what if the first time steve and eddie actually meet is when steve picks up dustin, mike, and lucas from hellfire a month or so into their freshman year.
and when steve starts dicking around and roughhousing with dustin a bit.. thats when eddie sees him
him.
steve harrington.
king steve harrington.
king steve harrington, jock extraordinaire fucking with his new (pretty brittle, he got told off for the same thing at the beginning of the year by mike and lucas) sheepie
Eddie’s at the car in next to no time at all, tears steve off henderson, and punches him square in the face
The day King Steve Harrington met certified Freak Eddie Munson was not one that they would be likely to forget any time soon
They had gone to school together for at least four years, sure, but never interacted beyond being at the same parties over the years. some of which were Steve’s own
That day, however, was a whole five months after Steve graduated and Eddie didn’t. For the second time.
“That herd of demogorgons was too easy, Eddie, y’gotta pick things up a little.”
“Oh, is that so, Henderson?” Eddie deadpans, patting his pockets for his cigarettes.
His flat tone seems to take some of the wind out of the kid’s sails. “Yeah, uh, just that—“
“We’ve run our own campaigns with them before, we know they’re not that big a deal.” Mini Wheeler says, acting like he’s annoyed with Dustin for cowing. Eddie can see right through him. Kid definitely idolizes him, though it’s been only a month since school started.
It’s a bit flattering, but he’s got to make sure these hellions know their place.
Damn, he must’ve left his pack on the table, “Okay, play with a minus three disadvantage on your rolls next week, that should make it more challenging, yeah?”
“Aw wha—“
“Way to go, dickheads!” Sinclair says, shoving both Dustin and Mike’s shoulders.
Eddie lets them go on, turning back to grab his cigarettes.
He’s shaking one out into his palm when he pushes out the double doors to the front of the school. Before he can light it, however, a shriek echoes over the empty school lot.
Snapping his gaze up, he sees the barely-lit figures of two of the young teens, and one larger figure hunched over and scrabbling with something.
Oh great, now he’s got an asshole musclehead to deal with. Wayne just bought some frozen peas, right? He’s gonna need them when he finally gets home.
He’s already breaking into a jog towards them when he hears Henderson’s muffled yell of “Cut it out! Get off me, Steve!”
Eddie's blood goes ice-cold.
Steve… As in Harrington? Here? Harassing his kids?? Hell fucking no!
Doesn’t he know Dustin’s got that medical thing? The kid’s brittle, got told off quick after trying to start his own roughhousing with the new sheepies only a month ago!
Eddie reaches the group in record time, his feet carrying him faster than he thought possible. If only Coach could see him now..
“Get the fuck off him, Harrington.” Eddie growls, grabbing a handful of fabric at the ruff of Steve’s jacket in his left fist, and snapping his right into the former King’s startled fucking face as soon as it’s in sight.
Lucas, Mike, and Dustin are yelling over each other, and Eddie’s following Steve as he stumbles back against his stupid fancy fucking car.
He grabs the lapels of Steve’s jacket and pulls him off the door, only to slam him back against it. “You keep your hands off him, Harrington, you hear me?”
Steve stares up at him wide eyed, nose bloody, cheeks flushed, but then seems to come back to himself.
“Keep your hands off me, Freak!” Steve shoves him back, hard.
“Hear that? The legendary King himself, gentlemen.” Eddie teases, backing himself in front of the boys, their continued yelling is really not helping.
“You don’t know what you’re—“, “It’s not like that, Ed—“, "He can't get another concussion dude, what are you doing?!", “He’s a jerk but he wasn’t hurting us!” Eddie catches snippets of what they’re yelling, but he’s still focused on the very real threat in front of them.
“Fuck you, Munson!” Steve steps forward, “You don’t know shit!”
“Let the kids go, Harrington, and I’ll—“ Eddie steps back.
“And you’ll what, dickwad? Let them get in the car, maybe?” Another step.
“Why in the actual fuck would I let—“
“Let me take them home? Like I was asked to? By their Parents?” Steve takes another step, and Eddie, thrown by the revelation that Steve was what, the babysitter?, trips over his own feet on his step backward. "Hmm, I don't know, why would you ever do such a thing?"
Eddie falls onto his ass, hard, and looks up at Steve. “You— They— Stop fucking around dude, just let them go, alright? They didn’t do anything to you, so you don’t need to do anything to them.”
“I’m not gonna— You think I was—?“ He cuts himself off, anger flickering from his face. It flashes to something Eddie would describe as crushed for only a split second, then goes completely blank. “C’mon,” he says, looking up to where the boys are, “Let’s get you home before I get yelled at.”
With that, Steve Harrington turns, and leads the newest Hellfire members back to the BMW.
“We tried to tell you, man.” Dustin mumbles as he passes, then climbs into the passenger seat.
“Yeah dude.” Lucas’ is even less comprehensible.
He and Mike climb into the backseat, and as soon as the door is closed, Steve pulls out and crosses the lot to the main road, Eddie watching the taillights as long as he could.
