#corporate steddie au

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

[starrystevie]

18+ | modern office steddie au | cw: public sex, undernegotiated kinks, unsafe sex | crossposted to ao3 here

eddie doesn't do it often. okay, maybe that's a stretch. frequently might be a better word for it, more accurate. but he wouldn't say he does it everyday or anything. it's just a little break from the day, an escape from the monotony of corporate america.

he's only been in this new tech support job for a few months but he's already comfortable enough that working on his next novel at his desk doesn't give him anxiety anymore. he isn't afraid someone is looking over his shoulder all the time like he did when he first started with the company.

the thing is, eddie's good at tech. he's good at finding the problems, finding even better solutions. half the time all he's doing is updating and restarting people's equipment that hasn't been refreshed in years. so he finds himself with enough free time at his desk to work on the second installment of his fantasy novel when the problems seem to be at a low.

as he waits for his laptop to boot up, eddie cracks his knuckles and grabs his phone to send a text to his editor that may or may not also happen to be his best friend so he could cut back on over exuberant editing fees. he doesn't read the message over, just fires out a text to nancy quickly before pocketing his phone.

he only realizes the typo once he gets a laughing emoji in return and cackles at what he actually sent.

"getting ready to write some smut on the cock!!!!!"

it doesn't take long to send a winky face before correcting himself to say " on the clock obviously", before pocketing his phone and opening the document where his novel is. just as eddie is about to start typing, a voice behind him makes him jump out of his skin.

"what was so funny?" steve asks, arm propped on the top of his flimsy cubicle wall, legs crossed over one another, smirk on his face.

eddie forces himself not to swoon. he takes in the way his white button up stretches across his chest, dress pants oh so snug over his thighs, hair pushed back in the way that only steve harrington could pull off. he may have only been at the office for a few months, but ever since he first saw him, steve very quickly became the only thing eddie could think about.

"i'm sure you wouldn't find it funny," he starts, tilting his laptop screen halfway shut so steve can't catch him doing his other job, his favorite job, while at work.

steve smirks again, his cheek lifting enough to crinkle his eye. "try me, munson."

with a dramatic push, eddie rolls in his wheely chair and stands up so he can keep his voice low. "i sent my editor a dirty text on accident."

if steve's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"editor, hmm? for what?" his voice is as low as eddie's and it makes the cubicle feel even smaller than it is. like everything in the world has zeroed in on their whispers to each other.

"i might be writing a book. well, technically i've already written a book. this is just the sequel."

steve's eyes flick from eddie to his laptop and then back once more. "is it anything i'd know?"

he cackles again, picturing steve reading his smutty fantasy novel, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make any sense out of the haphazard world map eddie drew for the back page. but then again, he could easily picture steve in the world he made. he'd be a prince- no, scratch that, an elven prince- just like the one he's writing about in this one.

"i do read, you know. i'm not entirely up to date with everything but i do like books." steve says it like he's almost hurt and it makes eddie look back up at him, mellowing out his wide grin into a softer smile.

"oh, i wasn't doubting that. i just doubt you read elf porn in your free time."

whatever hurt was lacing through steve's face is gone, replaced with wide eyes and eyebrows to his hairline and a bright smile pulling at his cheeks.

"yeah," he says a little breathless, "yeah, definitely not the first thing i'd reach for."

eddie gives him a told-you-so head nod and brings a hand up to run through his hair, tracking steve's eyes as he follows the motion for a moment. having his eyes on him rushes through eddie like a wave crashing and he's halfway tempted to do it again if he didn't think it would look forced.

"well you probably don't know mine then."

as he turns to go back to his chair, he hears steve cough to get his attention back, arms crossed over his chest to make his shirt pull taut over his beautiful, gorgeous, annoyingly perfect biceps. "so what was the dirty text?"

"well, it was actually a typo," eddie starts, cocking his head to the side with a smirk as he pulls out his phone, "so an unintentional dirty text. but still funny, none the less. and i don't think i can say it out loud without getting hr called on my ass so-"

he holds up his phone so steve can see the brief conversation between him and nancy, watches his eyebrows shoot back up to his hairline, watches as his mouth drops open for a millisecond before giving eddie another goddamn smirk. steve leans back, drops his arms to put a hand on his hip, and looks eddie less than subtly up and down.

