#stranger things rare pairs
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shieldofiron · 4 months ago
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Eddie: Sorry babe
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st-rarepair-roulette · 1 year ago
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Stranger Things Rarepair Roulette
How to play?
This is an event for making new rarepair content, but with a twist. Challenge yourself to roll the dice and receive a pairing that you’ve never thought of before (or maybe you have, idk your business.)
Sign up begins September 26, and closes October 23. There will be a Google form posted to this account for you to sign up with.
From there each participant will receive a customized randomizer linked to their tailored list to randomize to their heart’s content!
Not sure what to do? Ask for a second die and we will roll you up a prompt to try and start you.
Participants will have to fill out a form with your likes and dislikes, and your rolls will be weighted for your parameters. Participants will also have a place to submit pairings.
How do I submit a pair?
Have a pair you’d love to see written? Maybe your beloved rarepair only has one or two fics and you’d love to see more. Maybe you have a crackship you just can’t get out of your head. Maybe you’re just throwing stuff in for fun.
This is not the rarepair event for big ships give us the weird stuff!
Submit pairings by a separate Google form beginning September 26. submissions will close October 23. Watch here for the submission form to go up. You can also submit a prompt for our writers and authors to choose from.
What are the dates?
Submission and sign up is from Sept 26 to October 23. On November 1, you’ll receive your randomized link and an invite to our discord server. There will be a check in around January 1 that you are still feeling good about the event. Final submissions will be due on or by April 1st. There will be a collection on AO3 open from April 1st to 7th, and you can post on tumblr or X (ugh) with the hashtags #ST Rarepair Roulette or #STRarepairRoulette.
Do you need help?
Yes please God, DM if you would be interested in helping give people pairs and answer questions!
Frequently Asked Questions
What are the requirements?
Minimum of 500 words for a writer and at least a line work art piece.
Are there any other rules?
Only two: no ship or character bashing, this is an open event. And no Artificial intelligence, the goal is to make some more human art for a beloved rarepair.
I want to sign up but I’m nervous that I’ll have to write X or get character X, what are the parameters?
You’ll have to fill out a form with usernames and contact info, and additionally we’ll give you parameter options, like disallowing certain characters, or opting out of any dead dove ships. You may also select up to one favorite character, and your rolls will be weighted to favor ships featuring that character. If you have more questions feel free to shoot a DM.
You will not receive a randomizer that contains your disliked pairs unless the mod made an error but each pair list is tailored to you.
Will X character be included? What about dead dove pairings? Will any pairings be not allowed?
Yes, all characters and pairs are included but because it is random, and we want to be respectful of our author’s parameters, keep in mind that some submitted pairs may not be selected.
All pairs are allowed however the pairings will be weighted in favor of ships with less than 1,000 fics, in the spirit of being a rarepair event.
What if my pair was never selected?
You can hold on to it, who knows, i may do this again.
Who are the mods?
@shieldofiron @applewillowstone @jaylikesrainbowtigers and @intothedysphoria
I already messaged you a submission will it get counted?
Yes, anyone who dmed me or commented on the initial interest check will get counted. If you want to fill out the submission form with prompts or more pairs, feel free.
If I participate can I submit a pair?
Yes, and it will go into the regular drawing like all the others.
If two people submit the same pair does it get two entries?
No, the pair will be entered once, but as the pairing will be randomized there may be two participants who get the same pair.
How are you randomizing?
A randomizer from perchance.org.
Is the mod crazy?
Yes. Crazy for rarepairs.
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st-rarepair-minibang · 1 year ago
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Sign Ups are Now Open!
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We are opening sign-ups for the rare pair event early so everyone has a few extra days to sign up. If you’re ready now, then you’re in luck! If you’re not quite ready, authors have until July 24, artists until September 9 and beta readers & pinch hitters can sign up for the entirety of the event.
Join our 18+ Discord                        Follow our Twitter
Author Sign-ups
Artist Sign-ups
Beta Reader Sign-ups
Pinch Hitter Sign-Ups
Please check out our rules, guidelines, and schedule before signing up! Our pinned post contains all links and information you will need. You can find that post here.
We ARE NOT affiliated with any other Stranger Things Bang events. Unlike other events, our minibang DOES NOT ALLOW underage sexual content, incest, adult/minor romantic or sexual pairings, any pairings that erase canon LGBTQIA+ identities. 
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runraerun · 25 days ago
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**NOW WITH ART! (Everyone go shower @stervrucht with love & reblogs because she is a treasure to this fandom and her generosity knows no bounds🖤thank-you bestie!)
AO3 | WC: 7.8k | Rated: E | CW: Internalized homophobia, references to the death of a parent, lots of swearing and general vulgarity from the both of them. Drug usage. Discussions of trading sex acts for drugs. Billy being an asshole but hey what’s new. | Tags: ADHD Eddie Munson, Semi-closeted Eddie, Fully-closeted Billy, One-Sided Steddie (or is it? We don’t know because of unreliable narrator reasons) Bully Billy Hargrove, Bullied Eddie Munson, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Eddie calls Billy ‘m’lord’ in here god help him, Happy Ending, some angst sprinkled throughout, but overall quite fluffy.
(Title is inspired by a song of the same name by Chromeo.)
Summary:
“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, his icy-pop blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the end of his stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”
But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”
“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white smoke between them.
Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.”
Billy Hargrove stands there, half-smirk on his face, hips tilted forward. Like he’s God’s fucking gift. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”
And that.
Well.
Eddie isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell isn’t that. 
Or, Billy tries to pay for drugs by offering to let Eddie blow him.
Of all the mugs Eddie expects to see in his neck of the woods, the one attached to Billy Hargrove, resident bad boy slash heartthrob with a notoriously short fuse and a mean right hook, is not one of ‘em.
The fact that he’s alone isn’t much of a comfort, but it’s… well, it’s something. It means if Billy’s planning on jumping him and stealing his stash, then at least Eddie’s got a shot at running and actually getting away with all his teeth intact.
Eddie sucks back on his cigarette, grateful he has something to do with his fidgeting hands as he eyes Hargrove’s approach. Tries his best to keep still—something he’s always been absolute dog shit at. Even as a little kid. They tossed words at him like Attention Deficit Disorder and Hyperactivity ’til the cows came home. Never changed anything, though. Mom always just called it ants in his pants. For Uncle Wayne, it was worms up his butt. All said in love, of course. Eddie was ant and worm-free, far as he knew. Just had a lot of energy is all. And a lot to say too. That isn’t a crime! But right now, under Billy Hargrove’s slow approach, he tries his damndest to get all his ants and his worms to settle down. No sudden moves in front of ticking time bombs.
“You’re Munson, right?” Hargrove asks in a low, slightly nasally voice. He’s stopped a few feet from the picnic table that Eddie’s perched on, his canister of goodies sitting unassumingly beside him.
Eddie fights his nerves—bulldozes over them, more like, and smiles wide, holding out his arms in a display of showmanship. “The one and only.”
Billy scoffs as his eyes travel around the clearing. Doesn’t seem too impressed by the ol’ Munson razzle-dazzle. “You alone out here?” he asks, eyes finally returning to Eddie’s.
Eddie shifts, leaning forward slightly—literally on edge. Why the hell did he have to say that so fucking ominously? “I was ‘til you showed up,” Eddie answers.
Billy hums noncommittally and doesn’t even try to hide the way he’s looking Eddie up and down. Sizing him up. Double-checking to make sure Eddie’s not a threat, maybe. Eddie fights the urge to duck his head and pull his shoulders in to assure Billy that he isn’t one. He’s a lover, not a fighter. In theory, anyway.
“Now what can I do for you on this fine evening, Mr. Hargrove? I don’t keep everything on me…“ Eddie trails off before he continues, “But I got anything you’d want.”
Billy snorts, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“You’re from Cali, right? I got weed from there. Stuff that tastes like blueberries,” Eddie leans forward and bounces his brows, “I got some shrooms from the coast too that could even knock someone like you on your ass. So, what’re you into, Hargrove? What’s your poison?”
Billy’s got an amused look on his face. He’s smirking, but no part of it’s warm or welcoming. It sets Eddie even further on edge than he already had been. “You sure know a lot about me.”
Eddie shrugs, feigning innocence. He takes another pull from his cigarette. “It’s a small town; people talk. Especially around people like me. Y’know, the kinda people who don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And you, Billy Hargrove, you’re, well…”
Eddie bites his tongue before he continues to embarrass himself. Clears his throat instead, tries to think of something not entirely stupid to say, but the words rush around his noggin so quickly that he can’t seem to catch and pin down any one of ‘em.
The forest floor crunches under the sole of Billy’s heavy black boots as he takes a slow, purposeful step forward. “I’m what, freak?”
Eddie swallows. Feels the hair on the back of his neck stand. Jesus, does this guy ever blink? Fucking blue-eyed people and their zombie stares…
He smiles despite his nerves. Then, with a tilt of his head, he answers. “You’re hard to miss.”
It’s grounds to get punched, Eddie knows. Innocent as the comment is, Eddie’s been hit for less. Shit, he got shoved into a locker for looking too long that one time in middle school. Spent the whole fucking lunch break with no one but his ripe gym socks to keep him company. So yeah, maybe Eddie’s a little jumpy around jocks like Billy Hargrove who look like they could fold Eddie into a pretzel without breaking a sweat.
Billy doesn’t look like he’s gearing up to punch Eddie, though. Not yet anyway. He just looks sort of… amused.
It’s getting late. The sun’s low in the sky, and every few seconds it catches on Billy’s earring or his chain, both temporarily blinding him. Eddie doesn’t let his eyes wander, though. He’s got enough self-discipline for that at least.
“I’ll take some of that blueberry kush,” Billy finally says, checking over his shoulder one last time before he flicks his head towards Eddie. “But I don’t got any money. Not until Monday. I’ll have to owe you.”
“Sorry pal,” Eddie leans back, palms against the flat of the picnic tabletop. He blows the smoke from his cigarette up towards the sky. “I don’t do I.O.U’s.”
The air shifts between them. Eddie can feel it. The blue-eyed zombie stare darkens, and Billy takes another step forward until his hip nearly knocks up against one of Eddie’s bent legs. “What? You don’t think I’m good for it, pal?”
“I don’t know you, man,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, shifting uncomfortably. He always hates this part of the job. He’s been a punching bag on and off for most of his life, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotta like it.
