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stevieschrodinger · 2 days
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Are you going to post anything more on your omega eddie-knitting fic?
I'm pretty happy with how it was left in Part Six for now, felt like a soft close. Never say never, but it's not calling to me right now.
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stevieschrodinger · 3 days
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Link to Part One
Link to Part Two
TW mentions of human trafficking, rescue, injury, trauma
Steve locks Eddie in the car which, yeah, okay, it makes Eddie jump a little reflexively at the quiet click of the lock. And it might just be habit, or whatever, because it’s a really nice car.
Or maybe he’s even doing it for Eddie’s safety.
It still feels like he’s been locked in, though, and Eddie finds he’s...really not a fan of how this feels.
Either way, when Steve comes back less than ten minutes later and opens Eddie’s side of the car, Eddie’s still not sure how to feel about it. Suspicion is hard to shake.
Steve kneels right there on the floor of the lot, “swing around,” Eddie does, watching as Steve pulls antiseptic wipes out of the bottom of the bag, opening a packet and lifting Eddie’s foot. Eddie hisses when the wipe makes contact, it’s cold and, even though surely most of the wounds have scabbed by now, it still stings quite a bit, “sorry.” Steve looks up at Eddie earnestly, big eyes and floppy hair and, well, the moles are cute.
And having an Alpha kneel on the floor for him, that’s kind of nice too. Maybe Steve really is that good looking.
He wraps Eddie’s feet in a bandage, some tube bandage over the top, Eddie still slurping on his peanut butter chocolate shake. He’s going to have the absolute worst shit later, he knows it, too much rich food all at once, after a really long time of non at all, but honestly, so worth it.
“When we get home, I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms, and maybe we can order you some clothes?” Steve pulls the bandage comfortably tight around Eddie’s foot, a nice gauze pad wrapped around the sole for cushioning.
“Errr, I mean, I, before, I was usually a good will kind of shopper, you know? Maybe Target on a good day?”
Steve just blinks at him for a second, before that clearly sinks in, “don’t...don’t think about the money, if that’s what you mean, we can get you some clothes, really, I don’t mind.”
And Eddie’s sure as fuck not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steve’s already broke the bank on Eddie, what’s a little more, right?”
Eddie whistles, he can’t help it. Objectively, obviously, he knew Steve was loaded. There’s a difference between knowing that and…seeing it. This is like a fucking mansion. Well, it’s not like a mansion, obviously. It is a mansion.
Automatic electric gates, a drive that’s got to be a half mile long...and lawns. Trees. Land stretching off into the distance.
The house is fucking nice. It’s kind of sprawling...just the garage looks fucking massive on it’s own.
Steve sort of hovers around Eddie as he limps over the threshold, and, yeap, just as nice inside as it is outside. Very sleek and modern, big open spaces, lots of glass. Dark wood and bookcases filled with leather books and big paintings that look impressive but aren’t...well. Eddie’s not a fan, really. Eddie spies a building out the back, also lots of glass...Eddie’s money is on indoor pool.
“Something smells good,” Eddie says, as he limps further into the house, “smells kind of homey.” Which is true, something here smells vaguely relaxing. Kind of...comforting. Safe.
Eddie looks around as he gets further in, and the place is so big it is kind of a walk, it’s...really nice, but also kind of soulless. It doesn’t look lived in at all. And, Eddie frowns, something occurring to him for the very first time. Steve’s a good looking Alpha, and he’s fucking loaded, “will your, erm,” Eddie flounders, “partner, mind me being here?”
Steve laughs, seeing Eddie through to the lounge to sit on the couch, “don’t think I would have been able to play my part today if I were in any kind of serious relationship. Hagan would have known if I was seeing anyone, the press loves that shit.”
And yeah, all of that makes total sense, and Eddie feels kind of stupid for not putting that together. But it...doesn’t really make sense, considering Steve is, still, clearly, very hot and very loaded.
