#steve harrington actor au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astermath · 8 months

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the premiere.

pairing: actor!steve harrington x actress!reader

summary: you're a recent addition to hollywood's up and coming promising actors. you'd recently scored the lead role in an emotional period drama, and you're more than surprised to see that top shelf douchebag and america's starboy, steve harrington, has shown up to your premiere. you’re soon confronted with his flirtatious attitude, and you feel the incessant need to put him in his place. it’s a first for both of you.

♡ landing page. ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: some cursing, mentions of sex, steve is a cocky asshole and will continue to be one, regular font below!

notes: man I do love me some actor!steve because let's be honest, joe keery easily transfers his star power over to all his characters. it's not exactly hard to believe that steve would be a respected actor. let me know what you think and / or if you’d like to be added to the tag list! ♡

They always say life moves fast in Hollywood. Back in your audition days, you wouldn’t believe it. You could practically feel the hours eating away at you as you waited for calls to be returned and scripts to be sent.

Even when you started filming your first big movie, working with such a well respected director and incredible cast, you felt like you were dragging along most of the time. Sure, it was an amazing experience, but the set hours are long, and the time spent overthinking is even longer.

Thinking about if this would be it, if this is what would put you on the map as a talented actress.

You only realised how fast time really moves in Hollywood when you’re discussing the premiere with your manager. Your first big reveal. You’re in the spotlight, everyone will be there to see you. And not just reviewers and fellow cast members, no, people you’ve looked up to before, people you’ve only ever seen on the big screen.

“Are you listening?” Your manager’s voice pulls you right out of your hazy cloud of thoughts. She’s sat across from you, glasses pushed down onto the bridge of her nose, cappuccino in one hand, the other on her laptop.

“Yeah, I’m— I’m here. I’m, uh…” You lean back, clasping your hands together. “You’ve got my attention, sorry Miranda.”

She sighs, readjusting her glasses and bringing her attention back to her screen.

Miranda has been your saviour since day one. She’s got plenty of experience, once having been an actress herself, and now works on managing mostly young women like yourself. She’s a bit tough, stern, but she’s amazing at what she does. Besides, she usually knows what’s best for you before you even know it. She’s got that motherly intuition about her, despite being unmarried without kids.

Your eyes drift over the interior of her apartment. It’s modern, sleek, like her. There’s not much personality shining through it, unless you look hard enough. Then you’d notice she likes orchids, since she has multiple of them potted and well taken care of. Or the numerous photos of the same town in Italy.

She keeps herself busy with scrolling through the list of attendees to the premiere. A bunch of yes’es, a few maybe’s, and the occasional “sorry, however, congratulations on the movie”.

She stills her movements when she gets to the bottom of the list, scrolling up again to see if she’s looking at the right column and then scrolling back down to see if she saw the name right.

“Hm,” she purses her lips, “that’s… Peculiar.”

“What is?” you perk up. Peculiar. That could mean a lot of things. Peculiar as in “your movie is scrapped, actually” or peculiar as in “you’re already nominated for an Oscar”?

“This name. I’ve never seen it on the attendee list before. At least not for my clients.”

“Miranda, you’re killing me with this suspense, please.” You lean forward, your elbows resting onto your knees.

"Steve Harrington." She pauses, and you don't know if she's doing it to be dramatic, or because she's waiting for some kind of elaborate gasp or shocked response.

Instead, you raise an eyebrow, head quirking slightly to the side. "Who?"

You can tell in your manager's eyes that she didn't expect that. Not in her facial expression, of course, she doesn't want wrinkles.

"Christ, sweetie, you're kidding right?" She lets out a dry chuckle, setting down her now empty coffee cup on the end table next to her. sofa. "We've really got to touch up on your media knowledge if you don't know who that is."

"No clue, sorry. What, is he some big deal or something?" You snatch a cookie off the coffee table and start nibbling on it mindlessly.

"Only one of the most popular up and coming actors in the industry." She starts click clacking away on her laptop, pulling up a picture of him and turning the screen around so you can see.

You raise your eyebrows. Damn, not bad. He looks to be around your age, a little older, and you can tell from just that one picture that he knows he's all that. The confidence is practically oozing out of that million dollar smile of his, expensive sunglasses tucked away in his somehow perfectly styled hair.

"So what, he's going to be there. Not like there aren't any other big celebs showing up, I'm sure I can handle myself."

"It's not that I don't think you can behave, starlight, although we'll have to go over some of the red carpet etiquette again later." She takes off her glasses and runs a hand through her short but chic hair.

"Then what is it?"

"He doesn't really... Show up to premieres, usually. Well, none that aren't for his own movies, at least."

Oh, so he is that kind of guy.

You wrap up with Miranda not long after, heading to one last fitting of your premiere gown before returning to your apartment. That's when you start to do your own research on this Harrington fella.

You sit onto your bed, leaned back against a few pillows propped up against your headboard. You open Google and start by what seems the simplest; typing in Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington age?

Steve Harrington height?

Steve Harrington movies?

The third one seems obvious, but you click it anyways. He doesn’t have a bad track record. A few nominations, one Golden Globe, he’s not slacking for sure.

Most of his stuff paints him as the type of guy you’d expect; undercover agent, the bad boy, the mob boss’ son… Makes you wonder even more why he’s showing up to the premiere of your movie. It has virtually nothing to do with the types of movies he stars in. You’re wondering why he even got an invitation to begin with, Miranda doesn’t seem like the type of woman to be sending those out to every C lister in America.

You type in his name again, curious to know more about his reputation.

Steve Harrington parents?

Steve Harrington dating history?

Though it is cliché, it does intrigue you. You’re not exactly surprised when a handful of names pop up, even one you recognise. Nancy Wheeler. You know that girl, she used to do interviews when you were still starting out. Apparently she went more into the crime journalist route, wrote a book… Pretty interesting stuff.

Almost as interesting as the breakup you’re reading so much about.

“Harrington broken in half? Did Nancy Wheeler finally have enough of his ego, or was she just looking for the next thing to report?”

“Geez, talk about a harsh headline…” You mutter to yourself. Besides her, there’s no mentions of other women he’s been confirmed to date. There’s been pictures, rumours, but you’re guessing he… Gets around.

Steve Harrington controversies?