“You just went on and on about how you did.” Billy spits, and Eddie flinches as it hits his cheek. He doesn’t dare raise a hand to swipe it off though, lest it be interpreted as a move to strike.
“Look, I can hold it for you until Monday, but that’s the best I can do.” Eddie offers, but it’s not enough. He knows it’s not even close to enough. Guys like Hargrove aren’t used to being told no.
“C’mon man, there’s gotta be some deal you can cut me. I just wanna have a good fucking night. You can understand that, can’t you, Munson?” Billy asks, his voice going soft. Smooth. Breathy.
And even though his insides are fucking liquifying in real time as he does it, Eddie shakes his head, his long hair curtaining his face as he does. “Can’t do it, man.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just beat the shit out of you and take your shit anyway, huh? How about that?” Billy asks, his bottom lip caught between especially sharp-looking teeth. Eddie looks up, his dark eyes lock onto Billy’s salt-water blue ones. Stormy fucking seas. Eddie sure as hell doesn’t want to get beat up tonight, but if he starts cutting deals and giving special treatment to everyone who threatens him he’d be intimidated right out of business. And he needs the cash. Can’t leave all the bills to Uncle Wayne.
Before Eddie can think up a clever answer, Billy’s got his head thrown back, and he’s cackling. “Shit, I’m fucking with you, dude. Put that face away. I swear, no one in this fucking town can take a goddamn joke.”
Eddie doesn’t bother defending himself, just takes his cigarette from his mouth, knocks off the ash and gives a shaky exhale before putting it back between his lips. He barely starts in on his next inhale when the damn thing is plucked out of his mouth.
Lightening fast. Eddie hadn’t even seen his hands—but there was his cigarette, half-smoked, between Billy’s lips. Eddie feels his face heat at the idea of Billy’s mouth being where his own was, just a second before.
“Ha ha,” Eddie mutters, his eyes narrowing. He’s feeling somewhat brave, despite feeling distinctly like a mouse that’s being battered by a cat's paw. “Very cute.”
Billy tips his head, accepting the comment as if it were a compliment. He doesn’t give Eddie his dart back though—the guy just keeps smoking it with a swarmy fucking grin on his tanned, well-proportioned face.
Because the truth is that Billy is easy on the eyes. Nice to look at. It’s entirely counteracted by the fact that the longer you look at that aforementioned face the higher your chances are of getting a knuckle sandwich sent hurtling your way… but Eddie’s still got functioning eyeballs. He can see that Billy’s… well. Beautiful.
In a weird way, though. Like how Eddie pictures the elves from Middle Earth might look.
Fucking ethereal and shit.
“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the cherry of that stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”
But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”
“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white between them.
Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.” He sighs.
But Billy doesn’t ‘spit it out’. Instead, he shifts weight from foot to foot, looking suddenly agitated again. Billy sniffs and scratches his nose with the nail of his thumb. Like he’s tweaking. Eddie waits him out. Curiosity officially piqued.
Finally, after doing his little dance, Billy leans forward, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”
And that.
Well.
Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t that.
The shock is written all over Eddie’s face, he’s sure. He’s never been good at concealing his emotions—an open book, his mom called him. Shit liar, is what his dad called him. Either way, he knows the surprise of what Billy’s offered up plays across his face by the way Billy’s eyes dance around it, looking pleased.
“What?” Eddie squeaks out, face suddenly on fire.
“You heard me,” Billy snaps, “I ain’t sayin’ it again.”
Eddie blinks, looks away from Billy Hargrove’s icey freeze-pop eyes. It’s no easy task. “You’ll let me…?”
Eddie motions towards the crotch of Billy’s exceptionally tight jeans. Jeans that leave very little to the imagination, Eddie might add.
Billy grins, his pink tongue caught between his teeth as he leans back, jutting his hips out a little.
“I’ll let you,” he confirms. Standing there like he’s God’s fucking gift.
Though he’s got very little air left in his lungs, Eddie gives a weak scoff. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”
And for the first time tonight, Eddie does feel at risk of being sucker punched. Billy’s eyes flare, and just like that his beauty melts into something ugly. Like a spell is cast over him—beauty to beast. “I’m no cock-sucker.” He spits out.
In a show of surrender, Eddie raises his hands. “I didn’t say you were. I just—usually when someone is offering sexual favors it’s… Y’know what? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’m not—I don’t trade in pleasures of the flesh, ‘kay? That’s not what I’m doing here, Hargrove. It’s cash only.”
But Billy’s either got a hearing problem or a comprehension problem because he rolls his eyes and just keeps on bartering. “Fine, I’ll give you a handjob. After my blow job.”
Now. Eddie isn’t a prude. In fact, he’s probably something of a pervert if his porno of choice is any indication of that, but this—with Billy?
Eddie’s spent this entire interaction scared fucking stiff, and now Billy’s offering to go and get him into an even more vulnerable position—with Eddie’s pants literally around his ankles?
“No.” Eddie aggressively shakes his head, sending his curls in motion. No no no. Fuck no. As hot as Billy is—no. The decision is final. Take it or leave it, Eddie thinks stubbornly. Heels successfully dug in.
Billy sighs through his nose, takes a step back and chuckles dryly to himself. “I know you’re a queer, Munson. Don’t—!” Billy snaps, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face when he dares open his mouth to deny it, “don’t fucking lie to me.
Eddie swallows, promptly shutting the fuck up.
Is he really that obvious…?
Billy continues, “I know you’re a queer. I saw the way you used to look at Harrington, back when we were all in school together. Gym class,” Billy leans forward, back in Eddie’s space, their shared cigarette bouncing between them as he speaks, “the showers. Remember?”
It’s been a year since Hargrove and Harrington both leap-frogged him out of Hawkins High, diplomas in tow. A full year, but apparently Billy’s got a fucking photographic memory. Eddie feels his t-shirt stick to his back, slick with sweat. “Whatever, man. It’s not a crime to look.”
“It is in this shit hole of a town,” Billy chuckles, dark and humourless, “so you get it now? I know you like dick. And I like pot. So, let’s work something out, here, Munson.”
Billy claps his hands together between them, loud and jarring. “Time’s a’wastin’, amigo!”
Jesus this guy…
“Even if I did like dick,” Eddie tilts his head and scrunches his nose, “it doesn’t mean I want your dick, Hargrove.”
“A dick’s a dick, man. And trust me, I got a nice, big fat one for you to choke on, trust me, you’ll love it,” Billy laughs as he speaks, watching in amusement as Eddie rubs a hand over his heated, blotchy face. “C’mon, you’ve sucked cock before, right?”
The simple answer is yeah, a couple of times. Every time it ended pretty much the same though. With him being shoved off after they’d finished. Being told they weren’t gay, that if Eddie were to ever tell anyone about the encounter they would deny it, call Eddie a liar, or worse, beat the shit out of him.
He’s not a dummy; Eddie knows being queer in Hawkins is a risk, so it made sense to want to keep it hush-hush. Eddie’s the rumoured gay kid, so if you’re gonna experiment with someone, why not let it be with him? But after a handful of times being treated like trash—something people needed to wash their hands in Javex from after simply touching him—he stopped. It didn’t feel good.
“You don’t gotta answer. I already know you have.” Billy mutters, smug. “Mouth like that.”
There’s no way Billy knows, but Eddie ducks his head, tired of how this entire fucking conversation has him feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. Tired of how the darker the sky gets, the brighter Billy’s eyes seem to turn.
And what the fuck’s wrong with Eddie’s mouth..?
“Cash only,” Eddie repeats. Monotone. Suddenly overstimulated as fuck.
Billy finally pulls the last bit that he can from the cigarette, down to the butt, before he flicks the remains of it into the grass. He gives one final, frustrated exhale of smoke. “Fine. Jesus, Munson, you drive one hell of a bargain. But I’ll sweeten the deal for you, alright?”
“Jesus, Hargrove, are your ears not working? Or did you get hit one too many times with the basketball during your jock days? I said I’m not interested. In your cock or your hand or whatever else you try and offer up.” Eddie exclaims, voice going high with strain.
But it’s like the more worked up Eddie gets, the more Billy wags his fucking tail. He’s all lit up, shiny white teeth built for puncturing. He gets back to crowding Eddie—Eddie, who’s one hair’s breadth away from raising his hands and shoving this smug asshole away from him, not caring if he gets his ass kicked as a consequence, but then Billy’s talking again. And Eddie… Eddie’s listening.
“We could kiss a little,” Billy drawls out, angling his mouth towards Eddie’s ear. He lets his voice drop to a low rumble, his words vibrating in that wide chest of his. It sends a chill down Eddie’s spine. “Y’know, make out. You got a van, right? Nice and private. You’d like that.”
Eddie turns his head towards Billy, so close they’re nearly touching each other. His mouth hangs open, slack, but Eddie can’t get a fucking word out. His whole fucking life, all he’s ever heard is ‘Jesus, does this kid have an off switch?’ ‘Eddie, give mommy’s ears a break, please,’ ‘Eddie is very disruptive in class with his constant chatting’. And now he can’t make a single goddamn sound!
Billy, on the other hand, seems entirely pleased at rendering the great motor-mouth-Munson to a mute. “I’m a good kisser, too.” He adds, eyes dropping down to Eddie’s mouth. Like he’s gonna do it right here and now. Eddie’s throat clicks when he swallows.
The embarrassing part is that, well—Except his Mom and his Meemaw and his weird cousin that one time, he’s never… y’know. Been kissed.
Sucked cock? Sure, yeah. That ship has sailed. Sayo-fuckin’-nara.
But kissing? On the mouth? Romantically? It hasn’t happened for Eddie yet. Not that any of what Billy’s propositioning here is in any way romantic, of course, but…
Eddie watches as Billy darts a pink tongue out between his lips, wetting them so that they glisten. Jesus Christ. How can he say no to that? Rules or no, Eddie’s only fucking human. Does he not bleed if he’s cut? Does he not get hard if he’s presented with an absolute fucking smoke show like Billy Hargrove offering to make out with him? All for the low low price of his dignity and a couple of ounces?
“You… actually want to?” Eddie frowns, counter to the nervous smile that’s pulling at the corners of his mouth.
Billy clicks his tongue and shrugs a shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon for like, the hundredth time. “What I want is for you to cut me a deal. That’s enough, ain’t it?”