“Okay,” Steve plops a laptop into Eddie’s lap, open to a clothing website. “just open tabs on some stuff you’d like, and then give it back to me when you’re done. You’re going to need some clothes while Hopper tracks down your uncle, okay? I’m going to go and set up a room.”
Eddie’s just sort of rolling with it at this point, so he nods and smiles and then blinks down at a Tom Ford Slim-Fit Button-Down Collar Checked Cotton shirt...that’s nearly seven hundred dollars.
And Eddie would never, in a million fucking years, be caught dead in it. Honestly, he thinks he actually prefers the white nightdress.
Eddie looks at the drop down menu, clicks on ‘cashmere’ for shits and giggles, and then laughs to himself when the very first listing is a black turtle-neck...for over a thousand odd dollars. Fucking rich people are batshit.
Eddie manages to find a drop down that lets him filter out everything over two hundred and fifty dollars, and then he searches by lowest price first. He starts opening tabs, mostly inoffensive lounge wear – a large portion of which is very, very unfortunately beige.
Eddie hears Steve coming before he sees him, “just do it please Carol,” and he sounds...exasperated by whoever Carol is. Steve comes back and takes the laptop. He very very briefly frowns at Eddie over the top of the screen, but it’s over so fast Eddie’s not entirely sure he saw it, “you think you’ll want something more to eat later?”
Eddie did eat his weight in McDonalds a couple of hours ago...but he hasn’t been really full for years, “uhm, yeah, in a bit, maybe?”
“Sure, I’ll see what we have.”
And then Eddie just...sits there. He can’t actually remember the last time he just...sat on a couch. The only place the Omega at the ranch are allowed to sit is either the floor, when they’ve been told to, the table, but only when eating...and probably their beds in the dorm.
Sitting here feels kind of naughty, actually, sitting here, relaxing, comfortable and warm. Eddie touches the lush, velvety feel of the couch, it’s really nice, really soft-“chicken and pasta?” Eddie nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. Like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Logically, he knows that isn’t the case, but his feet are tingling regardless.
Steve can actually cook, who knew? Well, it might only be a simple dish, browned off chicken chunks in something creamy and mushroomy, sitting on some pasta, but it’s absolutely delicious.
“We should probably get someone to look at your feet tomorrow.”
Eddie shrugs, nearly vibrating with excitement at the sight of garlic bread and trying his best to hide it, “always been fine before.”
“Still, I wouldn’t want them getting infected. Do you want me to tell Hopper anything about your uncle? I presume he will be busy for a little bit but…?”
Eddie swallows but...nods, Steve getting his phone and Hoppers card, “he’s called Wayne Munson, he’s my dads brother. He lives in a trailer park in, uhm, Hawkins. Indiana.”
Steve taps at his phone, “that’s not actually that far, we could...probably drive that, maybe in a day, once you feel up to it. I’ll see what Hopper says, see if he gets back to us tomorrow, I figure we've both had a long day.”
And that sounds...well. Eddie's running out of reasons to be suspicious, to question this, to question Steve. He has a little kernel of hope, real, genuine hope, growing inside him now...that this is true. That he's going to be free. That he's going to see Wayne.
Eddie nods, keeps eating, is thrilled when Steve offers him a beer, nodding happily. Steve withdraws it at the last second, “wait, just how old are you?”
“Errr…twenty one?”
Steve laughs, “try again,” but he does hand over the beer.
“Eighteen. I was there for a couple of years, maybe a bit longer, they got me walking home from school. Pretty sure my parents wouldn’t have, you know, noticed, probably best I don’t go back there, anyway. Quite a few Omega came through in the time that I was, you know, there...”
Steve’s staring off into space though, looking somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder, clearly not listening.“-oh.”
“Errr...Steve, you okay?” Steve looks like his brain has just stalled. Like completely shut down, “Steve, man, you’re freaking me out a bit here.”
Steve frowns, finally showing some life, his fork still literally hanging in air, half way to his mouth, “Tommy Hagan is probably being arrested.”
“I, err...I mean, yeah? I fucking hope he is?”
