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afewproblems · 1 year

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Part Two of my Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings WIP

You can read Part One Here

CW: The F-slur is used in this once, and it will show up in part three once. It's use is treated with a lot of negative weight with the context of how it is used and who used it (an atagonist that does not physically appear in this story) I do apologize if this language is upsetting to read - it was certainly upsetting to write.

***

"What the fuck Eddie," Mike snarls, he stands up so abruptly his chair nearly topples over.

Dustin is also on his feet the second Harrington disappears into the kitchen, he looks at Eddie once, his expression stormy, before following through the doorway.

Silence has spread over the room, slowly oozing around to fill each nook and cranny, it makes his skin itch as Eddie shifts, he goes to cross his arms over his chest but stops with a roll of his shoulders, he’s cool, a regular fucking cucumber right?

Except Will won't look him in the eyes and Lucas won't stop, he glares at Eddie with open disappointment.

Jeff clears his throat, he meets Eddie's gaze and tilts his head towards the door, as though trying to beam the thought directly into Eddie’s mind, ‘let’s get the fuck out of here before our welcome wears out’.

Eddie nods and both men turn to Gareth, considering he’s their ride it all kind of hinges on him.

Gareth stares straight ahead, pointedly ignoring everyone at the table, he wipes his face roughly with the hand not holding onto his character mini and drops it roughly onto the table.

"Oh what?" Eddie bites out, his chest suddenly fills with hot shame that smothers his heart, "I didn't say anything that wasn't true".

Eddie wants to snatch the words out of the air as soon as they escape, banish them from existence, but they seem to hang in the dining room between him and the kids.

Gareth shakes his head and stands up from his seat, he starts to silently clean up the table, collecting the miniatures and his own papers, Will moves to help while Mike seethes in the corner or the room, his head swivels back and forth from glaring at Eddie and back to the door that Dustin disappeared behind.

"You've been weird all night man," Lucas says harshly, he stands up and makes his way towards the kitchen door which bursts open to reveal a furious Dustin who stomps back into the room and begins collecting his things, haphazardly throwing sheets of notepaper and dice into his backpack --not even bothering to put his dice in the little drawstring cloth bag his mom made him.

"Woah woah woah," Eddie says sharply, he stands, knocking back his chair which scapes loudly against the hardwood floor "what the fuck are you doing Henderson?"

Dustin ignores him and continues packing, he reaches for the miniature that Gareth moved onto the table and stops as Eddie snatches it away from his hand.

Dustin meets Eddie’s gaze, wearing a matching mutinous glare.

“Give it back,” Will interjects with a soft but firm voice, his gaze is unwavering as he stands up and moves towards Dustin’s side of the table. He also has his backpack slung over his shoulder --when the hell did that happen?

“But you--”

“EDDIE,” Gareth shouts, his eyes are wide, face pinched into a grimace.

Gareth takes a second to breathe after the outburst and swallows harshly, ignoring the eyes on him, "I think it's safe to say we aren’t playing tonight man".

The whole night is unraveling around him, everything he planned for the evening, the meticulous character beats he mapped out based on the backstories everyone crafted, the NPC’s he researched at the library -dodging Mrs. Depencier between the stacks before she could try to kick him out.

The homebrew monster, the final boss he had mashed together out of three different beasts in his well worn copy of the monster manual.

He had prepped all of it for tonight, he'd been excited, ready to show off his skills in a new environment, maybe show off a little bit for--

Oh.

Oh fucking hell.

Eddie wants to kick himself. Hard. Repeatedly.

Eddie wanted to see what Steve would think, this was going to be the performance of a lifetime and he had catapulted himself directly into the sun without hesitation.

Tonight had been ruined, mostly by himself --not Steve.

An oily thought creeps in and whispers in his ear, 'so what? It isn't as though King-Steve hadn't ruined plenty of things for you before, your first two senior years were dog shit before people started to forget about the whole--'

Eddie shakes his head harshly and scrubs both hands over his face, the rings catch lightly in his hair and tug as he bring them down.

"I'll call my mom to come get us, I'm sure she'll be happy it's so early," Lucas mumbles before he gets up from his seat and slowly makes his way towards the kitchen door to use the landline. The door swings softly shut with a quiet snick.

The silence in the room is heavy, only punctuated by Mike muttering under his breath to Will and Dustin as he snatches several things from the table and the floor. Lucas eventually reenters the dining room and Mike shoves an armful of note papers and Lucas's Human Cleric character sheet -which has become creased and wrinkled in Mike's frenzy, towards Lucas and Dustin.

"Figure out whose is whose later, let's just go if we're done, I'd rather walk," Mike snarls as he looks over his shoulder at Eddie, Gareth, and Jeff.

"Jesus Mike," Lucas mutters, "gonna have to rewrite this whole thing out now," he pauses as he looks Eddie up and down with narrow eyes, "maybe".

Lucas shakes his head, "anyway, mom is on her way, she's happy to come get us early so she'll drop you guys off, she's taking the van".

Mike nods, the perpetual sneer on his face deepens as he walks towards the hall leading to the front entryway, "I'm waiting outside, are you guys coming or not?"

The kids file out through the hallway, one by one without looking back, leaving Eddie, Jeff,and Gareth standing around the empty dining room table.

They freeze at the sight of a long, deep, scratch in the center of the wood.

Had that been there before?

A pit begins to form in Eddie's stomach, cavernous and deep, he sweats at the sight of it.

"Shit," he whispers, mostly to himself, but Jeff catches it.

"That was there before man," Jeff murmurs, though the conviction isn't quite there, he stares at the table before raising his eyes to look at Gareth, "right?"

"I don't fucking know man," Gareth hisses, he also has his messenger bag now slung across his shoulder.

"I'm not sticking around to get blamed for trashing Harringtons table," Jeff says lowly, he's already backing up towards the hallway leading to the front entrance, "I’m not afraid to take your car Gar, hurry it up," he says before turning on his heel and walking down the hall, Eddie flinches at the sound of the door slamming shut behind them.

Gareth curses under his breath and steps away from the table, “Well,” he huffs, “are you happy?”

Eddie's jaw drops as the words hit him square in the chest, "What? Gar--"

"No," Gareth says sharply, the volume steadily rising as he steps closer to Eddie and jabs a rigid finger into his chest, "are you happy with how this went? Does this finally make you feel better?"

"Cuz, we don't care if you're friends with him or if you hate the guy," Gareth shakes his head once and steps back, away from Eddie's space, "Maybe Jeff does a little bit, but he's just being protective I think".

Gareth waves his arms as though to clear the tangent away, "it doesn't matter, the point is, you're acting like it's still highschool and this," Gareth gestures towards the table, "is fucking mean man".

A car horn beeps from outside startling both of them; Gareth sighs and shrugs the strap on his bag higher up his shoulder as he turns towards the hallway, "so if you want to hate the guy, stop stringing him along, it's bullshit".

Stop stringing him along.

Stringing him along?

The words echo again and again in his head, Eddie feels his chest tighten and grow cold as the words sink in, what the hell was Gareth talking about?

"If you don't want to be his friend just tell the guy, I don't understand what you're doing Ed?" Gareth says with a sigh.

The horn beeps again outside, Gareths eyebrow twitches once and his expression slowly twists from an irritated scowl to something close to murderous.

"Whatever," he huffs angrilly, "are you coming or not? It sounds like Jeff's about two seconds away from grand theft auto, and if he beeps the horn one more time I can't be held responsible for my actions".

Eddie swallows harshly and nods, he steps back from the table, his legs sluggish in their response as he slowly trudges after Gareth.

As Eddie moves through the hall, passing large framed art pieces and not a single family picture, he catches a whiff of something from the kitchen, warm pastry? Something savory he imagines.

Eddie ignores the queasy lurch in his gut at the thought that whatever Steve had made that night didn't even make it past the kitchen.

***

If you had asked Eddie back in highschool to give you his opinion on the social hierarchy of Hawkins High he would give you a fairly general answer.

You had your standard Asshole Jocks, your Narcissist Beauty Queen Cheerleaders, your Nerds with the smaller subsections of Band Geeks and Weirdos - everyone’s seen The Breakfast Club, it’s a no brainer really.

Eddie was quite content to sneer and jeer with the best of them, focusing his ire on the very top, the Asshole Jocks that made it their mission to ruin the lives of anyone they deemed lower than themselves. Billy Hargrove and Tommy Hagan were the original worst of these with Jason Carver following close behind, but Harrington? King-Steve? He was a bit harder to pin down.

For Steve-the-Hair-Harrington, it would be a firm comparison to the grime in between Eddie’s toes after ten laps around the gym in socks he’d worn for three days.

Eddie could admit, if only to himself, that Harrington was certainly aesthetically attractive, with his tanned golden skin dotted with a constellation of moles that Eddie desperately wanted to play Connect the Dots with. The athletics uniform was criminally short, accentuating his long legs and strong thighs. More than once did Eddie ditch gym just to avoid making direct eye-contact with the outline of Harrington’s dick in that green scrap of fabric.

Sue him, man was hot, but he was also a huge asshole.

Harrington was mean, whispering cruel things under his breath to Hagan and Perkins, snickering to himself when he made a particularly cruel observation about Joey MacDonald and his resemblance to a certain fast food clown - it wasn’t even clever given that it was only the kid’s last name, but the nickname followed that boy till he graduated along with the smell of old french fries that people would stuff in his locker between classes. And well, there was one other rumor he started, not that Eddie let it remotely bother him.

Fuck, Highschool kids were the worst.

But, then all of a sudden, here comes Harrington in his junior year with his usually handsome face beaten in and a haunted slump in his shoulders. And whoever had done it pulled no punches. Word around school was that Byers was the one that cleaned Harrington’s clock, over Nancy Wheeler of all people. And not only that, but King-Steve had been dumped by his two best friends, thrown away like an old piece of trash.

Now again, Eddie never really gave much credence to rumors, especially the ones about himself, and given the way Hawkins High seemed to churn out a new rumor every other day this was more than likely an exaggeration. But with Hagan and Perkins giving Harrington a wide berth, and trading off glaring while hiding their kicked puppy expressions in their school books; the whole school watched as they were slowly replaced by Wheeler and Byers who encircled King-Steve, Ex-King now, with equally haunted expressions. It was even harder to argue with the evidence starring Eddie in the face.

They made absolutely no sense together, especially Byers; the three of them sitting at lunch in their own little world, with Harrington slowly slipping down the rungs and onto the bottom of the social ladder.

What on earth did Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers even have in common with someone like Steve Harrington?

Eddie hardly ever saw Harrington around school after that, if he did he was mostly alone or followed around by a gaggle of children from the Junior High down the street that followed him around like puppies. To think of Harrington and kids in the same sentence, that the former King had lowered himself to the likes of babysitting a bunch of brats - it was…weird to say the least.

Especially given how Eddie knew who Steve was. Harrington wasn’t soft, he wasn’t kind, he was a bully and a thug with a glass jaw, the worst kind of pathetic that ever graced their shitty highschool halls and Fuck Him for doing the one thing that Eddie couldn’t even do.

Eddie would be repeating his senior year while the Ex-King asshole left it all behind him.

God dammit.

It wasn’t really until Chrissy Cunninham died in his uncle’s trailer that cool March evening all of four months ago that he even had an excuse to be in the same room as the ousted monarch - if you could count pressing a jagged bottle to Steve’s pretty throat and pressing his lithe frame into the corrugated aluminum wall of Rick’s boathouse.

And Steve? Rumor spreading, ex-King, Asshole Jock, Steve Harrington, was not all that bad as it turned out? Eddie couldn’t really keep the thread of his arguments about Harrinton as Eddie was carried out through the last remaining portal out of the Upside Down, nestled safely in Steve’s arms.

The son of a bitch.

Suddenly, Steve is everywhere, chauffeuring the kids to the arcade, visiting Eddie in the hospital, bringing Wayne food to the trailer --because of course he likes to cook apparently? And Wayne just loves him, won’t shut up about, ‘that Harrington boy and his thoughtful casserole’, and ‘when’s the next time you’re going to bring that Harrington kid by?’