No, is Eddie’s knee-jerk answer. It’s not enough. Not even close. But, maybe the first kiss fantasy he’s got built up in his head wasn’t ever gonna happen. Especially not for someone like Eddie. He’s probably lucky. Billy’s hot. Willing. And Eddie’s… well, there’s not exactly anyone lining up at Eddie’s front door for the pleasure of his company, let’s just say that.
He feels himself nodding before his brain has even had a chance to catch up. “Yeah. Fine. Okay.”
“Yeah?” Billy grins, canines flashing, “Guess I should’ve started with the chick stuff first, huh?”
Chick stuff? Eddie makes a face. Suddenly emboldened, he shoves a hand against Billy’s shoulder, which just makes him laugh harder. “Don’t be a shithead, Hargrove, or deal’s off. Got it? I’ll walk, I swear to Christ!”
Billy doesn’t agree nor does he disagree, he just leers after Eddie like a fucking bonafied weirdo. And as someone who’s all but cornered the market on being a bonafide weirdo, that’s saying something. He hops off the picnic table, scooping up his lunch box of goodies as he does, not daring to turn his back on Hargrove. “I’m parked just through here.”
Eddie starts towards his van, stealing glances over at Billy as he trudges on after him, only a step behind. Just enough to make Eddie nervous. “Don’t you have like, a job?”
“Two of ‘em, actually.” Billy answers, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Why?”
“How do you not have any cash on you?” Eddie asks, blunt as always.
Billy stiffens, just a little. “That’s none of your business, Munson.”
Eddie raises his hands in yet another mock surrender, “sure, whatever. Remain a man of mystery, I don’t care.”
Just seems stupid, is all. Billy must be fucking terrible with money. Probably spends it all on his obnoxiously loud car. Eddie doesn’t voice any of his many theories though. Billy’s covered in live wires, and Eddie’s not overly eager to start touching and testing ‘em.
The woods aren’t especially dense, but it’s new growth—the old forest chopped down a few decades back and left to grow back all weedy and skinny. There’s lots of branches to duck under along with dirt holes to roll your ankles in. Eddie knows his pathway like the back of his hand by this point, but Billy; not so much. There’s a bundle of eye level branches that always used to smack Eddie in the face when he was focused on his footing, so he makes sure to turn and holds the offending branches back for Billy so he doesn’t totally eat it.
Thinking back, maybe it’s a weird thing to do for another guy, but Eddie’s radar for what’s weird and what isn’t has been busted since he first got cut out of his mom. Always difficult, even back then.
So yeah, Eddie doesn’t get a thank you, or whatever—instead Billy just eyes him with an air of suspicion as he ducks under Eddie’s arm. Like he’s waiting for Eddie to let the branches go or something. Who knows.
Either way, it’s the last great hurdle before they’re back at Eddie’s van, which is right where he left her; parked in the middle of the small gravel lot behind the watershed. Nobody came back here, especially not at night.
His hands shake when he takes out his keys, feeling Billy’s eyes on him. Briefly wonders what kind of mess was waiting for them in the back, but whatever. It’s not like Billy’s expecting The Ritz.
He gets the doors unlocked, and because he’s a gentleman, he holds the door open for his hook-up.
Despite his nerves rattling around under his skin, Eddie gives a little flourish for good measure, holding out an arm for Billy to take. “After you, m’lord.”
Billy scoffs, blue eyes rolling back in his head. And as dim as the light is, Eddie swears he can see two pink spots form on the apples of Billy’s cheeks. He counts it for a win.
“You’re so fuckin’ weird.” Billy mutters as he crawls into the back of Eddie’s van, pointedly ignoring Eddie’s offered arm, the whole thing shifting with the heft of him.
“Wow, y’know what, Hargrove, I had never heard that one before.” Eddie says, hot on Billy’s heels. He swings the door shut behind him.
The back of Eddie’s van is pretty spartan, but only because he’d just finished using it to lug a shit ton of gear to and from a Corroded Coffin gig. What’s left behind is a couple of ratty blankets, some old sweaters, a scattering of sheet music and some candy bar wrappers. It could be neater, but overall it’s not terrible.
Billy sits with his back to one side of the van, his legs spread, knees bent. He sits like a man. One used to taking up room and not apologizing for it. Eddie backs himself up against the opposite wall of the van’s interior, knees bent to his chest, legs crossing at his ankles. There’s not much light back here, but Eddie’s eyes adjust quickly to spot Billy’s agitated-looking face.
“Well?” Mr. California barks, one of his legs begins bouncing restlessly. It shakes the whole van.
Eddie swallows, “well?”
“Where’s the weed?” Billy asks.
Oh.
Right. Wake up, Munson.
Eddie scrambles to get his feet back under him before he squeezes his upper half into the front of the van, reaching into the glove box to grab a baggie.
“Here y’go.” Eddie winces as he pulls himself back through. He sits on bent legs, closer to Billy now. He bestows upon him the sacred sandwich baggy of goods. “Premium blueberry kush, 100% indica. So it’ll mellow you right out. Not that you need to chill out, of course, but, y’know. It should, in theory, help with that scary vein you get in your forehead sometimes.”
Billy glares at Eddie as he swipes the bag out of his hands, the scary vein threatening to make an appearance right there and now. He turns that glare toward the bundles of dried herbs.
“You got a bong or a pipe or somethin’?” Billy mumbles.
“Duh,” Eddie scoffs, breathing entirely too hard, “Why?”
“What’d’ya mean, ‘why?’ To smoke this shit with.” Billy gives the baggy a few vicious shakes in front of Eddie’s face.
Eddie feels his eyes cross as he follows the weed. “Right now?”
“Unless you feel like rollin’ it.” Billy shrugs, sounding like his already thin patience is beginning to wear even thinner.
“No—uh, I just thought you’d wanna smoke at home or whatever.” Not with Eddie.
A crease forms between Billy’s eyebrows as he frowns. “What, you don’t wanna smoke with me, Munson?”
Eddie snorts, shakes his head, “hey, I’ll smoke with anyone—“
“Then shut the fuck up and get the bong already!” Billy shouts, fuse burnt down to the quick.
And if there’s one thing about Eddie, is he responds well to yelling. Or, not well, per se, but shouting always seems to snap him out of whatever fog he’s in. It works on him. So, yeah, he responds. Jumps to attention. His mom used to have to snap her fingers in front of his face to ‘bring him back’, she said. No one else seems to bother with that sort of gentle touch with Eddie though, except Uncle Wayne, but he usually just gives Eddie’s hair a tussle instead of a snap.
So back to the front he goes, sliding the keys into the ignition and starting the old girl up while he’s there so that they’ve got some music to fill the silence. And if memory serves him correctly, Billy’s got pretty decent taste, music-wise.
When he sits back down, bong in hand.
“Ta-da!” Eddie sings, holding the contraption up by the neck to Billy in victory, careful not to tip it over. Billy looks entirely unimpressed as he grabs it out of Eddie’s hand and slots it between his thighs.
Lucky bong.
Billy starts grinding up some pieces between his fingers and packing the bowl with a familiarity that Eddie can respect.
Technically, it’s still Eddie’s weed that Billy’s prepping, since he hasn’t exactly gotten payment for the pot yet, but… maybe Billy needs the vapour courage before he can face the idea of kissing another dude. Of kissing Eddie.
Eddie watches from behind the hair he’d let fall in his face as Billy lights the bowl, inhales, and takes a hit. It’s sort of pretty, the way he slowly exhales the smoke out of the side of his mouth. Away from Eddie.
Then the bong is being pressed into his hands. Eddie’s turn.
He takes a rip, then another one once Billy’s taken another hit of his own, and that’s all it takes for the both of ‘em to get laid out on their asses. They end up flat on their backs, the round part of their shoulders touching, both staring up at the ceiling of the van, with rolled-up sweaters and blankets under their heads in the way of makeshift pillows. They’re the kind of high where time feels like it’s barely moving. Something made up. A concept. Like there’s a very real possibility that Eddie and Billy have been lying here for an eternity, and then some.
And Eddie still hasn’t gotten any kisses from Billy.
But he also hasn’t gotten any punches by Billy either, so there’s that…
“You ever seen the ocean, Munson?” Billy murmurs in a voice that’s gone a little rough thanks to all the smoke still floating around the van. Now successfully hot-boxed. Drawing out their high.
Eddie’s arms feel heavy. “No.”
Billy turns his neck to look at Eddie like he’s re-evaluating his idea of him paired with this new, disappointing information. Eddie turns his head away from Billy, just a little, feeling weirdly embarrassed. “Never even left the state.”
Small town, trailer trash… that’s probably what Billy thinks of him. Billy, who’s been everywhere. Especially compared to Eddie. He expects to get laughed at, but Billy keeps surprising Eddie. He just looks… bummed out.
“You’d probably hate it,” Billy states, sure of himself, eyes dancing across Eddie’s face. “You’d burn right fuckin’ quick. Get sand all up in your shorts. D’you even know how to swim?”
“A little.” Eddie means to say defensively, but it comes out as little more than a sigh.
“Not in waves, though, I bet. You’d end up swallowing your weight in seawater before I hauled your ass out,” Billy’s smiling at the strange little fantasy where Eddie’s tormented by the elements. Eddie’s giggling along too, though he’s entirely unsure as to why.
“A crab might even,” lighting fast, Billy reaches over to punch the barely-there roll on Eddie’s stomach, “get’chya.”
Eddie yelps—or maybe he squeals. He can’t be sure. Either way, whatever sound he lets out isn’t in any way charming or cute. Which; no surprise there. Instinctually, his hand’s gone and encircled itself around Billy’s wrist, but he’s too fucking blitzed out to do more than just squeeze it, trying to appear threatening. Sort of tough when you can’t stop fucking giggling. “Stop, stop—I’m gonna piss myself, dude.”
Billy’s got his tongue caught between his teeth, laughing along, low and rough in his throat, but to his credit (and probably a desire not to be covered in piss) he releases his hold on Eddie’s stomach.
They settle back on their backs, one Metallica track leading into another. It’s the only way Eddie can be sure the clocks haven’t all stopped entirely. Proof the passage of time is still in working order. He exhales in relief, staring at Billy’s profile.