You feel bad for clicking on it, but then again, you’re already in too deep now.

Something about nepotism, but that’s soon debunked when you realise his parents don’t do anything in the movie industry. Then there’s the Nancy thing, and something about him being difficult to work with. You could have guessed as much just by looking at the guy. You just know he flashes that smile like it’s a method of payment, and he probably gets away with it too.

You reach out and shut your laptop before you go too far down this rabbit hole. Your schedule is packed, and the premiere is only three days away. You've got better things to do than go all Sherlock on this random actor that's showing up.

Though it is unusual.

And he is handsome.

Yeah. It is true. Life does move fast in Hollywood.

Now you know for sure. Because not long ago, you were looking up Steve Harrington's name, like some deprived fangirl, and now you're on your way to the event he's supposed to be at.

The car seems packed, almost claustrophobically so. Miranda sits right of you, on the phone with someone who you can only assume to be too important to interrupt. On the left is your makeup artist, giving you some final touchups before your big entrance.

You don't know if this is the best or worst part about your rising fame. On one hand, it's all you've ever dreamed of. Of being recognised, making a name for yourself, getting to show the world what you can do. You're appreciated, celebrated, but on the other hand, you feel a bit like a product. The way you're sitting in this car, getting all dolled up, rehearsing what you'll say in the interviews... Miranda tells you you'll get used to it, but you're honestly not too sure.

Soon enough, you’re ushered out of the car by your manager. The same way you’ll never get used to the feeling of fame, is the same way you’ll never get used to having your name called out as you’re bombarded with camera flashes. This is only the entrance to the premiere, and you’re already overwhelmed. But you know that this is the worst part, so instead, you put on a smile and greet everyone.

Although you're having a little trouble walking in your gown, and not to mention those godforsaken heels, you soon make it to the actual red carpet for some photos. Your attention is called by several photographers, some asking who you're wearing, some just wanting you to look into the camera.

You look beautiful.

Your dress is a powdery blue, a close match to the dress you wear for most of the movie. It flows beautifully with your body, the silk catching the light in all the right ways. Your accessories and hair are adorned by white gold and pearls, classy, chic, but not boring. You feel like you're dressing up. Not a "let's go out somewhere fancy" dressing up, more like a "putting on your mom's heels" dressing up.

Part of all of this feels like you're playing pretend. Like you're not really supposed to be there. Like everyone's doing you a favour by being here, celebrating you and your movie. Though nothing could be further from the truth, the impostor syndrome somehow still gets to you, every time. You try not to let it show on your face, striking a casual pose, and smiling softly.

You look beautiful.

Steve thinks so too.

Only now he's reminded of why he came to this event. It's made the extra hoops he had to jump through all worth it. The extra questions by his management, the raised eyebrows when he arrived, the interviewers he, for once, has been trying to dodge.

He thought you looked pretty on the big screen, but no camera does you justice as much as the naked eye does.

He recognises something in you. Something nervous. Not necessarily innocent, just... New. It excites him a little, his mind already wandering to you allowing him to show you all the corners of the showbiz. Because he's a seasoned professional, of course. At least he likes to think so. He might only have a few years up on you, but he knows he's made for this. To act, to be famous. He knows you'd look amazing doing it next to him too.

"Mr Harrington!"

Some photographer calling his name catches him off guard, and so he brings his attention to the lens, flashing a cocky smile.

It catches your attention, too. The name more than the callout. You knew he'd be there, but for some reason you figured you'd have a bit more... Mental preparation. But what do you care, right? He probably wants you to gawk at him, be the little innocent newbie, borderline groupie, who can't believe it's really him.

You know better than to feed into his ego.

Which is why you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he smiles at you instead. You know he won't come up to you, he knows better than to embarrass you in front of all these people. You just don't know if he can resist himself later.

Then again, maybe you've got it all wrong. Maybe he just happens to really like 18th century period pieces about a girl finding a connection with her long lost mother. But somehow you'd find that hard to believe.

You go inside the theatre, and you finally get to enjoy the best part. This is when you try to disconnect from your job for a second, from the image you've built for yourself. When you're in front of the big screen, seated with all these people, you're 12 years old again.

You go watch a movie with your mom, it's your favourite time of the month. You share a large popcorn, and you can barely contain your excitement when the lights dim. Somehow, every emotion feels bigger like this. You've watched countless women pour their hearts out in movies, give their everything for their art, their passion. You've always been determined to be like them. To make other people resonate with a character so much it brings them to tears.

When you watch your own movies, you're not watching yourself. You're a little girl again, admiring the performance like you always used to. It makes this career more worth it than anything else, than all the glamour and money anyone could offer.

You bite your lip in anticipation when the theatre goes dark, toying with the bracelet on your wrist. You've seen it before, but not like this. Not like how it's meant to be watched.

Everything fits right. The music immerses you perfectly, the environments are meticulously chosen and everyone plays their part like they were born to do so.

And you're starstruck. By yourself, no less. You've always stayed humble, that's something you'd never give up. But you're also proud. So proud. This is something you've worked so hard for, everyone on the crew has, so you feel no remorse when you admit it's perfect.

The movie is emotional, and nearing the end, the melancholy of it all reaches its climax. Your character runs through a field of poppies, all blooming as she passes each one, chasing what she thinks is a vision of her mother when she was younger. The girl being chased giggles, as the main character keeps calling out her mother's name in tears. She's brought to her knees at the end of the field, the edge of a cliff, reaching desperately to hold onto the memory of her long lost mother.

You let out a tear. Hell, most people do, even Miranda can't hold it. It's one hell of a scene, the orchestral soundtrack alone could make someone cry. It makes your heart swell.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can tell someone else is really letting the waterworks go.

Wait-- That's not just someone.

That's Steve Harrington. Crying. Because of your acting.

You can tell he's trying to hide it a little, hiding his lower face behind a clenched wrist, the tears leaving little stripes of wetness on his skin. Running past his stubbly jaw, dropping onto the fabric of his tuxedo.

You can't imagine this is normal for him. Apparently it was already a rare apparition to see him at your premiere, and now he's publicly crying too. Well, you don't know if anyone else is observing it, but you know what you're seeing. That's pure, raw emotion right there.

You bring your attention back to the screen, hoping he hasn't noticed your staring.