“And then, he insinuated that I was basically gonna kidnap them, can you believe that?”
“He did?” Robin gapes at him, horrified.
“Yeah! He said ‘Just let them go, Harrington.’, ‘They’re not getting in your car with you, Harrington.’, ugh! Who does he think he is?” Steve’s hands drop from his hair where he’d been mussing it in irritation, down to his sides. “Who does he think I am?”
He looks back at Robin, who’s now giving him a worried expression, “Was I really that bad in school that he thinks what, I just troll around town now, looking for kids to beat up?”
“I didn’t ever think you were that bad, more just annoying.”
“Yeah, you told me, the bagel thing, right?”
“How’d you get so many crumbs from one damn bagel?!”
Steve chuckles at her, but it’s short-lived. “Ugh, my head hurts.”
“That’s another thing, if I ever see that soggy rat of a man I’m gonna give him a little what-for.”
He snorts at her, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah! Your head is precious cargo, Dingus, can’t have the living embodiment of the hairball you pull out of your tub drain every week giving you any more concussions.”
Steve blinks at her, still sorting tapes, but with a defined crease in her forehead, “You’re descriptive today.”
“I’m irked.”
He huffs another laugh, but they lapse into their usual routine. Rewinding tapes, Steve stacking them on the return cart only for Robin to come back through and re-stack them to her liking..
About an hour into this, though, Steve drops a bombshell.
“I think I have a crush on him.”
The neat stack Robin was adding a 20th tape to, tumbles under her hands. She flails her arms around uselessly trying to catch even a single tape (she fails), and when the final tape has settled onto the floor, she looks at him.
“You… what?”
Steve feels his face burn with embarrassment as he rubs the back of his neck. “I know, I know, ‘Soggy rat’, ‘Disgusting hairball’ and all that but…um,” He looks up at her, “You’re gonna catch flies.”
Robin snaps her jaw shut, Steve can hear her teeth clack together.
“I’m new to the whole,” he continues, waving his hand around at her.
“Liking boys thing.”
“The whole liking boys thing, and until now it’s just been…pretend, right? Like, Maybe I could be but didn’t know for sure.. It wasn’t…real?”
“Right. It was only in theory; You and Tommy H.’s weird-ass friendship and crushes on celebrities.”
“Exactly.”
“Sooo…. Eddie Munson..?”
Steve gulps, looks down at the tapes in his hands. They’re shaking. When did he pick these up?
“Yeah.” he croaks. “Eddie Munson.”
“Eddie Munson punches you in the face.. And you get a crush on him.” She says, disbelieving, then, to herself mostly, adds on, “Maybe that’s why also maybe Tomm— Hang on! Did you also have a crush on Billy and Jonathan?!”
“It wasn’t the punch!” He’s almost laughing at the thought of having a crush on Byers or Billy. “It was the– ugh, this somehow seems worse.”
“Well now you have to tell me.”
“It was the… the manhandling part..” the tapes in his hands are shaking even more. He puts them down.
“The manhandling?”
“Yeah, he lifted me clean off the ground, then shoved me against my car and— oh my god.”
“Oh my god is right,” Robin grimaces
“No, no, Tommy— Rude.” he says, flashing a glare at her. “Tommy did the same shit to me once, after Jonathan bashed my face in… can you believe I actually thought about kissing that freckled asshole about it?”
“Oh my god,” Robin repeats, fake gagging over the returns cart.
“I guess it was also the punch too..” He says after a little bit.
“I knew it!”
“Not in a weird way, or anything, not the punch, but.. why the punch?” he says, not sure if he’s communicating this right. “Like, yes. He punched me. But it was only because he was trying to protect the shitheads, you know? Sucks that he was trying to protect them from me, but still. He literally put himself between them and me.”
“So the guy with the hero complex has the hots for the guy with the hero complex.”
“Shut up, you’re the worst.” She throws an empty tape case at her while she cackles like a witch, but laughs with her, feeling something ease off his chest
Over the next five months, the stupid little crush he had on Eddie simmers and kind of dies off on its own. Aside from Robin, Steve doesn’t hear another person mention Eddie. The kids don’t talk about what happened back in October, Eddie never finds Steve to apologize, nothing. It’s as good as dead by the time spring break rolls around.
Until.
“C’mon Steve, Pleaeeeeease?”
“What, hang out with you and Eddie “The Freak” Munson? Yeah, I’ll pass.” Whew, yep, crush is basically non-existent. Only a single bubble of something stirs at the mention of him.
“Is this about him punching you? ‘Cause he’s totally sorry for doing it.”
Yeah, he doubts that. “Yeah, I doubt it.”
“Steve pleeaseee!”
“No dude, I’ve got a date tonight! And shouldn’t you guys be going to Sinclair’s game? It’s the championship, dude.”
“Eddie doesn’t–”
Before Steve can give Dustin a piece of his mind about his revered Dork Master, the bell chimes above the door.