For someone so fucking scary, he’s got deceptively cute features. An honest-to-Christ button nose, along with some ridiculously long eyelashes. Golden ringlets fall around his face. Freckles too, all over his cheeks. Even a Cupid’s bow. When Billy fell from heaven, he didn’t hit like, a single ugly branch on his way down.
Eddie blinks before his brain catches up with what he’s looking at; Billy, staring back at him. When did Billy turn his head? How long have their eyes been locked? A second? A year? Time’s fucking with him so hard, Jesus…
“M’not really an outdoorsy kinda guy.” Eddie admits, unable to keep from smiling.
Because of the weed.
Billy gives a lazy snort as if what Eddie had just said was the understatement of the year. “That’s weird, because you kinda look like a bug.”
It shouldn’t make him laugh as hard as it does, but Eddie feels the rumble of it in his chest, and he can’t help but let out a series of very unflattering sounding laughs. Billy’s not laughing along, but he seems entirely entertained by Eddie’s fucking display.
When he finally catches his breath, Eddie indignantly squeaks out, “How do I look like a bug?”
“Because,” Billy flicks his chin towards Eddie’s face, teasing half-smile still firmly in place, “you got them big buggy eyes.”
Eddie blows a low-energy strawberry, rolling his eyes before they land back on Billy. Can’t seem to take his eyes off of him for long. “I’ll have you know that my ‘big buggy eyes’ are my best feature.”
Billy narrows his eyes, clearly amused. “You think so?”
“I know so. It’s what everyone tells me.” Eddie widens his eyes to drive the point home.
Everyone being his mom when she was still alive, and… well, just his mom. But she was a real smart lady. And like, super pretty. A total knock-out. She knew about this sort of thing. He remembers how she used to go on and on about his big brown puppy-dog eyes, about how they’d break hearts one day. And no one, especially not Billy Hargrove, can take that away from him. Even if it is something all moms say to their funny-looking kids.
“Well, everyone’s lying to you,” Billy says, in that casually cruel way of his.
Eddie drops his jaw in an exaggerated show of the offense. “Is that so?”
“Yep,” Billy confirms, smug. A true blue asshole; through and through. “Your best feature’s your lips, no question.”
And. Well, no one’s ever said anything about his lips before. Not his mom, not his hook-ups—no one.
They’re just… lips. Not especially big or small. Kind of right in the middle. They’re even kinda chapped right now.
“Gee, thanks.” He murmurs, from lips that Billy Hargrove apparently approves of. Maybe even likes. His fingers twitch at his sides, palms growing sweaty.
Billy just looks away, like Eddie’s caught him doing something wrong. Caught him being nice. Guess it probably hurts the ol’ bad boy image to compliment other boy’s lips. Eddie resists the urge to raise one of his hands and feel along the ridges of his mouth, to map ‘em out. Try and figure out what Billy likes about them enough to say it out loud. He’s buzzing with the compliment.
“So, you still want… y’know, payment or whatever?” Billy asks, keeping his words to little more than a low murmur between them.
The song playing through the speakers stops—a brief pause before it leads into the next one. It’s deathly quiet in those tense few seconds.
Eddie doesn’t answer Billy right away. He can’t. So instead, he just… lets the questions hang between them. Because the thing is, God help him, he does. And yeah, maybe he didn’t plan on his first kiss being with big bad Billy Hargrove��maybe instead of golden curls and freckles Eddie had envisioned dark, fluffy hair and a splattering of moles. Big brown bedroom eyes instead of sharp, icy blue ones. Either way, he’s way out of his depth. Out of his league. In fact, Eddie should be on his hands and knees thanking Billy for even considering sucking face with a guy like him. He should be psyched. And he is!
Fuck, this weed is making it hard to keep his thoughts linear. He stares back at Billy, realizing suddenly that he’s been waiting for an answer to his question.
“Nothing is ever free, Hargrove,” Eddie answers, cryptic, even to his own ears, “you should know that.”
Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? Nobody just does shit out of the goodness of their hearts. Everyone expects something in return. Everyone’s gotta pay the piper. And if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. So yeah, Eddie gives what he can, but he also takes what he can get. Same as Billy, Eddie suspects.
Billy’s got a real perplexed sort of look on his face. Golden and tan, even in the cold, sterile light of night. His eyes momentarily dart to Eddie’s lips, just for a split second. But split second or no, Eddie’d caught it. The tiny motion sends his beat-up little dime-store heart all a’flutter. Billy likes these lips.
“Close your eyes,” Billy tells him, voice cigarette rough.
Eddie does it, trying to keep his breathing even. Shallow, so he doesn’t puff hot air in Billy’s face when he approaches. His hands lay limply by his sides, with his hair splayed around his like some expanding ink blot on the floor of his van.
He has the sudden and quite frankly embarrassing image of Snow White lying dead in her glass coffin, pale-skinned and raven-haired, waiting for a kiss of her own.
It’s so stupid that he ends up snorting.
“What? You think this is funny, Munson?” Billy growls, voice sounding like it’s still to the right of him, but that he’s propped up on an elbow or something.
Eddie shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. A smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth, totally beyond his control. “No, no, it’s stupid. I. Just—fuck. Sorry. Forget I did that.”
“If you think this is stupid, then I can go. I don’t need this shit—“
”No! Stop—“ Eddie reaches out and grabs the front of Billy’s shirt, his eyes popping open in panic. “You’re not stupid—I’m… shit, you’re gonna laugh.”
“Just tell me, shithead.” Billy snaps, face getting more and more red as his temper rises.
“Fine. Jesus.” Eddie squirms under the intensity of Billy’s gaze. All hard edges and intimidation now. Eddie’s only had the Billy that tickles him and tells him nice things about his lips for a fucking millisecond, but he already misses him.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before, alright?” He blurts out, quick like a bandaid.
And with that, Billy’s eyes go a little funny. The icey shards in his eyes melt back to tumultuous waters. “Seriously?”
“No, dude, I’m lying about being a total loser with no game.” Eddie snorts, emboldened by his buzzing high.
Billy frowns, “Aren’t you like, two years older than me?”
“Look, I had opportunities, okay? But mostly… It was, y’know. With girls. Pretty ones, too!” his brows shoot up, attempting to emphasize the point, “but I just… I never wanted to.”
Billy’s stone-still while he listens. Looking like he’s hanging off every word that Eddie’s stumbling over.
“So, you can’t even fake it?” He asks.
Eddie blinks, suddenly lost. “Fake what?”
“Liking chicks.” He answers quickly.
“Nah,” Eddie huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “I’m a shitty liar.”
“Poor bastard.” Billy mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he clicks his tongue, “That’s a real tough break, amigo.”
Eddie’s shoulders twitch. “I get by.”
A corner of Billy’s mouth turns down and he tilts his head like he’s allowing Eddie some small, indiscernible mercy.
“I just feel bad,” Billy says, low and smooth, “you starting at the very top like this. Everyone else after me is gonna feel like a major fuckin’ letdown.”
Eddie snorts, looking up at Billy, who’s got himself propped up on an elbow and is sort of hovering above him. “Big talk, Hargrove.”
Canines flash. “Well I got a big game, Munson.”
“You’re a real cocky b—” Eddie’s words are smushed back into his mouth when Billy suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against Eddie’s.
Billy’s got a hand against Eddie’s neck, the pad of his thumb against the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up just so. Eddie can hear his heart thundering in his chest, white noise overtaking For Whom the Bell Tolls.
His first kiss.
It’s warm and soft. Drier than he expected it would be. The stubble of Billy’s moustache scrapes against his upper lip, sending shockwaves up and down Eddie’s spine. Billy smells like cologne. Or maybe that’s aftershave—he can’t tell. Eddie fills his lungs with it, breathing deeply through his nose.
The thumb resting against Eddie’s jaw begins stroking along his cheek. Delicately. Like Eddie’s something fragile. Precious, even. He’s gone all tingly everywhere Billy touches him—like magic.
It’s about this time that Billy parts his lips, sliding a tongue along the seam of Eddie’s mouth, gentle prodding—like he’s looking for a weak point. Somewhere to gain entry.
Or maybe he just wanted to taste Eddie’s lips.
Hey, can’t a guy dream?
Billy shifts his weight, further encroaching into Eddie’s personal space, his broad shoulders caging over top of Eddie’s narrower ones. Then Billy raises a leg and swings it over before letting his hips drop over top of Eddie’s own. It’s like touching a fucking live wire. He can’t help the way he reflexively gasps and bucks up into the solid bulk above him. And sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph… he’s rock fucking hard in his jeans. When did that happen?
Flood gates open. Billy—clearly emboldened by the discovery of what he’s doing to Eddie’s body—deepens their kiss by sticking his tongue down Eddie’s throat. The sensation is weird as hell—Eddie’s only ever had his own tongue in his mouth, but there Billy’s is, swirling around, dipping in and out as the sound of their smacking lips fills the van, harmonizing with Hammett‘s insane, face-melting guitar solo.
There are teeth involved now too; Billy’s biting Eddie’s lower lip and pulling, stopping right before it gets painful. It brings sounds out of Eddie that he’d never heard himself make before. Didn’t even know that he could make. All breathy and moany. Maybe he should be embarrassed about how loud he’s progressively getting, but it’s hard to think straight when Billy’s slowly grinding his hips down against his. And Billy’s—fuck, Billy’s hard too. That’s gotta be what that is, right? Jesus H. Christ…
Their hips move in tandem now, the same way their tongues seem to. It’s like Eddie’s body just knows what to do. It’s fucking incredible. He’s never been naturally good at anything in his life. Nothing comes easily to Eddie Munson. Every talent he’s got has been hard-fought, earned through blood, sweat and tears.
But this… Eddie might actually be kinda good at this.
Or maybe Billy’s just a really good teacher.
He’s a cocky asshole, but Eddie fears he might have been serious about everyone else being a letdown after him. Because how the hell is anyone else going to compare to this? To Billy Hargrove. Mr. California King. Eddie could swear he’s glowing right now—like Billy’s spent so much time laid out in the sunlight that a couple of rays got trapped just underneath his skin. Dude can’t help but shine.
Yeah, he’ll be a tough act to follow.
But that’s another Eddie’s problem. Future Eddie. Meanwhile, the here and now Eddie, is getting kissed. He’s got Billy’s big arms wrapped around him, like Eddie’s somehow worth something to someone like him.
