#Steddie rockstar au
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glitter & crimson
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
“Marry.”
“What?”
“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”
“Eddie, we’re not playing FMK; you’re supposed to be telling me his name.”
“Oh. That’s…. Joe Jonas.”
“…he’s literally from Hawkins. And he’s holding a hockey stick.”
“Nobody from Hawkins is that hot, man, no way.”
~~~
Gareth posts the clip to his personal TikTok. Before he can get around to reposting it on Corroded Coffin’s band account, it has more than 100k views. Things only spiral from there, because once the band shares it, the video goes more viral and ends up on the screens of the right people.
chiblkhwks: harrington94 is social media challenged, but we’re going to make sure he sees this. Will keep you posted.
The comment is immediately overshadowed by a busy day of PR. A photoshoot to an interview to a radio show to the green room at the Fillmore in Boston, before an intimate pre-album release show for members of their fan club. Eddie has completely forgotten about the video entirely, but Gareth’s phone pings with a text notification.
“A response has been issued!” He declares to the room, still grinning down at the screen of his phone.
The rest of the band shares a collectively confused look, all seeming pleased to find they’re not alone in whatever they’ve missed.
“What?” Jeff asks for the group.
In lieu of an explanation, Gareth just flips the phone in his hand around to show a TikTok, stitched with the clip they’d made earlier that morning.
~~~
“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”
#Stitch
“Is… is that supposed to be a compliment?” Steve asks, making a pinched face as he laces up his skates.
“You watched the whole video. He compared you to Joe Jonas.” The girl behind the camera responds, but he levels her with an unimpressed look. She doesn’t respond, and after a beat, he sighs.
“Yeah, alright, I guess Joe Jonas is hot. I’ll take the compliment.” He huffs, standing to his feet and moving from the bench he’d been suiting up on toward the ice. The girl follows him, gliding toward the net once they're in the rink, never falling out of pace with him.
“Do you know who it is talking in the video?” She presses, and Steve looks unimpressed again.
“You mean the other hot guy?” He asks with a grin, then nods. “That was Eddie. I’m surprised you don’t know him, the Party listens to Corroded Coffin all the time.”
The video loops back to the stitched clip from Gareth’s initial TikTok then. Everyone in the room processes what just unfolded.
“The Party? Did… did Steve Harrington just make a reference to DnD? Or is that some sports thing I dont understand?” Jeff asks.
Freak raises his hand, indicating he’s next to speak. “Not only that, but his nerdy DnD friends listen to us all the time?”
“Did King Steve call Joe Jonas hot?” Eddie asks, visibly still trying to connect the wires in his brain that fried at Steve’s agreement. “Did he call me hot?”
All three turn toward Eddie, whose face is still reflecting the long form math equation his brain is trying to work out, and Jeff sighs.
“Well, boys. I think we’ve officially lost him.” He says, bowing his head. Freak and Gareth join him solemnly, making Eddie huff and cross his arms over his chest.
“You’re all so dramatic.”
“Gee, I wonder who encouraged us to be this way,” Freak exaggerates through a grin, before shoving a guitar into Eddie’s chest, just in time for Paige to open the door and summon them.
“We can have a meltdown over Harrington after the gig,” Gareth promises with a pat to Eddie’s back as everyone moves around him, exiting the green room and heading for the stage.
~~~
Riding his post-show high, Eddie makes a bold move in the CC band TikTok, commenting under the video Steve had stitched.
corrodedcoff!n: we’ll be in chicago 1/26 if harrington94 and ‘the party’ are free 🎫
He only gets about 20 minutes of peace before Gareth is jumping around, proclaiming himself the greatest wingman in history.
“It’s an offer for free concert tickets made over social media, and he hasn’t even answered, Gare Bear.” Eddie tries to get him to relax, but he, too, is eager to see how the other reacts to the offer.
He wakes up the next morning to the answer he’d been waiting on, and his stomach flips as he reads it over.
harrington94: only if you guys come to the home game 1/27 🏒
__________
Steve doesn’t even bat an eye when Max shoves her way into the locker room, b-lining straight for him.
“Can I help you?” He asks without looking up, unhooking the padding from his calf and letting it drop to the ground in front of his locker.
“Are you using TikTok to publicly flirt with Eddie Munson?” She asks, voice quieter than he’d typically expect from her, but he just scoffs.
“I’m just being friendly! You’re the one who started this in the first place! What, you didn’t expect me to log on and check if they’d responded?” He asks in response, freeing his foot from the skate, before placing a cover over the blade and letting the boot drop into the lower shelf beside his locker.
“I’m just confused because you’ve been super weird about coming out, and now you’re out here hitting on a rockstar all over social media, that’s all.” Max says, and Steve freezes for a moment.
“Do you…” he trails off, before closing his eyes and rubbing a thumb into his temple. “You really think I just accidentally came out?”
“You called Joe Jonas and Eddie Munson hot, encouraged this rockstar to come to your game when he’s in town and also accepted tickets to see him perform, Steve.” Max was monotone, and held her hands up defensively when he groaned. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying that this could get blown out of proportion now.”
They discuss a little further, deciding neither of them will publicly acknowledge anything that’s been posted to the account for now, until they actually come up with a plan.
Once he’s in his car heading home, Steve calls Robin.
“Dingus,” she greets, as always, and he lets out a grumble. “Uh oh. What happened?”
“I think I accidentally came out on the internet, and it’s Eddie Munson’s fault.” He’s met with several seconds of silence as he starts his car on the path to him and Robin’s shared apartment.
“Eddie, the drug dealer from high school?” Robin eventually asks, confused, and Steve groans again.
“Yeah. He uh, also is in a band?” He supplies, and Robin’s quiet for a moment as she processes. Then, he hears the tapping of a keyboard. “What are you doing?”
“Looking Eddie up, obviously.” Steve can practically see her eye roll, even though they’re not FaceTiming. “You’re nothing if not consistent, I guess. Doe-eyed curly brunet.”
Steve scoffs. “You say as though you’re not the one currently waking up beside Nance every morning.”
He’s met again by a short silence, before Robin lets out a little puff of air, in a small laugh. “Thank you again for being so cool about that, by the way.” She says, before he hears clicking on her end. “Apparently, Eddie is out as bi. Corroded Coffin does a charity show for the Trevor Project every year, and he’s been to a lot of Pride events.”
Steve’s stomach twists with each new bit of information she provides, because a part of him wants to be that out, wants to be like Robin or apparently Eddie, freely sharing that part of themselves with the world and having no one give a shit. But that’s not how it works on so many levels for Steve. Beside the shit he’d have to deal with on the ice from certain other players, he had no idea how it would impact the team overall. There’s no way to gauge how fans would react, when there’s never been an openly gay player in the NHL. And that didn't even begin to touch on how his parents would react.
“Hey,” Robin breaks him out of his spiral and he realizes he’s been chewing a hole into his cheek. “I can hear how loud you’re thinking right now. Do you need me to come home?” She asks, gently, and he sighs.
“Please.” He mumbles after a long pause, and is grateful when he hears the jingle of car keys from the other end of the phone.
~~~
Robin scrolls through article after article once she gets to their place, pulling Steve onto the sofa with her and laying his head in her lap. Her fingers twist through his hair, doing her best to keep him calm as she reads up on the situation playing out to try and help gauge how big of a hole he’s dug himself this time.