“Sorry man, can’t, won’t, and don’t. And I better see you at Lucas’ game.” He drops the handset onto the receiver and immediately picks it back up.
“Brenda, hey, it’s Steve. Listen, I’ve got a change of plans.”
--
He doesn’t see any of the shitheads in the stands when he gets to the school.
All throughout Tammy Thompson’s spot-on muppet impression, he’s scanning the bleachers for any sight of them.
As soon as the crowds start to cheer again, Steve excuses himself and slips out into the hall.
He remembers Dustin saying something about the theater when he’d talked about Hellfire before, so he heads in that direction, not slowing his pace until he reaches the three doors that lead into the theater wing.
One, the Theater teacher’s office. Dark.
Next, the extra large door to the stage itself. Quiet.
Last one, the one to the set storage. Warm light and yells flow from the other side.
Bingo.
Steve shoves the door open, wincing minutely when it crashes into something behind it.
“Are you guys serious?”
“Steve?!”
“Damn it Dustin, I told you on the phone that you shitheads had better be at Lucas’ game toni— Erica? You too?”
“What does Lucas’ game have to do with me?”
“He’s your brother—” Steve presses his fingers into his eyes, “Look. All three of you. Gym. Now.”
None of them move.
“C’mon assholes, you know as well as I do that this is important to him.”
“This is important to us. It’s the final campaign against Vecna, we’ve gotta—”
“You don't think this stupid game is important to Lucas too?”
“If it were, he’d be here of his own free will, your majesty.” Aw shit, how’d he forget about Eddie? “And yet, he isn’t. Sounds to me like Sinclair’s gone over to the Dark Side.”
“Yep. He’s gone to the Dark Side, I’ve lulled him there with the promise of popularity,”
“So you admit it, Darth Shitass.” Eddie’s goons laugh, Mike too.
“Yep, that’s me, Darth Shitass, and you shitasses aren’t as dumb as he or I are,” Steve says gesturing between Eddie and himself, the former of whom starts to splutter defensively, “You know that your Party sticks together.” he emphasis the last bit, leveling them all with a look.
They at least start to look sheepish.
“Damn it, he’s right.” Erica says, starting to grab up some of the papers in front of her.
The rest of the table start to argue over and around her, the older Hellfire boys louder than the other two. Steve’s still just stunned that she’d agreed with him.
“You leave, we don’t have enough players.” the biggest guy says
“If any of you leave, your characters are dead.” Eddie says, still glaring at Steve. Damn it, why does he have to be so hot? Stupid fucking crush has been stupidly fucking reignited.
“Lady Applejack doesn’t belong to you, you long-haired freak. She’s mine.”
Eddie bristles, Dustin and Mike look at her, shocked.
Erica grabs the last of her things and marches to Steve. “You’ll have to show me where to go.”
“Sure thing, kiddo.” He says, still surprised, but he snaps a glare over to Dustin and Mike. “You two know where the gym is.” and walks out the door behind Erica.
His brain is fighting with itself over how damn hot that asshole nerd is and how much of an asshole that asshole nerd is when he and Erica arrive back to the game.
She veers off to where her parents are seated, and Steve climbs back up to Brenda.
He’s just gotten back into the swing of the game when the gym doors open again, and the rest of the Hellfire club slinks in and onto an open section of the bleachers.
Even Eddie, who lopes in last, partially obscured by his bigger friends.
–
After that night, time seems to speed along at triple it’s regular pace.
Chrissy is missing, Eddie is missing.
Chrissy is dead, Eddie is still missing.
Dustin and Max barge into Family Video, Eddie may be at Reefer Rick’s
“Seeing as how majority of the people in this room have almost died before, I don’t find it all that funny—”
Solid, warm, panicked, beautiful, sharp, gripping… Steve’s brain is running on adjectives.
“This is Steve..” Dustin says, as if trying to calm a wild animal.. And as if Steve being himself is any less threatening to Eddie at this moment.
The broken bottle is pressed closer to his neck, Steve can feel the cold glass warm to the temperature of his skin, can feel it twitch and shake in brief kisses to his throat.
Eddie’s other hand, gripped around the shoulder of Steve’s jacket, shakes too.
Steve’s on his tiptoes against a wooden beam of Rick’s boathouse, one of Eddie’s legs is pressed along the length of his, pushing in and up, helping his arm lift Steve off the ground and hold him there.
Steve repeats Dustin’s words in a daze, watching Eddie’s face the whole time.
The creased twitch of his brow, the twitch of his left eye, the tears in his right, the wobble of his bottom lip.
He wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss it so bad.
He’s released onto shaky legs without any sort of preamble, Robin rushes to his side.
“It’s still the manhandling.” he says, breathless, still hunched forward.
She huffs a nervous laugh, but helps him stand…
The cemetery, the school, skull rock, the lake, dragging, pain, pain, pain…
Relief, running, skull rock (again), pain, groans, the button of a vest smacking him square on the forehead.