"so... do you want to?"

eddie can feel the moment his heart stutters in his chest. a combination of steve's general... steveness plus the implication of what the text said and his mind travels to a dirty, dirty, not meant for work place until he pieces it somewhat together and asks-

"...are you asking if i'm gay?"

steve huffs out a laugh and takes a step further into eddie's cubicle. there already isn't much room and with him coming in the tiniest bit closer, their toes are almost touching.

"sure," he says like it's the easiest thing to say on a thursday afternoon. "it can be a two-part question if you want."

a few things run through eddie's head all at the same time:

steve's close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of the arm he now has resting on his desk, and he's really about to come out to a coworker which he normally leaves for at least 6 months into a new job, and that he thinks he's going to pass out if steve is actually asking what he thinks he's asking.

do you want to write smut while you're on my cock?

he doesn't know where he finds the courage, honestly. call it a slow thursday, call it a little extra motivation for his novel. eddie scoots closer and throws caution to the wind.

"then yes to both."

he's never seen steve's office. he's been to the top floors before when some higher up needed him to install a web browser on his new desktop so he has kind of an idea of what the private offices look like.

eddie didn't expect the first time that he got to see steve's office would be spread out, bent over his desk with his novel pulled up on his laptop while steve runs his hands over his ass.

"here's how this is going to work," steve whispers close to his ear while he lays against his back, snaking a hand up to undo the knot of eddie's messy tie, popping open a button on his dress shirt in the process. "you stop writing, i stop fucking you."

with a hum, eddie presses his hips back, up on his tiptoes with his off brand dress shoes pinching his feet tightly. "i think i can manage that."

"i'm not finished," he bites gently at eddie's ear lobe, returning his hands to palm over his ass cheeks. "everything i do to you, and i mean everything, needs to be written down. turn me into a character or something, i don't care, but i expect you to be thorough."

he doesn't mean to moan at the instructions, really he doesn't, but it's so easy to picture steve morphing into a character in his world. his mind races trying to figure out how exactly to write him into the scene that had already started, but with a snap of his fingers as the idea clicks, he writes out a quick line and looks at steve over his shoulder for approval.

"who's sylvar?" steve asks, pronunciation clunky on his tongue.

"sylvar is an elven prince, might as well make you him. besides, you both have an s name."

steve chuckles, his breath ruffling eddie's hair. "okay, fair. prince, huh?"

he doesn't have to look over his shoulder again to know that steve's smirking so he rolls his eyes and finishes the sentence, only breaking away to gasp as steve brings his hand between his thighs to spread them further apart.

"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say that elidyr is supposed to be you?"

eddie nods and pulls his tie off the rest of the way. "let's see, he's one of the prince's newest attendants, known for being a bit out of control, gets chastised for staring at the prince's ass in his khakis too much-"

"you're making that one up, huh?"

he tosses his tie to the side and brings a hand up to tangle in steve's hair, pulling his lips down to his neck and waiting for him to get the hint and start kissing. "steve, i'm making all of it up. that's the way writing a book goes."

"is that so?" he murmurs playfully against his neck, teeth pressing against the skin as he smiles, hands yanking on his hips to get eddie flush against his cock. "...i don't see you writing."

eddie huffs and shakes his head before writing out quickly how sylvar grabbed elidyr by the hips roughly to show him how excited he was. steve takes the typing as the go ahead and quickly undoes both of their pants before running his hands up eddie's now bare thighs.

he didn't really have any idea of how well he'd be able to hold out to steve's ministrations while having to write them out at the same time, but any confidence he had in himself leaves when steve's palm cups his cock through his briefs. eddie cants his hips forward and brings his hand back up to tangle once more in steve's hair.

and just like that, the touch is gone.

"oh, come on!" eddie whines and brings his hands back to the keyboard, typing in random filler words until suddenly he has no underwear and hands pulling his ass cheeks apart.

"gonna fucking take you apart... shit," steve whispers and eddie doesn't think he was supposed to hear it, but he writes it into the scene anyway.

there's a cool dribble of what must be lube on his hole and he fights against the shiver it sends up his spine. "you have lube in your office?"

"no, i have lube in my briefcase. big difference."

eddie doesn't really see how to the two are different, but he laughs to appease steve before getting cut short as a finger starts to enter him. he must whine, must jerk or do something wrong because it's leaving almost as soon as it had arrived.

"steve, i swear to god," eddie groans, head dropping down as he types without looking. poor nancy is going to have a hell of time reading and editing over this draft.

they both sigh when the finger presses into him once more and steve weaves his other hand into eddie's hair to pull him up and look at his screen. "there you go, just keep typing. write about how good it feels."

and shit. that's hotter than he expected it to be.

it goes well for all of a few minutes, eddie typing and steve reading over his shoulder, scissoring his fingers to get him nice and wet and open. they both somehow manage to keep their composure, filthy words being muttered out loud that then end up on the screen.

it's after steve gets him cock in him that it all goes down hill.