As Eddie watches, a bit of chicken falls off Steve’s fork and splats onto his plate, “right now, other than me, you, and the FBI...no one knows that. That Tommy’s being arrested, arrested for something fucking terrible.”
“Riiight…”
“He’s being arrested for something he can’t come back from. It’ll got public. His names about to be mud. His stocks are going to tank. Every part of everything Tommy owns is about to go up in flames.” Steve’s fork clangs onto the plate, “I’m so sorry, I have to go to work.”
“I...what?”
Steve’s already picking up his phone, his keys, sliding on his jacket, “help yourself to anything you need, I’ll be back...at some point.” Steve’s already calling someone, “I need you in the office, right now. I want Wheeler, from legal, make sure finance is there, actually, make sure Henderson has availability tomorrow,” Steve comes back from the front door, sliding a business card in front of Eddie, “no, right now, I’m on my way, twenty minutes.”
Eddie looks at the card; it’s Steve’s, has his email, office number and mobile on it, presumably so Eddie can get hold of him. Eddie’s pretty sure he just witnessed the first steps of a hostile take over, or something.
And now he’s in this massive house, all alone.
@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer
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stevieschrodinger · 3 days
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TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.
Link to Part One
Link to Part Three
“Again? Seriously?”
Eddie knows he should keep his mouth shut. He knows he should. He just...doesn’t seem to be able to.
It probably doesn’t help that Eddie is one hundred percent done with this. This isn’t a life. A gilded cage is still just a cage, and Eddie’s getting to the point where antagonizing the guards is a hobby.
“Wear it, or I’ll make you wear it,” the lackey snarls, shoving the flimsy white fabric against Eddie’s chest.
“You fucking wear it!”
And that’s it. The guys an Alpha, he’s like, literally twice the size of Eddie, and it all happens so fast Eddie’s winded by the floor before he knows what hit him. And then it comes, the whistling noise of the cane singing through the air. Eddie is intimately familiar with the noise.
And just like usual, Eddie can’t keep his noises in, he curses, he calls the guard every name under the sun, he screams and starts to cry but in the end is reduced to a compliant heap, the same as every other time.
They strip him naked and splash freezing water on his face, gets rid of the snot and tears and no doubt the flush he has on his cheeks. His feet are burning, throbbing, and Eddie wants to collapse back to the floor to take the pressure off.
He’s shoved into the white dress, “you so much as blink wrong out there and you won’t be standing for a fortnight.”
Eddie dips his head; he knows it’s true. They’ve done it before. So he gives in. They’re breaking him more and more easily. Eddie doesn’t want to give up; he just doesn’t feel like he has the energy any more.
He’s been here the longest, he’s the only one that’s never sold. It’s only a matter of time before his body ends up in a shallow grave out on the ranch somewhere.
He limps into the dining room, freshly sprayed with heavy duty scent blockers. Eddie’s vaguely aware they’re eating lunch, and if his feet weren’t fucking stinging the way they are, he has no doubt his stomach would growl at the smells.
Eddie doesn’t make it that far before he catches Hagan waving a hand at him, “get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug.” Eddie does his best to oblige, but he can only move so fast with the injuries on his feet.
Hagan, out of everyone here, is not someone you want to piss off. Eddie learned that too, very early on.
"Him," someone says behind Eddie, "I want him."
Eddie turns back again, despite the fact that it can’t possibly be him the Alpha is referring too, there are other male omega here, after all. But no. The Alpha is standing now, and he’s looking right at Eddie.
Well, fuck.
Because as much as Eddie has dreamed of this day, of getting the fuck out of here...that Alpha could be worse. The possibility is always there. This could be a frying pan into fire type situation, and there’s fuck all Eddie can do about that.
Hagan makes a noise, scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."
The Alpha is irritatingly good looking at first glance, and he becomes even more so in Eddie’s eyes when he flashes a look of irritated disgust at Hagan, "no, he'll do."
Oh, Eddie ‘will do’ will he? Okay, maybe the Alpha isn’t that good looking, after all.