Then it’s movie nights with the kids, and Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Argyle, smoke sessions in the Byers backyard, pool days when the weather finally warms enough for the kids to jump in. God help him, Harrington is showing off even more skin than Eddie would like during these pool days, his little moles spread over the planes of his back and legs. Steve has more scars than Eddie remembers from the highschool Varsity swim meets but he’s not complaining.

Stupid handsome jock.

Eddie feels like he’s gone crazy, like he’s the only one that feels this way, as if he’d been dropped into an alternate universe where everything was the same except for Steve Harrington.

And given the fact that alternate dimensions actually exist, well, this theory is not actually that outlandish.

Especially because Steve was…nice okay? He was nice. Eddie had it right the first time when they were walking around that creepy Upside Down forrest, even if he hadn't fully believed it at the time, the words were apparently true.

Well they were true now anyway.

Steve was sweet, he was funny, he cared so so much, the kids loved him, and Eddie couldn't quite get the sound of Steve's musical laugh out of his head, or the way his hazel eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled--

Fuck.

Steve was also best friends with Robin --someone Eddie knows that Steve would never have given the time of day back in highschool and the two are practically soulmates now.

Eddie was fairly certain they weren’t dating because he’s also fairly certain he clocked Robin the same way she had clocked him after their second shared joint a few months back.

She hasn't said anything but there was no mistaking the way her eyes trailed to the bandana in his back pocket and the way his own eyes landed on the little homemade pink triangle patch on her messenger bag.

And the way she had smiled at him after, it was small but the understanding and the feeling of being seen left him warm in a way he hadn't felt around a lot of people other than Wayne, Gareth, and Jeff.

And then, of course, Steve had to go and ruin everything, offering up his own home for the next Hellfire club meeting.

If it hadn’t meant Steve actually spending more than five minutes in passing with Jeff and Gareth it probably wouldn’t have been so stressful.

And like the proverbial cherry on top, it had all blown up in his face.

The kids were actively avoiding him now, dodging his calls and making excuses about why they were busy, ranging from Will needing to help Jane with some kind of project she'd been working on, or Lucas citing babysitting duty for Erica --after having met Lady Applejack this was not as believable but Eddie let it go.

Mike would grumble, clearly going off a script of some sort to keep his friends appeased, but with the lazy excuse of just being 'busy'. And, Mike being Mike, he'd follow it up with an ever so kind, 'get your head out of your asshole man, Will was our DM before and he'd have no problem picking up where we left off'.

And didn't that sting just a bit?

Dustin just refused to engage with Eddie, repeating the phrase, 'if you have a problem with Steve then you have one with me,' or the more eloquent, 'get bent'.

Gareth wasn't much better. The last time Eddie was able to get him on the phone he’d told him to call when ‘his personal shit stopped interfering with Hellfire,’ and to, ‘get his head out of his ass sometime’.

He and Mike needed to hang out more apparently.

It sucked, especially with how icy the kids have been towards him. Even Max, who must had heard about it all from Lucas, had taken it upon herself to avenge their babysitter, smearing mud on the front window of his van and writing, DICK, in bright red lipstick letters on every single side window. Eddie would be impressed if he wasn’t the one that had to clean it up.

Jeff has been fairly tight lipped about it all, not really siding with Gareth or the kids, he and Eddie would still jam together but it wasn’t the same without their drummer.

Without Hellfire or his band to practice with, Eddie is bored, which is never a good thing in his experience, and has time and time again led him to disaster.

Which is how Eddie finds himself outside Family Video.

Eddie sits in his van for nearly twenty minutes before he ventures inside, scanning the windows relentlessly for any sign of Harrington or Buckley. It's the middle of the day on Tuesday, Keith is usually in on weekdays so he should be fine, what are the chances that the source of his recent frustrations would be working today of all days.

Apparently pretty high.

The bell dings above Eddie as he swings the door open and the smell of stale popcorn hits him in the face as he steps over the threshold, there's no one at the counter --not a great sign since Keith usually posts up with a comic or a magazine up front so he can still look busy while watching for shoplifters.

But it's fine, there's absolutely no sign of either of the Wonder Twins, it's fine.

Eddie takes another step and sees Jonathan and Argyle just behind the New Releases shelf, they've each got a tape in hand and seem to be arguing about which one they should go with.

Argyle spies Eddie first and waves jovially from their spot behind the shelf, Jonathan's gaze follows Argyle's and he lifts his hand in a half hearted wave, and jeez, tell a guy how you really feel, Eddie thinks to himself.

"What's up brochacho, how's it hangin'?" Argyle calls out as Eddie makes his way over with a smile, he ignores the stiffness in Jonathan’s posture and tries to focus on Argyle’s friendly grin.

"Eh," Eddie hums, throwing his hands in his back pockets, "can't complain too much, when you've literally been to Hell it puts things into perspective".

Argyle nods and opens his mouth to say something when another voice joins them from behind Eddie.

"If you're here to rent something, hurry up and get out," Robin growls nearly in his ear.

Eddie flinches and turns around to face her, he almost stumbles backwards at the furious expression on her freckled face. Robin's blue eyes flash and pierce his own, her mouth stretches into a blunt line across her face. Robin's arms cross over her chest, covering her name tag and the 'Ask me for Help' button, she seems to stand taller than her actual height and Eddie feels as though he's somehow managed to shrink down to two inches tall.

"Hey hey miss Birdy, got any recommendations for a Friday night smoke sesh?" Argyle says warmly, if he's aware of the tension in the room he doesn't show it.

"Monty Python, two rows over on the left," Robin mutters, her eyes never once leaving Eddie's face.

"Choice pick, we got our movie man," Argyle crows to Jonathan as he puts back the Ferris Bueller tape and makes his way down the stacks.

Jonathan's eyes flick between Eddie and Robin, he hesitates for just a moment before following after Argyle and leaving Eddie to his fate.

"Okay listen--"

"No you listen," Robin snarls, stepping into his space and shoving a rigid pointer finger into his chest, "I don't know what you're problem is but if you're going to be an asshole, you can show yourself out before I do it for you".

Eddie bristles slightly and lifts his hand to push hers away, "you talk to all of your customers like this Buckley?"

Robin scoffs and steps back, as though reminded that they are in fact in public, "rent something then or get out," she bites out, turning on her heel and walking away to meet Argyle and Jonathan at the checkout.

Eddie feels his face twist into a fierce frown, he can't even rent movies in peace now without this thing hanging over his head, he hadn't even said anything that bad, this was getting ridiculous.

The bell dings as Argyle and Jonathan leave, Argyle waves again, which Eddie returns unenthusiastically before stalking into the horror section in three strides. He snatches Children of the Corn off the shelf and stomps up to the desk. Robin's scowl matches his own as he reaches back to grab his wallet from the back pocket and --its not there.

Eddies stomach plummets into the bottom of his shoes, he can see if in his minds eye on the desk in his bedroom, it's not even in the van where he could easily run and grab it, Shit.

"What?" Robin grumbles as Eddie opens and closes his mouth silently, cursing his own stupidity and the rapid flush creeping up his own neck.

"Robin, I organized the back room, I still don't think that was really on the list but --oh!" Steve says as he walks towards them from the back of the store, a half door swings back and forth in his wake below a tiny hand written Employee's Only sign above the doorway.

Steve looks between the two of them, his face jumping through several expressions before settling on something carefully neutral, blank in a way Eddie hates.

"Hey Eddie," Steve says in that phoney cheerful customer service voice he made fun of just a few short weeks ago, Eddie remembers leaning over the counter and teasing Steve about it just to watch his ears turn pink.

But now they're here, and Steve is actually giving him the customer voice, like that's all he is now.

Fuck.

"I uh," Eddie mumbles, hating the way he can feel his own face heat up, he wants the floor to swallow him up, banish him to the Underdark, "I was going to grab this, but I forgot my wallet, forget it".

Robin smiles, almost triumphantly, and moves to lean against the front of the counter. Her left leg kicks out to cross in front of her right leg at the ankle, looking like the proverbial cat that caught the canary, Eddie hates her for just a moment.

"Its fine man," Steve hums, he takes the tape gently from Eddie's hands and walks around the counter to get to the computer, he starts typing and scans the movie before sliding it across the counter towards Eddie. Robin frowns and nearly stumbles in her attempt to move around to where Steve is standing.

"Steve," Robin hisses at him when she sees the computer screen, worry lines etch deep across her forehead and her mouth does this weird little wobble before creasing into a frown.

"Uh, seriously dude," Eddie mumbles, "I don't have my wallet and I don't have any change on me--"

"Don't worry about it," Steve says smoothly without missing a beat, "Rob and I get free rentals once a month, just take mine".

Eddies eyebrows rise slowly into the wispy bangs covering his forehead as Robin tisks loudly from beside Steve,

"What, just like that?" he says slowly, the words stick to his tongue which all of a sudden feels as though it's three times too big for his own mouth. Why the fuck was Harrington being so nice to him, like the other night didn't matter at all.

"Yup," Steve says simply, he doesn't pop the 'p' like he used to, and his face is so neutral and smooth. It's not back to their normal after all, but what was he expecting, nothing was.

"Anything else we can do? I gotta get back to rewinding the tapes," Steve says as he jerks his thumb towards the back room again.

Steve hesitates for a second, he's still facing Eddie and looks as though he's on the verge of saying something, his large hazel eyes dart back and forth between Eddies own for a moment, before he lifts his right hand to roughly pinch at the bridge of his nose once before the hand sweeps into his hair, pushing it away from his face.

Robin, who had been watching them like a far more predatory bird than her namesake, steps closer and knocks into Steve's shoulder gently.

"Remember, they are organized and outnumber us like 200 to one," she barks, saluting him with her left hand, "don't rewind till you see the whites of their tape cases".

Steve's blank expression cracks with a small smile, he reaches up to switch out her left hand with her right and then draws himself up to his full height.

Steve squares his shoulders, "if the tapes claim me, don't be a hero Buckley, remember me fondly".

She snorts and shakes her head as he brushes past her, Steve looks over his shoulder once at Eddie before disappearing into the back once more.

Eddie watches him leave, the Children of the Corn clutched in his hands so tightly he's almost worried the plastic will warp, he misses Robin silently siddle up next to him and nearly jumps a foot in the air as she speaks.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Robin growls softly before she sweeps over to the push cart filled with returns and walks it over to the closest shelf, pointedly ignoring him.

Eddie huffs out an irritated sigh but feels his shoulders slowly deflate on their own as he trudges back towards the entrance, the bell rings once again as he steps outside into the mid afternoon sun.

Gravel crunches underneath Eddie's ratty chucks as he heads towards the van, stopping in his tracks when he spots Jonathan leaning against the driver's side door.

"Uh, hey Byers?"

Jonathan waves again before crossing his arms, he's glaring at the ground as though it personally offended him. Eddie looks around, letting his eyes trail over the other cars in the lot.

"Where's your partner in crime?" Eddie asks carefully, he knows Argyle wouldn't have just left without Jonathan.

Jonathan waves his hand towards the convenience store at the end of the parking lot, "he's grabbing snacks, he should be back soon," Jonathan shugs and settles back against the van.

It's awkward, Eddie can count the number of times he and Jonathan have hung out on one hand, he's seen Argyle way more, sharing trade secrets and sampling some grade A California Kush while he's at it.

But Eddie and Jonathan, he's got nothing.

"Sooo," Eddie hums, dragging out the syllable as he steps towards Jonathan and leans against the van beside him, "you here to yell at me too?"

Jonathan scoffs and shakes his head, but his arms do tighten a fraction around his midsection, hah, gotcha.

"No, but honestly dude, if Nancy and I have to hear the kids bitch and moan one more time about whatever the hell is going on between you and Harrington," he shakes his head and snorts.

Eddie bristles slightly but nods, "Yeah Mike's got a mouth on him huh?"