Down south, there’s just the right amount of pressure on his denim-trapped dick. He can feel the line of Billy’s own cock bump against his own when he pushes hard enough. He could fucking weep. It’s almost too much—too good. Too perfect. What’s he gonna do with himself now that he knows he could be doing this? God, how’s he ever gonna jerk off when this—when Billy… oh fuck-!
His orgasm hits him like a goddamn freight train. The switch on his brain had gone off and it didn’t even have the courtesy of letting him know!
Eddie’s jaw drops open, mid-kiss, and he pants—moans—into Billy’s mouth. His hips go stiff, stuck in its lifted position, trying to drive upwards into Billy as hard as he can. He can feel himself shake all over as the waves crash over him, one after the other in quick succession, nearly whiting out his vision. He shuts his eyes as he finally comes down on the other side of it, releasing a choked-sounding exhale.
He goes limp. Boneless. Buzzing and tingling and vibrating all over. Waits for the feeling of mortification to overtake him. It should be here in 3… 2…
“Did you just…?” Billy asks, lifting his own hips to examine the scene of the crime. Eddie imagines the wet spot steadily growing on the front of his jeans, a little off to the left, is pretty hard to miss.
“Holy shit, you did,” Billy chuckles, slightly awed sounding, “you just creamed your fuckin’ pants.”
Eddie whimpers. The sharp contrast of absolute bone-deep humiliation paired with the fluttery, intensely content feeling he's still got working its way through his nervous system is enough to make his head spin.
“Sorry.” Eddie blinks his eyes open.
Eddie didn’t think it was possible for Billy to look any more smug than he did before, but somehow, he’s achieving the impossible.
“Don’t be,” Billy insists, a chuckle still at the edge of his words. He grunts a little as he rolls off of Eddie and drops down onto his back. Taking up his previous position of laying shoulder to shoulder next to each other. “I take it as a compliment.”
It’s kinda sweet of him. Because what happened was embarrassing. No two ways about it. Shooting off like that, like Eddie’s some horn dog who can’t control himself?
But, well, if the boot fits…
Billy reaches down and roughly adjusts himself before sitting up. Gentle touches all used up for Eddie, apparently. Then he lifts his ass just enough that he can slide a hand behind him to retrieve a crumpled-looking box of Marlboro reds. Shakily, Eddie sits up too, engaging muscles that still feel jello-like.
Billy knocks out a cigarette and puts it between his lips. Then he knocks out a second one, and without asking, puts it in Eddie’s mouth. Billy leans forward, and Eddie mirrors him—still just trying to keep up—moving until the ends of their cigarettes line up. Billy ignites his lighter, temporarily blinding them both, but he holds it in front of them, and they inhale in tandem.
Smoke fills Eddie’s lungs. The familiar, soothing burn in his throat makes him feel a little more solid. Present. It makes what just happened all the more bewildering.
They smoke in silence.
Well, except for the music from his cassette still humming from the speakers. Billy mumbles something about loving a certain drum solo, but other than that, it’s crickets. It goes on like this until their cigarettes are half their original size and Eddie finally grows a pair.
“What about you?” He murmurs around his dart.
Billy exhales a stream of smoke out of his nose, looking like a sick ass dragon before he answers, “What about me?”
Eddie flicks his chin towards Billy’s general direction. “You wanna get off too?”
Billy just snorts and shakes his head, like Eddie had said something prosperous. “Nah.”
A pit forms in the center of Eddie’s gut. Souring any of the leftover post-nut happy chemicals that were still rolling around his noggin. That sting of rejection. The knowledge that Billy doesn’t actually want someone like Eddie touching him. Like Billy’s itching to go take a shower and wash all the Eddie-cooties off of him, before heading back to his actual life. Like being with Eddie is something embarrassing. It’s a sinking fucking feeling, one he knows no post-high buzz or cigarette is going to touch. Sometimes Eddie forgets that he’s just a detour. Never anyone’s destination point.
“Maybe next time.” Billy mumbles, so low that Eddie almost misses it entirely. He finishes his cigarette before stuffing the butt of it into one of the many makeshift ashtrays Eddie’s got kicking around back here. Then he starts making his way to the back doors, slipping out into the Indiana night.
Next time.
The words echo in Eddie’s head. Bounce off the walls, does couple of cartwheels, spins. The letters get all scrambled up before he’s able to make sense of them.
Next time.
“Pleasure doing business with you, California.” Eddie hollers out a split second before Billy can close the door.
A half-smile forms on that Cupid’s bow-tipped mouth. Pretty as a picture. How did Eddie never notice before? And how’s he supposed to think about anything else?
“See you around, Eddie.” He purrs, knows exactly what he’s doing, Eddie’s sure of it—then slams the door shut between them. He’s engulfed in darkness again. His eyes are back to their unadjusted state, while specks of nothing flit across his blackened vision. He gnaws on his bottom lip to keep the laugh that’s threatening to bubble up from his chest at bay.
Next time.
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wheneverfeasible · 2 months ago
Note
I saw your post about shipping Wayne with people and I must raise you: Wayne x Hopper
Bet.
~~~
wc: 3.8k || rating: T+ || tags: referenced homophobia, f-slur, temporary (fake) character death, background steddie, brief background jopper || ao3
~
A tired sigh left Wayne’s lips as he took in the sight before him and leaned against the doorframe of his trailer. This was the third time this had happened, meaning this was just the third time Eddie was caught.
Wayne dragged his eyes from his sheepishly smiling nephew to the police chief standing behind the boy with his arms crossed, his mustache bristling in irritation. Wayne dropped his hand from where it was pinching the bridge of his nose to offer Hopper a rueful smile of his own.
“Sorry, Chief,” he mumbled.
A grunt was all he got in answer, but at least Hopper was moving to undo the handcuffs binding his nephew’s wrists behind his back. The slight tuft of hair growing back after that unfortunate buzzcut looked like a rat’s nest, but at least the kid was grinning up at him instead of scowling. Small mercies.
“Next time I catch him skipping school, Munson, I’m throwing him in the drunk tank. I don’t care if he’s a minor,” Hopper warned threateningly, shoving Eddie between the shoulder blades towards his uncle.
Wayne swiftly clasped Eddie by the shoulders and pushed him into the trailer before Eddie could retaliate with a rude hand gesture like he knew the kid wanted to do. Elizabeth would faint if she had been around to see it, he was certain, lord rest her soul.
“Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll personally drive him to and from school if I have to,” Wayne grimaced, which caused Eddie to squawk from behind him. Though, not out of embarrassment as he had originally thought.
“Uncle Wayne! You can’t miss work like that!” Eddie exclaimed, looking genuinely worried. And it was true; if Wayne had to call out any more than he already had since his brother Al started leaving Eddie home alone, his hours might get cut even more than they already were. Or worse.
Wayne raised a single eyebrow at Eddie, pleased that his nephew was sweet enough to worry about him, but also hoping it got the point across. “Then let’s hope I won’t have any reason to do so,” he dryly remarked.
Eddie looked appropriately shamefaced, his big dark eyes dropping to the floor as he dragged the toes of his ratty shoes over the ground. Wayne eyed him a moment longer before turning back to look at Hopper with an apologetic expression.
“I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“See that you do,” Hopper gruffly stated, looking away for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own. “I can only cut the kid so much slack. I don’t want to see him go down the same road as his pop.”
Wayne winced a little, his younger brother always a sore point for his nephew, who stiffened before huffing and walking back towards Wayne’s room—which frequently became Eddie’s room when Wayne made him stay with him instead of living in that old house all by his lonesome.
“He’s a good kid, Hop,” Wayne murmured, despite the sound of the bedroom door slamming. “He’s more like Elizabeth than he is Alan.”
Hopper glanced off to the side where Wayne’s bedroom was located. “Let’s hope he’s got some of his uncle in him too,” he muttered, which caused Wayne to feel a small flush of embarrassed pride. “Elizabeth was a good sort, but…”
Well, she had married Al, hadn’t she? Wayne got what Hopper meant.
Wayne took the few steps down to grab Eddie’s backpack Hopper held out, clapping his shoulder with a small nod of thanks. He knew that Hopper was the only one who cut the kid any sort of slack at all, knew that if it had been one of his deputies or officers that Wayne would be picking Eddie up at the jailhouse instead.
“I appreciate it, Chief. Really I do.”
Hopper just gave another grunt before stepping back. “Nothing against you, Wayne, but let’s stop meeting like this, yeah?”
Wayne couldn’t help but give another small grin. “I could invite you in for coffee so it seems less like a business call,” he lightly teased. “Or if you got a thermos, at least let me top you off.”
Hopper shook his head, though a good portion of his earlier irritation seemed to have left him, a corner of his mustache tilting up slightly with a half-smile. “I’d say next time, but let’s hope there’s not a next time.”
It still felt a little strange to be anything less than completely professional with a lawman, but then Hopper wasn’t like most other police officers. He remembered years ago, back before Hopper had been chief, when the then deputy had caught Wayne in a compromising position with another man.
Now, Wayne knew he wasn’t perfect. Just like his brother after him and their father before them, he was a high school dropout. It wasn’t necessarily by choice, if anything it seemed almost like the curse of Munson men, though he’d be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to encourage his nephew to strive for something greater.
Wayne was…content, he supposed, with his situation in life now. Sure, he might wish he didn’t have to work so much just to barely make ends meet, but he earned everything he had through good, honest hard work. But he got lonely sometimes, and for people like him, well…there wasn’t much for a man to do when he preferred the company of other men.
He knew it had been stupid to do it, knew it was a damn risk, but he’d still let Reggie Thompson crowd him against the brick alley wall by the sickly sweet smelling dumpster outside the bar. And it had been great at first—minus the dumpster—but then the flashing lights of a police cruiser had ignited their hiding place and Reggie took off without a glance back at him, Wayne fumbling with his jeans that had been shoved down to his knees.
Newly minted Deputy James Hopper had caught him like that, literal pants down, unable to deny what he had been up to with another man. Wayne felt the cold certainty that he was about to be beaten to death, or worse, and just hoped it would be quick. A cop catching a fag in action? Yeah, there had only been one way Wayne saw that playing out.
Except…Hopper had looked uncomfortable, embarrassed, but he hadn’t reached for his baton or gun or anything. He didn’t threaten Wayne, or blackmail him, and there was no disgust on his face or in his voice when he’d just warned Wayne off on public indecency and suggested getting a motel room next time. Let him off with a warning instead of a ticket. Or a bloody head.