“I don’t think there’s really anyone who thinks you were flirting with him. Not seriously, at least.” She tries to assure him, but he’d already seen the twitter posts to contradict that before she came over. He sighs and rolls onto his back, so he’s looking up at her, and shrugs.
“I kind of don’t think there’s any avoiding it, at this point.” He mumbles. “I’m not… I’m not ready to come out, not like this. Not on this scale. I think the only thing I can do is carry on and hope it doesn’t get turned into any bigger of a deal.”
Robin hums down at him, and continues to brush his hair back out of his eyes. “Okay. So you don’t come out yet. But don’t overcompensate for it, okay?” He scrunches his face up at her, and she types something into her phone before turning it back into his face. He immediately pales, met with a photo of him out with Heidi last year. With a black eye on full display, he looks miserable behind a fake smile.
“Low blow,” he grumbles, pushing himself away from Robin to sit up beside her, and she raises her eyebrow at him, still holding the photo pointed in his direction.
“‘Maybe they won’t notice or ask why my literal teammate punched me in the face at practice if I take a fucking supermodel out to dinner.’” Robin’s imitation is a little too good, a sure sign of too much time spent together.
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it!” He asks, taking the phone off of her and closing out of the image before locking it. He drops it back into her lap with a sigh. “I just don’t know how many times I can keep getting away with hiding it.”
“Well, it helps that Billy got traded out to LA. He would be insufferable about this, and would absolutely make everything 10 times worse.” Robin muses.
Steve sighs and hesitates for a moment before dropping his head back into her lap, curling into her. “I just want it to be on my terms, when I’m ready.”
“We’ll figure it out, and it’ll all be okay, no matter what. Okay?” She assures quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.
His phone dings with a new notification; Max texted him a screenshot from TikTok.
corrodedcoff!n: you’ve got yourself a deal 🤝🏻
#hockey player!steve#rockstar!eddie#Eddie Munson#Steve Harrington#Steddie#should I keep going?#lmk if anyone is interested in part 2#anti billy hargrove#hockey au#Steddie hockey au#Steddie rockstar au#starkidmunson writes#glitter & crimson
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if I were to write a rockstar au (which I’ve been sitting on/ brewing about for the better part of 8 months) what era would you guys want it written in? If you’re interested at all haha. 🧡
#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#steddie poll#polls#rockstar au#steddie rockstar au
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Steddie Rockstar AU but it's just the song If It Means A Lot to You by A Day to Remember.
#steddie rockstar au#rockstar eddie munson#eddie achieved his dream but what did it cost?#is he happy? no of course not#hurt/no comfort for sure#steddie#steddie idea#steddie hurt/no comfort#steddie prompt#steve harrington#eddie munson#Spotify
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First time trying to o something that moves, still got a lot of things to improve but I'm kind of satisfied with it
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson fanart#eddie munson#rockstar eddie munson#rockstar au#steddie brainrot#steddie rockstar au#stranger things fanart
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thinking about married teacher steve and rockstar eddie.
steve’s students like to poke fun at him for “not being cool” or “trying to be cool”, and steve just feeds into it and plays up his cluelessness to modern things and what’s “hip” nowadays. he always just tells them they have no idea, and they’re gonna eat their words one day when they see how cool he really is, but all the kids just laugh and think he’s being sarcastic.
one day a group in his class is talking about the popular rock music star eddie munson, about his music and how much they love him, and steve joins in, asking them about eddie and what kind of music he makes and so on. he says something like “oh yeah, i think i know munson. yeah he’s cool, makes good stuff” and the kids are like “as if you know eddie munson, mr h, there is no way”. steve just chuckles and says “if you say so”
meanwhile eddie EATS EACH STORY UP when steve comes home with a something new to tell him all about what his kids were saying to him today
honourable mention but eddie also is WEAK for steve’s teacher outfits, the button ups, the vests, when he wears a tie WITH his glasses consider eddie a dead man.
on the last day of class for the year steve has given his class almost a free period of sorts to just chat and muck about being that it’s so close to vacation and all, and ofc the topic of steve’s uncoolness comes up again, and he’s just all laughs and smiles not even trying to fight back while they poke harmless fun at him, just looking smug as shit knowing these kids are in for a treat.
the bell goes and they all start to pack up their things to leave, and steve calls out to get their attention, remember the homework, stay safe, have a good break and all that, but THEN who else walks through the classroom door but eddie. munson. heading straight towards steve telling him “hey babe, ready to go?”
“yep, just let me grab my stuff” steve says back, and the class is stunned silent. eddie walks over to steve’s desk and puts a hand on his back as steve is leaning over it putting books and pages into his bag, “you guys are all free to go” he looks up to the class, smug as ever.
as he and eddie head towards the door, steve stops and turns around back to his class one last time, whisper shouting over his shoulder “who’s cool now?”
eddie is laughing infront of him as they walk out together, listening to the classroom they’d just left erupt into chaos.
#eddie munson#steddie#steve harrington#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie#teacher!steve#teacher steve harrington#rockstar eddie munson#steddie au#steddie headcanon#steddie fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things season 4
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Introducing Steve Harrington as a part-time dog walker in an expensive area, his dad owns a bunch of properties there and Steve lives in one of the apartments. And since his office job is fairly boring, he put up fliers and now he has a side gig.
Introducing Eddie Munson as a how-the-fuck-did-I-get-rich rocker who happened to adopt a stray dog during one of his tours and is now a tad overwhelmed. His uncle Wayne helps him with James Barkfield, but Eddie still feels guilty about the pup being home alone.
Enter Steve who loves all dogs and shows genuine enthusiasm - James Barkfield is a certified street mix and everyone around keeps telling Eddie he should have a purebred or something, but Steve doesn't care. "Look, it might be dumb, but I kinda hate doing to dogs what we consider unethical for humans," he says to Eddie about the whole purebred thing and that's it.
And if Eddie's poor heart managed to withstand that one, he meets Steve during one of the walks as he sings "WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?!" ´to his canine companions.
Lots of awkward flirting later, visits under the pretense of James Barkfield missing Steve and more, they get together, adopt another dog (Rob Howlford) and utterly confuse the whole Corroded Coffin fanbase when Eddie decides to play "Who let the dogs out" as an encore for his lovely boyfriend.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddie#steddie drabble#steddie au#steddie fanfiction#rockstar eddie munson#dog walker steve harrington
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Steve arriving at a hotel for a work conference for his dad’s company. He hates it there, he’s miserable, he’s constantly trying to figure out what he actually wants to do with his life.
It’s late when he gets there and the hotel is fully booked because of a concert happening.
He gets his key card after waiting for 30 minutes to check in.
He opens the hotel room door to find it is already occupied by a guy with a whole lot of tattoos all over his very naked and still dripping from a shower body.
Obviously he panics a bit and wonders how the hell this could’ve happened and Eddie panics a little because of safety (turns out he’s the singer of the band performing the following night!)
They try to call the front desk but the line is busy and Steve already dreads having to go back and wait in the line downstairs.
Eddie offers to let him just stay and they’ll fix it in the morning.
“Plenty of room in a king for both of us.”
Which may be true, but Steve is an octopus when he shares a bed and he knows he will end up in Eddie’s space. Should he warn him? Probably. Does he? Absolutely not.
Steve rushes through a shower and hops into bed, making small talk with Eddie about his life in a band, ignores questions about what he does as much as he can because he doesn’t feel like explaining he’s just a puppet for his dad’s never ending business career.