"So," Jonathan starts and immediately shuts his mouth with a snap and a grimace. He seems to steady himself before meeting Eddie's gaze, it's unnerving.

"Fuck it, look," Jonathan snaps, he turns to face Eddie, "I'm not the biggest fan of Harrington myself, but we’re not going out of our way to see each other and if you're going to do this kind of thing I'd prefer if Will wasn't in the same room," Jonathan scrubs a tired hand over his face, "he was pretty upset the other night, said you were a prick to Dustin too".

And that Eddie can't even defend, he bites the inside if his cheek and nods again, letting his arms wrap around himself tightly, it's such little comfort that it leaves him feeling cold despite the midafternoon heat and glaring sunshine.

"What's going on man?" Jonathan says softly this time, he's still facing Eddie but has leaned back slightly.

"You remember how shitty Hawkins high was right?" Eddie says after a beat, the words barely escape between his teeth, but someone else needs to know.

Jonathan doesn't say anything but he nods once, a dark look crosses over his face momentarily before disappearing.

"And I'm sure you heard some of the rumours that were going around about me," Eddie rubs his hand across his nose, "that whole place was a fucking gossip factory, I know most -if not all of it was bullshit, but".

Fuck.

He doesn't even know how to say it.

"Harrington told everyone I was a," he swallows roughly, the word catches in his throat as though covered in barbs, "a…fag, and that my parents kicked me out after my dad tried to kill me, that was the reason I was living with Wayne".

Eddie stares, unseeing, at the ground, he hears a sharp intake of breath but keeps going.

"And now," he breathes out, hating the way it catches slightly in his throat, "I don't know how to feel about him, I'm so fucking angry about it, but he's so God Damn nice now, it's like whiplash".

"The worst part is," Eddie continues, breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes start to burn, fuck, he doesn't want to do this here, "I don't even know if he remembers, that's what makes me so angry".

Eddie barks out a wet laugh, "that it made me a target, and for him it was nothing".

Jonathan is quiet for a moment, staring past Eddie with a pensive expression, "when did this happen?" he says softly.

"I don't know man," Eddie sighs, he brings a hand up to press into his eyes until stars explode across his vision, they come away wet.

"It was one of my senior years, the first go around, why?"

"Because," Jonathan urges, his voice uncharacteristically harsh, "I heard Billy Hargrove say that, like word for word, at Tina's Halloween party, and that was like two years ago".

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Though Billy and Tommy were both assholes, Billy was the actual scary one of the pair.

Eddie remembers that party too. He had made some decent money that night, posting up in the backyard, letting his drunk classmates come to him. Eddie had even wandered inside a few times to grab a beer or two before leaving, no one had really bothered him that night, granted it seemed hard to shake that Mullet wearing psychos flinty gaze, but if he thinks hard about it enough, everything changed after that night.

Eddie stops breathing, it takes almost a full minute for him to really catch up to what Jonathan is saying, "but, but I thought for sure…" he stammers, voice tight.

"Eddie," Jonathan says, the gentle tone back as looks him in the eye, "Steve spent that whole night babysitting Nancy. It was a whole thing, he left early too because they had a big fight".

Jonathan takes a deep breath, and blows it slowly through his nose, it releases the rigid line of tension in Byers shoulders. His dark eyes scan Eddie's face before he sighs again and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"I'm not trying to defend the guy, he was a prick in high school, but if you've been blaming him for spreading that shit around, I think you have the wrong guy".

Eddie's is racing, he feels as though he's underwater and sinking deeper, his vision narrowing to a single point of light just above him. His lungs shudder as he tries to catch his breath.

"Hey, slow down and breathe man," Jonathan murmurs, a worried grimace pulls at his mouth as his head swivels to and fro, scanning the parking lot. Jonathan reaches to put a warm hand on Eddie's shoulder, "you're going to make yourself pass out".

"I'm good man, I'm fine," Eddie bites out. He shifts and straightens his back, stepping away from Jonathan and the van, he nearly stumbles in his efforts to move.

Jonathan leans back with both hands raised in front of him in, ready to steady the metal-head if needed, his eyes dart across Eddie's face with wary concern.

"Relax Byers," Eddie breathes out as he takes another step away. He looks back towards the Family Video, in case they've drawn an audience by now.

He can see Steve and Robin through the window, they're both at the counter, their backs are turned--thankfully.

Robin has one hand on Steve's back as she gestures emphatically away from herself with the other, he's nodding but his whole posture has drooped, wilted like an old flower.

Eddie feels his heart clench again at the sight. Fuck.

"Hey man, mind getting off my van? I have to make a call".

***

Eddie races home, the old breaks squeal and the engine shudders as he turns abruptly into the gravel drive just ahead of their new government issued trailer.

Though it didn't have the same feel as their old trailer, the notches on the bathroom doorway to track his height over the years replaced by pristine white paint, the spaghetti stain on the ceiling from Eddies first ambitious attempts to make Wayne dinner replaced by the same stark whiteness. Wayne was able to save some of their photos and Eddie's favorite Dio poster, it helped a little bit remind them of their former home, but it wasn’t quite the same.

For all it lacked, at least the ceilings were whole, with no sign of the horrific death Eddie had witnessed just a few short months ago.

Eddie turns off the engine and unbuckles himself as he opens the door and steps out of the van. The feel of gravel and grass under his feet is grounding, but he still feels as though he might fly apart at any moment.

His uncle's pickup is still out front; Eddie winces at his own park job and considers getting back in the van to try again --his uncle will have to swing wide just to get around him for work at this point, but there's an itch in Eddie's brain. He has to talk to Gareth, make sense of this.

Eddie makes his way inside, Wayne isn't in the living room or kitchen based on his quick scan, he barely manages to close the front door behind him in his haste to get to the phone.

Eddie hears the main bathroom fan and Wayne humming tunelessly to himself, he figures he probably has at least half an hour to use the phone undisturbed.

Eddie snatches the phone off the base hung on the wall beside their Kit-Cat Klock, he immediately wraps his fingers in the cord and dials Gareths number. It rings again and again, fuck.

"Hello?"

"Gareth, don't hang up!" Eddie struggles to keep the shout out of his voice, he wraps and unwraps his hands in the phone cord, tangling his fingers nervously as a long sigh crackles over the line.

"What man?" Gareth huffs, impatience saturates the words and Eddie can't keep his own bottled up for even a moment longer.

"I fucked up," Eddie whispers, "I fucked up Gar," he untagles his one hand long enough to sweep it up into his hair, pulling it away from his face.

He can hear the rustle of cloth and movement over the handset as Gareth breathes out a soft and confused, 'what,' on the other side but once the words start Eddie can't seem to contain them any longer.

"I don't know what to do," he says, his voice pitched in a low whine, "I spent so long absolutely convinced that Harrington was the one who put that target on my back in highschool, that he was the one who spread all those rumors".

Eddie begins to pace, two steps forward, and two steps back, he's too caught up in the phone cord to move much further around the kitchen but he feels the need to channel his frenetic energy somewhere.

"But he didn't, I just," Eddie swallows and removes his hand from his hair to press roughly into his eyes once more, "I just assumed".

Gareth says nothing, the only reason Eddie knows he's still there is the fact that the call hasn't cut out to a dial tone.

"I think, I think ruined it Gar, I don't know how to fix this, i think we could have been friends…"

A scoff bursts over the line and Eddie flinches at the sudden sound.

"Sorry, but Eddie, this is exactly what I was talking about".

Gareth sighs loudly and shifts again, "don't think it was just Jeff that was confused and maybe even a little angry that you started hanging out with the guy, but we thought, 'well, if Eddie forgave him, and wants to be his friend then we can deal,'" Gareth hesitates for a beat before speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"If he did or didn't do it wasn't the issue Ed, you can't have it both ways. You can't try and be with the guy, lead him on like that, and hang on to this grudge, you'd just be hurting yourself and Steve more".

Eddie feels himself pale as he freezes in the middle of his pacing, he swallows hard but manages to keep his grip on the phone steady.

"I dont--you keep saying that--" he stutters, ignoring the cold feeling that settles in his gut.

"Eddie, come on, we have eyes in our heads, we didn't care that you liked guys, we don't care that you have a thing for Harrington -well I mean, Jeff might but he'd get over it if you asked him to".

Eddie feels his heart climb into his throat and nods once before remembering Gareth isn't actually there in person, he cradles the phone to his cheek and whispers, "I know".

"So fix it," Gareth says softly, "I don't know why you're talking to me, it sounds like you already know what you have to do".

"For what it's worth," Gareth says with a sigh and Eddie can hear the small smile in his voice this time, "I do think he's changed since highschool, and I am glad that he wasn't the one who said those things about you, it'll make my shovel talk a little easier anyway".

Eddie barks out a laugh that comes out a little wet, "thanks man," he mumbles into the receiver.

"Anytime, now get off the line, I gotta break the news to Jeff, he'll need time to digest".

Eddie laughs and hangs up the phone after a soft, 'goodbye you dick,' and turns to see Wayne leaning against the entrance to the kitchen watching him with a raised eyebrow and a stern expression.

"So, you finally gonna fix what's had you moping around here for the last couple o' days?" Wayne asks, his voice is casual but there's a glint in his brown eyes, so like Eddie's own, that puts him on edge.

Eddie winces and runs his hand through his curls towards the back to cradle his head, he hesitates as Wayne tilts his head slightly, waiting for his normally talkative nephew to speak.

After another beat Wayne sighs and pushes himself off the doorway, he steps into the kitchen and makes his way to the cupboard to pull out his favorite Indiana Pacers mug. Wayne busies himself with the kettle, while Eddie sweats by the phone.

"Uh, how much did you hear of that?" Eddie says eventually, he picks at the skin on his fingers and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Wayne tilts his head to the side to look over his shoulder at Eddie as he adds two scoops of instant coffee into the empty mug while the water starts to boil.

"Well, it sounds like you and Harrington had something of a misunderstanding, that why he hasn't been 'round here with that famous lasagna of his?"

Eddie huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes, "I guess you could say that," he chews on his lip roughly for a moment before releasing it, "I just don't know how to even start Wayne".

His uncle hums at that, flicking the stove burner off just as the kettle begins to hiss and whine, he pulls it off the metal coils and pours a helping of water into his awaiting mug before putting the kettle on the farthest burner to cool back down. He picks up the spoon he had used to scoop the instant coffee and stirs thoughtfully, allowing the metal to clink and clang against the chipped ceramic.

"Have you thought to just talk to him? Harrington seems like a good kid, I doubt he's holding a grudge--"

"I was mean Wayne, I was a dick in front of the kids," Eddies breathing picks up as he continues to speak, "they all hate me right now, they won't talk to me, and I kind of hate me a little bit right now and--"

Eddie stops talking as Wayne crosses the kitchen and pulls him into a fierce hug. He lets himself sink into it.

Wayne had always been somewhat easy going with affection, doling out hugs and pats on the back, but ever since Eddie had been discharged from the hospital Wayne seemed hyper aware of the need for comfort without being asked.

"If you're sorry then tell him, and if he doesn't want to hear it then you let him be, either he'll forgive you or he won't," Wayne's voice rumbles through his chest, he feels the hug begin to loosen as Wayne leans away to catch his eye once more, "sounds like the kids might be owed their own apology but you can do that after Harrington, what do we do when make mistakes?"

"We fix em," Eddie whispers, he feels lighter, lighter than he has since Gareth drove him and Jeff home in stony silence that fateful night.

"Damn right, now go on, if I have to miss another one of those damn casseroles you're gonna owe me an apology".

***

The drive isn't long but waiting for the approximate time that he figured Steve would be home was absolute torture, he even let Wayne fix him his own cup of instant coffee -how his uncle could drink that stuff was beyond Eddie but the warmth of the cup was grounding as time ticked by.

Eddie waited until six, figuring that would be the safest bet after a day shift, worst case scenario he'd go home and try again tomorrow if the house was empty.