The movie comes to a close, and the audience arises in a standing ovation. You get up, giggling a little coyly at all this sudden attention. The director comes up to you, taking your hand and bringing you along with the rest of the crew to the front so you can take a bow. Your face beams with happiness, and it's contagious.

It makes Steve return the smile, even though it's not even necessarily directed at him. You're just so pretty, all excitement and modesty, so untouched by fame's worst sides. It pulls him straight to you in a way he hasn't experienced before, there's just something so... Sincere about you. Something so gorgeous.

He makes eye contact with you as you come back up from your bow. The smile he gives you is nearly a copy and paste from the ones you saw online, where you can tell exactly what he's trying to say just from his expression. It's like his face just reads "atta girl".

It's really hot. And you hate how it makes you feel.

You exit faster than you probably should. You mutter to Miranda that you just need some fresh air, but really, you need to get away from this Harrington man before you fall head over heels for his stupid tactics. He hasn't said a word to you yet, and you already feel yourself slipping into the enthralling arms of his charm.

You change your mind, earlier was not the worst part. This is. Because now you have to pretend like you're not mentally having a crisis while still answering questions and mingling.

You deal well with most of the compliments and praise. You get a bit of butterflies every time a household name or someone you look up to acknowledges you, and you practically feel like ascending when they say they like your work.

You're in the middle of speaking to one of your co-actors and your manager, when she's suddenly giving you the eyes. With Miranda, this can mean two things;

There is a fire happening, or--

There is someone important behind you.

She's done this before when Robert De Niro was getting interviewed just a meter away from you. But you have a feeling you know who it is this time. Though you're not sure how excited you are by it.

You look over your shoulder, and surely, there he is.

All suave and charm, smooth tuxedo, freckled tan skin and perfect hair. He encapsulates the entirety of Hollywood so well, and you're not quite sure how to respond.

"I'm a little starstruck, I gotta say." he says, and you're not sure why you're even surprised that his voice is that nice.

"Really?" You give Miranda your "help me" eyes for a moment, but she's already off to get more champagne. With no lifeline to hang onto, you figure you might as well entertain him for a moment. "Guess I could say the same about you."

"Hey, I'm not the reason we're all here, am I?" He chuckles, and you're unsure if it's a rhetorical question or not. From what you can tell, maybe he does think everyone's here for him. You try your hardest to fend off those preconceptions of him, but although you are new to all of this, you’re not stupid. You know how men can be once they start getting attention.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on the movie.” He says, voice dripping with honey, placing his large warm hand over your arm. It would surprise you, if it didn’t feel so nice. “Truly a great performance, and I mean that. I’m not even usually one for period pieces.”

He doesn’t realise that makes him look even more suspicious for showing up here at all. Why would you go to a premiere for a movie of a genre you don’t like?

“Thank you, I appreciate that, Mr…” You pretend not to know his name, for multiple reasons. To make yourself seem a little more nonchalant, or maybe you just want to give his ego that little chop it so obviously needs.

“Harrington. Though I assumed you knew, my bad.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. Of course he would.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” You implore, and Steve’s eyebrows raise a little. He was hoping you wouldn’t ask that, but he supposes it was bound to happen eventually.

“Ah, well, the director is a friend of mine. I figured I’d show up for support, you know, keep the connection up.” He’s lying through his teeth, and you both know it. But part of Hollywood is pretending like you’re all not just lying to each other the whole time. You’ve gotten more used to it over time.

Neither of you mention what you saw inside. Partly because you’re unsure if you were imagining it, and partly because you wouldn’t even know where to insert it. Yet the sight of him getting emotional lingers in the back of your head.

“I thought you uh, didn’t know who I was?” Steve remarks, and you catch your own slip up now too. Why would you care if he showed up, if you didn’t even know his name?

“Oh, I do, your uh… Your name just slipped my mind.” Your nonchalant façade starts to falter, and you’re hoping it doesn’t make you look as much of a fool as you think you do.

Instead of pressing on, he chuckles. It’s a warm chuckle, low, smooth, it sends a shiver down your spine. He seems amused by you, for a reason you can’t quite make out.

He presses a hand to the small of your back, leaning in closely to your ear, and you think you might start seeing stars. He smells so incredibly good, you nearly melt into his touch, whether you mean to or not.

“Well, make sure to make it stick this time, hm, honey?”

You’re pretty sure your entire body has heated up just from hearing that. You hate how well his charm works on you, that silky voice and smug demeanour.

He pulls back, and just as you expected, he’s smiling like the cat that got the cream. “See you around, princess. Enjoy your premiere.”

You’ve had a lot of mind blowing shit happen to you already. The fact that you’re standing at your own movie premiere, surrounded by people you admire is insane to you on its own.

Now you’re getting flirted with by one of Hollywood’s golden boys, and you just have to play it cool. Pretend that you don’t feel like giggling like a teenage girl and getting all flustered. It makes you sick to your stomach. It makes you mad. That he can walk off, just like that, all cocky and confident. You don't want him to think of you like the innocent debutante that he can just play around with for a bit, before he moves on to the next young thing. You've seen that movie before.

Before you have a chance to let it get to your head, one of your costars, the younger girl that plays your little sister, comes up to you. "Geez, you okay? You look a little... Pressed."

"'M fine. Just-- a little frustrated. Sorry I haven't said hi yet, this is all... A lot, you know?"

"You'll get used to it." She sips her glass of champagne, and you want to say something about it, before you remember she's only two years younger than you. She's been an actress since she was 6 years old, she knows the industry so much better than you, and yet you feel protective over her.

"I don't think I ever will, to be honest. God, my shoes are killing me." You groan, hoping no one's close enough to hear you complain. The last thing you want is to come across as ungrateful for all this.

"Have some more champagne, that usually does the trick." She looks off to the side for a moment, and you can tell she's a little tense too. "Me and the rest of the girls on crew are going to get drinks and food later, wanna join?"

Her invitation brings a smile to your face. Though you're constantly surrounded by people, Hollywood brings a profound sense of loneliness into your life. You have trouble fitting in, connecting. Everyone is all smiles and compliments, yet no one talks, no one calls. Anything is rarely personal. And making friends is hell.

"I'd love to, seriously. Tell you what, it's my treat. To celebrate our premiere, hm?"