He falls asleep listening to Eddie’s soft, deep tone.
And of course when he wakes up, he’s got his legs and arms wrapped around Eddie anywhere he can reach. His drool is drying on Eddie’s chest and he’s coming to terms with the fact that his dick was definitely pressed against Eddie’s thigh.
Eddie’s kind enough not to say anything about it, just squeezes Steve’s arm and continues petting his hair.
It’s nice, too nice.
Steve has to get up. He’s got things to do today and if he’s late, his dad will hear about it and berate him for hours.
Shit, even if he’s on time he’ll probably find some other reason to berate him for hours.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.
“Hm? Oh. Just don’t really wanna get up.”
“Then don’t. I don’t have anywhere to be until soundcheck after lunch.”
And now Steve has no choice but to explain his job and why he’s here, how his dad is relying on him to network and find potential mergers. How he hates putting on the Harrington face to please everyone.
It’s easy to admit it to Eddie, especially with Eddie’s arms wrapped around him, holding him like he could actually protect him from anything his father tries to say to hurt him.
“You don’t like your job.”
It’s not a question.
“Does anyone really like their job?”
“I do.”
“Well, you’re a rockstar. Of course you do. But I can’t be a rockstar.”
“Maybe not. But what is your rockstar?”
Steve had never been asked that, not even by guidance counselors in high school. They all knew he’d work for his father. He got a business degree for his father. He owned more suits than sweatpants for his father.
“I…don’t know.”
“Maybe you could try figuring it out.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“No, it’s not. But you could still try.”
So Steve sent a message to his dad’s partner, let him know he was fighting food poisoning from the in-flight meal and couldn’t make it to the conference today. He watched as Eddie threw on some clothes, mussed up his hair instead of brushed it, and quickly shoved his things into his bag.
“I should get out of your hair, try to get the room thing fixed.”
Eddie looked at him, looked at the alarm clock by the bed, down at Steve’s bag.
“How many days are you packed for?”
“Uh, four, technically. Trip was supposed to be three, but I always have an extra in case there’s flight delays or-“
“Come with me.”
“To…soundcheck?”
“On tour.”
Steve was an idiot, his father made sure he knew it as often as possible. But he couldn’t just go on tour with a stranger.
Could he?
What was he really doing here?
He hated his job, hated his dad, hated not having a clear path in front of him.
And this certainly wasn’t a clear path; He barely knew this guy, and hadn’t even heard his band. But it was a trail, the start of a path that could lead him somewhere he’d actually like to be.
Maybe he could take this chance.
Robin would tell him to do it, if she weren’t in Antarctica studying penguins for three months, only able to call once a week to check in.
What would she say if she called him and he was backstage at a heavy metal concert?
She’d probably say he’s lost his damn mind, but she’d be glad he did.
“Well, I am a rockstar. I could afford to have you around.”
“I’m not sure I could really afford to when my dad fires me,” Steve sighed, reality hitting him a little too quickly.
“I’m not really willing to be, like, your kept boy or anything,” Steve felt himself flush.
“I’m not really willing to have a kept boy,” Eddie smirked, joining him on the bed again, legs crossed in front of him. “But I’d definitely be happy to have someone who can help our tour manager out. You’d be working, though the jobs kind of boring.”
“More boring than sitting in an office five days a week and meeting with old white dudes who haven’t done anything but work their lives away for 40+ years?”
“Nah, way better than that. Sometimes you’ll have to deal with Gareth’s moods, but I promise to make it worth your while.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ll leave that up to you,” Eddie very obviously checked him, eyes trailing over Steve’s bare chest. “I’m open to negotiating.”
“And if I want a kiss?”
“Then a kiss you’ll have.”
“And if I want you to fuck me?”
“Then you’ll have to sign some paperwork,” Eddie laughed. “But that can be arranged too.”
So Steve left with Eddie, four days of clothes in his bag, no idea what he’d even tell his dad or anyone else, and no clue exactly what his new job would entail.
All he knew was Eddie seemed to be made just for him, chaos and hyperactivity included, and Steve wasn’t gonna give that up now. Even if it made no sense, even if it was ridiculous to gain a new job and new rockstar boyfriend in less than 24 hours, even if his next call with Robin was a combination of her yelling about his impulsive behaviors and congratulations for finally doing something for him.
Even if he was more of a VIP groupie for the band than an employee of the tour manager.
Steve finally found something he wanted.
If he sent his dad’s calls to voicemail, that was because he was too busy walking his new path.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#headcanon#drabble#modern au#rockstar eddie munson#meet cute#unrealistic timeline of falling in love#and I’m not sorry for it
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eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.
so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.
he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.
because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.
eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.
(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)
when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”
then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?
he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.
“you’re alive,” she says.
eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”
“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”
he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.
“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.
“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—
“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.
“maybe not.”
“don’t lie.”
“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”
“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”
“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”
“speaking from experience?”
“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”
“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“
“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”
“at the frozen four.”
“yeah, sure, that too.”
“what?”
“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”
“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”
“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.
eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”
“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”
“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.
the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”
“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”
steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“
“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“
“so,” says steve.
“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.
“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”
“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”
“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”
“coach! go time!”
“yeah?” he asks.
“yeah.”
“COACH!”
he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”
“pick me up in twenty?”
“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.
someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”
with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.
“damn,” he says quietly.
“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.
“how long have you been there?” he asks.
she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”
“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”
“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”
a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#rockstar au#hockey au#two great tastes that taste great together tbh#cross posted on twitter#might clean this up later + pop it on ao3
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it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.
the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.
it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."
then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."
then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."
that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.
"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."
but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.
'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.
if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.
if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.
"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.
for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-
the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."
eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.
"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.
three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.
it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.
he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.
"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"
there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.
"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"
eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.
"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."
eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.
he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.
"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."
"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.
"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."
eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?
but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.
and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.
eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.
"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.
it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.
there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."
"holy shit."
it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.
"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"
choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-
"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."
he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.
"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"
and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.
"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.
"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."
eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."
steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.
"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."
"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."
he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."
eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.
"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.
"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.
"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.
"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"
the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.
and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.
"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."
it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.
"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."
"...are you bribing me, harrington?"
"is it working?"
eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.
"of course it is."
the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.
"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"
it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.
he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.
"lucky indeed."
#wow this got SO much longer than intended why does this always happen why can i not just shut up#anyway i've been trying to figure out how to write this for a week so enjoy#steddie#steddie drabble#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#my writing#steddie headcanon#popstar steve harrington#rockstar eddie munson#modern au
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DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2
"I have to open it."
"Nope."
"Gareth. I need to open it."
"The vault is sacred," Archie says.
At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."
Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"
"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.
Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.
"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.
"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.
Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."
Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.
It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.
He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.
Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.
Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.
(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)
From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.
Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.
"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.
"Is that how we ask?"
"I could always yank the key off you."
Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.
Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.
Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.
And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.
But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.
Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.
Or maybe Steve was just that hot.
He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.
His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:
I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.
Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.
"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.
"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."
"What did he say?" Archie asks.
Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.
Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.
"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.
"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.
Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.
"What do I say?" he asks.
Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."
"I don't know how!"
"You ground against a guitar-"
"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"
Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"
"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.
Jeff barks out a laugh.
"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."
"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.
Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?
"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.
"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"
"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.
Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.