A small anxious part of him hoped it would be.

The lights are on when he pulls up to the house, and Steve's beemer is in the driveway.

Okay, he could do this, all he had to do was go up to the door.

Eddie shuts the engine off, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel as he grabs his keys and pops open his van door.

Eddie breathes in deeply through his nose and releases it slowly through mouth as he steps onto the walkway to the front door. The porch light is on despite the sun sitting high in the sky.

Eddie hesitates as he reaches the dark red double doors, all he has to do is raise his hand to ring the bell or knock, but he's frozen suddenly, his heart beats a wild staccato in his chest and that feeling of slowly sinking under water from earlier is back.

Eddie shakes his head, he faced down feral demon bats, and trudged through a poisonous forest to help hunt down Vecna, he could do this!

The door in front of him suddenly opens of its own accord revealing Steve’s frantic and confused face.

Shit.

***

Thank you everyone! There will be a part three that will finally have some comfort for all this whump and angst!! (I PROMISE!)

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty

(I hope these tags work and if I missed you I'm so sorry!!)

Continue with Part Three Here

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dreamwatch · 5 months

Note

For the Spotify fic challenge: Steddie, and lucky #13! ❤️

I got this ask on December the 3rd!! It took me forever to come up with something for this, but I got there! I don't think this is as heavy as the tags make it seem, but please heed them @thisapplepielife thank you so much for the ask, it really got the old brain box working!

Spotify Prompt: Free Fallin' by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (yes, Tom Petty again!)

Word Count: 3623 | Rating: T | CW: Period typical homophobia, homophobic language, chronic pain, internalised ableism, brief mention of AIDS crisis | Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington and His Parents | Tags: Protective Eddie Munson, Disabled Eddie Munson, Established Relationship, Meeting The Parents, Steve's Parents Are Trying, Not Beta Read

Eddie works fucking hard all week and he just wants to kick back on a Saturday, and do nothing. Feet up on the table, beer in one hand, pizza in the other. Maybe catch a film. Maybe watch a game with Steve. Whatever. It’s his time, he gets to choose how he spends it.

Instead, they’re sitting in the car outside the Harrington’s house, and Steve looks like he’s about to be fed to the wolves. Eddie’s never been brought home to meet the parents before. Usually, he’s never brought home at all. This is as hard for Eddie as it is for Steve. He’s deeply suspicious of Steve’s parents, of their suddenly wanting to meet the guy he’s shacked up with. To get a closer look at the guy who stole Steve’s chance for a good ol’ fashioned midwestern life, white picket fence, sweet wife, a couple of kids, briefcase and tie, trade in the bimmer for a Volvo. All that shit. All that shit that Eddie has no experience with, no desire for.

Two years together, and this is the first time he’s been summoned. Steve says it’s because they finally believe him. They thought it was a joke at first. They stopped laughing, eventually.

Eddie doesn’t really know what to expect. Robin says his mom is sweet, his dad is nice enough but tough on Steve and there’s still tension there even though Steve’s in his twenties now. Dustin thinks his dad is a hoot, and somehow the idea of Dustin bonding with Mr Harrington feels like a betrayal. But Dustin doesn’t have the full picture, so. There’s that.

“We better go in,” Steve says, not looking at Eddie. Not really looking at anything. And that doesn’t really instil confidence in Eddie, about how all this shit is going to go down, because Steve has been telling him all week not to worry about it, it will be fine. But he’s sitting here looking like the world is about to end. And maybe it is. Maybe that’s exactly what’s about to happen, Steve’s world, that complex relationship with his parents that they cultivated with such tender hands, will just shatter once the reality of everything Steve has been telling them for the last couple of years manifests in their dining room.

Eddie might not have done this before, but he knows his part. Turn up, be polite, play nice. And above all things don’t bite if the other kids don’t play nice. Because Eddie will always be the one that gets the blame.

He checks his hair in the rearview mirror one last time. It’s tied back, the tiniest bit of hairspray to tame it and stop any unruly hairs from escaping mid canapés. How uncouth. Picking clothes was a whole thing. ‘It’s not a formal dinner’, Steve said, no need to get gussied up, ‘I want you to look like yourself, to be comfortable.’ And Steve probably did mean that, truly, but it didn’t matter how many teeshirts and jeans combos Eddie tried on, none of them seemed to be the ‘Eddie’ that Steve was hoping to bring home to his parents. What followed was an argument, ‘You fucking choose then’, slammed doors, eased over with a kiss and ‘What about these?’ So now he’s in the Harrington’s driveway wearing a pair of clean black jeans, knees neatly hidden behind denim, and a long sleeve (always long sleeves) plaid shirt, which could almost pass for one of Wayne’s if it weren’t for the tiny little polo player embroidered on the pocket. He’s been permitted to wear a pair of Doc Martens he found in a thrift store in Indy, they’re clean and smart enough and they’re fucking comfortable and he needs that. Just one bit of comfort, one bit of him.

They stand on the doorstep and Steve knocks and it strikes Eddie as weird. He moved out of Wayne’s a while ago, but he still has his key, and if he knocked on the front door Wayne would ask Eddie what his last doorman died of. But he forgets sometimes that his upbringing is not the norm, that not every kid got saved from foster care by their uncle because their dad is in jail.

Mrs Harrington answers the door, and Eddie’s seen pictures of her, he’s been in this house before (he’s done things to her son in this house that would definitely lower its market value) but she’s shorter than he imagined, and Steve bends over to hug her. It’s cute.

Mr Harrington looms behind her and makes eye contact with Eddie briefly before moving to his son. Another hug, stiffer, with a manly clap on the back. But it’s not nothing, and some of that tension from before has already dispersed from Steve, he has some of his lightness back. A smile back on his beautiful face. Eddie’s not ready to let his guard down yet, he is after all the main course at this particular feast, and he’s just waiting for the cleaver to fall, the teeth to take hold (not teeth, not teeth, not teeth).

“Mom, Dad, this is…” Steve looks at him. Pleading. Loving. Accepting. Scared. “Eddie.”

“Eddie!” says Mrs Harrington, like she actually wants him standing in her hallway, god love her for trying. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

Oh God, he’s on now, isn’t he? Steve’s thrown him the ball and he needs to not fumble the catch, or something, he’s watched enough games now that some of it should be sinking in.

“Mr and Mrs Harrington, it’s lovely to meet you both. Uh, thank you. For inviting me.”

“Amanda, please,” says Mrs Harrington, “and this is David,” and it’s pointed, a little spiky. Eddie likes that. David’s giving Amanda the evil eye and Eddie is trying not to smile about it.

“Eddie. Good to meet you,” the poor guy manages to spit out. And Jesus fuck, he holds his hand out to shake it, and Eddie has to resist the temptation to wipe his hands down the front of his jeans. He’s clean, every inch of him scrubbed and moisturised and cologned. Eddie doesn’t know why he’s sweating on this particular social norm, both Al and Wayne taught him the art of the handshake as a young boy. ‘Shake from the elbow, firm hand, and match their grip’ said Wayne. ‘Ain’t nothin’ worse than a weak handshake’ said Al.

Amanda offers him the grand tour before Steve reminds her that Eddie’s been here before, only not when they were around. David bristles and walks away and that’s probably for the best all things considered.

They all walk through to the massive kitchen, and Amanda offers him a beer and he nearly breaks his fucking neck with the speed he takes it.

“Dad thought because it’s such a lovely day we’d grill outdoors. How does that sound for a change?” Steve’s mom rests her hand on Steve’s back, and Eddie sees the movement, the slow comforting strokes.

There’s a cough from the patio, and David Harrington looms in the doorway. “Why don’t you give me a hand, son.” Huh. Divide and conquer, and so early into the afternoon. Steve looks at Eddie and what is Eddie going to say? How dare you leave me to your mother so that you can bond with Daddy? I haven’t seen mine in years, hasn’t done me any harm. He’s a good boyfriend, so he nods and smiles, hoping that it conveys what he really means. We can leave whenever you need to. Just say the word. I love you.

Amanda bustles around in their kitchen, dicing cucumbers and tomatoes, making herself busy, keeping herself away from him. He’s propped on a stool at their breakfast bar because he needs to get the weight off his leg and he didn’t bring his cane because ‘I’m fine Steve, I don’t need it’, not because he didn’t want the Harrington’s to think he was weak or incapable of working, mooching off their son. Definitely not that.

“So, um, what do you like in your salad? Anything I should leave out? Steve didn’t really give me much to go on. I promise I asked.” She sounds like she cares whether he eats zucchini or not (not, decidedly fucking not).

“Ah, I’m not fussy, honestly. Just, you know whatever you guys usually have is fine.”

She looks over her shoulder, a little conspiratorially. “Not a big salad guy, huh? Don’t worry, neither is David. I know when I’m fighting a losing battle.”

Eddie returns the smile. He keeps throwing furtive glances outside, hoping he can just summon Steve to save him. He should be glad, to be honest, that Steve is still out there with his dad. If it was going badly he’d likely have returned by now.

Amanda keeps up the inane chatter, the small talk grating on him. This is so alien to him, so bizarre. He’s doing his best to keep up with her, though, because this isn’t about him. If they never accept him, never want to see him again, he’s fucking fine with it. But Steve loves them, and despite things being tense over the last couple of years Eddie’s pretty certain they love him.

Eddie’s sipping at his beer when he hears the knife slam against the marble countertop.

Amanda spins to face him.“Look. I’m as uncomfortable as you, okay? So why don’t we just cut the shit.”

He puts his beer down, sits up and draws his shoulders back, ready for battle. He’s been waiting for this. Unfortunately, his leg decides to spasm painfully at the same time, kind of killing the image. He hisses, clutching his thigh and doing his best to massage the pain away as if that’s all it would take. He hates this, fucking hates that it happens in front of this woman of all people.

“Are you… are you okay?” Amanda makes her way closer, and she looks like she wants to reach out to him but can’t quite bring herself to do it.

Eddie takes a deep, calming breath. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It just… it happens. Sometimes. It’s fine.” It’s not even close to fine but he’ll be fucked if he’s telling her that. About his constant pain, about losing one job because he couldn’t keep up with the rest of the crew, about being shit scared he’s going to lose his current job for the same reason. About how he’s pushing himself so that Steve doesn’t have to carry the load. The Harrington’s don’t get to know any of that.

Amanda nods and creeps closer to him, finally pulling out a stool and sitting at the breakfast bar with him.

“This is difficult for us. Steve and...” She gestures loosely at him, and he does his best not to tense up at that. “God I need a drink. Do you want another beer?”

He’s maxed out on his pain meds today, for all the good it did, so he really shouldn’t. Steve is particularly strict about that kind of thing. But Steve’s not here. So he nods and watches Steve’s mom pour herself a large glass of wine before returning with another beer for him. She knocks the whole thing back in under a minute.

“Steven’s my pride and joy. He was just such a gorgeous child. Kind, would scream with laughter, just so much happiness in him.” She plays with the rim of her wine glass, and swipes at the lipstick she’s left behind. “From the moment you find out you’re pregnant you think about the person they’ll grow up to be. You hope you’ll be a good parent, that you’ll do right by them. I had a life planned for Steve, in my head. He would come home with a beautiful girl one day and tell me she was the one. They’d get married, and have babies of their own. We’d have grandchildren to spoil.” Amanda smiles wistfully, watching Steve and his Dad through the kitchen window. Eddie hopes he’s okay, hopes Steve’s doing better than he is, anyway. It feels like there’s cement lining his stomach.

“Mrs Harrington—”

“No,” she says, harshly. “I’m talking now, and you’re going to listen to everything I have to say.

“I thought, Nancy Wheeler, you know her?” He nods, silently. “Nice girl. He brought her home and I could see it in his eyes, you know? Just this… light. He was happy. I thought she was the one.”

“So did Steve,” he says before he can stop himself.