She smiles back, leaving her empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. "Cool. I'm off to the bathroom, cab's gonna be out front around 8."

She leaves you shortly after, and suddenly it's there again. That profound sense of loneliness. It's got you left thinking about what Steve said to you. How he talked to you. That tone.

It makes you feel small. Yet you hold on to every word.

How infuriating.

The rest of the premiere is a dazed flurry of conversations and pictures taken in your memory. You've got too much on your mind now to enjoy most of it, and you damn that smug asshole for being the reason for that.

You walk outside, the sky being a lot darker than you expected. You sigh, the air you breathe out coming out in little clouds. April shouldn't be this cold, not in California, at least.

You look around, no cab to be seen yet. Your eyes catch sight of a familiar man smoking. He flicks open an expensive lighter, his hands shielding the flame from the wind.

The fire frames his face in a special kind of light. It shows both the pretty freckles scattered on his skin, and the bags present under his eyes. The strange dichotomy of his personality, represented so simply on his face.

It just pisses you off even more how handsome he is.

Before you realise it, your legs are taking you closer to him, heels clicking onto the pavement as you strut over. He only seems to notice your presence when your shadow casts over him, taking away the yellowish glow of the streetlight.

"Missed me already?" He smiles, lips still wrapped around the cigarette before he takes it between his fingers.

"You can't talk to someone like that. At least not to me." You don't know where this sudden surge of confidence sprouted from, your words even surprising yourself.

"I'm sorry?" He stands up straighter, and though his stature is definitely taller than yours, you try not to let it phase you.

"I know what you're trying to do. I'm not dumb. Maybe you think I am, but I'm not." You cross your arms, partly to shield yourself from the cold, partly to feign courage.

"And what do you think I'm doing then, hm?" The smile on his face makes you want to desperately smack it right off. He really is exactly like people say.

"Don't act stupid with me. You think you've got me all figured out, huh? You randomly show up to my premiere, and the first time we talk, you try to butter me up. Did you expect me to drop to my knees for you or something? Thank you for gracing me with your almighty presence, which for the record, I did not ask for?"

He's speechless for a second. This is a first. Usually, when a woman is cussing him out, it's after they've dated, not before.

He chuckles, dropping his half smoked cigarette onto the ground and stamping it out with his shoe.

"Sounds like you think you've got me all figured out, doll."

"Don't call me that."

"It's not a bad thing."

"I decide that. Not you."

He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning his head back for a moment. "Geez... So much for first impressions huh?"

"I'm not the one trying to get into the other's pants now, am I?"

"Coulda fooled me."

"God, you're fucking insufferable." You laugh dryly, rolling your eyes. "You think I'm some stupid showbiz newbie, that I'm supposed to be grateful you're even talking to me. Maybe have sex with you and see what opportunities I get out of it."

He just looks at you now. You don't know if that's better than a response, because he's neither confirming nor denying it. Or maybe he realises nothing he says will save him in this. He'd be right about that.

"Do me a favour, if you’re just going to treat me like a ditz, don’t talk to me again. I’m already forced to deal with enough guys like you on the daily, so go bother someone else.”

As if called by some higher being, the cab, along with the girls you were supposed to meet, arrive outside. You gave Steve no time to respond, instead offering him a cold shoulder and some time to let all of that sink in. Though you doubt your words are going to make him change that attitude any time soon.

He leans against the wall outside, watching the dark car you got in drive by and away into the nightly city. He’s not sure what to do with what’s just been given to him.

No woman has ever figured him out this early on. Or maybe they have, and they just never told him this outright. It’s not like he tries to hide the type of person that he is, it’s just that it usually never blows up in his face this much. You’ve taken his flirting, turned it around and served it right back at him to make him think it all over. You‘ve practically rendered him speechless, and it’s only your first time meeting.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

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@inkluvs @palmtreesx3

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lihhelsing · 4 months

Text

Steve’s tired. He’s wearing a tux and his head is starting to hurt and this interviewer is nice but he’s just one in what it feels like an infinite line of them.

That’s what he gets for being nominated for the Emmy’s this year, it was what Robin said to him.

She’s right, of course.

He blinks and focus back on the interviewer. He’s asking him to explain that one scene on the show when he performed a long action sequence and Steve does it.

It wasn’t that hard, with his athletic background. He actually had fun.

The interviewer laughs. Steve isn’t funny but he’s glad he’s entertaining someone. Knows some actors can be real assholes out here on the red carpet.

He sees Robin on his peripheral waving at him to let him know it’s time to wrap this up and move on.

There’s still a few interviews to get through before the actual ceremony. And then a bunch more if he somehow wins.

Then he feels a presence on his back and Eddie Munson’s face pops in, smiling at him. One of his hands wrap around Steve’s waist.

“Isn’t he delightful?” Eddie says with that tone that makes Steve’s inside all mushy. The interviewer nods, fascinated by this interaction.

“You’re delightful,” Steve says, trying to look at him but it’s real hard when Eddie’s head is propped on his shoulder.

“Gonna save you a seat inside, sweetheart.”

Eddie winks at him and Steve cackle, throwing his head back a little.

He feels Eddie’s hand squeezing at his waist and it makes him lightheaded.

“Any plans on working together again? You two were brilliant!”

Steve has to give it to him. He’s fast with the questions. A good interviewer.

“I’m game if you are,” Eddie says.

Steve knows that. They talked about it. The show blew up because of their insane chemistry on screen.

Their agents, Robin and Chrissy, are already looking into other projects

“I’d follow you to hell,” Steve says. It’s a joke and Eddie laughs, pretending to be flattered.

“See you inside?” Eddie asks and Steve nods, suddenly feeling a burst of energy. Eddie has that ability. It was helpful during long days of shooting. “A kiss for good luck?”

Steve laughs but nods, thinking Eddie is going to kiss his cheek. But no, he goes straight for his mouth.

It’s just a peck, but Steve feels his cheeks burning and before he can react Eddie is moving, lost in the sea of people on the red carpet.

Steve turns his face to the interviewer and from the red dot on the camera he knows this is live. He sighs, has to stand his ground despite wanting to run away.

“Well. That was sweet. So are you two dating?”

Steve sighs, shakes his head.

“No. He’s just a brat.”