“For your modesty, dude.”
Robin looks like she’s about to say something about his new garment, “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” he mumbles over to her, hoping the look he gives her transmits the “Crush’s Jacket” of it all directly into her brain. He thinks it does.
The woods, The house, the lack of guns, the lack of.. Dustin?
Bikes, Eddie’s trailer, Nancy’s Vecna vision…
Time goes stupid fast after that.
Until.
Screaming.
There’s screaming.
Someone is screaming Eddie’s name, his name.
“Steve! Steve please!”
“Dustin!” There’s a stitch in his side from running all this way. He ignores it.
“Steve! Eddie, he– The bats– He–” Dustin sags forward over a motionless Eddie.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay Dustin, It’ll be–”
“Don’t tell me it’ll be okay!”
Steve pulls Dustin to him, away from whatever Nancy is checking, “It’s okay man, we’ll get him out of here, we will. Promise, promise.”
“Steve! I have a pulse!”
Dustin shoves Steve away, dropping down next to Eddie and Nancy.
They do it, somehow, they get Eddie up and out of the gate, the ceiling sealing up after them. El’s work?
Doesn’t matter. They’ve got to get to the hospital, they’ve got to check on the others at the Creel House…
Time slows to a crawl when Eddie and Max are in the hospital.
Every minute with the government suits is tedious. Every second their friends are unconscious is agonizing.
But they make it through.
Eddie wakes up first, but is out again not long after his Uncle gets there.
Max is gonna need one hell of a prescription for her new glasses and a set of crutches she’s sure to whack upon every shin that winds up in her path, but they’re alive.
Eddie has hospital visits and additional surgeries, Max’s cast eventually comes off, the last graft Eddie needed is finally cleared to go bandageless.
“I’m as right as rain again, big boy.” Oh yeah, that hadn’t stopped either. Eddie’s incessant need to flirt with him.
Steve’s not complaining.
“Are you now?”
“Sure am.”
“So you’re finally all healed up? Off all your meds?”
“The very last of the good stuff is running through me as we speak.” He nods, tipping his head back to drain the last of his pop. The third one since they'd had pizza with the rest of the party earlier this afternoon. “Good thing too, because I could use a drink.” He says with a sigh, looking up at the stars above them.
Everyone else has gone home. Robin is upstairs, probably already drooling all over Steve's pillow.
They're the only ones still out here.
“Good thing.” Steve echoes, similarly draining his own can of pop. “Means I can finally do this.”
He flings the empty can over his shoulder, pulls his arm back, and punches a confused Eddie right in his perfect fucking face.
“Ow! What the fuck, Harrington?!”
“That’s for October.” he steps closer to him.
“I can’t believe you—” The rest of Eddie’s face goes pink in embarrassment as he rubs the red mark Steve made. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way.”
“And this,” Steve takes Eddie’s face in both his and leans forward, throwing all his doubts to the wind. For all his flirting before and after Spring Break, Steve’s 82% sure this is the right move.
He presses his lips to Eddie’s, who responds immediately, chasing after him when he pulls back. “Was for just now.”
-----
a couple tags of those who wanted to see more: @devondespresso, @hello-sweetheart, @orionchildofhades, @quarble, @shunna, @inkstainedheartbeats
Rated: T | CW: panic attacks | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, pre-s3 steddie
Prompt: Get behind me
For @machete-inventory-manager 💕 thank you! (And thank you for your patience!)
🕯️🕯️🕯️
Steve is shit at keeping secrets. He should be used to it by now, considering his stack of NDAs is now undoubtedly longer than any book he’s ever read, but usually his lies fall on the ears of his oblivious parents, on the unknowing school nurse for why he’s back for the third day in a row for a migraine, on his teachers who berate him for falling asleep in class. It’s not—Steve is bad at keeping secrets from those he cares about, and Eddie Munson is very high on that list of people.
Steve still can’t believe it’s real, most of the time: that who he was his first years in this school hadn’t scared Eddie away completely, that he was worth Eddie giving a second chance to, that when Steve had kissed him Eddie hadn’t punched him square in the nose, that Eddie had kissed him back.
It still makes his chest hum, when he thinks about it too hard. Makes his lips twitch when he’s spacing out in class, when he’s eating dinner with his parents or when he’s driving to school: because his mind is on Eddie. He thinks about what Eddie might be doing. If his day has been okay and if anyone gave him any shit, if all of his deals went smoothly or if Mrs. O’Donnell still has it out for him.
He wonders if Eddie ever thinks the same about him.
Steve… likes to think he does, especially at times like this. At times when Eddie has Steve’s head pillowed on his chest, when Eddie’s fingers are in Steve’s hair and their legs are tangled together, when the movie they’d been watching is glowing blue on the screen, the tape over, and Steve can’t find it within himself to get up and turn it off.
Eddie’s fingers are scratching behind his ears, and the pattering of rain on the trailer’s tin roof is lulling Steve into a pleasant sort of doze. Sleep always comes easier with Eddie next to him.