"Oh," Hagan laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Eddie is ice cold with fear. Hagan called this guy Steve; clearly they know each other. Is that the type of Alpha this Steve guy is?
Everyone else is shooed out of the room, and Eddie stands there on his throbbing feet, hearing, to the dollar, how much he’s worth.
More than he thought, if he’s being honest.
Alpha Steve doesn’t even flinch at the price.
Eddie’s certain Steve must be doing fifteen over the limit, which, honestly, he doesn’t care. It means Eddie’s traveling fifteen over the limit away from a place he never wants to see ever again, so it works for him.
"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"
"Eddie," he answers, but only because he genuinely doesn't want to antagonize this guy right out of the gate.
"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"
Eddie just sort of sits there for a moment, feeling stupid. FBI. Rescue??? Maybe he hit his head or he's dreaming or something but...no, his feet are stinging like a bitch and he can very clearly remember how the whole day has gone so far. He’s awake, and this is real.
"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."
The Alpha’s...rambling. Which, Eddie kind of figures now that this guy wasn’t joking when he said he doesn’t work for the FBI. He looks nervous, actually, white knuckling the steering wheel. In Eddie’s experience, if something seems to good to be true, then it almost definitely is. This guy is giving off no scent, and there's no scent in the car anyway. Either it's a rental or something, or this guy wears blockers most of the time. There's even one of those fancy scent diffuser things plugged into the dash. So other than being visibly unsettled Eddie’s got nothing to go off of.
But then, why would he lie? He’s bought Eddie fair and square, and like most Alphas, he’s probably carrying double Eddie’s body weight, plus he knows Eddie's already injured. Eddie could be going from one prison to a...worse prison. But...again, this guy has no reason to lie, right?
"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know,” it’s pretty true, without giving too much away. The possibility that this guy could be serious is...it feels to big of an idea to absorb. Eddie might be free? He'll maybe see uncle Wayne again? This guy is going to just...let Eddie go? Eddie's known, for literal years, that he had two ways out of the ranch, out front, bought and paid for, or out back, in a body bag. The sudden possibility of a third option is so out of left field Eddie doesn't know what to do with it.
"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"
Eddie has absolutely no fucking clue what a ‘Hopper’ is, but at the sight of the beautiful golden arches, his priorities shift drastically, "oh fuck me yes," Eddie says it with such vehemence that Steve laughs, he’s got a nice laugh, this Alpha. And unless he’s playing the long con...why the fuck would he even worry if Eddie’s hungry? "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."
Steve’s expression changes in an instant, he looks genuinely horrified by what Eddie’s just revealed, “you can have absolutely anything you want.”
Eddie takes him at his word and orders half the damn menu.
Well, Eddie figures, the FBI thing is true, and this is a Hopper, and man he looks like he’s had enough, "you were not supposed to buy a human being," he very clearly tells Steve. Eddie’s feet are stinging a little on the asphalt, but as long as he doesn’t move too much, it’s bearable. And even though he’s still wearing the fucking nightdress, like hell was he missing this conversation.
"I know but-" Steve starts to protest, which Eddie thinks is kind of brave, because if Steve is twice Eddie’s weight, Hopper is basically a giant. Hopper stops him dead with a glare, and Steve hands over his phone and strips off his suit jacket and hands that over too, leaving him in a pristine white shirt.
Hopper waves him off, "you did good."
Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back and then turning his attention to Eddie, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"
"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."
Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out." And that sparks a twinge of...fear. Eddie has lived with a group of Omega for years, and the ranch was a lot of things but...they had meals provided, they didn't have to think about money, or clothes, or anything mundane like that. The prospect of suddenly being completely alone...completely alone and potentially vulnerable, is not in any way appealing.
"He can stay with me." Steve suggests out of fucking no where, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off, looking kind of sheepish that he even suggested it. At some point, somewhere between the rescue, the McDonalds, and right this moment, Eddie kind of decides, tentatively, at least, that Alpha Steve might just be an alright guy.
Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, playing down his relief, "not like I've had any better offers lately."
Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card to Steve, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."
And then Hopper just...drives away. Steve fiddles with the card Hopper just gave him, and Eddie can see it says FBI and all that good stuff on it. This is feeling more and more real as time stretches on.
"So is there anything you...want? Need?" Steve asks him.
Eddie feels kind of bad about the sheer amount of money he’s already cost Steve today, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."
And that...makes Steve laugh, like really, makes him laugh. And Eddie joins in, not that he thinks he’s funny particularly, but because Steve is just so...well. Maybe it’s a relief too, that Eddie is finally out of that place, and the truth of that is finally sinking in. He’s free. Feels a little delirious with the possibility of freedom.
And there’s only one way to celebrate something like that, “can we get milkshakes?”
@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @cryptid-system @weekend-dreamer7
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stevieschrodinger · 3 days
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Cotton and Denim
another little bit of snake familiar Eddie and witch Steve.
Read it on A03
“We can’t get boxers from here, we’ll have to go to a store with new things,” Steve informs Eddie, when he finally steps out in his original clothes; holding his armful of approved items. “Boxerss?” He’s frowning, “the hidden pantss beneath?” Steve snorts laugh, remembering the conversation they’d had the last time Steve had done laundry. Eddie had been a snake then, sitting in Steve’s shirt pocket, his head poking out to watch. Steve loves drying his laundry on the line outside; bringing it in smelling of the forest breeze and warm sunshine. “Yeah, my small secret pants,” he tells Eddie, since that’s what Eddie had called them. Steve has no idea if underwear was even a thing the last time Eddie had been summoned, or if it was a thing, if it looked anything like this. He has vague notions of huge baggy knee length pantaloons, but, honestly, the history of underwear isn’t anything Steve’s ever looked into. “I don’t need sssecret pantssss do I?”
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stevieschrodinger · 3 days
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Everyone is stoned. Just. So stoned. Eddie brought over the good stuff. The TV's been stuck on static for like, forty minutes, but no one can be bothered to move.
"You shut up Steven, you've practically dated everyone in the room."
"Robs. Robs. We never. Not even prac-ti-cly."
"Yeap, yeap, you asked me-"
Steve huffs, "we were drugged and in a bathroom, and doesn't count. Said no."
"But I nearly said yes. So you've nearly dated everyone," Robin tells him confidently.
Steve's vaguely aware of either Nancy or Eddie making a noise at that revelation, but he's not looking at where they're lying on the floor, so he doesn't know which of them it was.
And for a split second, Steve's back there. Drugged, confused, sitting in a bathroom and absolutely certain that he's in love with Robin, "you never told me that."
She shrugs, she shrugs like it's nothing, like she hasn't just turned Steve upside down a little bit, "I only figured it for a second, but I thought, if there was someone I could...fake it with. It would be you."
And there's just so many things she's not saying there. That don't need to be said. About the world and why she would consider that. Too many things for Steve to process. And Steve's crying, he doesn't even know why really, just big feelings that he can't define. A life they nearly had that would have been a lie, but still a forever with Robin. He's got a lapful of Rob now, and he holds her so tight, so so tight. And he knows Eddie is there, rubbing his back, and Nancy is doing the same for Robin.
And he kind of thinks that things do just work out.
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stevieschrodinger · 3 days
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Because of the law changing Eddie/Steve and Robin/Nancy get married on the same day.
The news breaks that it's official, and all four of them look at each other and they just know. They hardly even speak as they're all pilling into Steve's car, heading to find out what they need, what paperwork there is, when the next available appointments are at the courthouse.
Because of this, it's an ongoing thing that if it ever comes up in conversation, just a casual, 'oh, how long have you been married?' Eddie will always, always, look at Nancy and say, "when did we get married?"
And every single time, without fail, Nancy will explain, "oh, I'm not married to him we just got married on the same day."
To which Eddie will always get so so offended, " why are you so quick to point that out, huh? What would be so bad about being married to me? Steven! Defend my honor!"