"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.
"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.
"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."
"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"
"He might be ace."
"Archie, shut the fuck up."
He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.
Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.
He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.
This is. So bad.
And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.
Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.
I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.
"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.
"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.
"He's single!" Gareth cheers.
"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.
"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.
They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.
But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.
He writes back, once he's calmed down:
Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.
#ria writes#dilf and concert#d&c au#steddie#steddie ficlet#st#st ficlet#stranger things#stranger things ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#corroded coffin#rockstar eddie munson#dilf steve harrington
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glitter & crimson
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
It’s both exciting and terrifying to be in Chicago when they arrive Thursday afternoon. This is, unfortunately, very often as close to hometown shows as the band gets to these days. They have the night off, before the show tomorrow, when the band will find out if Steve and his friends actually show up to the gig or not. Despite not having a show, the band doesn’t get the whole day off; Paige had booked a few radio interviews before the gig to drum up attention.
He should have seen it coming when the radio host brought up the TikTok exchange. “So, be honest, have you guys coordinated with Harrington and his friends to get him to your show tomorrow?”
“Not really. Our manager sent info and Steve gave it a thumbs up, but that’s really been it? But we’ve been busy with shows almost every night, and he’s had a lot of travel games the last few days, so we’ll have to wait and see if he’s able to make it out.” Jeff takes over the answer with ease, probably having predicted the attention.
“Did you really not recognize him, Eddie?” The host goads and Eddie lets himself chuckle.
“It may sound kind of ridiculous, but the genuine answer is yeah. I haven’t seen him in, like, 6 years. And, believe it or not, we didn’t exactly run in the same crowds. We knew of one another, I think, but there were hundreds of kids in our school.” Eddie always defaults to the truth in interviews; it’s the simplest route and leaves less room for people to poke holes in the narrative if he’s just honest.
“Will you guys be going to the Blackhawks game on Saturday?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, man,” Gareth laughs, and just as quickly as the segment started, it’s over with their own latest hit playing them out of the studio.
A Thursday night off in the city wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but the band collectively made a trip to the bar closest to their hotel for wings and a few drinks. One of the guys must have posted something on social media about being out because as Eddie’s walking into his hotel, he happens to check his TikTok to find a message waiting for him.
harrington94 should I take it personally that you guys went out in my town and didn’t ask for recs or anything?
eddiecc I honestly figured you’d be too busy and didn’t want to bother you.
harrington94 never too busy to show a friend around town. But I do appreciate having a down day, so thanks.
Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how to answer as he processed Steve’s message. Friends? Is that what they were? Could they even really consider one another that? He ultimately decided not to think too much of it, in favor of keeping the conversation going. Maybe the more they talked, the less awkward the next two nights would be.
eddiecc I totally get it if you want to skip the show in favor of another down day.
harrington94 no backing out on me now, Munson. I’ve finally got the cool card with the Party. We’ll be there, no doubt.
Eddie feels a little smile creep over his face and his ears feel a little warm, but before he can answer that, text bubbles pop up again. He waits to see what else Steve is going to say before he does something embarrassing.
harrington94 now feels like a safe time to confess that I haven’t really listened to much of your music, though, so don’t think I’m rude if I’m not headbanging along with the boys.
That was more like the interaction Eddie had expected from their TikTok exchange. He never expected Steve to know their music and was shocked he even knew their band name when his response had been posted on TikTok.
eddiecc I honestly cannot exactly say I’m surprised to hear this. You never exactly struck me as a headbanger, anyway.
harrington94 i feel like that’s some kind of thinly veiled insult that I’m missing, but you’re not wrong.
The text bubbles appear again, and Eddie waits for him to finish the thought rather than respond.
harrington94 why don’t you text me instead? It feels easier than paying attention to this app I don’t really know how to use.
Eddie was quick to copy the number Steve sent and shoot off a text, weirdly enjoying the exchange the two were having and not ready to call it a night just yet.
__________
A particularly ridiculous meme from Eddie had Steve snorting from his spot lounging across the sofa. The next thing he knew, a pillow was flying at his face. He was able to react quickly enough to block it with his arm, dropping the phone to his chest, before glaring at Robin. She was watching him from the recliner across the living room.
“What the fuck?” He asks, tossing the pillow back in her general direction, more gently than she’d tossed it his way.
“You’re grinning at your phone like you’re setting up a hot date. Please don’t tell me you’re talking to Heidi again.” Robin pleads dramatically, twisting her body in the chair to face him.
“I’m not grinning at my phone, shut up.” He grumbles, ignoring how hot his neck feels as he blushes. Instead, he picks his phone back up to finish the thought he’d been typing before he’d been interrupted. “I’m just texting with Eddie, that’s all.”
Robin’s eyes widened immediately, and she sprung from the recliner toward the sofa. “Give me your phone!” She demands, grunting as she fell face first into the sofa, missing Steve by an inch. He manuveres away from her without looking up from his phone, making his way down the hall to his room. “Steve, come on!”
“It’s not a big deal! We’re just talking! It’s fine!” He insists, tucking the phone into his back pocket as he turns into his bedroom.
But maybe it was a big deal? Steve couldn’t tell; this was the part he was never really good at. He had a tendency to miss signs everyone else thought were obvious, and he didn’t want to risk making things weird with Eddie if Robin thought he was missing something that wasn’t actually there. The texts with Eddie had shifted from Steve confessing his knowledge of Corroded Coffin was strictly limited to whatever the Party played in the car when he drove them places, to Eddie confessing he knew next to nothing about hockey. It seemed to level the playing field between the two of them, and at least made Steve feel more at ease about the time they’d be spending together between the concert and the game.
When Steve had asked how the tour was going so far, Eddie had shared a link to an instagram, where fans were finding something to meme from each night of the shows. To which Jeff and Gareth were making memes in response, picking on one another in a way that felt like with some of his teammates. The message that had prompted the most reaction from Steve was the last thing Eddie had sent before Robin threw the pillow; a meme of Eddie looking confused, which Jeff had edited “So he’s not Joe Jonas?” over his head.
In his room, Steve leans over to pick up his charger, but he feels his phone lift free from his pocket. “Hey!” He calls after Robin, who’s sprinting down the hallway, laughing like the menace she is.
“I just want to see what you’re talking about!” Robin says, unlocking his phone. He’s just about to catch up to her, as she slides on her socks into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, right in his face.
“You’re being a child, Robs, c’mon. Give me my phone back.” He sighs, resting his forehead against the door. He jiggles the handle, but as he’d guessed, she’d locked it behind her.
“Do you like him?” She asks through the door, and he sighs again.
“I don’t know,” He answers, honestly and exhaustedly. “I don’t even know him, you know? We weren’t friends, it’s not like I could tell you anything about him other than Tommy used to buy weed from him and he would stand on tables and yell in the cafeteria.”
There’s a long silence before Robin opens the door, meeting Steve with a little smile. She shoves the phone back into his chest and pats his hand when he takes it from her. “I think this could be good for you. That this could be good for you.”
“I’m trying not to read too hard into it.” Steve mumbles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously. He glances back down at the screen, to see what while Robin had taken the phone, Eddie had sent another text.
Eddie: How were your games? Are you doing anything special for your day off?
It makes something twist in his chest, that Eddie even cares, and he doesn’t quite know why. It must show on his face, some part of how he’s feeling, because Robin just smiles and nods. Maybe she knows how he feels, part of their weird unspoken telepathy, because she walks further into her room and pats the edge of her bed as she goes.