"oh fuck-" eddie moans as his leg gets hoisted up for a better angle. steve's grip on his hip is brutal, bound to be leaving bruises, as he pulls eddie back to meet him in the middle.

his chest is rubbing against the pleather desk cover, nipples catching on just the right side of painful when steve pushes his shirt up and out of the way. his dick is flopping against his thigh with every thrust, the lack of friction driving him insane.

he swears he only takes his hands away from the laptop for a second but then steve's pulling out quickly, dropping his leg and getting eddie off balance. he whines like he's throwing a temper tantrum before bringing his fingers back up to type more nonsense, gasping when steve slides back in like no time has passed.

"read it," he huffs next to his ear, "tell me how perfect you make fucking me sound."

"oh my god," eddie croaks, eyes rolling back as steve lets go of his hip once more to pull his head upright. "sylvar fucks wi-without abandon, hitting every right spot possible inside elidyr, the heat of his h-heavy cock punishing him making him mad with lust."

"good, yeah that's good. like when i fuck you hard?" steve grunts out before pistoning his hips even faster, eddie's moans bouncing off the bare office walls. "tell me more, keep going baby."

"the grip he uses to hold onto elidyr's hair is the only thing keeping him upright. this is all he could want, tending to the prince's every desire, being whatever the prince wants him to be." eddie expects it when the fingers in his hair curl even tighter, his back bowing against the desk with the pressure, but he still keens loudly at the pull.

steve chuckles roughly, like he's barely holding on himself, hips stuttering before evening out. "is that what you want?"

"wha-" eddie murmurs, not trusting his voice much more than that, his brain turning into mush. "is what what i want?"

"want to tend to my desires, want to be for me to use however i please?"

and the thing is, realistically, eddie knows this whole thing is weird, blending his two worlds together in a way he's never done before, but it doesn't stop him from forgoing the rules and bringing a hand down to work over his cock. "god, don't stop. please, please, please..."

steve must be tired of the game, too, because he doesn't even attempt to quit what they're doing to punish eddie as he stops writing. he barely has time to appreciate that the game is finally over because the hand in his hair slides around to rest gently around eddie's throat, pulling him up so his back is to steve's chest, every thrust punching out another gasping breath.

"answer the question," he says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. "gonna let me use you how i want?"

eddie has died and gone to heaven and the cause of death is a mixture of steve's tongue, hands, and cock. his mind wanders to what else they could do together, what else he'd let steve do, what else he wants steve to do. he sends up a quick thank you to whoever is listening that he saw the job posting for this company so he could be here in this moment with a possible sex god in his midst.

the hand that he had braced on the desk for support makes its way up to cover steve's on his throat, a barely there pressure combined with his quick fingers on his cock that sends him over the edge.

he breathes out a "yes" as he shoots come across the stop of steve's desk and see stars dancing in his eyes. steve fucks him through it, whispers filth of what he wants to do to eddie right into his ear, and when he comes back to himself, he digs his nails in the top of steve's hand.

"want it, want you, however you want me-" he chokes out.

and when steve finally comes inside of him, eddie makes sure he bends back down with his cock still pounding into him to write some line about how nice elidyr thinks it feels to filled up from someone who probably shouldn't be giving him the time of day. he tries not to find parallels as steve kisses up the back of his neck as he rocks his hips for the final time.

eddie's bare ass is in a mixture of their come as they maneuver him around to let him sit up and wrap his legs around steve's hips, pulling their spent cocks together while they lazily make out. steve's hands dance softly over his bare thighs, eddie threads his fingers through steve's hair.

"how does it end?" steve whispers against his lips.

"i don't know yet," eddie says truthfully, his mind wandering as kisses start to trail down his jawline. "how do you want it to end?"

"i don't suppose they have bars in this elf world, do they? one where they can go on an actual date to before going back to the palace or whatever to ravage each other?"

eddie grins, tipping his head back to catch steve's lips one more time in a slow kiss. "i can arrange for them to go to the tavern. i think they'd both like that."

the next morning, slightly hungover and draped over each other in steve's way too large bed, eddie ignores a text from nancy asking why the names change halfway through the draft and wondering who the fuck steve is. eddie silences his phone and goes back to sleep, so glad that he didn't double check his first message yesterday for typos.