And that was it.
Hopper never brought it up again after that, never treated Wayne any differently, never harassed him or anything else. Wayne didn’t know if Hopper saw who he had been with beyond a very male body, but Reggie never acted like he’d been accosted afterwards either, though Wayne heard that he’d bought his girlfriend a wedding ring the very next day.
He wouldn’t say he and the police chief were friends or anything, but they were friendly, allowing the two of them to exchange an occasional dry remark, smile, and even a nod of acknowledgment and greeting when crossing paths outside of the times Hopper brought Eddie home. Or Wayne had to bail his brother out of the drunk tank.
And things continued like that for a little while, and much to Wayne’s chagrin, it wasn’t the last time Hopper brought Eddie home to him either. (Even after it was Eddie’s official home, after Al dipped out for good. Wayne would always love his brother, but he could acknowledge that he wasn’t a good man or a good father. Hell, he wasn’t even a good brother.)
Slowly, however, hardly without Wayne realizing it, things began changing between him and Hopper.
It began with Hopper actually accepting a cup of coffee one night when he brought Eddie home from a house party he had crashed out in Loch Nora, much to Eddie’s horror. The look of betrayal he gave Wayne had been hilarious, all things considered.
Then, before Benny’s alleged suicide, Hopper had been leaving the diner when Wayne had entered and Hopper had called out to Benny to add Wayne’s coffee to his tab, a favor returned from their last shared cup together at the trailer. Wayne had protested, then somehow had settled on that he would allow it only if Hopper joined him next time.
And, strangely enough, Hopper did.
It didn’t quite become a regular thing, but if they happened to be in the same place at the same time, they would always join the other. Wayne was there during some bad days of Hopper’s, and Hopper was there when Wayne felt like he was failing Eddie, and eventually he thought he might actually consider them friends.
He didn’t let himself think about what else he felt for the man.
Wayne had actually bought Hopper a beer when he learned that the man had adopted a young girl out of seemingly nowhere, remembering those dark days after his first daughter’s passing. The man looked good, happier than he had in a while, and Wayne found himself enjoying the way his mustache would twitch when he smiled.
Of course, after that first beer, Hopper made Wayne accept a return in favor. Which then had Wayne buying the next round, and Hopper the next after that.
And then Wayne did something very very stupid.
He kissed him.
They had been stumbling out of the bar, laughing and smiling like the friends Wayne was amazed they were, both far drunker than they had initially been intending to be that night. Their bar stools had gotten closer and closer during the night as well, until Wayne could feel the warmth of Hopper’s knee pressed against his own.
Hopper’s voice had been low, a rumble that matched the mischievous look in his eyes, and Wayne was but a simple man. And he was lonely. It was hard being gay in a place like Hawkins, much less when your one-bedroom trailer had your nephew in said bedroom and you slept on the rolling bed in the living room.
So they’d stumbled into the night, laughing about if they should call a cab or walk, Hopper’s hand warm on his lower back to keep balance when the chief’s eyes scanned over to the very same alley he’d once accosted Wayne in years ago.
Wayne’s heart stuttered in his chest, this being the first Hopper acknowledged Wayne’s queerness since that first night, especially when Hopper snorted with a wry smile and crooked smile.
“Still can’t believe making out in filth is worth it,” he huffed, and Wayne was just drunk enough to convince himself he heard curiosity there.
Wayne shoved his fear down to grin at Hopper, reaching out to grab his shirt’s lapel and dragged Hopper into the alley, the other man letting out another amused snort.
“You’ll find that you’re willing to put up with a lot of shit if you’re desperate enough,” he teased in return. The dumpster’s location had moved since he was there last, but no matter. Wayne found a spot and quickly turned himself so that he was falling back against the rough bricks and grinned once more at Hopper.
Who, because of Wayne’s grip on his shirt, was forced to stumble forward with him, his hands shooting out to catch himself on the alley wall, bracketing Wayne in between his arms.
“See?” Wayne breathed, his eyes dropping to where Hopper’s lips were partly hidden by his mustache there. He swallowed, licked his lips, and felt a thrill when Hopper’s eyes tracked the movement. “Not so bad, is it?”
Hopper took a small step closer, and Wayne could feel the heat of him radiating against him. And he was so, so lonely. He’d given up looking for companionship once Eddie moved in with him, not that he’d had much of a selection to begin with, unless he left town for one of the bigger cities.
“No,” Hopper had rumbled, voice lower than ever, and Wayne’s toes curled in his boots. “Not bad at all.”
Wayne released Hopper’s shirt to press his hand flat against Hopper’s chest, his thumb lightly stroking over the hair that peaked out between the open buttons. Hopper shivered against him, but made no move to stop him. Emboldened, Wayne then slid his hand up, curling it behind Hopper’s neck, feeling the air between them grow thicker, heavier. Needier. His other hand settled on Hopper’s hip.
“Wayne—” Hopper started to say, leaning in, but Wayne was already ahead of him.
He tugged Hopper closer, pressing their lips together, wasting no time in tasting the lingering beer on Hopper’s tongue as he opened his mouth up to him. Hopper groaned, pressing even closer as his hands moved to Wayne’s hips, holding him against the wall. It only took a brief shift of his hips to slot a thigh between Hopper’s, making the man groan even louder and rock forward against him.
Wayne felt the insane urge to ask if that was a gun in Hopper’s pocket, but he had no intention of releasing Hopper’s mouth to do so. Instead, he rutted up, rocking with Hopper in the dirty alley as their tongues slid together, all but moaning in Hopper’s mouth as he felt Hopper’s answering desire against his own.
And then a can clattered at the entrance of the alley, causing the two men to suddenly jerk apart, staring wide eyed as a drunk stumbled past the mouth of the alley without seeing them. Wayne pressed a hand to his chest before turning in sudden horrified realization towards Hopper.
The police chief.
Who he had just assaulted, if Hopper chose to see it that way.
And Hopper wouldn’t meet his eyes, was scrunched in on himself, and Wayne felt a brief fear that Eddie wouldn’t ever know what happened to him. Cops were good at hiding bodies.
Hopper didn’t lash out, however. He didn’t reassure Wayne, but he didn’t hit him either. Instead he just stood there in a silence that Wayne didn’t dare break. Until finally, with a pained glance in Wayne’s direction, Hopper murmured a quiet ‘sorry’ and then quickly left the alley without another look behind him.
Wayne wondered briefly if he should tell Eddie to sleep at a friend’s for the next few days, just in case a mob showed up at the trailer, but then he felt immediately bad for thinking such things of Hopper.
Life continued on, though the once easy companionship he and Hopper had shared was now clearly over. Wayne heard it through the grapevine that Chief Hopper and Joyce Byers were going to go on a date.
Wayne hated gossip.
He hated he couldn’t stop listening for it even more.
And then Hopper died.
Wayne couldn’t go to the memorial service. They had been friends, once, though things had been strained between them after the alley. Back to being acquaintances, back to being strangers. Now they were nothing.
It wasn’t the first time he had to mourn someone in secret, but this time hurt far worse.
He was forced to confront the true depth of his feelings for the man he would never see again.
Then, months later, he walked into his trailer to find the mutilated remains of a dead cheerleader, his nephew nowhere to be found.
It was the worst week of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t, especially not his sweet boy. It would kill him.
And then, miracle of miracles, his nephew was found. Hurt, broken, but alive. Rushed to the hospital by the Harrington boy with their younger neighbor, but alive.
He was put in a medical coma while he healed, and believe it or not but it was Harrington—or Steve, as he asked to be called—who ranted and bitched and demanded that Eddie not be handcuffed to his bed when he wasn’t even conscious and wouldn’t be until the hospital let him.
It was Steve who, on the other side facing Wayne and the door, sat beside Eddie’s bed more often than not. And when he wasn’t, he was usually at the Mayfield girl’s, or volunteering with the relief effort.
Steve was there that day, facing the door Wayne had his back to, when he glanced up from the magazine he was reading with a heavy sigh of relief.
“Thank god. Have your creeps cleared the charges yet?” Steve huffed with a roll of his eyes.
Wayne was just in the process of turning around to see who Steve was talking to when he heard his voice.
“Jesus, kid, there were some things that were a little more important than clearing someone in a coma. No offense, Wayne.”
Wayne froze, his breath caught in his throat. It was impossible. And yet, as he slowly turned around, there he was: Hopper.
He was skinnier, and balder, than the last time he’d seen him. And missing his mustache. Hell, he looked more like Wayne now than Wayne did, his own facial hair far scragglier as he hadn’t cared about its upkeep while his nephew was in the hospital.
“Hop?” he gasped, standing swiftly from his chair and making an aborted movement to reach out for his old friend, before remembering they weren’t like that anymore. He drew back, but couldn’t stop the way his eyes roamed over Hopper in disbelief.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Hopper said, quieter, and if Wayne could believe it, more self-consciously.
“Well I take offense,” Steve said with his hands on his hips, standing now to frown at Hopper. “I don’t care what story they want to use, they just better clear his name. After everything we’ve went through because of them, it’s the least they can do.”
Hopper sighed, rolling his eyes in that exaggerated way he had, like everyone else was a pain in his ass. Wayne loved it.
“Yeah, yeah. Send them a therapy bill,” Hopper muttered. He then indicated with a thumb over his shoulder to the door. “Go get something to eat, kid. You look worse than me.”
Steve grinned then, a little cheeky. “Yeah,” he agreed with a laugh. “Welcome to the club, by the way, comrade. Robin’s making us tee shirts.”
“I look forward to it. Now go on before I call Buckley and tell her you’re bleeding out.”
Steve looked horrified at that threat, swiftly grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair he’d been in and hurrying out the door. “The doctor said the stitches are healing perfectly!” he grumbled in complaint as he left.
And then it was just Wayne and Hopper. And Eddie, technically. Hopefully he couldn’t hear any of this, because it was getting harder and harder not to let the tears building up behind his eyes loose. Not that there was anything wrong with crying, of course.
Wayne had always taught Eddie to feel his feelings, instead of shoving them down under the false belief that men were weren’t supposed to cry. Being sensitive didn’t mean being weak.
He felt weak now though.