#Ali's Stuff #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #drabble #fic #steve harrington #actor AU #eddie munson

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undreaming-fanfiction · 4 months

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I am massively busy with work and finalizing my Big Bang, but this idea just won't leave...

Steve and Eddie are both actors. They're in their mid thirties, well established, but they never starred together in anything. Steve tends to be cast in the same type, the dumb but pretty love interest, Eddie has lots of indie and disturbing movies under his belt. But this time, they both landed something big.

They get cast in the new Batman movie.

Steve is, of course, Batman. He insists on doing his own stunts. He refuses to get dehydrated for his shirtless scenes because he knows how damaging it is to both young men and women alike, he's not going to contribute to shitty expectations. The director (Dustin, duh!) sees something in him other directors never have - a potential for depth, for internal turmoil. He gives Steve the chance to prove himself as an actor and Steve pounces on it.

He's still very hot.

Eddie is cast as the Joker. He is a fan of the comics and scoffs at how absurd and deranged the character is becoming. He gets hired because he immediately says he doesn't think the character needs to rely on cheap tricks and shock value to be terrifying. Cutting off his face? Not cool. He suggests to play the Joker according to one of the older comics he has - one where the Joker is actually absolutely sane, but hides it to never be held accountable for his actions. The only person who ever saw through his ruse was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Joker took care of that issue very quickly.

The chemistry between Steve and Eddie on screen is insane. They go toe to toe, it's impossible to look away when they interact. Eddie utilizes his bright smile to the maximum, tweaking it just right within moments so it becomes unsettling. The first time he laughs, Steve gets goosebumps.

Steve encompasses Bruce's loneliness so well Eddie's heart breaks for him. Dustin finds him in the trailer, giving himself gentle slaps over the face and muttering "you're evil, damn it, you don't want to comfort the Bat!!".

Batgirl (Robin) and Harley Quinn (Chrissy) find their slow descent into love hilarious. They all become good friends on the set.

Hopper, an acting veteran who plays Commissioner Gordon, grasps Steve's shoulder after an intense fight scene and mutters: "Good job, Steve, but maybe don't stare at his lips so much?"

Robin doesn't give him the same courtesy and once Dustin yells "Cut!", she screeches: "NOW KISS!"

The movie is a hit. People love the cast and the story, some of the OG fans complain as they always do, but the ratings are great, there are many interviews, panels, all of that.

And of course, there's gossip about Steve and Eddie being a thing, which enrages the macho Batman fanbase. Their Batman isn't gay!

But the rumors quickly disappear after an award ceremony where Eddie is nominated for the best supporting actor. He wins, of course. And as he gets up to accept the small statue and deliver a speech with enough "fuck"s to give the censor a headache, he drags Steve up and kisses him in front of the whole world.

A week later, Steve and Eddie are together in front of a camera again, answering questions in an interview.

The host asks: "What do you say to those fans that are disappointed, who say that their Batman isn't gay?"

Steve just snorts, pulls Eddie closer and answers: "They're right. Their Batman isn't gay. But he's definitely bi."

Also the comic story I'm mentioning exits and is short but fantastic. 10/10 recommend.

Oh also. The first spark happens when Steve sees Eddie's hair and blurts out: "Please tell me they're not making you cut it shorter. It's too gorgeous for that."

Also because people were asking about the comics - it's Batman Black and White - Case Study and it can be found on Tumblr HERE

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #actor au

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

eddie's flat ass (steddie)

Dustin whips around as soon as they’re alone. “Steve!”

“I’m Eddie.”

“No, I mean you and Steve. You like him.”

“Of course I like him, Henderson,” Eddie says flatly, pressing a little harder on the gas in hopes of getting to Dustin’s house before he admits something he regrets. “We’re friends. Best buds. A couple of dudes being bros.”

“You’re full of shit,” Dustin says. “I’m not stupid. I saw that. I wish I hadn’t, but I saw it. You’re, like, stupidly into him. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. His street can’t come soon enough.

Dustin pushes through. “When are you gonna ask him out?”

“Uh, never?”

“What?!”

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “Nothings going to happen, Henderson. Yeah, I’ve got a stupid fucking crush on your babysitter, it doesn’t mean that Steve’s interested in me. He likes girls, Dustin, did you miss that part in the dossier? He thinks we’re a couple of straight guys horsing around, if he found out I was flirting with him I could be thrown into Hunt the Freak 2: the thrilling sequel.”

Dustin’s mouth snaps shut, and he laughs nervously. “Right,” he agrees. “He likes girls. But, uh, hypothetically, if he was into guys…”

They roll to a stop sign, and Eddie turns away from the road to tell the little shit off. But Dustin’s fidgeting, staring steadfast at the road and refusing to meet his eye.

“You know something,” he realizes.

“Uh…”

Eddie’s about to shake it out of him. “You’re hiding something, you little shit. What is it? Tell me.”

“I’m not,” he squeaks.

“Bull-shit you aren’t. What is it? Is it about Steve?” Eddie pales. “Shit, does he know about me?”

“Well…”

“What the hell?!”

“I didn’t tell him!” Dustin yelps. “If you didn’t want him to know, maybe you shouldn’t have been so obvious!”

“Check your tone,” he snaps, hand shaking as he pulls on his hair. “Shit, shit, shit, okay, it’s fine, I just need to flee the country—“

“Why?”

Eddie is this close to throttling the kid. “What do you mean why?”

“Why is this such a big deal?”

“It could get me killed!” He shouts, banging a hand against the steering wheel. “He could—he could fucking tell somebody, and—“

“He wouldn’t do that!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? You think someone’s a good guy until you’re interested in them, and then it’s all ‘You’re fucking disgusting,’ or ‘Freak,’ or ‘Don’t touch me, you fa—‘“

“Stop!” Dustin shouts, white knuckling the armrest. “Eddie, stop. He’s not going to tell anyone. It’s gonna be okay. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s fine,” Dustin stresses. “Steve doesn’t care if you’re gay. He definitely doesn’t mind you flirting with him.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie says.

“Yeah I do.”

“How?”

There’s that deer in headlights look again. Then Dustin takes a deep breath, and his expression turns guilty.

“I know you’re not supposed to tell people this,” he says, “but you’re freaking out really bad and I’m, like, 99% sure Steve thinks you already know.”

“Steve thinks I know what?”

Dustin tells him.