“Sweetheart?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve likes this the most. Sweetheart and honey and baby, names that fall so easily from Eddie’s lips like Steve’s something sweet. Like he’s something worth savoring.
He hums and doesn’t move, Eddie’s fingers still in his hair.
“It’s getting late,” Eddie reminds him, “you spendin’ the night?”
Steve shouldn’t. His parents will ask questions he can’t answer and every night they spend with the Bimmer out front is another night of gossip they hand over to Eddie’s neighbors—
But Eddie is warm. His hairy legs are locked around Steve’s like he doesn’t want to let him go and his lips are so close to the crown of Steve’s head he can feel the breath of his words and Steve thinks maybe enduring a phone call with his parents is worth it. He could borrow Eddie’s boxers. He could wear one of Eddie’s more neutral shirts to school tomorrow and the two of them would be the only ones who knew.
“You gonna let me go if I say no?” Steve props himself up on his elbows, the question falling from his tongue because he can’t help but tease, because Eddie’s face always flushes like he’s in awe of it.
Eddie’s legs flex and lock, his arms wrapping possessively around Steve’s middle even as his cheeks darken. “If I had it my way,” he murmurs, tilting his head close, “I’d never let you go.” And Eddie kisses him. Steve parts his lips as Eddie’s tongue slips inside, warm and wet and coveting, licking behind his teeth—
The lights flicker. Steve can see the flash of the them through his closed eyelids and even as he tells himself it’s nothing the hairs on his arms stand on end, his ears begin to ring as his senses heighten, the only noise still the rain on the roof and the wet sounds of their mouths, until it happens again.
Steve breaks their kiss, dread pooling low in his belly as he hovers over Eddie, his gaze darting around the room as he searches for anything he could use to protect them both.
“Sorry,” Eddie exhales, “shoddy electrical in this thing.”
But Steve can barely hear him as the ringing in his ears grows, his skin beginning to tingle as that familiar surge of adrenaline begins to flood him.
“Sweetheart?”
The lights go out.
Steve scrambles off the couch, nearly taking himself out at the knees over Eddie’s coffee table, and lunges for the lamp on the side table. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something. It would, if Steve was lucky, be enough for Eddie to—
“Steve—?”
“Get behind me,” Steve interrupts, his palms slick as he wrenches the cord from the outlet, holding the heavy wooden base of the lamp high above his head.
“Stevie, baby, maybe the power doesn’t go out on your side of the tracks but over here it’s—”
“Please.” Steve’s voice cracks over the vowels, desperation flooding him: he can’t lose Eddie. He can’t. Just the thought of it—the thought of Eddie anywhere close to what lies beneath their feet makes his palms slicken, makes his heart jackrabbit in his chest and his blood thunder in his ears.
He can’t let it happen.
The couch creaks as Eddie rises, their backs to the wall as Steve holds up his lamp, unseeing, into the dark.
For long minutes that’s all they do: the only sounds are Steve’s uneven breaths and the pattering of rain on the roof, and Steve’s gaze flicks between every point of entry as his eyes adjust to the dark.
But as the rain patters on, as lightning flashes outside and as the adrenaline begins to wane from his blood, as the lamp he’s been holding over his head begins to feel like it weighs a ton, embarrassment begins to fill him instead.
It was just the storm. It was the rain, and the wind, and the trailer’s old electrical system, and Steve had forced Eddie into a corner over nothing.
Steve sets down the lamp, his arms trembling as the adrenaline surge leaves his muscles tired and shaking. He licks his lips, his mouth bone dry, and brings the heels of his palms to his eyes. Heavily, he sits back on the couch, unable to look Eddie in the eyes. “Sorry,” he croaks, “that was—” but he can’t explain. He can’t explain because that would open Eddie to a world Steve wants—needs—to protect him from.
His teeth begin to chatter, and his hands are trembling so badly he curls them up, pressing his fists into the sockets of his eyes just so he doesn’t look like he’s losing it completely.
The trailer floor creaks, and Eddie, slowly, sits beside him. Just the weight of him makes Steve’s nerves ease, his jaw unclenching.
“I don’t like heights,” Eddie murmurs into their quiet, and Steve has no idea why he’s bringing this up but at least he’s talking, at least he’s not throwing Steve out the door for losing his shit. “Jeff has to drive when we go over bridges.” His hand rests on the small of Steve’s back. “I’m gonna go get some candles, yeah? I’ll be right back.” Eddie rubs a soft circle against Steve’s spine before standing, his footsteps rapid before he clatters around a closet just a few feet away.
He’s quick, and within a minute there’s three mostly-burned candles flickering dimly on the coffee table, and Steve no longer feels like his heart’s going to beat out of his chest when he can finally meet Eddie’s gaze. “Sorry,” he says again, lamely, his voice still shaky, “it’s normally not that bad.”
Because it’s not. Because adding Eddie to the mix—the mere potential of it—had sent Steve into a panic.