“When it didn’t work out, I felt sad for him, but my boys a catch. It’s not like he was going to be alone for long. But that spark, it just fizzled out of him. He carried this… I don’t know, sadness. He’d smile, and he’d laugh, but it was always there under the surface. And then he started getting into fights, vicious ones. The Hargrove boy put him in the hospital, did you know that?”

He did know that. Eddie had spent many a night lamenting the fact he’d never get the chance to punch Billy’s smug fucking face. He doesn’t tell Amanda Harrington that, though, just scowls and nods.

She tops her wine up again. Eddie just wishes she’d get to the part where she calls him a dirty queer and cuts him a cheque if he’ll leave Steve. He wonders how many pieces he could tear it into before throwing it all over her stone floor.

“When Steve didn’t get into college, David told him to get a job. We didn’t make him pay rent, but if he wanted money he was going to have to earn it. And he did. He got that stupid job at Starcourt, got up early every day, worked the weekends. We were both so proud of him.

“And then there was the fire…” Her voice shakes, and she looks genuinely upset, and, maybe for the first time today, he feels sorry for Amanda Harrington. “We were in Indy that day, having dinner with friends. We didn’t know what had happened. We got home late and he wasn’t here, but he was eighteen years old, you know? We thought he was out with friends. We weren’t worried.”

She takes a large breath, and let’s it out slowly. “We got a call at three in the morning to tell us our son was in the hospital. And when we saw him…” Her voice catches before she looks up at Eddie. “You’re not a parent, Eddie. So you can’t know what it feels like. You don’t know fear until you nearly lose your child. And we kind of did, a little. He was never the same after that,” she says softly. She gives a sour laugh. “And then it happened again.”

“Spring break,” Eddie says. She nods sadly.

Amanda pauses and swirls what’s left of her wine in its glass. “A few months after the earthquake, or whatever it was, he walked in the door one night and he just… He had that light back in his eyes and suddenly my Steve was home. And I knew he was in love.” She smiles, and Eddie sees Steve in his mother, just how alike they are. “It was like Nancy times a hundred. He was glowing. I was so happy to see him like that. And I asked him ‘When are you bringing this mystery girl home to meet us?’ and he’d be coy, get all shy. I asked him outright if he was in love and he didn’t hesitate, just said yes with a huge smile plastered across his face, and yet he wouldn’t bring her home to us.

“And then one day he sits us down and tells us that this girl who he has fallen so deeply in love with is… is a boy.” She looks accusingly at him, and he refuses to shrink under her glare. “And suddenly everything you thought about your child, everything you had planned for them, it’s gone,” she snaps her fingers, “overnight. Now I’m not worrying about teenage pregnancy, I’m worrying about AIDS—”

“That’s not—”

“No, let me finish! Let me get this out, for Christ’s sake.” She knocks back the last of her wine. “He’s explained, all of that to us. And how you’re being… responsible. But we’re old-fashioned. Traditional. Our son coming home and declaring he’s bi — whatever it is —”

“ — sexual.”

“Whatever it is,” she glares at him, “it’s hard for us. But here’s the thing. I haven’t seen him that happy in so long. Maybe ever. You gave him his light back. You. You with your long hair and your tattoos, and your bad reputation… ” She runs out of steam, and blows out a huge puff of air. “He says you talked him into going to college.”

Eddie nods. “He’s smart,” he says, fiercely proud. “Smarter than people give him credit for.”

“He is. I’m glad someone else sees it.” She gives him a ghost of a smile and he feels wrongfooted all of a sudden, no longer sure what they’re doing. The fight he thought he was gearing up for seemingly off the cards.

“We’re getting there, Eddie. And we’ll keep trying. He loves you. And we love him. You do love him, don’t you?”

Eddie’s throat tightens and he swallows hard. “So much it hurts,” he croaks.

She smiles, a tentative thing. Fragile. “Good. We’re on a journey, David and I. I’m a little further along… but he’s getting there. We’re both getting there. I hope you’ll allow us the time to catch up.”

And what can he say to that? His own father told him he was a dirty little freak and tried to beat the gay out of him. Steve’s parents just want more time. They can give them that. Eddie can give them that.

“If it’s okay with Steve, then it’s okay with me.”

Eddie watches the tension in Amanda’s shoulders melt away, the worried frown smooths. “Good. And… thank you. For your patience. And for looking after him. All I ever wanted was for someone to love him and look after him.”

“I will always love him.” And he means it, knows in his heart that whatever might happen in the future, whatever gets thrown their way, he will always love Steve Harrington “How could I not?”

Amanda offers a shy smile and Eddie thinks maybe he’s done his job. Maybe, at the very least, she will accept them now, and try not to fight it.

She’s still smiling when she looks at the kitchen counter, at the mess of vegetables in various states of being chopped and washed. “You know what?” She gets up and grabs the vegetables, throwing them in the refrigerator with a slam of the door. She turns back to look at him, hands on hips, and Eddie bites back a smile. “Fuck the salad.” He’s open mouthed as she gestures out to the garden. “Dave doesn’t like it, Steve doesn’t like it and I’m not going to make you choke it down out of politeness.”

Amanda crosses the kitchen to him and offers her arm. “We have steps out there. If you fall Steve will kill me.”

Eddie wonders just what exactly Steve has been telling them, how infirm Steve seems to think he is and he’d be lying if it didn’t rankle him, but at the same time his mom is trying to do something nice. She thinks she’s helping. So he’s going to let her.

They walk out into the sunlight, arm in arm, and he sees Steve laughing with his Dad, they both look relaxed and happy and that’s all Eddie wanted from today. They look up as Amanda and Eddie approach, Steve locking eyes with Eddie, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Eddie smiles and nods and Steve visibly relaxes as he goes back to arguing about the best way to grill a steak.

The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly, and while it’s Steve’s Mom who does all the heavy lifting, his Dad isn’t exactly a silent partner. It feels so normal, family in-jokes and laughter and he can see how much Steve has missed this.

When they leave Amanda hugs him, giving him a warm smile, and David shakes his hand, a little longer and a little softer than the first one.

Steve starts the engine, the radio springs to life, and they head out of the driveway, back to their own home. Steve reaches across and takes Eddie’s hand in his. “Thank you,” he says, glancing away from the road for a second.

Eddie squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“No, I do. I was a dick. The clothes, your hair… I’m sorry, okay? I was just…”

“Scared,” Eddie finishes for him.

Steve nods. “Scared.”

“They love you, Steve. Whatever happens. They love you, okay?”

Steve sighs, finally unburdened. "I know."

They pull up to a stop light, Tom Petty playing on the radio. Steve runs his hand through his hair, finally relaxed enough to muss it up. “Uh, Dad asked if you’d like to bring Wayne.” Steve glances across at him quickly, and then back at the stop light. “Next time?”

He’s not exactly sure what Wayne would say to an invitation to the Harringtons. But he does know that Wayne thinks the sun shines out of Steve’s ass, and there’s not much that he’d say no to if Steve was the one doing the asking.

“Sure,” Eddie says, and he reaches across to this boy, this man, that he loves so fiercely, and pulls him in for a kiss. “Next time.”

#steddie fanfic #Spotify unwrapped writing prompt #eddie munson #steve harrington #disabled eddie munson #cw period typical homophobia #cw chronic pain #cw internalised ableism #cw homophobic language #cw mention of AIDS crisis

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fictionkinfessions · 4 months

Note

Hey MPC, pinned post says pomes instead of poems. Just letting you know.

Narrows eyes, the way my phone will let me type any old thing and not say a damn word!! What is even a pome? Searching...

OH MY GOD A FRUIT? MY KEYBOARD CALL ME FRUIT?

Well! It's fixed in any case! And thank you!

Mod party cat!

#fictionkinfessions #mod response #not confessions #mod party cat #homophobic language cw #slurs #?#caps cw

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carousel-crows · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday

ok this au has been eating me alive—

basically a "ice and mav got caught and got dishonorably discharged" au but officially called my "Cherry Wine au"

————

⚠️TW/CW: THERE IS THE USE OF THE F SLUR AND SOME HOMOPHOBIA, ITS THE 90'S⚠️

They had been caught.

They had been foolish enough to think it would be okay.

They would face dishonorable discharge. There was no doubt. They had been careless. They knew the risks, the consequences.

And yet, they had been sloppy, unguarded.

They lost their wings. The Navy had kicked them to the curb, penniless and destroyed. Homeless, broke, and lost. Left with nothing.

The crazy part of Tom didn't regret it. He loved Pete, and nothing could change that. He would've taken the blame for Pete without hesitation if it could've saved him.

The rest of him was disgusted. He had nowhere to go, no money, no college education, nothing. His family had disowned him for being “a fag”, and part of him felt like he deserved it.

————

this is gonna be the angstiest thing i've ever written, and i still haven't decided on how it should end.

#icemav #tom iceman kazansky x pete maverick mitchell #cw homophobia #tw homophobic language #angst #tg86 #top gun 1986 #wip wednesday

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wynnyfryd · 7 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #claudia henderson #st fic #my writing #my fic

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teamfreewill2pointo · 21 days

Text

Tumblr won't let me share the audio clip of Misha answering the last question from Crossroads, so here's a transcript.

[Fan] Um, it's kind of about Destiel so - [Misha] Perfect last question really

[Fan]So there's a show called 911 and - It's about firefighters and it's been going on for about seven seasons now. And recently in seven seasons it moved networks from Fox to ABC. And um, one of the main characters, he's a man named Buck and- he kissed another man and it's been said that by the actor who plays Buck on the previous network Fox, they wouldn't have been able to do that. So when they moved, they thought, okay, we can do it now because it's on a different network. So my question is, do you think if Supernatural had a new networks earlier on, or if the show was made later something like this could have happened between Dean and Cas? [Misha] If think that if the CW- [Fan 2] Fuck them! [Misha] had not been- Had not been so homophobic- [Audience cheers] [Misha] Dean and Cas would have been balls deep. [Audience cheers] [Rob] I think you just made a headline. [Audience cheers and laughs]

[Misha] I will tell you- I will answer that question um- in- in part earnest. I, I think that there's been a sea change in culture um broadly. When I joined Supernatural and- and- Destiel became this very like hush-hush thing on the internet that we weren't even supposed to talk about. Um, there was no way on God's green earth that anything like it, uh, a consummation of that kind of relationship would make it to the screen on our show. And by the end of the series, we had lasted for so long that the culture had changed and there had become an acceptance of the possibility that that kind of, like, Declaration of Love could happen. Um, I- I- I mean... When I was growing up, um, we used the word f*g as a filler all the time. It was like, just want to insult one another, and f*g, homo, like, that's what everyone was saying in elementary school. My kids see two dads or two moms dropping their peers off at school and it does not faze them at all. And there's none of that language in their schools. Now, I know that [Audience claps and I can't understand a few words due to clapping] we're decades away from eliminating homophobia in our society. But we've come so far and so I think the answer to your question is, yes, like had to show happened later on and had another 10 years to evolve who- who knows what could've happened. Um, I think that there would have been a lot more representation on the show, in general. We would have had more female directors. We would have had more female leads on the show. We would have had more people of color. A lot of things would have been different on the show, um, if it had just been 10 years later. Um, and there- and of course, like you know, the pendulum always swings. There's always a reaction to Evolution and, you know, in our country, we have the far right emerging and Neo-Nazis like, honestly taking, you know, like, seats of power and potentially, you know, for a second time, the presidency. It's- It's a pretty scary time.

[Rob] Book burning happening, you know? [Misha] What's that? [Rob] And book burning happening. [Misha] Yeah [Rob] You know, watching the show too- watching the rewatch podcast that I do with Rich, like- [Cheers] You see how much things have changed. There are certain things in the show where like, oh, then you wouldn't do that now. You know? [Rob] Like they use the word bitch all the time in the show and it's like- eugh- a little cringy, right? You know. [Misha] Yeah. Um, a lot of- there were a lot of things that we did that I don't think would stand the test of time at all now. But, um, we try to be better. [Rob] Also, I would just say, like, one thing I love about these rooms that this- this, um, family that we're here, in the Supernatural family, is like everybody is welcome and everybody's okay whoever you are, whatever you are, however you are- like, it's this is a safe space.