Two hours later, he’s still laying on the floor in the trailer, looking up at the ceiling.

Bisexual. Steve Harrington, the man Eddie’s always hailed as the patron saint of heterosexuality, likes men.

Might like Eddie.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eddie blurts out, and immediately tries to bolt.

He runs face first into a wall and ends up on the ground, wishing the demobats had just killed him.

Steve appears in his line of vision, standing over his sprawled body. Eddie is treated to a wonderful view, eyes moving from his long, athletic legs to his crotch to his chest and broad shoulders, and finally reaches his face. His very amused face.

Eddie’s entire body lights on fire.

“What the hell was that?” Steve asks, laughing.

“Uh…”

“Wile E Coyote over here. Seriously, man, that was some Loony Toons shit. I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” he groans. “Just let me die.”

“No way in hell. Sorry, Munson, I put too much work into saving your flat ass to throw it away like that.” Steve grins, holding a hand out for Eddie to take. He ignores it, rolling over so Steve can’t see how red his face is.

“My ass isn’t flat,” he mumbles into the carpet.

“Oh, it is,” Steve says cheerfully, nudging said ass with his foot, because he’s a bastard. Eddie doesn’t know why he likes him so much. Everything he does is catastrophically bad for his continued survival. “It’s cute though. I like it.”

“Henderson said, uh, that you were…umm…maybeflirtingwithme?” Eddie finishes in a rush.

“What?”

Steve’s face is open, automatically tilting his right ear towards Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s aware that’s something he does. Robin says it’s because of all the concussions, his left ear just isn’t what it used to be.

Eddie sags, unable to lie to his wide-eyed confusion. “Dustin said you're flirting with me.”

Steve stares at him.

Eddie fidgets under his incredulous gaze, growing more anxious by the minute. Oh God, Dustin was wrong. Dustin was wrong about everything. Steve probably doesn’t even actually like boys, Jesus. The whole thing is obviously a bust. Eddie needs to cut and run, maybe make some bullshit excuse about his uncle needing him home even though Steve knows Wayne’s working right now—

“You needed Henderson to tell you that?”

#eddie's flat ass au #i tried to come up with a name for two whole minutes and that's what i landed on #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #steddie #sorry to all the thicc eddie truthers out there but that man is a board #idk what his actors ass looks like and idc. some things surpass the physical #stranger things fanfic #listen technically dustin is outing steve but in his defense steve fully thinks eddie knows he's bi #and if eddie wasn't told he was going to do something drastic

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Text

pynk like the inside of your

summary: feeling burnt out from marathon recording sessions at the studio, can only mean one thing: steve with some chinese takeout to the rescue & maybe some hanky-panky.

a/n: My blog is 18 +, minors DNI; get ready for a cunning linguist 👀.

🎶 i wanna fall through the stars getting lost in the dark is my favorite part / let's count the ways we could make this last forever🎶

A few weeks after your beach date with Steve, found you face-down on the plush carpet from sheer exhaustion in the vocal room at Paramount Recording Studios.

Efforts to record in your home studio were a waste, especially since you kept getting distracted by your phone and one Steve Harrington. At least renting studio space had the threat of money down the drain should you fail to record anything.

In fact, the past few nights had you pulling all-nighters at the studio— laying vocals, toying with a few melodies on various instruments, and editing a mix or two. Thankfully, you’d managed to sneak out briefly today for a much-needed soak in your bathtub at home, followed by a nice nap. One ear was covered by a pair of Sony headphones as you recorded a particular line (with the same sweet shock of when Adam first came), the sound engineer turned as someone entered the control room.

“Oh shit,” Steve said in apology, baseball cap and sunglasses perched on his newly shorn hair, a tote bag slung over one shoulder with a bag of takeout in another.

“No worries, man,” the engineer reassured him, turning back to the controls. “I’m heading out after we lock this, so she’s all yours.”

He watches as you sing the chorus, eyes closed and one foot keeping time against the carpet. Steve can’t help but bite his lip at how cute you look, an overlarge t-shirt and bike shorts with damp hair a stark contrast to the sheer power of the voice pouring from you.

“Jesus,” he mutters, more to himself than anything, and earns a chuckle from the sound engineer.

“I know, right?” He fiddles with a few levels, fingers gliding up and down the board. “It never gets old, witnessing her work.”

“I can imagine.”

You pull the headphones from your ears to see Steve chatting with the engineer, Jack, in the booth. Setting them down against the music stand to your left, you skip to the control room with a small smile.

“Did I know you were stopping by?” You perch against the doorframe, fingers curling around the cool metal plating.

Steve smiles back, lifting a bag stamped with a familiar logo. “Surprise?”

It’s only then that you realize how famished you’ve become. “Pad Thai tofu with—”

“Veggie spring rolls and like, a thousand packs of soy sauce?” He laughs, “Yeah, special delivery.”

You step into the room and nuzzle into Steve’s side. He drops a quick kiss to your head as the engineer packs up for the night. Saying your goodbyes and relaying your thanks to Jack, you wait for the telltale click of the door before dragging Steve back into the studio and collapsing on the couch.

“You,” you say, removing chopsticks and packets of sauce from the bag, “Are a godsend, Harrington.” Distracted by the promise of perfectly seasoned Pad Thai and a full belly, you don’t notice how Steve stills at your feet.

It had been a long week of recording sessions, so you’re not exactly firing on all pistons. Completely understandable, given the circumstances.

But not for Steve.

“Sweetheart,” he says, rubbing your temple. “C’mere for a minute,” and pulls you up for a proper kiss.

And it’s positively perfect. Steve kisses like a goddamn dream and in no time at all has your brain leaking from your ears— the promise of food forgotten.

You grip his chin, counting enthusiastic flecks in his eyes. Gorgeous and green-gold and all that mouthwatering darkness slowly simmering behind it.

“What,” you chuckle at his impatience, “You want me to sit on this pretty thing?”

His eyes light up at that. “Mmm, definitely not opposed. Gonna let me take care of you, sweetheart?”

What an obscene image: Hollywood’s Favorite Leading Man a slobbering and breathless disarray, coming up for air, licking the gloss of your cunt off his lips.

You smirk, “Oh, fuck yeah.”

He could live here. Stay pressed up against you forever—screw contracts, press tours, award shows.