“It’s okay if it’s that bad,” Eddie states, simply, like that’s all it boils down to, like what just happened isn’t completely and totally fucking insane. Eddie takes his hand, and Steve realizes how cold his own fingers are against the heat of Eddie’s palm. “It can be that bad around me.”
Tears, unbidden and unexpected flood Steve’s lower lids and he has to stop himself from blinking so they don’t spill. He sniffs hard, instead, and squeezes Eddie’s hand.
“Stevie?” Eddie murmurs, his voice gentle and probing, “this is why you have that nail bat under your bed, isn’t it?”
Too fucking smart. Eddie is too fucking smart for his own good and Steve is livid at himself for falling for someone who’s smart enough to connect any of the dots—but Steve is weak. He’s weak, and he nods instead of denying it, because as desperate as he is to keep Eddie away from it all, to be understood by him, even in this small amount, is a relief he can’t resist.
“Wayne always thought there was something wrong with this town,” Eddie mutters, and Steve can’t help his choked breath of a laugh because of course—of course—Wayne would know. “Always said the government was out here covering it all up.” Eddie nods, like without Steve having to validate any of it, he already knows. “He always says they’ve got ways of keeping people quiet.” Eddie mutters. He stares, and Steve realizes that, really, was a question.
He barely moves, but Eddie is watching, and his eyes widen when Steve tilts his head, just slightly, forwards.
And then Eddie’s scooting closer. He’s wrapping Steve up in his arms and the smell of cigarettes and cedar wraps around him, and his face is pressed into Eddie’s warm neck and Eddie’s fingers are back in his hair.
“You’re okay,” Eddie murmurs, and then, after a moment, like he was hesitating, adds, “and I’m okay, too, sweetheart. ’S just us, here.”
Steve clings back, his fingers pressing deep and desperate against Eddie’s back, like his very hold could be what keeps Eddie next to him, safe.
And Steve’s not letting go.
✨✨✨
And then they lived happily ever after and nothing bad happened to them ever again 🥰
Thank you for the prompt! It feels so good to be able to post these again!
Also, I’m so sorry, but it’s been so long since I’ve posted anything on here that I lost my permanent tag list. I think that’s just my sign that I’m not going to do it anymore 😅 apologies to anyone who is unhappy about that 🫶
My biggest hugs and kisses to @hbyrde36 for her betaing 💗✨
Jamie's Autism Crisis, my beloved! This one's still in the fairly early stages, but here's the plot description from my notes on this fic:
After discovering a fan-made compilation of his autistic moments, Jamie begins to suspect that the people trying to diagnose him over the internet might be right. As AFC Richmond travels across Europe for the Champions' League, he grapples with his self-perception, the impact of his upbringing, and his tentative reconnection with his father, and finds unexpected common ground with Roy.
And some assorted plot points (not necessarily in order):
Jamie takes a PR opportunity to hang out with autistic kids, asks the teacher about autism and panics when he realizes he fits the actual diagnostic criteria
Visits James in rehab, who tries to guilt trip him (you're playing so well now, guess you don't need me anymore) and makes snide remarks about how he behaves in interviews
Worried and self-conscious that he's acting obviously neurodivergent, Jamie starts masking more at training/in public; Roy corners him for a conversation and they have a recognition of the self through the other moment
Ted and Jamie + sorting out the role of different communication styles in their relationship (especially ~season 1) and the failure to meet/identify different needs
Maybe also bonding with Colin over queer version of the same problem, ie accidentally hostile workplace
you know roy and jamie are making that changing room unusable right now
trentcrimm-independent follow
Jesus, does everything have to be about them? This is a historic moment for queer atheletes, Colin is the first Premier League player to kiss a man in public but no, that doesn't matter to you because he's not your blorbo. This is why no one likes RoyJamies.
greyhounded follow
he fucked jamie in that changing room
sixnine follow
he fucked jamie in that changing room
1,312 notes
footballislife follow
Whats killing me is that richmond literally won and nobody gafs because colin is gay 😭
8 notes
gayfc-richmond follow
WE WILL LIVE FOREVER
16 notes
nelsonroad follow
no way richmond has a gay player and its not jamie tartt
jamietart follow
richmond has two gay players and one of them is jamie tartt
nelsonroad follow
you would say that
380 notes
jamie-fucking-tartt follow
I’m already seeing people posting about other Richmond players' sexualities and I can’t believe that I have to say that Colin kissing a man publicly doesn’t make RPF suddenly fine
lesbiansam follow
892 notes
greyhounded follow
im sorry but if you think professional footballer colin hughes kissing a man in front of god and television and everyone means he isn’t gay you need a lobotomy or something ?
789 notes
richmond-til-i-die follow
PSA to everyone speculating about Colin Hughes has got to calm down like oh my god. You don’t know him and just because he (SEEMED TO) kiss a man doesn’t say ANYTHING about him or his sexuality and this shouldn’t lead to speculating about other players' sexualities as well. None of us know these people and acting like you do is disrespectful and frankly gross.