ETA: so it turns out that the enforcement at Starfury is different than the rules at jibcon or CE and I will not be sharing the audio clip. Jibcon officially has a no recording rule, which almost everyone in fandom ignores. Starfury is different.

#misha collins #supernatural #spn #spnfamily #spn family #crossroads #rob benedict #slurs #please let me know if i didn't get the speakers right #especially towards the end #i will get this audio out

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sister-lucifer · 2 months

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Man Up: A Preview

T4T Tim Wright/Masky x Transmasc!Reader

CW: force masc, degradation, use of homophobic language (i.e. sissy, pansy), generally mean, pissed off dom Tim

“I don’t wanna see you in any of that pansy shit ever again, do you fuckin’ hear me?”

“Tim, please…!” You whimper, grabbing his wrist and weakly trying to free yourself from his grip.

“I asked you a question, boy. Do you hear me?”

You nod as best you can, frantically attempting to placate him.

“Y-Yes, yes! I hear you, okay?! Let go…!”

He debates the order for a moment, ultimately deciding to concede. He releases his grip on your face, but doesn’t back up. He leans down to speak into your ear, his breath warm on your delicate skin.

“You’re a man now. You’re gonna stop acting like a fuckin’ sissy. No more skirts, no more lace, no more of that shit I know for a damn fact you hate wearing. It’s for your own good.”

You open your mouth to argue, but you can’t force out any words. The humiliation of this ordeal is making your throat clamp shut. You didn’t think Tim had noticed. How stupid you must be for being so obvious.

“…I’m sorry,” is the only response you can manage, a little whisper of regret. You keep your gaze trained on the floor, too afraid to look up at Tim. Even now, he thinks, you’re cowering. Pathetic.

“Let me tell you what you’re gonna do, boy,” He says, placing two hands on your shoulders and squeezing a bit, “You’re gonna take off that frilly ass outfit. All of it. You’re gonna strip down nice and naked, then you’re gonna lay on that bed and wait for me to get back. I’m not done with you.”

#t4t #trans masc #trans man #force masc #masky x reader #marble hornets #creepypasta #male reader #masky #tim wright #tim wright x reader #creepypasta x male reader #fic preview #fic wip #wip snippet #t4t smut

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eisforeidolon · 23 days

Note

Hi! Sorry if i'm bothering you but i needed someone to talk. About what happened recently with Destiel and Misha and the fans that believed in the things he said. I am new to Supernatural fandom, but i loved the story in an instant, thanks to Sam and Dean and their unique relationship. Then i became interested in Jared and Jensen too and i think that if Sam and and Dean are the heart of Supernatural then Jared and Jensen are the soul of the show because to me no other actor could have played Sam and Dean like they did. Now, returning to what i wanted to say i am really TIRED about Destiel, some Destiel shippers and especially Misha. I know he said some stupid thing about how CW is homophobic and how Destiel would be canon if they weren't homophobic. I don't ship Destiel because sincerely i don't see romantic love between Dean and Castiel, but this doesn't make me an homophobic person. His words are said with malicious intent. He also said some thing about how Jensen is attracted to him. I find this disgusting because he says this things only for his Destiel fan, knowing that his words are lies. Also Jensen not being there can't reply to his lies. Like i sad i'm new to Supernatural but some Destiel are making the experience in the fandom a constant war. They say that if you don't ship Destiel you are homophobic , that if you don't ship Destiel you are not a true Supernatural fan and the most stupid one... They say that Supernatural is about Dean and Castiel and their love. This make me really angry because Supernatural is about Sam And Dean, how they care for each other,how they save the world again and again and how they hunt monster and ghost and other things. But to me Supernatural is the unique love story of two brother and how they did everything to protect each other. I ship Wincest, but When i say love story i mean that Sam and Dean are Platonic Soulmates in Supernatural and even the show always remind us of that. I don't understant how Misha can say this thing without facing consequences because his words feed some Destiel fan that became hateful like him and whose mission is hating people who don't think think like them. Sorry for the long post and for the horrible english but it's not my first language. Sorry if i bothered you but i needed someone to talk to because sometimes i feel like leaving the fandom because Destiel hate and their war against everyone. I hope you will always have love and kindness in your life.

You really don't need to apologize for anything.❤️ You aren't bothering me and your English is fine - maybe not perfect, but hell, neither is mine some days! Thank you for the lovely sentiment, and I wish you the same - and that you do what is best for you in regards to this sometimes dumpster fire of a fandom.

If it helps, you're absolutely not alone. I've been in this fandom for years now, and some days it's sheer stubbornness against hellers obvious attempts to browbeat and drive everyone else out that keeps me here. They didn't get to take over the show through being loud and obnoxious and they don't get to monopolize the fandom by doing the same - and they can be butthurt forever over it.

I actually didn't mind Dean and Castiel as a ship at first. I'm always interested in what people take from a canon and then create entirely outside of it, and I read quite a lot of fanfic. Even then I was baffled by shippers insisting it was a thing in the canon, though. There was a brief period where I wondered if I'd somehow missed it, because I'm not generally really looking for romance stories and there were so many posts that were so insistent? So I actually did a rewatch focused just on Dean and Castiel's interactions - and came away with the impression they weren't actually even as good of friends as I'd originally thought, let alone anything like interested in each other romantically. The more I thought about it and the more meta I ran across and actually considered the details of? The more obviously baseless it was. I mean, some of it really is just genuinely so stupid it's hilarious. Cake. Bacon. Negative space. Widower arc. Bisexual lighting and/or plaid. But even the theorizing which wasn't absurd on its face? Always looked silly in comparison to how much more obviously and easily it had meaning in relation to the main story that plainly actually existed instead.

Meanwhile, I kept seeing more and more of those posts you mention insisting anyone who didn't ship it was a homophobe and they really pissed me off. Even if Dean and Castiel were a canon couple who spent half of each episode doing couple things and saying I love you back and forth instead of the entire show revolving around Sam and Dean's crazy tangled up lives with Castiel occasionally wandering in and out of the background with some angel nonsense or whatever? Not shipping it would not make someone a homophobe. Shipping is very subjective and any individual pairing can not appeal to any particular fan for a million and one reasons that have sweet fuckall to do with how they generally feel about LGBT+ relationships. Attempting to bully people into supporting a single very specific fictional relationship by trying to make them afraid of being branded a bigot if they don't is ridiculous as hell, regardless of how canon or not it is. How absolutely fucking disrespectful to all the people who have to deal with actual homophobia versus just being butthurt they can't force two particular fictional characters to kiss. It's so goddamn juvenile I can't even.

The longer I was in fandom, the more brain dead and divorced from the show the meta claiming Dean and Castiel were going to hook up any minute got. The more annoyed I became at all the absurd stereotypes about masculinity and sexuality they would parrot as gospel truth if it could "prove" Dean was into dudes and eventually the angel. The more obviously transparent their every cry of ~*homophobia*~ was when they tried to turn every real life LGBT+ issue and every canon LGBT+ character primarily into proof and/or justification regarding D/C. They're a bunch of entitled shitheads who not only feel like they should get to dictate what SPN is despite hating basically everything it actually was, but who are perfectly fine with co-opting serious real world issues to try and do it. I have no beef with normal D/C shippers who aren't assholes to everyone and mad at the show for not bringing their fanfic to life, but I can't stand the pairing at all even in a fandom sense anymore.

The evolution of my feelings on Misha followed a similar path. I liked Castiel well enough as a supporting character and I didn't actively dislike Misha, though after I'd seen a couple of panels where his answers were flippantly irreverent or unnecessarily raunchy, I wasn't really much interested in him. Then, over time, at the same time Castiel's character was more and more blatantly just eating up screen time to give J2 time off, he started getting worse and worse about ship-baiting. He'd act like everyone behind the scenes was talking about D/C - but then they (Jensen and Bob Singer most notably) would say that was untrue. He'd slyly hint about upcoming scenes in a vague way to imply D/C and then it would be something else entirely. He'd tell shippers about things that had been pointedly removed because they could seem leading and that was not the authorial intent, but without pointing out that was exactly why they were excised. His stories would change when he got a bad reaction - he went from saying he shipped wincest to pretending he'd never heard of it, he went from claiming Jimmy was going to appear in the original Roadhouse finale to it being Castiel, etc. Then there was framing horsing around with Jared as if he was a victim and not a participant and the incredibly inappropriate objectifying sexual comments about Jensen and Dean. All of which caused the fans falling for it to loudly and angrily attack everyone but him while they kept buying his ops/books/cameos/whatever. No matter how blatantly he queerbaits them and how upset they get over it and take it out on everyone else, he does not stop. He's an ungrateful creepy narcissist who will throw literally anyone or anything under the bus if he can get a buck out of it. Who also will proclaim he doesn't want to co-opt LGBT+ causes when he's desperately trying to keep his career on life support doing exactly that in the most skeevy, backstabby way possible.

Jared and Jensen put their hearts and years of their lives into this show bringing Sam and Dean to life, episode after episode, week after week, season after season. Telling an important story about platonic and familial love that you really won't find anywhere else.

Misha and the hellers have spent years trying to co-opt that to their own ends out of gross entitlement. They deserve each other, but the show and its actual fans don't deserve to have to put up with either of them. Unfortunately, we have the fandom we have, not the one we deserve.

#destihellers #destiew #anti misha #faux social justice #long post #mention of wincest

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steviewashere · 4 months

Text

City of Stars (Are You Shining Just For Me?)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Use of Period Typical Homophobic Language (Steve referencing a slur that his dad used), Brief Mention of HIV (In reference to those tabloids in 1986 that were discussing Freddie Mercury's health), Steve Has Bad Parents Tags: Post Vecna, Post Canon, Dialogue Heavy, Referenced Coming Out, Love Confessions, Protective Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is so Incredibly Smart, Steve Loves Shakespeare (More so in Passing, but I do reference Romeo and Juliet), Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Fluff, Getting Together

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is What Makes You Brave"

💕—————💕

Steve and Eddie’s hang outs tend to land them on their asses at one another’s houses. But tonight, the sky is clear and the moon is out and everything seems to be painted by the soft glow of stars. Because Steve’s parents are home. And Wayne’s got the day off, so he’s asleep early in the living room at the Munson’s. Neither of that will stop them, though. Steve picks Eddie up thirty minutes before the sun has to set, a little Melvald’s bag in the backseat filled with food and a soft throw blanket.

They go out to a clearing a few minutes outside of Hawkins. Just off the side of the road. No other people. No other wildlife, really. And they sprawl out on that blanket, over the chilled late autumn grass, eating from the same bag of barbecue chips. Eddie sits back on his palms, looking up to the stars.

His hair is tied up in a loose bun. He’s sporting one of his quarter sleeve shirts, blank of the Hellfire Club logo. Classic ripped jeans and his Reeboks. But the way his hair isn’t blocking his face gives Steve one of his new favorite views. The stretched line of Eddie’s neck, his slight stubble painted jaw, his plump pink lips, the rounded tip to his nose, his fanned long eyelashes. A breeze cuts through Eddie’s bangs, one of his hands flies up to keep them steady. Steve mourns the skin he can’t see there, because he’s thought about it: There’s enough room for every forehead kiss he’d ever want.

And, oh yeah, he should probably acknowledge his massive harboring crush on Eddie. That he’s excited to be laying on his back, looking at his face instead of the stars. The small smile that graces his features. The marred edge of his facial scar bunching with his grin. It’s cute. He’s attractive. Steve wants to hold his face between the cupped palms of his hands.

But he looks away, back at the stars. The movement of his head makes his hair scrape the blanket. And he settles in, one arm tucked under his head, the other laid over the steady rise and fall of his belly. He clears his throat. And softly, “This is so much better than being with my insufferable parents.”