“Are you going to let me paint your nails for the concert?” She asks. Everything inside of Steve appreciates how she always knows when to give him space to try and figure his shit out on his own.
“Obviously.” He laughs softly, following her into the bedroom to sit on her bed and watch her move around collecting things to paint his nails.
~~~
The following day, Steve spends more time than he would like to admit picking out an outfit to wear to the concert. He can hear the Party starting to get antsy in the living room, even though they’d still be plenty early if they left right now, so he decides to just roll with the white shirt and fitted khakis he’d dressed himself in several hours ago before he started overthinking his choices. He finished the outfit off with a black zip-up fleece and black and white Nikes.
A final check of his hair had him walking out of his room and into the living room, where chaos erupted.
“It’s about time!” Dustin exclaims, practically bouncing up and down with excitement on the sofa.
“It took you that long to come out looking like that?” Mike asks, but Max just snorts and shoves his shoulder.
“Let’s just go.” Steve rolls his eyes, glancing over at Robin who jingles car keys she’s already holding, before leading the way out of the apartment.
In the car, he shoots Eddie a quick text to let him know they’re on the way. Eddie’s quick to reply, giving the message a thumbs-up reaction. Unbelievably, the Party somehow manages to get even louder than usual once they were inside, and it doesn’t take long for a security guard to find them. They’re led through the back tunnels of Wintrust Arena, and Steve gets a little nostalgic for playing hockey in college. He’s snapped out of it when a girl passes out their pass lanyards and gives each of the Party a voucher for free drinks and snacks.
“This is too much, really,” Steve protests as she hands him the voucher, but Paige insists with a kind smile.
“We get this kind of stuff from every venue and rarely get to use it to its full extent. The guys want to do this for you and your friends, just enjoy it.”
The Party loads up on treats at the nearest food station, while Steve and Robin grab beers with Paige. As she collects her drink, Paige hands Steve a palm-sized bag of earplugs. He frowns at them, which makes her laugh.
“Eddie said this isn't really your usual kind of scene, and these shows can get loud,” she taps her own ears to show she has similar earplugs in. “Should also help prevent headaches or anything else that might keep you off the ice tomorrow.”
“Please, he’s too stubborn to stay off the ice. The amount of migraines he’s played through is outrageous,” Dustin bounds back into the conversation, earning a chuckle from Robin. Steve throws his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, pulling him just a little too close and too tight. Dustin exaggerates choking noises, flailing around and making a scene, but Steve refuses to let up.
_____
There’s more anxiety than usual thrumming through Eddie as he and Jeff make their way through the arena, to where Paige had said she’d take Steve and his friends for snacks. As they walk up on the group, however, Steve quickly pulls a younger boy with a head full of curls into a headlock. He lets the scene continue for a moment before he nudges Jeff.
“At what point fo you think we should intervene?” He asks with a smile, making Jeff chuckle. Steve, however, freezes, then shoves Dustin away. He turns to give Eddie a sheepish smile, and Eddie can’t help but raise an eyebrow.
Steve lets out a huff of a laugh, running his fingers through his hair, shrugging and tipping his head in the boy’s direction. “This is Dustin. He’s like my little brother. I’m allowed to pick on him when he’s being a shithead.” Dustin nudges his elbow into Steve’s gut, who’s quick to smack his arm in response. Before Eddie can stop himself, he’s twisting a curl around his finger and biting back a grin. He does, however, make a conscious effort to not chew on his hair. He knows he’d never hear the end of it, fawning over Steve Harrington after a whole 10 seconds.
Eddie offers a hand out to Dustin, hoping Jeff and Paige would let his little tells fly under the radar. Just this once, they seem to, as he greets the Party. “Hey man, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”
“I know who you are, holy shit, man.” Dustin eventually fumbles through, shaking Eddie’s hand and grinning up at him.
Steve rattles off the introductions for each kid, like a proud mom, and Eddie greets each of them politely, but his eyes keep falling back on Steve. He catches his little smiles and the way he nudges different members of the Party, squeezes their shoulders, ruffles their hair. It’s gentle and sweet and it sends a warm feeling through Eddie’s chest. His smile softens as he watches their interactions. All too soon, Freak leans into the area they’ve gathered in and whistles.
“Shit, guys, we gotta go.” Jeff sighs, and Eddie pats his shoulder before he turns back to the group with a grin.
“Just hang with Paige and try not to get into too much trouble, we’ll get drinks after?” Eddie asks, looking at Steve, who smiles back and gives a little nod.
As Eddie runs to catch up with Jeff and Freak, he wonders exactly what he’s gotten himself into here.
____
It’s more fun than Steve expects, the concert. The excitement of watching the show from the suite quickly bores the Party, as they realize it’s the same as watching hockey games from a guest box. They eat their snacks and drink some through the openers, but during the break before Corroded Coffin, Lucas and Dustin drag Steve around to the side stage. Robin promises to stay with the others, and reminds Steve to wear the earplugs.
He’s grateful Paige had slipped them to him as they get beside the stage and he realizes just how loud the crowd is when the lights go down. From where they’re standing sidestage, he can see Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Freak in a little huddle. They bounce around with their arms around each others backs, before yelling something Steve can’t quite make out. They’re handed their instruments by the crew. As they’re taking the stage, Eddie walks up in their direction and pokes his tongue out at them, before ripping into a guitar riff to make his entrance.
Despite himself, Steve finds his head bobbing along to the drum beat, and even sings along to the songs he recognizes. It’s hard to take his eyes off Eddie through the whole production. He’s a little ball of energy, bounding around from one end of the stage to the other, bantering with the other guys in the band and drawing the fans into his chaos during talking breaks. During a drum solo, Eddie climbs onto the front of the kit and holds his guitar up in the air over his head. Steve watches, mesmerized, as Eddie holds his gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds. Eddie winks at Steve, then, before he leaps back into yet another riff. It shouldn’t have had so much of an impact, but Steve finds it kind of takes his breath away.
It’s over before long, and Paige is quick to guide Steve and the boys back to the club box. He smiles as they walk behind Dustin and Lucas, gushing over how great the show was. Back in the box, Steve and Paige agree to meet across the street at Fatpour. He charms his way into using the upstairs as a private room with a signature to the manager and flashes a smile and wave to the few people downstairs who seem to have recognized him.
The band makes a loud entrance as the Party works their way through appetizers, and Eddie is quick to find his way to Steve. “You seemed to have enjoyed yourself, was it more fun than you expected?” He asks around a grin.
“I never said I wasn’t going to have a good time,” Steve defended through a smile, making Eddie laugh and Steve thinks that might be the best sound he’d heard all night, despite having just seen the concert. Eddie glances around then, locking eyes with a bartender to get their attention.
“What’s your poison?” Eddie asks in the most cliche way, wiggling his eyebrows a little, but Steve shakes his head.
“Strictly on water tonight. Gotta get up early tomorrow.” He says, and Eddie softens and nods. Once their drinks are in front of them, he holds his glass up to Steve in a mock toast.
“To making it the fuck out of Hawkins?”
“Cheers to that.” Steve laughs, clanking their glasses together and taking a sip.