Read more
273 notes
bantr follow
everyone’s talking about colin hughes being the only openly gay footballer like jamie tartt hasn’t been wearing that hoop earring for a full season. don’t worry jamie tartt i saw your hoop earring
182 notes
mcahughes follow
colin kissed a man and it wasn’t isaac but we can find a way to make it isaac. together we can find a way
453 notes
winnerwinnerfootballdinner follow
he had that man on a leash
winnerwinnerfootballdinner follow
reblogging this in light of recent events. colin’s going to gay clubs and they are also there and so is the leash
991 notes
gayfc-richmond follow
SCIENTISTS SAID IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE THIS BACK
11 notes
hughes12 follow
400 notes
nelsonroad follow
watch colin make his coming out statement be about welsh independence
368 notes
wagjamie follow
And never forget rupert mannion must die
37 notes
obisanya24 follow
WE’RE GOING TO REGIONALS
789 notes
samjamie follow
Richmond fc cancelled for making the twinkiest one gay
Jamie's Autism Crisis, my beloved! This one's still in the fairly early stages, but here's the plot description from my notes on this fic:
After discovering a fan-made compilation of his autistic moments, Jamie begins to suspect that the people trying to diagnose him over the internet might be right. As AFC Richmond travels across Europe for the Champions' League, he grapples with his self-perception, the impact of his upbringing, and his tentative reconnection with his father, and finds unexpected common ground with Roy.
And some assorted plot points (not necessarily in order):
Jamie takes a PR opportunity to hang out with autistic kids, asks the teacher about autism and panics when he realizes he fits the actual diagnostic criteria
Visits James in rehab, who tries to guilt trip him (you're playing so well now, guess you don't need me anymore) and makes snide remarks about how he behaves in interviews
Worried and self-conscious that he's acting obviously neurodivergent, Jamie starts masking more at training/in public; Roy corners him for a conversation and they have a recognition of the self through the other moment
Ted and Jamie + sorting out the role of different communication styles in their relationship (especially ~season 1) and the failure to meet/identify different needs
Maybe also bonding with Colin over queer version of the same problem, ie accidentally hostile workplace
Let’s talk about male bonding rituals and the way that physical touch in the locker room can be a comforting outlet. Like how the team hugs and jumps on each other after they score a goal. Or how they casually lean against each other in the locker rooms. Or Roy’s little fist bumps to each of the lads to hype them up. You can use words or actions for your anger, but there’s a protocol for kindness.
And then there’s Zava, who’s an interesting bastard in his own right, because as people have pointed out he accepts touch from others but he doesn’t reciprocate. Dani fullbody hugs the man (after a goal, of course, the most acceptable time to do so) and the most he does is try to shake him off. If Richmond is reaching hands, then the most Zava has done is beckon them in and allow them to worship, like when he took over the huddle before the match- he allowed everyone to put their hands on Zava.
And Richmond is an especially sweet team under Ted’s tenure. So again we have Zava performing in a way that on surface level is inoffensive.
Except that there is one person that Zava makes a point to touch - and I do think he’s making a point about it. Even if we only saw it a few times, I think it was a good extension for showing us how Zava viewed Jamie.
I’ve talked before about how interesting the little one-two shoulder brush/ass slap was in that first match, because on the surface that is totally normally sports antics. It’s only Jamie’s little ‘wtf’ face that lampshades the true weirdness of a moment: this may be a teammate, but this is a dude he just met, someone he has no rapport with (compared to Dani, who created rapport through excitement and touching). But hey- new teammate, first match. As off of a moment it was, Jamie’s a team player now, so he did what he was told to do and passed the ball to Zava. And what a slap in the face that was, with Zava repeating one of the best goals we’ve seen from Jamie this who show.
Actual fucking mind games, this time. A pattern of them, in addition to singling Jamie out and asking if he’s the kitman when they first meet. Despite the fact that he already had his kit on. Despite the fact that he was in the middle of love-bombing everyone else.
And stealing Jamie’s goal. Which was so petty that even Roy Kent thought it was a bit too mean.
It’s not insidious, it’s not like he’s being bullied- but he is getting frozen out. Singled out by a player who walked in and made himself at home in Jamie’s spot.
Zava walks a careful, practiced line. He’s got a ton of experience on and off the pitch, and he knows where to give in and where to push. Dani can follow him around and touch him- he’ll allow it because Dani is harmless.
But I don’t think he thought Jamie was harmless. I think he saw Jamie as a threat, one that needed to be neutralized so that Zava could play in the manner he was accustomed to. Jamie is the ONLY one on the team that seemed to be trying to score - even the fucking announcers could see it.
So yeah, anytime Jamie stepped up a little too high, or seemed like he might be putting Zava’s reputation of #1 at risk, he would find these little footholds that he could use to climb over Jamie.