Eddie snorts beside him. He leans down onto his elbows. “Yeah? What were they doing this time?” Because, oh yeah, Eddie knows that Steve’s parents are shitty people. And, oh yeah, he likes to hear Steve bitch about them. It gives Steve butterflies.

“The usual, I guess.” He shrugs, even though he’s ninety percent sure that Eddie isn’t even looking at him. “Complain about the chores not being done. Even when they’ve been done. Complain about there not being enough groceries. Sorry, Mom, that you aren’t ever around to even fucking eat them. Complain about how disappointing I am or how disappointed they are or what my life should look like or how I’m barely their son,” he lists off. Then, shrugs again. “The Usual.”

“Jesus, Stevie,” he hears Eddie breathe. “Wish there was space at the trailer for you. I hope my company is enough for now.”

Steve sighs. “It’s enough,” he mutters. “It’s more than enough.” And finds himself meaning it.

That’s another thing he should probably get around to acknowledging. He’s getting dangerously close to tiptoeing over the edge of this precipice. From opening his mouth—soft tongue, barbecue chips and all—and just saying what he wants to say. Things like how Eddie is beautiful and caring and how he adores his company. Something like, “But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Edward is the sun.”

Yeah, something like that.

He shifts against the blanket again. “They found me out this morning,” he says. “I’ve been outta the house since. That’s why we’re out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. He knows it’ll ruin the mood, but he can’t help the need to explain. “Dad was reading something; must’ve picked up one of those tabloid magazines instead of his usual. I guess the word got around that Freddie Mercury’s been tested for HIV? I’m not entirely sure, it’s truly, none of my business. That’s between him and his doctor. But, y’know what people come to think.”

Eddie sighs next to him. “Yeah,” he’s muttering, “I do unfortunately know.”

“It’s just—“ Steve groans. “Dad was being shitty. Saying anything and everything you could probably think of. Every slur. Every slur.” He sits up, crossing his legs, hands drifting to tug at tufts of grass below him. “Was talking about one of my favorite singers like he was just—like fucking Freddie Mercury was some low life, some leech or something. I couldn’t—It made it hard to just breathe. And then he—“

“Steve,” Eddie’s murmuring beside him. Blearily, Steve accounts Eddie’s hand reaching out for him. But he’s restless with his rage.

“—Then he was saying shit about my friends! About you and Robin and the Byers. As if you guys weren’t people. As if he was faring any better!” He scoffs. “Can you fucking believe the gull on him? I wanted to grab him by his nuts and throw him to Timbuktu.” He turns to better face Eddie, coming to his look of barely contained anger, yet grimaced by that expression of, You know he’s not all that wrong.

“No!” Steve exclaims. “No, don’t fucking give me that look, Eds. Like he’s fucking right,” he spits. “He’s never right. He barely ever knows what he’s talking about. He just thinks because he knows the term ergonomic that he’s like—That he’s better for it! He’s dumb, Eddie! He doesn’t even know my favorite color!”

“Steve, that’s…That’s not what you think—“

“But he just kept talking like I wasn’t ‘one of those faggots’ that he was referencing,” he barrels on. “As if my life doesn’t matter. And…God, Eddie,” his voice squeaks, breaking in two, “Eddie, I don’t think it does to him. He’s never—He’s such a terrible person. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way he was talking, it made me grow balls.

“So I just blurted it out: ‘I’m a queer!’ And then the room got scary quiet. I realized what I had said and so I left.” There’s grass between his fingers and a warm body on his right. Chip crumbs stuck between his teeth, a cold breeze on the bare skin of his arms. But…the stars, the stars are shining down on them. And he’s still brave. He’s brave and he’s better for it.

He shudders at Eddie’s gentle touch. The palm to his shoulder. The grip of his fingers.

“Steve,” Eddie is murmuring once more. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to do it that way.”

And, it’s not funny, none of this is funny. But Steve laughs anyway. All sharp and jagged. Loud. Abrasive as he is prone to be. He’s got his crush apologizing to him, on behalf of Steve himself. Got his warm palm. His low timbered voice. His beautiful curls sitting messy like drooping chocolate ice cream atop his head. And he’s laughing.

In the face of his domestic world ending—not the literal world, not the world infected by monsters—he’s laughing for being courageous.

Eddie is there. He’s still here. Holding onto Steve so carefully, like Steve may just fall through the cracks of the dirt and melt into the magma below it. His eyes are big and soft. And his lips are stretched perturbed. His hand is squeezing at Steve’s shoulders as if he thinks Steve is on the verge of breaking.

Which in turn, makes Steve laugh harder, but also causes his stomach to flip all too easily. Easy enough that he’s collecting his wits and painting his face with courage and he’s leaning into the touch. And he’s cackling out, “I love you! Isn’t that the craziest part?! That I love you and I love you and I—I don’t know how to not!” He’s throwing his head back, sure, a little deranged. But at the same time, alighted with a warm flame, coaxed by the moonlight, bathed in the stars.

“What?” Eddie squeaks. “Dude, are you—What?” But he’s nervous. He’s lifting his free hand to his hair, trying to cover the small smirk on his face. He’s shifting his lap from side to side, rocking with the motion, getting giddily anxious. And he’s cute.

“When I told ‘em,” Steve wheezes. “When I told ‘em, all I thought about was you. All I thought about was you, standing on a cafeteria table, yelling. Isn’t that so—“ He chuckles, trying to come down from this dangerous ledge he’s gripping to. His stomach hurts with his joy. His chest is full. He’s warm. “I thought about the other night when you woke up in my house and we were eating breakfast and you were laughing so hard that you choked a little bit on the sausage. I was thinking about your stupid dick sucking joke. I was thinking about—I was thinking about that last look you gave me before Vecna.

“How brave you were. I was thinking about my name on your lips. And how I just couldn’t care anymore about what they thought.” He leans in a little closer, practically pressed into the fragile line of Eddie’s side. “I couldn’t care. I’ve nearly died like four times, Eddie. You almost died in our arms. I was thinking about being alive and how I couldn’t care. And, I was thinking—“ He takes a deep breath. Continues, his voice airy and gleeful, “I was thinkin’ how either of us could be gone tomorrow. And that in all my time worrying about what my stupid fucking dad is thinking about me, I didn’t tell you how I feel. It doesn’t matter that I’m queer, Eddie. It won’t matter if I don’t get to fall in love at least once.”

He relaxes, finally. Completely. Shining with passion. With contentment.

“You make me fall in love everyday, isn’t that something, Eds? I’m a queer, my parents are bullshit, and I’m in love with one of my favorite people. That’s something,” he breathes, “you’re something more than any of what my dad could ever say.”

Next to him, Eddie chuckles lightly. Like it’s clicking for him, too. The pieces finally matched up. The key turning the lock. “You’re something, too, you know that?” He murmurs. His hand moves from Steve’s shoulder, instead wrapping around both shoulders, tucking Steve close to his side. His fingers leave little circles on the exposed slip of skin from beneath the sleeve of Steve’s own t-shirt. He’s holding him in so tight, it’s like he’s merging their bodies. He continues on, whispering, “You’re beautiful and you’re so fucking smart and incredibly brave. And you’re right. None of this matters to me if I don’t get to fall in love. We almost died and seen true horror shit. None of this matters without you. You’re something, Steve Harrington.” He sighs, face pillowing into Steve’s hair. His breath is light, warm. “And I love you.”

The autumn breeze is chilling the air. The day is boiling down to this.

Stars and moon. Night sky, green grass. Barbecue chips and a soft throw blanket. Eddie’s warm side, his squeezing arm, his mess of curls. They love one another.

Steve is warm with contentment. Lit by the flames of ever passionate love.

And he’s brave. Incredibly, wondrously so.

His hand wrangles in Eddie’s free one. Intertwining their fingers, kissing their palms. He sighs. The sun is next to him. The moon above him. And some time in the morning, he will collect his bearings and face an unruly wrath, he’s sure of it. But for tonight, he can’t help but wonder, How could any of this be bad?

💕—————💕

#stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 7

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oopsiedaisiesbaby · 5 months

Text

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race ✨

You’re Bleeding But You Want More

Fight during basketball practice to hate sex in the locker room fic

CW: fighting, some homophobic and sexist language, face slapping, degradation, barebacking, spit as lube

Read on AO3

“Plant your feet asshole,” Tommy hissed as he ran past Steve.

Groaning at his still rattling bones, Steve allowed himself a moment to linger on the court floor. He winced as he heard cheering from the other side of the court.

Billy had scored again.

“Harrington, get off your ass,” Coach barked, as everyone started setting up for the next play.

Sighing, Steve gingerly picked himself up off the court floor. He limped over to where he was supposed to be, sucking in a sharp breath at the throbbing pain in his back and elbows.

He tried to ignore Billy’s manic grin, his stupid tongue hanging out of his mouth, the way his sharp eyes followed Steve like a predator.

He was such a dick.

“Awww, poor little Harrington,” Billy drawled, smirking. “Can’t keep a girl or the ball.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve decided to take Nancy and Jonathan’s advice and ignore him. He couldn’t afford to get kicked out of practice again for trading barbs with someone as stupid as Billy Hargrove. They were both dangerously close to losing their starting positions if they kept it up according to Coach.

Steve didn’t need to give his dad another reason to call him a disappointment.

Steve’s team gained possession of the ball from the tip off and he found himself being immediately smothered by a warm weight against his back. Hot panting breath was hitting the back of his neck, making his skin crawl. Pushing back against the weight with his body, Steve knew it was Billy when the solid wall of muscle didn’t budge.

Losing his patience before Billy could even open his mouth, Steve threw back an elbow and delighted in the sharp exhale it earned him. He broke away and sprinted down the court, trying to get open for Tommy to pass him the ball.

Before Steve could call out to Tommy, he felt something solid bump into his shoulder and send him flying to the ground. He barely had time to throw out his hands and catch himself. Without even looking, he knew it was Billy.

Steve reached out a hand and wrapped it around the nearest ankle, tugging hard until he saw Billy crash to the floor next to him.

“You little bitch,” Billy hissed dangerously.

In the blink of an eye, Billy was scrambling on top of him and throwing a wild fist at Steve’s face. Steve’s ears rang as his the fist slammed into his cheek, knocking his head back against the court.

“Fuck you, Hargrove,” Steve spat.

He twisted his torso desperately until he’d rolled them over and was able to land a solid punch to Billy’s jaw. Billy growled up at him as Steve reared back to throw another hit.

“Why are you so fucking obsessed with me?” Steve asked through gritted teeth.

Steve grunted as strong fingers yanked his head away by his hair and he suddenly found himself beneath Billy again.

“You waste too much fucking space,” Billy snapped.

His stomach dropped as Billy cocked his fist back for another punch.

Before Billy could land what would’ve probably been a knockout blow, Steve found himself being pulled away. Feet kicking, he watched as Billy was hauled away in the opposite direction. Both of them were still spitting curses at each other.

“Enough!” Coach barked. “Are you idiots done?”

Steve huffed and shoved the teammates that had been holding him back away, straightening his clothes out. He eyed Billy warily as he did the same.

“Now,” Coach started, glaring at them both, face red. “This is the last time you 2 dumbasses interrupt my practice with your bullshit or I’m benching you for 3 games.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but stayed silent at his coach’s icy stare.

“Now go clean up in the locker room, I don’t want you assholes back on this court until tomorrow and so help me God, you better leave that shit at the door.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy and Steve mumbled in unison, glaring at each other.

Coach blew his whistle and Steve found himself stomping off towards the locker room, side by side with Billy fucking Hargrove.

He grumbled as he felt Billy bump his shoulder.

“Fuck you, pretty boy,” Billy hissed under his breath.

“This is all your fault, douchebag,” Steve snapped back quietly so that Coach couldn’t hear.

“My fault?” Billy scoffed, elbowing Steve discretely when he dropped his shoulder and subtly rammed into Billy’s arm. “You’re the asshole that can’t play for shit.”

“You only score because you foul constantly,” Steve insisted, through his teeth, elbowing Billy back.