“Any reason you stayed in the Midwest?” Eddie asks, before he can stop himself. “Sorry, you don’t have to… you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Nah, it’s… a few reasons. Couldn’t go too far without them, and most of ‘em followed me here, anyway. And then the chips fell and I ended up on the Blackhawks and there’s kind of no other team I’d rather play for.” Steve explains, leaning a little closer to Eddie with a smile. “Speaking of; are you ready for the game?”
Eddie can’t help but grin back at Steve and laugh a little. “You know, I honestly have no idea what I’m getting in to here. All I remember from watching games on TV is that it’s violent.”
“Not always.” Steve defends quickly, before showing a slight mercy. “It’s cold in there, because of the ice. You’ll want to wear layers.”
“Layers. Noted.” Eddie stores the information away for tomorrow, suddenly concerned he hadn’t even thought about an outfit for the game before the conversation.
As they talk, Robin appears with a basket of cheese curds but pulls it away as Eddie reaches to take one.
“What’s your favorite movie?” She asks, and Steve laughs and shakes his head at her.
“Is this a quiz? I’m not good at tests, I flunked out of senior year.” Eddie whines before he stops to think about it. “Uh, well. The answer you’d probably expect from me is Almost Famous, but it’s actually a close second to Dead Poets Society.”
She narrows her eyes at him but slides the basket in his direction. “I can’t tell if you picked either of those because you thought it was the answer I wanted, or because they’re actually your favorite, so I have to give you curds.”
“They’re actually my favorites!” Eddie laughs around a mouthful of cheese curds.
“Dead Poets is one of Robin’s favorites, too.” Steve offers, and Robin nods.
“Steve will tell you his favorite movie is Risky Business, because he thinks Tom Cruise is hot, but it’s actually Go Figure. You know, the Disney movie about the ice skater who joins her school’s hockey—” Robin is grinning until Steve clasps a hand over her mouth.
“Robin is incredibly annoying when she wants to be,” He grumbles, and Eddie can’t help but laugh at their antics.
“Well, now you’ve got my attention. If Go Figure isn’t your favorite movie, what is?” Eddie asks.
Steve thinks for a moment. “I think Back to the Future feels like a safe answer.” He shrugs, and Eddie glances at Robin to gauge her reaction. She seems to approve, as she gives Steve a soft smile, pats his back, then stands from their table.
“I’ll leave you two alone, I suppose.” She says, leaning close to both of them. “Behave, got it? No funny business before the game.”
Steve flushes and flounders a little, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he just huffs and takes a sip from his water. While Eddie feels his whole face get hot in a blush, he can’t help but laugh a little.
“Is there funny business we could have gotten up to?” He dares to ask, and it’s worth it just to watch the way Steve blushes and bites at his lip.
“Maybe. But I guess you’ve got to wait until after tomorrow’s game to find out.”
________________________________________________________
Wow! Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support you’ve shown this little idea I had! I might just keep this going as a series, with updates on Mondays (Tuesdays at the latest). This is also double the word count of part 1, oops, lol.
I'm going to try to tag everyone in the replies because I hit the character limit! Tumblr wouldn't take them all, so sorry to everyone I missed, I still love you and appreciate the support!
#steddie#steddie hockey au#steddie rockstar au#rockstar!eddie munson#hockey player!steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington#robin buckley#dustin henderson#corroded coffin#stranger things#starkidmunson writes#glitter & crimson
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Temporary support drummer!Steve :D pls full view!
close ups under cut! ↓
#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fanart#steddie#steddie fanart#such a self-indulgent piece 😊#sry gareth#i'm sure he's fine and needed elsewhere#im so thirsty for rockstar steddie#rockstar au#should i get prints of this??#would sb want prints?#😐🤔#its my first upload since june :0#ayayayaaaa im so nervous xD#kei's stranger things art
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pov: you find your old magazine collection under your bed
©xgumiho | do not repost/steal/edit/crop/sell
#everyone's favourite 90s troublemaker rockstar eddie munson#famous eddie munson#rockstar eddie munson#corroded coffin#hellfire#hellfire club#fanart#stranger things#stranger things fanart#steddie#stranger things art#steddie fanart#eddie munson fanart#eddie fanart#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things au#stranger things 4#stranger things headcanons
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Eddie Munson gets famous at fifteen, after a YouTube video goes viral.
He's the kind of famous where he can't leave his house without being mobbed; where his name is plastered across grocery store tabloids and every fifth Pop Crave post; who has to make special arrangements with stores, whose body guards have body guards, who's forgotten what it's like to be normal. He's the kind of famous with well-chronicled stints in and out of rehab
And he thinks, at thirty, why not do a reality show? Why not let everyone in the world into his life because they're there anyway?
There's this guy on the crew, beautiful as a fucking sunrise. He's all golden-tanned and chestnut-haired, with these big hazel eyes that makes Eddie stomach swoop deliciously whenever they happen to meet his.
His name is Steve.
And Eddie, well. He's learned his lesson about jumping into relationships. So, Steve is nice to look at, and that's all there is to it.
---
They're at the studio, and Eddie, he only smokes when he's recording but he's "not allowed" to do that inside. So, he steps out into the alley behind the building, eyes falling shut as he hands search his pockets for his pack of Camels and his Zippo.
"I didn't realize you smoked," a deep voice says from the darkness.
Eddie startles, eyes flying open. Steve is leaning against the brick of the building, cigarette perched between his pursed lips.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Steve. With the crew."
"Eddie," he answers by instinct.
"I know," Steve chuckles. His hazel eyes are golden in the yellow streetlight.
"Oh, right." He lights his cigarette and inhales deep.
"I really like what you're doing in there." Steve nods his head towards the studio.
"You a fan?"
"Never listened to you much before. Not really a metal kinda guy, but I like it."
People aren't usually honest with Eddie. It's refreshing.
"Glad you're getting into it! How's your--uh, job going?"
Steve laughs. "First assistant camera, that's my job." Eddie's expression must read a total blank, but Steve only smiles. "I make sure everything's in focus while we film"
"Is that--hard?"
"Sometimes," Steve agrees. "How do you like being the star of a reality show?"
Eddie huffs out a breath. "It's more fun than I expected. Like, sure it's weird to have you guys follow me around, but at least I invited you, you know?"
Steve's dark eyes are fathomless in his perfect face. "You'll let me know? If anything happens that you don't like?"
Eddie nods, taken aback by the serious line of Steve's pretty mouth. Before he can respond more, the back door creaks open, Gareth's backlit shape leaning into the alley. "Eddie? They're ready for you."
"Duty calls." He smiles at Steve as he stomps out his cigarette. "See you around."
---
Eddie goes to a house party in the hills. It's just a handful of people, all of them he's known for years, no cameras in sight.
Someone asks how things are going with the band. Eddie doesn't think anything of it. Why should he, among friends? Why should he when they already know the resentment that Gareth, Jeff, and Freak have for him? Eddie got signed and not his band. The guys--they never really forgave him, think he could have tried harder.
So, he says--he says--"I wish they didn't resent me so goddamn much still. To this day! They're millionaires and they're pissed at me? Fuck that. I got them here. I got us all here."
They're filming the next day at Eddie's house. He's working on a new song, engrossed in his acoustic and his notebook.
He's so in the zone, it takes him a second to register when Gareth bursts into the house.
"Fuck you, Munson," Gareth screams. "What the fuck is this shit?" Eddie's own voice pours from Gareth's phone, and Eddie's stunned speechless for dozens of seconds as he tries to comprehend what's happening.
