I saved up for a new alembic after Ominis broke mine."

Color leaches from Anne's cheeks. She knows it's a lie, of course, but she says nothing.

"Don't lie to me," Solomon says, inching closer. "Turn out your pockets. Show me what's in them."

Sebastian angles out of his uncle's grasp, nearing the door.

Solomon's eyes are two pits of ire. "You've been using Malisect again?"

"You forgot to feed us most nights," Sebastian rasps. "I don't know why you care what I ingest."

Solomon presses forward, his knuckles blanching around the hilt of his knife. "Don't speak to me like this!"

"And don't pretend like you have a say in what I do," Sebastian hisses. "You kicked me out, remember? I was only here to look after Anne while you were gone. You shouldn't leave her alone for so long."

His cheeks burn. He wants to feel his wand between his fingers. He itches to speak the words, to see his uncle hit the ground, his lips noiseless forever.

But he thinks of Anne, who stares at them, utterly terrorized.

Solomon creeps closer. "I warned you not to use while you were under my roof."

In response, Sebastian rears until he stands under the watery sunlight. "Well, I'm no longer under your roof. Happy?"

"If I see a vial near my house, I'll report you to the headmaster. Am I clear?"

Sebastian doesn't even return the compliment of acknowledging his uncle's threat. Instead he whirls away, jaw clenched, and begins to walk toward the center of Feldcroft until he hears the door slam.

Feldcroft is silent, the villagers slowly retiring to their houses. Streamlets of smoke purl from chimneys and the scent of meat braids through the air. A shy August wind needles through the shrubbery. The stench of stale waters wings up from the well.

Sebastian hates this place.

After this year, he will become someone. An Auror, perhaps. Or a researcher, like his parents. He will spirit Anne away from this miserly village and live with her where nothing can touch her.

Something squeezes inside his chest.

He has a year to find what he seeks in Hogwarts. Nine months, and not one more, to find the Promissum Mortis—Death's Promise—and whisk Anne away from Solomon.

As the wind picks up, it carries the smells of September along with it.

Sebastian sets to walking.

The vials of Malisect chink softly in his pockets.

His mother will have to wait.

Anne, too.

Time is a merciless master and Sebastian, its most piteous slave.

--- 

Key concepts

Malisect: Malisect is a drug that enables the user to visit their fondest memories by holding onto a memento. For some users, this memento can take the form of a nursery rhyme, a scent, the feel of an object, etc. Malisect has been invented by Garreth Weasley, in 1891, when he was a sixth year student at Hogwarts.

Author notes

Since it doesn't sit right with me to write very dark stuff about minors, I decided to introduce an eighth year at Hogwarts. Therefore, all the characters are eighteen of age, which is the age of majority (at least in my country).

Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought of this first chapter.

Much love, 

Discord Apples