Steve pulls the t-shirt over your head, palms your breasts with one hand and tugs your shorts down with the other.

He kisses along your neck and jaw and flicks his thumb over a nipple quick and gentle until you shiver and arch into him.

Steve follows the curve of your body— your collarbone, your shoulder, your belly, then places your hands in his hair, his hat flung somewhere across the room.

Your fingers automatically card through, curling softly to move him where you’d like him best. Slowly, he falls to his knees, spreading your thighs until you step apart.

You sigh his name, breathy and high. You say it again, pulling his hair when he sucks at your clit, fitting a finger in to the knuckle until you squirm.

He trails sloppy lines up your slit, delving in with his entire face because he wants you all over it—wants to be marked. Wants your scent and come and the bright blush of his cheeks in celebration, like declaring to all who worship him that he worships something else.

Who baptizes him with her kiss and cunt and he’s hungry for it—hungry for salvation because he’s exhausted of always being the idol.

You carved him into yourself.

Made space for all of him and loved on him with your whole, beautiful heart.

He guides you forwards until you’re sitting on the edge of the sofa, thighs spread and dripping, breathing heavy, eyes half-lidded with pleasure he caused.

Your soft skin is gorgeous and glistening. Your pussy is shiny with his spit.

“Steve,” you say, focused and sharp, curling one finger at him. “Get your mouth back on me, now.”

Pride swells up in his chest. What he wouldn’t give for the world to know this: America’s golden boy, crawling on the floor, stupid with desire.

And for all their idolatry, for all the pieces they take of him and scatter to winds, he’ll always still be yours.

And Steve thinks, as he returns his face to your sex, his cock throbbing between his own legs but he ignores it for now— he’s not important, for now— that if you were to ever tell him to stay in between your thighs forever, he just fucking might.

Two orgasms later, because not only is Steve good with his mouth and eager to please, but his hands, dear fucking lord. And a not-so small part of you feels vindicated at that.

You’re up to toss the takeout bag, plastic crinkling under your grasp as you open the door to the control room. Only to stop short when you notice a familiar red light still illuminated from your earlier recording session.

Had that been on the entire time?

Trash forgotten by the door, you’re quick to sit down and isolate the track in question. Looping a headphone over your ear, you press play to confirm your suspicions.

“Yes,” you sigh, voice languid with lust. “Fuck yes. Steve—mmm—"

Not realizing the volume or paying heed to Steve’s entrance, you nearly jump out of your skin when his hands knead at your shoulders.

He chuckles lowly, watching as you all but melt under his touch. “You’re gonna send me a copy of that, right, honey?”

#modern!actor!steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #stranger things fan fiction #modern!au #Spotify

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hornedqueenofhell · 10 months

Text

Barbie actor!AU with Chrissy Cunningham and Steve Harrington playing Barbie and Ken respectively. They're doing the press circuit and an interviewer asks about families on set (a la that one Wonder Woman interview).

Interviewer: So what was it like letting the casts families on the Barbie set? Were the kids just stunned at getting to see the Dream House in real life?

Chrissy and Steve share a look and start cracking up

Chrissy: oh God, you- you need to take this one *she giggles and presses her face into Steve's shoulder*

Steve: *sighs affectionately* it was... Something. The kids were great, definitely, it was seeing all the husbands that was...

They start giggling again while the interviewer gives them a curious look

Chrissy: We have all the husbands on set which was such a pleasant change from all the wives and just one husband for the token female character. So- *she snickers again, the pair are barely clinging to the line of questioning now* so we have all these well to do men in polos and chinos, Ray-Ban sunglasses on and then off to the side there's Steve's husband Eddie Munson who's wearing leather pants and a shredded Megadeath shirt, decked out in chains and black eyeliner.

Steve: Yup, the love of my life with our daughter in a bat hoodie with wings, standing in the Barbie Dream House.

A couple images of Eddie Munson looking happy but very out of place on the pink set appear on the screen. One is of the couple talking to Chrissy their arms around each other. Another is of Munson holding his daughter over his head and spinning them around in circles. The last is of Eddie pressing a kiss to the crown of Steve's head while Steve lets their daughter play on the set pool.

Interviewer: It must have been a sight having the lead singer of metal band Corroded Coffin there. I understand that you are a family friend of the Harrington-Munson household Chrissy?

Chrissy: Yep, Eddie was my best friend when we were in high school. We came out here together and we were each other's cheer squad as we both started finding our way in L.A. Steve and I were at the same table for the Emmys and Eddie was my plus one, the sparks off those two were immediate. I was Eddie's maid of honor when they got married and now I'm the baby bat's godmother.

Interviewer: I can't imagine a lot of kids can say that they have Barbie as their godmother. Now about the set...

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #platonic hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #actor au #barbie movie #barbie au #steddie with a daughter

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Note

Request: THIS IDEA JUST SPARKED HOLY SHIT?? OK have you ever watched Hot Ones with Sean Evens (first we feast is the youtube channel) so basically that but Steve is the one being interviewed but he LOVES spicy food??(watch the episode with Florence Pugh i LOVE it but basically I want it to be kinda like that) just yeah that. Jxjxnxnx please and thank you

MY LOVE ❤️ I admit, most of what I watch of really anything is either highlights on Tik Tok or short clips my friends send me because I am out of touch with the cool kids. But Hot Ones is SO GOOD. The Lewis Capaldi episode (I do love him anyways) had me actually almost pee my pants laughing. I hope you love this fun (short, sorry) thing for this! - Mickala ❤️

-------------------------------------------------

“I just don’t know why you got Hot Ones. They could have had the whole band on there making idiots of themselves,” Eddie pouted.

He’d been pouting for two days now.

In fact, his entire band was from the moment Steve called him on tour to let him know that he would be doing the Hot Ones interview next week.

“I told you, they had a last minute cancellation and my schedule just worked. Maybe you’ll get next season,” Steve said over the phone as the oven timer went off to let him know his brownies were done cooking.

“Whatcha makin’ Stevie?” Eddie’s curiosity was adorable.

He was in London, just got off stage from their last show in Europe. Steve was in their home in LA, having the last lazy day in before his awards season started.

“If I tell you, you’ll be sad you’re missing it.”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Gareth said from much closer than Steve would have expected.

“Hi Gare Bear. No personal space tonight?”