"I didn't--" he tires. He raises his hands placatingly, but his minds a whirlwind, thoughts a tangle, heart a mess of betrayal and hurt and fear.
"We should be fucking grateful?" Gareth yells. "You spoiled piece of shit, fuck you!" He lunges towards Eddie, but Steve darts from behind the camera, moving to block Gareth's path.
"Stop filming," Eddie shouts. He lifts his arms to block the shit. "Get out," he snaps at the crew. " Now!"
He and Gareth scuffle towards a set of double-doors, heated words low and unintelligible.
"Don't come in." He tells the crew. "Steve, I mean it. Tell them to stop."
Eddie shoves Gareth into the other room, slamming the door behind him. Still, the mics pick up the screaming fight between the two men.
Hours later, Eddie finally makes his way back to the main part of the house, finds Steve standing at the kitchen island.
"Why are you still here?" He's too exhausted from the fight to put any inflection into it.
"I was wo--I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Steve says. He relaxes against the island. "Are yo--is everything okay?"
Eddie's laugh is humorless. "Something like that."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
The tears he kept at bay with Gareth prick at his eyelids until they burn. "Not really, no."
Steve nods. "We could--you wanna watch a movie?"
This startles a laugh out of Eddie, one that has tears flooding his eyes and he has to blink fast, look down, anything so Steve doesn't notice.
"You know what I want?" he says. It's soft enough that maybe Steve, across the kitchen, wouldn't hear.
"What?"
"To have friends who won't sell me out for a couple thousand bucks." The tears start falling, his throat choked with emotion.
He wants to stop, embarrassed to be crying in front of Steve, but now that he's started, sobs shake his shoulders and he can't keep quiet.
Steve reaches for him. "Is this okay?" he whispers, hands rubbing circles against his back.
Eddie nods, cries for a while as Steve makes soothing motions against his back.
"I just wish I was normal," he mumbles when he has words again.
Steve's hold on him tightens. "I'm sorry, Eddie."
Shame hits him then, too hard to ignore, and he steps away. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go. I--Thanks again."
He ignores the sound of Steve calling him back.
---
Eddie's playing a show. He's playing a show in a small club, something he hasn't been able to do for years, but he's doing it right now. It's electric, vibrating through his body, the crowd screaming along with every word.
So much of this is because of Steve, and Eddie can't think about it, because men like Steve aren't for guys like Eddie.
As he plays, his eyes scan the small crowd, find Steve easily. He's gazing at Eddie, lips slicked pink and parted, eyes shining. Eddie knows this look; the naked desire obvious. A heat he never lets himself feel for Steve blooms low in his abdomen, but--
He wails into his mic, forcing his thoughts away from that path. He has a show to play, one that's pumping his veins full of satisfied adrenaline. Nothing can ruin it.
When the show ends, Eddie is high, endorphins and adrenaline pounding through his bloodstream.
Eddie, the band, and the film crew make their way out the club's backdoor. There's a car idling close by, but they only get a few steps in before there's shouting; the ear-shattering click of dozens of camera shutters; overwhelming burst of flashes.
Eddie is disoriented, dizzy; the rapid shift from the best night he's had in years, to this, mobbed by paparazzi, people screaming his name, crowding their small group. He stumbles, black spots still obstructing his vision.
Arms catch around him, holding him steady. "You okay?" Steve asks.
Before he can answer, one of the paps yells, "Munson's wasted! Can't even walk!"
"C'mon, Ed, I've got you," Steve says.
"Just get into the booze, Munson, or someone had Molly too? Maybe a little coke? That used to be your thing, right? Snort a little blow and do a show?"
Eddie tenses, almost stops, but Steve keeps him going.
The crowd surges around them, more voices yelling, more flashbulbs popping, the guy saying, "He can't even stand without help! You got a real problem you know?"and he just--can't anymore. He whirls out of Steve's grasp, lunges for the guy.
"What's your fucking problem, man?" Eddie hisses. "What did I do to you, huh?"
"Real tough, Munson, huh?" The man sneers. He shoves Eddie hard, knocking him back a few steps.
Eddie's vision fuzzes out, brain buzzing. He snarls, knows he does, knows he's losing it, can't make it stop.
Strong arms wrap around his waist, pull him off his feet. He fights it until he's pressed into a wall, until cold hands cup his face.
"Baby, baby, you have to calm down," Steve murmurs. "You have to breathe, can you do that for me?"
"I want--he can't--I--"
Steve presses harder against him, bodies joined. "You're having a panic attack, yeah? Can you breathe with me, baby? Match me?"
Eddie nods, tries, wants to be good for Steve.
He calms, as much from the breathing exercise as being held by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Pressing his face against Steve's neck he says, "why are you always around for my worst moments? I'm such a fucking mess."
"I don't think you're a mess," he says. "I think you've gotten hurt, you've gotten cornered. And your reactions are normal."
"Why do you even care?" Eddie asks.
Steve doesn't even pause. "Cause I like you, Eddie." His hold tightens for a second. "I like you a lot."
Eddie scoffs. "Yeah, you like Eddie Munson, the hot rockstar. Not the loser who cries in your arms"
Cold air hits Eddie as Steve steps away to meet Eddie's eyes. You want to know something? I didn't expect to like you at all. I admit, I bought into all the stories on the internet. But you were never anything like that, Ed. Not even once."
Steve takes a deep breath, turning away as his cheeks grow pink. "And you--you're always going out of your way for people. The day I knew I was gone for you? Three weeks into filming. There was this kid interning. You didn't know a thing about him, just some twenty-year-old, and you sat down and talked to him. Were genuinely interested in everything he said."
"Steve," Eddie's voice breaks. He has to cover his mouth, lips a wobbling mess.
"I want to give you normal, Eddie, as much as I can. If you'll let me."
The moisture tumbles free from his eyes, streaking down his cheeks. Eddie laughs. "God, Steve, you're--I like you, too."
Steve brushes the tears away. "So, you'd go on a date with me?"
"I think I would really like to go on a date with you, yeah."
Steve leans in, slow and gentle, placing a soft kiss at the corner of Eddie's mouth. It lights him up like a fresh struck match, nerve endings on fire. He thinks it's so much more than like already.
"Take me home, sweetheart," he says.
"Getting fresh with me, Munson," Steve smirks. "I won't have you using your rockstar wiles to seduce me."
Eddie's laugh echoes off the brick of the surrounding buildings. "Oh, sweetheart, my rockstar ways will destroy you."
"That a promise?"
---
Six months later, the first and only season of Welcome to Hell premieres. Instead, of chronicling a rockstar's debauched and wild lifestyle, it's a soft and charming love story. It shows Steve and Eddie growing closer, Steve working late into the night, to give Eddie the hint of normalcy he's so desperate for, to make him happy. It shows Eddie's eyes track Steve across a room, something like sadness crossing his face. It shows a concert that Steve arranged, the fight with the pap outside the venue, brief glimpses of Steve and Eddie in the aftermath, the gentle kiss.
In the last interview of the season, the producer asks Eddie if there will be a season two of Welcome to Hell.
Eddie smiles, glances off camera, which pans to find Steve in worn jeans and a Metallica hoodie, hair messy and wearing glasses. He gazes at Eddie, smiles this soft, aching thing.