And they fight about it every time, and Robin and Steve love it.
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stevieschrodinger · 4 days
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Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.
His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.
She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.
Until he quits.
She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.
She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.
He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.
She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.
He’s a natural.
He takes to it like a duck to water.
She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.
He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.
And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.
He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.
But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.
He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.
Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.
He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.
He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.
He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.
Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”
He gets in.
He goes.
He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.
His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.
In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.
She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.
In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.
Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.
“Sorry, man. Running late.”
Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.
“Harrington? You’re a student here?”
He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.
“Munson? When did you get here?”
“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”
“Violin. You?”
“Guitar and songwriting.”
“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”
Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.
“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”
“What’s it trying to tell us?”
“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”
“Now?”
“Why not? Got better plans?”
Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.
“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”
Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.
“I could make dinner. If you want?”
“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”
Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.
“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”
“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”
Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.
But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.
“Sure.”
They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.
Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.
By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.
By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.
Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.
And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.
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stevieschrodinger · 8 days
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Steve posting to Facebook : guess who just changed a tire 💪
Eddie posting on Twitter : Great gig tonight!!shit that I had a flat on the van, but so lucky my Stevie was there to hold a flashlight for me 🔦😍
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stevieschrodinger · 8 days
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Nancy, drunk, 100% done with men : My place would stay so fucking clean if I just dated a woman *gestures wildly* and another thing! *hic* unwashed dick tastes absolutely vile
Robin, drunk and in love : *is seeing her chance*
Eddie, also drunk : I feel that
Steve, absolutely lost : wait...what?
And that's how everyone found out that Eddie's gay
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stevieschrodinger · 10 days
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TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.
Link to part Two
Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.
There's a man in his office.
"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."
"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.
"And my nine thirty?"
"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."
"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."
"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.
"You're going to make me ask aren't you??
Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"
"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."
"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."
And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.
Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.
Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.
Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.
"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."
"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.
The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."
Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.
"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."
Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.
"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."
Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.
Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"
And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.
"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."
"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."
"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."
Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.
"That's all you need?"
Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."
It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.
"How do you know I'm not already involved?"
Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."
Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"
"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."
Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.
That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.
Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.
Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.
But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.
Because that's not creepy.
Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.
Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.
They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.
Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.
They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.
He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.
Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."
Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.
Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.
"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."
The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.
At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.
Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."
Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."
"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.
It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.
Nothing.
And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.
"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"
"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.
"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"
Eddie's just blinking at him.
"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."
"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."
"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"
Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."
That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.
Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."
"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.
Hopper waves him off, "you did good."
Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"
"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."
Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."
"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.
Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."
Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."
And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.
"So is there anything you...want? Need?"
Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."
Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.
At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.
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stevieschrodinger · 14 days
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So this is one of those things I'll write one day when I have time. Maybe once I'm retired.
So what if Steve's parents aren't actually his parents? What if they're scientists from the lab who got a kid foisted on them?
What if the kids always start to show their abilities but like, three or four years old? And the moment they do, they get their number tattoo?
What if Steve was their first 'failure'?
What if they couldn't let him go completely...just in case.
What if Steve's parents aren't even a couple? What if they're from the labs and they're playing a role they've been pushed into?
What if the reason they lose more and more interest is because, the older Steve gets, the less and less likely it becomes that he's ever going to present powers?
But what if they were wrong? What if Steve can be in the right place at the right time? What if he instinctively knows who needs him most? What if he can feel where to swing the bat?
What if Steve's powers are nebulous and undefined enough to fly under the radar..
I don't know, still percolating on this one. Obviously I'd make it Steddie somehow.
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stevieschrodinger · 14 days
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Eddie could vaguely one day just mention he fucking hates those nightmare pink floral tiles they're stuck with in their bathroom. He could vaguely say it in passing because he knows they have fuck all cash for vanity restoration when there's actual fucking work that needs doing, like, important shit.
Steve is absolutely the kind of guy who would be like, I can fix this. Eddie goes to work as normal, comes home to find Steve in their now sea green bathroom, laying cheap stick on laminate tiles that look like parquet flooring.