Eddie laughed as Steve pulled the brownies out of the oven and shut it off.

“He said personal space is for people who don’t like each other and he likes me very much,” Steve could hear Eddie’s eye roll in his voice. “A shame because I can’t stand him.”

“Play nice boys. You’ll be home in less than 24 hours,” Steve reminded them.

Gareth lived a mile up the road from them with his boyfriend and their excessive amount of cats.

Excessive being four.

Steve was allergic, so any amount of cats seemed excessive to him.

But Steve and Gareth were close, had been since even before Eddie and Steve started dating.

He was Steve’s best man in their wedding, much to Dustin’s bafflement. He only didn’t argue because Eddie softened the blow by asking him to be his own best man.

Usually if baked goods or a home cooked meal were involved, Gareth would show up at their door ready to partake.

“You’ll be home when I get there?”

“Yep. Cleared my whole day just for you, baby.”

“Good. Miss you.

“Miss you too. You heading to bed?” Steve poked at the brownies, making sure they were cooked.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Eddie yawned to emphasize how exhausted he was. “Did your manager tell them you love spicy foods or are you just gonna let them assume you’re a wimp?”

“Nah. It’ll be fun.”

—-------------------

When he arrives on the set of Hot Ones, Sean greets him with a smile and a handshake.

Eddie wasn’t able to come with him, but Robin had promised to record the whole thing just for them.

She watched from the side next to his manager, Nancy, and his bodyguard, Hopper.

They settled at the table, got mic’d up, makeup touched up, and Sean reminded him that if he absolutely had to tap out, they could stop recording and edit everything accordingly to make it look like he made it through the challenge.

Steve wasn’t worried.

The first three wings didn’t even have a kick. It was just a casual conversation between friends.

He talked about his work with a theater group for kids in New York City, as well as his work on an indie film that was coming out in the fall.

The fourth and fifth wings had a pinch of spice to them, but nothing to make even bat an eye.

Sean continued asking questions, Steve continued answering them.

On the seventh wing, Steve was barely distracted from the question: “What project of yours are you most looking forward to doing next?”

“I think I’ll be most excited to take some time off with my husband, working on starting the family we’ve wanted for a while. He’s been on tour for most of the last year, and we agreed it was a good time to figure out what we wanna do,” Steve said as he took another bite.

He could feel the burn of this one at least, felt the sting on his lips and tongue.

But it was very manageable, and the jalapeno flavor was almost refreshing. It tasted fresh.

“Okay, I have to ask: did you practice these beforehand?”

Steve snorted.

“No. I’m just not very sensitive to spicy foods. I usually keep a lot of hot sauces in my house. Poor Eddie’s learned how to tolerate spice because of it,” Steve said as they brought out the eighth wing.

“I’ve never had anyone so calm at this point. I’m starting to think even the hottest one won’t really bother you!”

“I guess we’ll see!”

The ninth wing was hot. He wouldn’t try to deny it.

“It does have a lovely watermelon flavor to it, very fruity and tangy on top of the spice. I like it,” Steve smiled.

He knew his face was getting a bit red from this one, and he reached for the water, but only had to take a couple of small sips before he was ready to keep going.

“Alright, for this one, we’ll ask a question for you to answer before and then we’ll have one for right after. You ready?”

“Bring it on!”

And it definitely did.

It was hot, and he could feel tears in his eyes, and sweat breaking out across his forehead.

“Finally, we have a reaction!” Sean exclaimed.

“This one’s definitely a lot more than the others,” Steve added, reaching for the milk.

He could tell Robin and Nancy were laughing, probably very much enjoying any amount of pain he managed to have when he went into this so sure that none of them would get to him.

“Final question: Would you ever consider retiring to follow Eddie on tour with your future family?”

Steve nodded once, taking another sip of the milk.

God, this one was hot.

“Uh, yep. I mean, retiring is a strong word. I would definitely take a long break. I’ve always wanted a family,” he stopped to take another sip and a bite of the celery. “I’ve wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember. And I know Eddie wants that, but he also doesn’t wanna stop making music, and the rest of his band isn’t ready to take a break like that. I know it would be easy for me, so my plan would be to take at least a few years off.”

“Doing alright over there?”

Steve laughed, fanning his face.

“I’m okay. That just went from a kick to a beatdown pretty quick.”

“Well, you’re a pro at making it look easy. You deserve an Oscar for this performance!”

It was a ridiculous sentiment, but funny, and Steve was up for an Oscar this year.

He finished the glass of milk and shook Sean’s hand, thanking him for having him.

“Eddie is already in tears watching Sean watch you in disbelief,” Robin started as soon as he joined them again.

“What was all that at the end?” Nancy asked, arms crossed, face furious.

He usually had free reign in interviews, but he knew Nancy would tell him not to mention anything even slightly related to retirement.

His career had really only just taken off a couple years earlier, and talking about a break or retiring now would immediately cut his chances of good roles in half.

“Just the truth, Nance. You know Eddie and I wanna start a family,” he said as they started walking through the backstage area to leave.

“I just didn’t know that meant taking a break. I thought you’d just take turns with stuff or hire a nanny.”

Steve knew that worked for a lot of couples, but they both were too family-focused for that. They didn’t want a nanny raising their kids.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not! I just would’ve liked a heads up.”

Robin stared between them, eyes bouncing back and forth like it was a tennis match.

“I don’t have to tell you every single detail of my life. You know all that’s relevant right now.”

Nancy sighed, but nodded, turning away and typing furiously on her phone.

His phone rang seconds later.

“Sweetheart, let me just say: it is so sexy how you handle those hot sauces,” Eddie’s teasing voice was enough to get him back into a happy mood.

“Your standards for sexy are so low,” Steve said as he walked to the corner to get as much privacy as possible.

“No, it’s just that everything you do is sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.”

“Steve!” Sean’s voice came from behind him, large smile lighting up his face. “Sorry to bother you, but would Eddie and the guys like to come on the show as our bonus episode this season?”

Eddie was screaming yes through the phone, much to their amusement.

“So…yes?” Sean asked.

“Yes!” Eddie yelled.

Sean walked away to update the producer while Steve kept talking to Eddie.

“See? Now you’ll get your show, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #request #ficlet #stranger things #rock star eddie munson #actor steve harrington #modern au

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