"Nah, I don't think I need it anymore," Eddie answers. Throwing the camera a smile that matches Steve's.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#reality show au#famous eddie munson#regular guy steve harrington#mutual pining#fluff#workplace romance#angst#getting together#angst with a happy ending#rockstar eddie munson#former teen star eddie munson#eddie has a reality show#crew member steve harrington#eddie is the kind of famous where he can't go outside without being mobbed#this is sort of based on todd and kandi from rhoa#it's also sweet nothing but not on purpose#all steve wants to give eddie is sweet nothing#it's a long one sorry about it
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You Are Mine part 1
When Eddie decided to come out he thought it’d be funny to do so with a music video, so he wrote a song and presented it to the band. The boys loved it and the song was declared the first one of their next album, the third one.
And then it was time to shoot the video.
They hire their personal friend and favorite director, Argyle. Just Argyle, like Cher.
Between him and Argyle they come up with a cool script. The band is going to act in it, they just need two extras, so they hold auditions for a couple in their twenties.
On the day of the auditions, Argyle tells them the interviews are mostly for show, the band can pick whoever they feel the most comfortable with, and the boys tell Eddie he should pick since it’s his song.
The five of them sit at a long table like it’s fucking American Idol or something and just stare at the couples waiting in line through a one-side glass mirror whispering among themselves and watching amused as the couples start getting progressively nervous.
There’s a couple that immediately grabs Eddie's attention when he does a pass-over, a pretty tall dirty blonde and a brunette with big soft-looking hair.
The guy is absolutely gorgeous, with big kind eyes, a straight cute nose, a square jaw, big shoulders, a small waist, and tan skin that seems to be covered in beauty marks.
He just strikes Eddie as someone that would make Michelangelo cry with his inability to capture his perfection.
‘Oh, that’s good. I should write that.’ He thinks.
He and the girl are talking in hush tones and Eddie watches as she fixes his hair while he jabbers nervously and then, evidently says something that makes her angry because she pokes him in the ribs. The guy giggles cutely and loudly enough to carry over to their room and then blushes furiously when heads turn toward them, hiding behind his friend. The woman in question snorts and chuckles as he chastises her.
Eddie stands up, crouches behind Argyle’s chair, and tells him, “I want that one.”
“What?” he answers, so Eddie points at the couple, “I want him.”
Argyle looks at them considering and clicks his tongue and Eddie insists, “Please Argy, please, I love him, I want him, I want that one, pleaseee”
“Eddie, we need to at least consider the rest of them. This is my job we are talking about here. Please, take it seriously” Argyle says in a calm voice and Eddie deflates,
“Dude...I’m sorry I-”
“Nah man, I’m kidding!” Argyle cuts him off, “Couple number four! Please step forward!” he yells into a mike.
The blonde and the brunette look at each other and walk in nervously as Eddie goes back to his seat at the end of the table and Argyle does a small flourishing move with his hand inviting them to introduce themselves.
“Hi! My name is Robin, and this is Steve, pleased to meet you!” The girl says smiling kindly at them. She nudges Steve on the side and he does a little finger wave at them.
Eddie has to bite his lip not to smile too much because they are really fucking cute.
Argyle returns the wave enthusiastically, because nothing ever faces him, and looks at the list he has in his hands, “Any experience acting Robin and Steve?”
Robin says yes, something about drama club in high school and Steve just shrugs which amused Eddie to no end, and frankly makes him really curious, for all intent and purposes, Steve doesn’t seem to be interested in the job.
“How did you find out about this job?” Jeff asks them, and Gareth nods like he was just about to ask the same thing.
“A friend of ours told us about it?” Robin answers “He’s a photographer but I don't want to drop names, especially in case we embarrass ourselves,” she says jokingly and looks relieved when she gets a couple of chuckles from Argyle and the band.
“And you were interested because…?” Frank inquires.
Robin starts saying some carefully prepared speech about learning experiences but is interrupted by Steve saying, “We needed the money”
“Oh my god! Shut up!” Robin suddenly turns to him completely red in the face.
“What? You told me to be myself!” Steve tells her frowning.
“This is exactly why I always talk in interviews”
“What does that mean?”
“You suck at this Steve! Just as much as you suck at-”
Gareth clears his throat loudly making them stop and look at him sheepishly, “So tell us, do you know the band? Are you fans?”
Eddie takes a moment to look at his bandmates and to his relief they all look as amused as he feels, especially Argyle. The couple of newbies is clearly a mess but in an endearing kind of way.
“Well…” Robin starts but doesn’t seem to know what to say.
“Never heard of it,” Steve says looking apologetic.
“Wait, Really?” Robin asks him, once more ignoring the director and the band, “They are like, Mike’s favorite band, man! You never heard of Corroded Coffin?”
“Oh well,” Steve shrugs, “I mostly tune out when Mike is talking so…”
Robin snorts and is about to reply but Argyle raises his hand and they both look at him, flinching a little when they realize they had started talking among themselves again.
“Ok.” Argyle tells them clapping once, “Unfortunately for me, I love your energy my dudes, but I’m going to get serious for a second here: I need you two to be professional ok? We have a budget and a schedule and only three days to shoot and I can’t hire you and find out in the middle of the shoot that you are not okay with making out with someone-”
Robin visibly takes a step back and Steve snorts, “Yeah no, I’m not making out with my sister.”
Eddie, who was wondering what kind of relationship they had, does a little happy dance in his head at that.
“No, I meant one of the members of the band” Argyle answers amused.
Robin takes another step back and actually looks a little disgusted and Eddie tries not to find it offensive, “Me?” she asks unsure.
“No,” Frank answers and points at Steve, “Him.”
Surprisingly, they both relax at that, “Oh!” They exclaim in unison and it’s kind of creepy but again, in an endearing kind of way.
And then Steve looks at them one by one, he’s unmistakably and unashamedly checking them all out and Eddie swears his eyes linger on him the most before he smirks and says, “I’m okay with that”
Eddie immediately pushes the contract laying on the table toward Frank, who pushes it to Gareth, who pushes it to Jeff, who pushes it to Argyle and gives him a pen.
Argyle laughs loudly and shakes the sheet of paper, “Well shit, I guess you are hired.”
“We are?!”
He stands up and shakes their hands, hands them the contract and another paper, “This is the script, not that it has any dialogue but just in case you have any questions.”
They push their heads together and read the script at the same time.
The story is about the band being on tour. Robin and Steve would play as their roadies and the video is supposed to show them in concert, traveling, working, and hanging out. The whole video hints that Eddie is sneaking out with one of them and it ends with the band plus Robin opening a curtain on the tour bus to find Eddie and Steve making out.
The song is called You Are Mine.
When they are done reading, Steve smiles and says “Cute”
And Robin asks, “So which one of you is Eddie?”
Eddie lifts his hand lazily and winks at them.
And Steve, still holding the script, lifts it enough to cover his face but Eddie can still see the tip of his ears as they turn bright red.
‘Oh, he’s gonna eat him alive.’
to be continued
part 1: is this
part 2: ♫
part 3: ♫
part 4: ♫
☕ cafecito?
#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#i wrote something#corroded coffin#omg another rockstar eddie au? mimimimi
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rockstar Eddie being questioned for dating nepo baby Steve like "didn't you say eat the rich?". Eddie replying with a shit eating grin, "why yes, I'm eating him every single night."
#steddie#steddie famous au#rockstar eddie#nepo baby steve#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie headcanon
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