I think his grunt Zava gave when he lifted up the weight was the closest we got to Zava actually verbalizing his frustrations (also great metaphor, him lying under the weight and then shoving it off one last time. Good comparison to Colin ‘got-stuck-under-the-weights-that-time’ Hughes benching without a problem these days, like a strong and capable man). Richmond was on a losing streak, Jamie kept trying to button in on what should have been Zava’s goals, and now Jamie was also butting in on the leadership side as well.
The openly condescending thing to do would be to pet the top of Jamie’s hair like a dog, mussing it up. That’s a proper bully move. Instead he went for the back of the head and did that weird…..whatever that was. Was he combing his fingers through Jamie’s hair? Scratching him like a cat? Playing with his headband? Whatever it was it was out of focus, even though it was in front of a crowd. The same way that the first time was in the middle of a stadium, and yet so far away from anyone being able to see and hear what was happening. The only thing you could see, if you could be bothered to look away from Zava for a second, was how completely uncomfortable Jamie was with it. And I’m not sure the guys in the locker room noticed, not just because it’s Zava, but because on the surface nothing he’s done has stood out as a red flag.
‘Zava made a goal’ sounds better than ‘Zava stole that goal from Jamie’
‘Zava made a leader speech to motivate us’ sounds better than ‘Zava saw that Jamie was stepping up to encourage them, and felt the need to reassert himself by doing the same thing’
And ‘Zava is physically touchy with Jamie a few times’ sounds better than ‘Zava uses what should be perfectly safe locker room contact as a way to put Jamie in his place’.
Goddamnit I made this whole post and forgot to mention all the evidence that one of Mr Jamiethy Tartt’s love languages is Physical Touch, a thing that with his history of abuse would be a fraught subject to begin with, and a thing that really only started with the team after he came back to Richmond.
me, stunted 12 year-old whose only representation of trans women had been ace ventura and jokes about shemale prostitutes, "well, i guess when i'm like, 40, and everyone i have any obligation to is dead, i can get a bunch of sex change surgeries and fuck gross men for money. but at least i'll kinda look like a girl."
real transfem representation really could've saved me a solid 15-20 years.
this feels particularly relevant with the global push to chase minors off social media. none of it is about protecting kids, it's about control. it's about cutting off vulnerable, marginalized, young people whose only opportunity to learn more about their own gender and sexuality--and find other people who are like them--is through social media platforms.
queer, particularly trans representation hasn't come all that far in 20 years. maybe there's less blatant transphobia, but there sure as hell isn't any widespread positive representation. we have multiple generations of trans women and men who were only able to explore their identities during adolescence in online spaces. and kids today are being stripped of that.
be wary of any legislation or changes in corporate policy that cites "protecting kids". it's never about protecting anyone, it's about control. there are a lot of parents that'd prefer to keep their kid in the closet 'til it kills them than watch them actually explore their identity.
functionally suicidal character saying “I would die for you” to their significant other and its like. I get the sentiment, honey, but if a hot dog vendor told me he’d sell hot dogs for me, I wouldn’t feel very moved now would I
bit of a rant post but i need people to stop writing ricky potts and an AAC ipad like it's a completely flawless stand in for conversation OH MY GOD
for context, i use a tts app on my phone when I experience speech loss episodes due to autism. even with much much fancier apps where it's all layed out as buttons on your screen it is still a bitch and a half to type out. it's not like speaking out loud where you can jump in quickly and simply get off whatever is on your chest.
using aac (for the sake of clarity in this post i'm only refering to the type of aac everyone knows which is an ipad/tablet with buttons of some kind to put together what you want to say, which is not the only type of aac in the world) takes ages. even with friends and family it's frustrating to communicate because a) people get annoyed waiting for you to type out what you want to say and b) people will talk over you and/or to verbal people accompanying you instead because they are easier to communicate with. even my parents do it sometimes. it happens with everyone because humans jump in on conversations when they have something to say and can forget about interrupting others, even their verbal peers.
also do you guys know what sentence structure actually looks like with aac? its usually not fully formed sentences with proper grammar. that's way too long to type without people moving on in the conversation. friend of mine who is fully non speaking uses a tablet like fandom ricky does and verbs are usually not conjugated, a handful of adjectives (i.e good, bad, middle,) are used, and guess what! a lot of people dont always understand the first time. its frustrating and exhausting and dissuades people from trying to talk to them.
No i don't care how magically perfect and faultless your post-accident choir is, can you really tell me that noel wouldn't speak over ricky because his aac device's volume wasn't high enough. can you tell me that misha wouldn't get confused trying to understand the sentence ricky stringed together because it relies on being able to pick up on very difficult english grammar context? does ocean really not seem like the person who would turn to ricky's parents and talk to them instead when trying to communicate with ricky got too difficult?
disability cannot be magically fanfiction cured by the perfect accommodation that accommodates so well you don't have to actually write about it. sorry disability is uncomfortable and too hard for you to write.
theartofmadeline
discoholicmusic
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
dailybridgerton
gracieabrams