They scrambled as they reached the locker room door to see who could shove their way in first. Billy slapped Steve in the nuts causing him to hunch over and concede the win to Billy.

“I don’t foul, you’re just a little bitch,” Billy smirked triumphantly as he swaggered into the locker room ahead of Steve.

What a piece of shit.

Steve didn’t even think before he was shoving Billy into the lockers from behind. He barely had time to catch his breath before Billy was grabbing him by the shirt and spinning them so that Steve was pinned against the lockers.

Their punches were even wilder than on the court. Knuckles were glancing off of cheeks, but still somehow landing world-stoppingly hard before they were back at it again. Hands scrambled meanly against chests and faces as they tried to push the other away. Steve fought as hard as he could, but he couldn’t get his back off of the locker.

Billy had him completely pinned.

He knew it was over when rather than throw another punch, Billy wrapped his hand around Steve’s throat. Steve gasped for air, nails scratching ineffectively at Billy’s hand. Billy just smirked and leaned his body weight into the hold, their fronts brushing together. Steve couldn’t help the way he went limp and collapsed against Billy as the edges of his vision started to darken.

It was at that moment that Steve realized they were both hard.

He watched Billy’s bright blue eyes widen in shock, his grip around Steve’s throat loosening just enough that Steve could push him away. They stared each other down, only about a foot of space between them, their chests heaving with exertion.

Billy reached a hand out towards Steve and he quickly slapped it away.

What the actual fuck was going on here?

Steve felt like he was losing his mind. He was definitely going to snap and do something stupid if Billy touched him again.

He thought he might lose it if Billy didn’t though.

Billy reached a hand out lightning quick and slapped Steve. His cheek burned as he gasped in shock, eyes round as he stared at Billy in shock and Billy simply stared back at him, mouth open as he took Steve in. His burning blue eyes held a question and while Steve didn’t know what that question was, he found himself nodding.

His body thrummed with static electricity as Billy nodded back.

Steve yanked his shirt over his head, stepping out of his sneakers as he watched Billy yank his own shorts down. The moment Steve’s shorts and briefs hit the floor, he found himself being spun around until his forehead and hands were pressed to the lockers.

He panted open mouthed against the cool metal, groaning as Billy kicked his feet apart. Steve’s socks slid against the concrete floors as he scrambled to comply.

Moaning as sweat salty fingers were shoved into his mouth, Steve sucked on the intruding digits instinctively. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as Billy’s warm breath puffed out hot and wet against the nape of his neck.

“Knew you’d be a whore,” Billy sneered meanly, fingers locking bruisingly tight around Steve’s hip when he bit down on Billy’s fingers. “That’s all you get!”

Steve gasped as the fingers were yanked out of his mouth and he felt them nudging up against his rim. He whimpered, scrabbling against the locker as he tried to get away. Billy held him in place as he sank a finger inside of Steve, hissing at him to stay still.

“Hargrove,” Steve warned, his voice cutting out as a second finger wriggled its way inside of him, curling pleasantly.

Steve had never had anything up his ass in his life because to him, that seemed gay as hell. At that moment, he couldn’t remember why it was a bad thing to seem gay.

There was something about being full of Billy’s thick, callused fingers that felt so unbelievably good. Steve was wholly unprepared for just how good it felt when a third finger was shoved unceremoniously inside of him. He hid his groan in the crook of his arm as Billy curled his fingers inside of him pleasantly.

All too soon, Billy was yanking his fingers out and Steve heard a gross, wet spitting sound behind him. His ears burned as he realized the next wet noise was Billy slicking his dick up with his own spit.

Steve was about to get fucked.

He honestly didn’t feel as ashamed as he figured he should about it.

The loud, high, needy moan Steve let out as Billy started to push inside of him was absolutely obscene. He couldn’t bring himself to care because Billy was groaning into the back of his neck, just as wantonly.

Before Steve got a chance to catch his bearings, Billy was pulling his mouth away from the back of his neck and shoving in just a little further. They both hissed as Billy bottomed out. The brief pause as Billy’s hips connected with his ass had Steve feeling like time was frozen around him.

Suddenly Billy was pulling his hips back and snapping them back in rough and quick. Steve whined, his hands balling into fists as Billy fucked into him relentlessly. The fullness of Billy’s cock inside of him was insane and Steve was losing his mind as Billy thrust into him over and over.

If this was how it felt for girls, Steve didn’t understand why they weren’t all bigger sluts. His dick had never been so hard, he was already dripping precum, and he was practically vibrating out of his skin.

“Harder you pussy,” Steve demanded, nails clawing at the metal of the locker as Billy complied.

“Hard enough for you, slut?” Billy grunted, snapping his hips rough and quick.

Steve banged a fist against the locker as Billy’s maddening thrusts set his blood tingling with arousal. Every thrust was electric but brushed just shy of something. Steve didn’t know what it was but he knew he wanted it.

“Knew you had to be overcompensating for something,” Steve gasped as Billy’s next thrust came dangerously close to that something.

“Sure are mouthy for someone moaning like a lil bitch,” Billy panted, his fingers tightening around Steve’s hips.

“Then give it to me and shut me up,” Steve challenged, his forehead slipping down the locker with sweat, changing the angle of Billy’s thrusts slightly.

He let out an involuntary sob as the head of Billy’s dick suddenly brushed up against something inside of him that made him feel like he was being electrocuted.

“Oh God,” Steve whimpered, pressing his flushed sweaty cheek to the cold locker for relief.

Billy groaned behind him and picked up the pace even more, nailing that spot every few thrusts, but brushing along it with every single snap of his hips. It was like nothing Steve had ever felt before.

He couldn’t take it much longer. His skin felt itchy and tingly. Arousal was crackling loud and staticy in his belly with his rapidly approaching orgasm. Each time Billy sank in and nailed that spot, electricity jolted up his spine and fried his brain.

“Take it, you fucking slut,” Billy growled, his breath hot in Steve’s ear.

Steve threw back an elbow, nailing Billy in the ribs. He heard a grunt behind him before fingers were tangling with his own and shoving his hand against the locker above his head.

Moaning, Steve reached back to bury his hand in Billy’s curls and held his searing, sinful mouth against his neck. Billy groaned and bit into the sensitive skin causing Steve to hiss and screw up tight around him.

Billy let out a strained gasp, his hips stuttering as his fingers tightened around Steve’s hip.

“That all you got?” Steve snarked, rolling his hips back into Billy’s harsh thrusts.

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy grunted, releasing Steve’s hip to land a resounding smack against Steve’s ass.

Steve whimpered as Billy’s thrusts got even rougher. Billy panted into Steve’s neck, smacking Steve’s ass again.

Keening, Steve tried to bury his forehead into the unforgiving metal of the locker and squeezed his fingers around Billy’s. He was leaking all over his abs, probably dripping onto the floor at that point.

Steve didn’t give a fuck.

“No wonder you can’t get a second date,” Steve groaned into the locker, shivering at the static buzzing all over his skin. “Can’t fuck for shit.”

All too quickly, Steve found himself empty and cold as Billy pulled away from him. Whining, Steve reached back trying to find purchase in Billy’s curls again. He found himself suddenly spun around and shoved up against the lockers.

He gasped as Billy grabbed him by the back of the thighs and lifted. Steve scrambled to wrap his arms and legs around Billy to avoid getting dropped. His fear was short lived as Billy fucked back into him and nailed his prostate even harder than before.

Eyes rolling back in his head, Steve slammed his head back against the lockers with a shrill moan.

“This what you wanted, slut?” Billy demanded as he fucked into Steve hard and fast, shoving up against Steve’s prostate relentlessly.

He could practically feel Billy in his throat at this angle with how deep he was.

Steve must’ve been silent for too long because his cheek was suddenly stinging as Billy slapped him roughly.

“Yes,” Steve whined, clenching around Billy reflexively.

“Fuck,” Billy gasped, tightening his grip on Steve’s thigh and fucking into him impossibly harder.

Whimpering as Billy slapped him again, Steve felt his brain going fuzzy from how overwhelmingly good it all felt.

“Harder,” Steve breathed, his nails raking across Billy’s upper back.

Billy whined and smacked Steve’s cheek even harder. He let his fingers linger on Steve’s warm cheek, digging his fingers into the tender skin.

Steve’s throat clicked as he tried to swallow and groan at the same time. He turned his face just enough to suck Billy’s thumb into his mouth, groaning around the salty taste.

He only got a few harsh sucks in before Billy was pulling his jaw down and staring hungrily at Steve’s mouth.

“Stick your tongue out,” Billy ordered breathlessly, the rhythm of his hips never faltering.

Steve bit the tip of Billy’s thumb petulantly, groaning at the slap it earned him. He obediently opened his mouth on his own, letting his tongue fall past his bottom lip.

Lightning bolted violently up Steve’s spine and through his fingertips and toes as Billy spit into his mouth. With a gutteral sob, Steve came all over their stomachs and chests.

His hole fluttered wildly around Billy’s cock as he watched fiery blue eyes widen, locked in on Steve’s mouth as he swallowed Billy’s spit. Eyebrows furrowing and face turning red, Billy let out a concerning choking noise as he shuddered against Steve.

Steve gasped as he felt a peculiar warmth fill him, his body still tingling as he came down from his intense orgasm. Steve shivered as Billy buried his face in Steve’s neck and finally drew in a noisy breath.

It took Steve a moment to realize that the desperate little whines filling the locker room were coming from his own mouth. Punctuating each anguished gasp of air he tried to suck down.

Tightening his legs around Billy’s waist, Steve relaxed his fingers where they were still digging into Billy’s back. With a sigh, Billy pulled back to look at Steve, his eyes and mouth pinched with something that Steve couldn’t name.

Dopey with his very recent mind blowing orgasm, Steve leaned forward to try and kiss away the weird look on Billy’s face. His stomach whooshed unpleasantly as he found himself suddenly falling, his lips grazing Billy’s neck on the way down.

“Queer,” Billy grunted as he pulled away, leaving Steve to stumble as his feet suddenly hit the floor.

Steve burned with humiliation as he collapsed against the lockers. He watched Billy swagger over to the showers, wild scratches littering his upper back.

Fuck him.

Steve stomped over to the showers on weak legs and slapped on the shower head across from Billy. He turned around, putting his back to Billy so that he didn’t have to look at his stupid face.

He didn’t understand what the fuck had just happened. Steve vowed to shower quickly and get the hell out of there as fast as he could.

Maybe he could go home and drink himself into oblivion. Maybe it would help forget that he’d just had the best orgasm of his life with another dude. With another dude slapping him and calling him a slut.

Just as he started to shampoo his hair, he heard a sharp inhale behind him. Steve whipped around to see what had Billy making that noise.

When he turned, he saw Billy’s gaze dropped to his thighs. His thighs that had cum slowly dripping down them, now that he paid attention it.

Billy’s gaze was hot enough to have arousal tingling low in Steve’s belly again. He turned back around to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, trying to ignore the douche bag behind him. His face flushed as he reached behind himself to rinse out the rest of the cum.

Steve gasped as he felt his wrist suddenly locked in a bruising grip. He looked over his shoulder to see Billy looming behind him, fiery blue eyes intent on Steve’s ass.

“Fuck off,” Steve hissed, trying to yank his wrist out of Billy’s tight grasp.

“I’m gonna give you three seconds to get your hands on that wall with your ass out,” Billy informed him, his voice low and dangerous.

Steve stumbled forward as his wrist was released, hands planting against the shower wall. Before he could even think about what was happening, Billy was on his knees behind him, face buried in Steve’s ass.

Groaning, Steve rolled his hips back against Billy’s face as he felt a hot, wet tongue bury itself inside of him. He couldn’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed when he let out a wanton moan as his next words earned him a harsh smack agaisnt his ass.

“Who’s the queer now?”

Please look forward to the beyond spectacular work from the next contributor, @writer-in-theory.

#harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #oopsiewrites #steve x billy #harringrovefic #harringrovefanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fanfic #stranger things

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