Eddie says what the fuck Steve.
Steve says I didn't even know tile paint was a thing and look at my exacto knife!
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stevieschrodinger · 18 days
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Steve Harrington : Accidental Dominant
Chapter 11 read it here!
Steve and Eddie finally talk about it!
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stevieschrodinger · 24 days
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if parks and rec was still being made they’d do a bit where ron swanson has to wear a pronouns name tag and it’d just be “???/???” And it’d cut to a talking head of him going
“I’ve been a fool all this time. It’s bad enough the government knows my name, but now they want to know my gender? So I’m not letting them know my preferred pronouns. As far as I’m concerned, no one in this building should refer to me at all.”
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stevieschrodinger · 27 days
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Steve: think I'll get rid of this *picking up a picture of him and Eddie that he's just never liked
Eddie: No, don't, Joyce gave us that
Steve: yeah and I've never liked it, you're pulling a dumb face and I've got my eyes closed. She's never going to know, that's why I shoved it up in the bedroom in the first place
Eddie : Well I like it.
Steve: *heart melting* you do? 🥹
Eddie : *oblivious* yeah, it exactly blocks the light from the Alexa
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stevieschrodinger · 28 days
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Steve: so the thing is, I think I just have a bit of a penchant for brown eyes and curly brown hair-
Robin: Steve you can't keep referring to your fetishes as a bit of a penchant
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stevieschrodinger · 1 month
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So one day, I'll write this, but today is not that day.
Steve point blank would not go and work for his dad, he still took the money he was offered though. Argyle pitches a pizza place; Steve thinks, fuck it, and invests.
Jon does deliveries, Robin does the accounts, Nancy swings in once and a while and makes sure they're insured and up to code. Steve does whatever Argyle tells him on busy nights.
It does so good in little old Hawkins. It does so good they expand. Steve buys a run down diner. Steve knows how to cook, and Argyle has taught him how to cook large scale. Steve falls in love with the line cook gig.
The expansion is crazy, within five years Nancy becomes site manager for their 12 restaurants; they have diners, pizza joints, and one fancy Italian place that Steve has been inside of (Maybe) five times total. Robin is the company accountant, Jon still does deliveries, but now it's more logistics and stock management; if a location is stuck for something Jon is the guy they call.
It's all successful enough that Steve just...stops being involved. Nancy is pretty much running the show, he can just...be paid his CEO salary, and take the midweek nightshifts that no one wants. He loves that Diner; it was the first one they opened and it has a special place in his heart.
He loves the quiet of the night shifts, just him and his grill plate and the slow but steady orders for the lonely people who can't sleep, just like Steve.
And then there's this new hire. This..kid, who granted is stupid pretty, but he's all long sharp limbs and clumsy pointy joints and he smashes like, three things on just the first night and Steve is gritting his teeth because his quiet serenity has been disturbed ...because this kid will not shut up.
He has no idea Steve actually owns the company, but that doesn't stop him apologising every thirty seconds for one thing or another. If he's not apologising he's talking about his nerd games, or music, or asking Steve what he's into, not loosing any steam at all of Steve doesn't even answer. Eventually, Steve growls at him to shut it for a bit. And the kid just kind of. Droops.
And Steve feels pretty shitty, and that same night a rowdy bunch of kids come in and even from behind the pass, Steve can see that Eddie Does Not Want To Serve Them.
But he does. It's his job.
And Steve can hear these kids calling Eddie ta freak or whatever. And Steve is not having that; he throws the kids out by the scruff of their necks and tells them to never come back again.
And Eddie's just looking at Steve with his big pretty brown eyes like Steve's an actual Hero. And yeah. Steve has a.problem.
They definitely fuck about it in a supply cupboard or a bathroom or something at some point. Maybe in the pantry and Robin pulls a face about kitchen hygiene. Or something.
Maybe I'll make it A/B/O and put Eddie in a cute little uniform, just to really stress Steve out.
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