“Hopper? Are you really…”
Hopper scrubbed a hand over his shaved head, looking down at his boots for a moment before glancing back up at Wayne. “It’s, uh…kind of a long story. But I’m alive. Officially again. And don’t tell Steve, the brat, but Eddie’s cleared too. He’s free to go home as soon as he’s healed up enough. The doctors are going to bring him out of the coma soon.”
A gasping sob of relief left Wayne before he could stop it, twin fat tears rolling down his cheeks, followed by more. Not only was his nephew alive, healing, and cleared of all charges, but the man he thought he had lost forever was alive and standing right before him.
Sure, he couldn’t have him the way he wanted, but just having him alive was enough. He wouldn’t dare look that gift horse in the mouth. There had been no body to bury, believed to have been lost in the fire, but now he knew why.
Hopper looked conflicted, and then he was glancing over his shoulder at the open door. Wayne tried to reel his tears back in, Hopper obviously looking for an escape, but Wayne wasn’t fast enough and Hopper was once more striding towards the door and away from him.
Except…except Hopper didn’t leave through the door. No, he closed it, throwing the lock and then turning on his heel and striding with purpose back towards Wayne. Before Wayne could even think to flinch, however, Hopper’s hands were caging his face and drawing him forward and—
The kiss tasted of tears.
It didn’t hold the desperate heat like it had in the alley, yet Wayne was gasping into it regardless. One of Hopper’s hands left his face to wrap around his back, pulling him closer, and Wayne might be a middle aged man who did hard labor for a living, but he swore he felt his knees go weak.
Hopper pulled back slowly, though he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead to Wayne’s with a soft breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “The entire time, all I could think about was that I had to come back, for El, and for you.”
“Hop…” Wayne’s thoughts were racing. He had a million questions he wanted to asked, like how was he even here right now, where had he been, what was going on, but all that could escape him was: “Joyce?”
Hopper snorted, pulling away with a small wry smile and shake of his head. “I had thought…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I thought the spark was still there between us, thought it was what I wanted, but…all I could think about was you. I miss our friendship, Wayne. I would lay awake at night, wondering how things might have turned out differently if I hadn’t left that night in the alley.”
Wayne shook his head, trying desperately to get his thoughts in order. He had to be dreaming. He just had to be. Yet…there was Hopper, solid and real and and warm and alive.
“I don’t need you to…to be something you’re not, Jim,” he finally managed to get out after clearing his throat, stepping further away and wiping at his face. “I just need you alive. And hopefully as a friend.”
Hopper studied him for a moment, and there was a darkness to his eyes that reminded Wayne of how they used to look back when Vietnam had been fresher, the darkness of a soldier who had seen far too much bloodshed. But there was also something he’d never seen before too, at least not directed at himself. Not from Hopper.
“You have me as a friend, Wayne, always.” Hopper reached out, slowly, to take Wayne’s hand in his. He’d never been the touchy-feely short, Hopper, but now he brought Wayne’s hand to his chest, holding it there beneath his own. “But also…hopefully as something more.”
More.
He couldn’t have stopped the smile on his face even if he’d tried.
Wayne wanted more.
Later, Eddie would be brought out of the coma. Later, Eddie would come home to their new government funded bungalow. Later, Wayne would find Steve as attached to Eddie’s side as he had been in the hospital. Later, he would find Steve in Eddie’s bed, instead of beside it. Later, Wayne would get to see Eddie smile, hear him laugh, and watch him fall in love with a boy who loved him back.
Later, Eddie would catch Wayne and Hopper in a compromising position and complain that, when he said ‘fuck the police’, he didn’t mean it like that.
Later, Wayne would have his more. He would have his everything.
~
This is only Steddie adjacent but y’all are getting tagged anyways.
Hostage Hotties:
@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife
@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes
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harringroveera · 3 months ago
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Jonathan: …I’m listening
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medusapelagia · 3 months ago
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Other events: General, Rare Pairs, Character Centered Events - October Update
Stevie-ween Three dialogue prompts and the a month to post them. All Stevies are welcome! Event Info
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13 Days of Hellcheer (@hellcheerweek) A mix of romantic, spooky and one word prompts for each one of the 13 days of Hellcheer! It starts on October 19th! Event info
Strangetober 2024 (@strangetober) 31 Halloween prompts! Event info
Corroded Coffin Fest (@corrodedcoffinfest) Corroded Coffin fest will host a pop-up event from October 25th-31st based around the 7 Deadly Sins! Mandatory Word Count: 331, 666, 1031 or 1313. Event Info
Billy Hargrove Big Bang ( @billybigbang2024) Teams were made and posting season will start in November! Event info
Spicy Six -ber month challenge 🍂❄️ (hosted by @thefreakandthehair) Lex is hosting another event soon! And the prompts were finally revealed! Find them here. Event Info
Metalsandwich Movie Mania ( @now-showing-at-the-hawk-events ) Pre-2000s Metalsandwich Movie Mania will take place November 10th-23rd!  Event Info and prompts
Demo Week December (on Twitter @/TwistedTwink69) A monsterfucking week from the 2nd to the 7th of December (event +18) Event info
Steve Harrington Big Bang ( @steveharringtonbigbang) Finally we have some info about this Big Bang that was postponed to 2025! Sign Ups Open -- January 01, 2025 Sign Ups Close -- March 21, 2025 Event info
The Monster Hunting Mini Bang (@stoncybangs) Opening in 2025 if you ship Stoncy, Stonathan, Jancy or Stancy this is your moment! More info coming soon Event Info
Stommy Minibang (@stommybang) Teams were made! Get ready for posting season in February 2025! Event info
StrangerThings Reverse Big Bang ( @strangerthingsreversebigbang) This year Big Bang was such a huge success that I can't wait for the next one! Sign-ups opening September 2025!
As always feel free to reblog and add other events!
Under the cut the past events masterlist or AO3 collection if you want something to read!
Stranger Things Sapphic Mini Bang ( @sapphicstevents) Here the AO3 Collection!
September Stobin Extravaganza (@sept-stobin-extravaganza) Find the AO3 Collection HERE
Corroded Coffin - Get a Job Masterlist (@corrodedcoffinfest)
Hellcheer Anniversary week (@hellcheeranniversaryweek) find the entries on their blog!
Stevie week ( @stevieweek), here the AO3 Collection
Stranger Things Big Bang ( @strangerthingsbigbang), AO3 Collection
Corroded Coffin Fest ( @corrodedcoffinfest), AO3 Collection
Summer Things Fest ( @summerthingsfest) Event info on AO3
Sapphic Summer- August Prompts (@sapphicstevents) Here the AO3 Collection
A Stranger Summer ( @astrangersummer) Here the AO3 Collection
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mavortis · 1 year ago
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💕 an eleven and gareth commission i did for @1lostsoul0fishbowl 💕
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st-rarepairbang · 1 year ago
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the sea calls to me (with salt on her lips)
Author: brakers91 Artist: @im-not-batman Characters: Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington Relationship: Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham Rating: Explicit Additional tags: alternate universe - fairy tale, romance, smut Warnings: none Word count: 10.7k
Summary
A seaside palace, a princess with a secret, an enchanting lagoon. Robin has always felt drawn to the water, has always taken comfort in the ocean. The lagoon on her island home has always held a special attraction to her. There is something in the water. or: Robin is doomed to a loveless marriage and a life of gilded cages. Then she meets a mermaid.
Art masterpost
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deepestbluesky · 4 months ago
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for @sapphicstevents's Sapphic Mini Bang, i was paired with Dee/itsBudsey09, who wrote a delightful Chrissy/Eden fic which i podficced! check it out if you like grumpy x sunshine pairings, giving female characters backstories because canon didn't bother, and CUTE ROMANCE!!!
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findafight · 2 years ago
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Just wanted to let you know that I have not been able to stop thinking about your Steve/Barb au it's so good!! and so interesting to think about how that would change things!! Idk rare pairs are so fun to think about!
Forgive me if this is not where you were going with this but I'm thinking about Barb surviving the demogorgons attack because she's not in the pool with a cut hand. Barb doesn't know where she is or what happened to her, but she's scared and she knows that /something/ is hunting her. Everything smells like rot and decay and all she's focused on is survival. Her glasses are broken and gone, and she's sprained an ankle, but she's alive. Steve's sweatshirt is warm and still smells like him. It's a comfort, she thinks, as she runs and hides in the woods behind Steve's house.
Topside Steve is getting sucked into the Upside down stuff way earlier because his sort of (they haven't made it official yet) girlfriend is missing after leaving his house and she wouldn't just dissapear like that. And he's scared but he has to do /something/.
After some time in the Upside Down, God knows how long, Barb hears something. And it doesn't sound like the monster that's hunting her. So she stays silent, grabs hold of a stick or something to make herself feel safer, and peeks. And it's a boy. Alive. Human. Trapped just like her. And then for a while it's her and Will Byers, growing weaker and trying so hard to stay alive and let people know they're there.
Eventually, they get out. And she's sick and barely holding on and traumatized but she's alive and in the hospital recovering. As soon as Steve's allowed to see her he's there. He's bought flowers and a fluffy teddy bear. He calls her Barbie because he knows she'll roll her eyes fondly at him. He kisses her forehead and holds her hand.
Sorry this isn't more coherent I'm just !!!!!! Thoughts!!!!!
Are you in my brain?? Because exactly. (I have been holding on to "steve is the only one allowed to call her barbie" for way too long. not even romantically just in "barb lives au" they deserve to be annoying friends to each other haha) In the show Barb almost got away, and possibly would have it weren't for the fact she was in the pool, so I don't think it's too far of a stretch for us to say she survives in this au (there is a version where she dies and it's just. Angst. But that's not this one!)
I think the potential for Nancy to suspect Steve of doing something (even when it was Jonathan who is officially the last person to see her) would lead her to Jonathan. Similar to the show, she sort of just...brushes off the creepy pictures (it's both easier and hard for her here because it's not her in the pictures so who cares...but it's Barb [and Steve] so she cares very much, actually) and they go monster hunting without Steve and see the deer and Nancy gets pulled in through the tree etc.
Steve, who's definitely freaking out that is (basically) girlfriend is missing and her best friend is mad at him and won't talk to him, uses his ninja skills to check on her to see if she's okay, and sees her with Jonathan. Nancy isn't his girlfriend so the only thing he's mad about is her hanging out with the perv who took pictures of him and Barb and specifically a picture of her almost in her car which they know she never got into. So he knocks on the window and they jump but let him in. And that's how Steve gets into monster hunting. (idk if Tommy and Carol also join...maybe Steve waves them off through the window, maybe he gestures for them to come to...idk. much to think about. Maybe they don't join the upside down gang but they remain friends with Steve and know Something Happened, but he can't tell them what)
blah blah blah it all basically goes the same except because no cheating allegations there's no graffiti or fight, Steve 100% gives a backhanded apology for breaking Jon's camera "Hey, man. I shouldn't have broken your camera like that even if you deserved it..." or something. The trio fight the demogrogon, even if Steve is a bit, ah, weary of leaving a bunch of twelve-year-olds who have proven that they don't listen to grown ups when they say to leave well enough alone even for their own safety...but leave them he does. Fight an interdimensional monster with a nailbat he does. Dies, he doesn't.
Meanwhile, now that our girl Barb has survived he initial confrontation with the monster with no face, she's wandering, hiding, around the woods behind Steve's house except...it's not actually Steve's house. It's some twisted up version, and it's dark and creepy and oh so scary. Her glasses are cracked through one lens but it's better than not being able to see at all or not feel the comforting weight on her nose, and Steve's sweatshirt is big, comfy, and smells like him. She holds onto these tiny bits of home as she tries to figure out how to get out of...wherever she is.
At some point, she hears shuffling in the woods, but not from the monster. It's definitely smaller, and...there's a voice. Singing. She walks over quietly, and says "hi". the little boy jumps and stares, wide-eyed. They stick together, she holds him close.
When all is said and done, she and Will end up sharing a hospital room, due to Upside Down convenience. She;s older and wasn't in it for as long, but she's still weak. Her parents are besides themselves, having been told it was a gas leak that led her to be disoriented and lost in the woods, only by grace of god did she find and help Will.
Steve is behind them, with scratches on his face and a haunted look in his eye, but he smiles a little, and wiggles his fingers at her. She wiggles hers back. Her parents shuffle around, and leave the room to talk to the doctor. He sits beside her and reaches out to gently fiddle with her fingers.
"Hey," she says.
His voice is soft, when he responds, "hey," and doesn't take his eyes off her face.
She squeezes his fingers a bit. "heard you fought an interdimensional monster with, like, a lot of teeth for me."
He shrugs, squeezes back. "also to get Will Byers back."
"He's a good kid." she flicks her eyes to where little Will is being smothered by his gaggle of friends who nearly died trying to get him back.
Steve blinks rapidly, and tucks his chin to his chest. "I was so worried, Barbie." the nickname usually annoys Barb, too baby-ish, too connected to the doll, too...a lot of things. But Steve says it like it's precious, like she's precious, and she thinks letting her boyfriend (because that's what he is, isn't he? What's a boy you kiss and who would fight monsters to find you?) can call her Barbie.
"I'm back. I'm okay now."
"Yeah. But. Christ, things could have gone so much worse." He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezes his eyes shut.
"Hey." she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb. "Hey. It didn't though. The government goons will be on us, sure. But Will is safe. I'm safe. All those kids and Nancy and Jonathan are safe. You're safe. Okay? And, when I get out of here, you're taking me out for burgers and milkshakes."
He smiles, actually smiles all squinty-eyed and toothy, "Yeah. okay. It's a date."
"Yeah, it is. I've got high expectations, Harrington. Killing a monster for a girl really sets the bar high, you know."
He laughs, and presses a kiss to her cheek, smiling.
(later, he tells her everything that happened on the rightside up, and she tells Jonathan to burn the negatives and that her boyfriend has a nailbat he's pretty good with, so he better not try to trick her...)
and idk. i think they're cute. They bicker, and Steve chooses topics just to rile her up so she'll roll her eyes at him but then explain why exactly he's wrong in step-by-step detail, and he also scoops her up and twirls her around and kisses her in the halls. they're gross and in love. In s2, i think Nancy still wants to expose the lab (other people did die, those hunters? what happened to them?) and both steve and barb are like "they will kill us" (pragmatic duo) so that's why they both go to nancy's to try to talk to her about it, which is how dustin kidnaps them, etc.
s3 we get scoops troop except robin is just tallying how many times Steve sighs dreamily until his gf comes by and he turns into a golden retriever and robin is like. ew. straight people (they are not, actually. I have a coming out scene between starb (seriously i need to figure out a ship name for them haha) that involves barb telling steve she once had a crush on nancy and steve's like yes obviously everybody has crushes on their best friend of the same gender you just don't do anything about it...like buddy...do i have news for you...bi4bi starbara) anyways the five of them get stuck in the elevator, stobin still hold the door, get tortured, etc, but this time dustin and erica have Angry Protective GF on their side. They get out, steve and robin have bathroom confessionals, which involves robin asking if steve's ever been in love and then immediately realizing he's going to wax poetic about Barb and steve also being like "i wanna be your best friend sooo bad barb said i maybe have a crush on you but i don't i wanna be like, the best man at your wedding, y'know? you're so fun and make me laugh and I want you and Barb to get along because I love Barbie and omg you could be my kids' auntieeee..." and robin tells him that he doesn't know her, and if he did he wouldn't want her around any of his hypothetical future children, tells him about tammy, and they sing total eclipse of the heart when dustin erica and barb bust in, and steve is like "barbie, honey pie, robin is gonna be our kids' godmother." as though that makes any sense. everyone else is like ????
idk i just like monster fighting power couple barb/steve a lot i think theyre neat.
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shieldofiron · 9 months ago
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A true Hater x Hater ship will never die.
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st-rarepair-roulette · 9 months ago
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The AO3 collection is live with more treats to come this week!!!
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st-rarepair-minibang · 1 year ago
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Author Check-in August 20-23
Hello everyone! An email will be sent out shortly to all authors regarding the check-in happening in just a few days! Here is a link to the form if you want to save it now, but it will not open until August 19th.
We have completed the beta reader sign-up sheet, so if you are signed up as an author, you will get a link to it in the email that is getting sent out.
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queenie-ofthe-void · 14 days ago
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........33 Gingersnaps. Sorry, I had to lmaoooo
Spotify Wrapped + Ship pairing
#33 Chateau by DJO + Barb/Carol (Gingersnaps)
This story takes place in Koko's AU A Litany for Survival aka the Steddie Upside-Down AU
What you need to know: Steve Harrington went missing instead of Barb Holland, who ended up falling in love with Carol Perkins when they (instead of Steve) fought off a pack of demo-dogs in the junkyard to save the kids.
Barb would like to think the snowfall outside her and Carol’s window is beautiful. The way the large, fluffy flakes float slowly across the night sky, forming mounds between the dense pine trees. 
The ski lodge– it’s a chateau, babe, not a lodge– is nestled somewhere in upstate New York. A place she never thought she’d be, with a girl she never thought she’d talk to, let alone save the world with. Yet here they are, five years later, celebrating their anniversary in Carol’s family cabin under the guise of a girl’s weekend.
A vacation which, so far, has been perfect. Days curled up in the sunroom looking out over the frozen lake. Late nights spread out and laid bare in front of the fireplace. It’s been better than any dream Barb’s ever imagined.
But now it’s the middle of the night, the shadows in the unfamiliar corners of their room remind her of monsters five years long gone. The sheets stick to the cold sweat clinging to Barb’s legs as she desperately kicks them off.
Carol’s covered in black slime, red blood pouring out of where the nail bat’s stuck in her chest. She’s crying, and when Barb tries to pull the bat free, she accidentally pushes it deeper, Carol’s ribs cracking under the weight. Hungry monsters close in around them with teeth chittering, claws raking down her back and–
“Baby! Babe, please look at me.”
Of course Barb recognizes Carol’s voice; could pick it out from across a crowded room. But Carol is a corpse, eyes dull, lips pale and unmoving. Yet her voice doesn’t falter, even though it’s laced with panic.
“Barb,” Carol begs, wrapping her warm, strong hands over Barb’s tear-stained cheeks, “baby you need to wake up. I’m right here. We’re ok, we’re safe. But I need you to look at me sweetheart, can you do that for me?”
When her eyes come into focus, she notices the soft snowfall, just outside the window. Barb catches the blue in Carol’s eye from the moonlight reflecting off the freshly fallen snow. Even with tears in her eyes, a slight wobble to her lip, Carol is beautiful. Most importantly, she’s alive. Here, sharing the same bed, breathing the same air.
Barb leans forward slowly, resting her forehead against Carol’s, who heaves a heavy sigh of relief. They breathe together, slow and measured, with hands clasped tight around the other’s beneath the sheets. Whether it’s been seconds or hours, they eventually lay back down. Carol tucks herself into the softness of Barb’s side, pressing her face into her neck. Barb wraps her arms around Carol, pulling her in as tight as she can.
“I’m sorry,” Carol whispers into the night, like Barb’s nightmares are some dirty secret between them. Like it’s all Carol’s fault Barb got sucked into this mess in the first place, getting wrapped up in Steve Harrington’s disappearance because the two were friends. Always overlooking the fact Barb was involved from the beginning, thrown head-first into a government conspiracy because of Nancy and Jonathan’s renegade investigation.
But Barb’s already said her piece time and time again. Made the same points in the same arguments that’ve all reached no end– an argument left unfinished that fades into the background only to be picked up again weeks or months later with no progress in between.
So, maybe tonight, instead of soothing Carol’s unfounded guilt or pleading with her to lay the blame aside so they can move on, Barb will try something different.
“I picked up that bat because I knew what had to be done.” Barb feels Carol’s lips tremble against her neck. She tries to sit up, but Barb only pulls her in closer, hoping that one day it’ll be  enough to mesh them together. 
“Or maybe it was because there was something about you that made me feel like I could do anything. But it’s a decision that I’m glad that I made. And I’d make it a million times over if it meant being here with you. If I could turn back the time, I’d always choose to pick up that bat. I’ll always choose you, Carol.”
The next day, they wake up in a tangled mess of limbs to a soft morning glow filtering through the curtains. Carol’s lips are chapped against hers, and Barb’s sure her own breath isn’t the freshest. But every kiss with Carol feels like a blessing after what they’ve survived. And if nightmares are the small price she has to pay for meeting the woman of her dreams, she’d pay it a thousand times over.
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shrimply-a-menace · 2 years ago
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