[atimeofyourlife]

A coffee delivery

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: coffee shop/ tattoo au | rated: t | wc: 906 | tags: coffee shop au, tattoo au, tattoo artist eddie munson, barista steve harrington, pre steddie

Steve had something of a love/hate relationship with the morning shift at the coffee shop. On one hand, it meant he didn't have to take part in the evening cleaning, and he had most of the afternoon free. But on the other hand, it meant he had to be up early and had to deal with opening and set up.  Rude customers occurred at any time of the day. In the morning it was the customers angry that they weren't willing to open thirty minutes before their scheduled time. In the evening, they were angry that they didn't stay open over an hour past their scheduled closing time. There were two main things that made up for the rude customers. Being an independent coffee shop over a chain meant they didn't have a corporate office to answer to, so the boss allowed them to talk back and deny service to any customer that was too rude. And the nice customers generally outweighed the bad ones, the ones who would tip generously, who were always polite and kind, who would stick up for them against the bad ones.

But Steve's favorite part of the job was the guy who worked in the tattoo store a few buildings down on the other side of the street. A guy named Eddie, who would come in five days a week without fail. Always ordering a large caramel latte with two extra shots. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the tattoo shop was due to open. His name was Eddie, and he always made the time to flirt with Steve when he picked up his coffee.

One morning, Steve was just waiting for Eddie to come in for his coffee. It had passed the normal time he would come in, and Steve felt a little worried. Eddie had, as usual, said the day before that he would be back the next day. Steve was staring out the window, on a lookout for Eddie. Unable to keep himself from getting anxious as the time ticked by. But then, about thirty minutes after Eddie would have usually walked in, Steve saw him run down the street, obviously late to open the tattoo store. He let out a sigh of relief, but couldn't help feeling disappointed that he wouldn't get to see Eddie.

"Look, if you're that upset that you don't get to see and flirt with him today, just make the coffee and take it over to him." Robin said from beside Steve. "We're not busy, and the lunchtime rush won't start for at least thirty minutes. Just don't leave me alone too long."

"Robin, you're the best." He hugged her quickly, before turning to start making the drink.

"Just write your number on it, or at least try to get a date. It's getting painful watching you both flirt everyday."

Steve ignored her, writing Eddie's name on the to go cup, and finishing the drink. He was about to walk out from behind the counter, but stopped and one of the cookies that Eddie sometimes ordered. He was nervous as he left the store and crossed the street. Unsure if this was crossing a line, or if Eddie would think Steve was stalking him.

Steve pushed open the door to the tattoo shop, and could see Eddie cleaning furiously.

"Hi, sorry. I'm running a touch late, so if-" Eddie started, trailing off as he turned around and saw Steve.

"Er, hi. You didn't come in this morning, and I saw you run past and it was obvious you were late. So I thought I would bring you coffee and a cookie?" Steve replied, holding them out to Eddie.

"Oh. Thanks, Stevie. You are a life saver. My van crapped out this morning so I had to take the bus, but it was running late, and part of the road was closed. And I had an appointment booked for opening, and I was already late. But the client hasn't shown up yet." Eddie rambled, taking the coffee and the cookie from Steve, instantly taking a drink of the coffee.

"Sounds like a real rough morning. I hope I managed to help make it a little better for you."

"You made it so much better. You are an angel among men right now."

Steve found himself getting lost in Eddie's eyes, and jumped as he heard the bell over the door signaling someone coming in.

"I've got an appointment this morning? I know I'm a bit late for it, I did try to call-" The customer said.

"Of course. I just need a few more minutes to finish setting up." Eddie replied. He placed the coffee down on a desk and grabbed a business card, scribbling something down on it, before handing it to Steve. "I'm really going to have to get on, but I'll see you around, Steve."

"Uh, yeah. I'm going to have to get back before Robin tries to kill me for taking too long." Steve waved, before leaving and heading back to the coffee shop.

"What's that?" Robin asked as soon as Steve rejoined her, her eyes focused on the card in Steve's hand.

"Eddie gave it to me." Steve replied, turning it over and looking at what Eddie had written on it for the first time. It was a phone number tagged with the words 'call me' and a smiley face. Yeah, the trip across the street had been successful.

[gerrystamour]

here i have found some peace of mind

Rated E | Steddie | 7 Chapters | Complete WC: 60,000

Additional tags: Modern AU, Transmasc Steve Harrington, Switch!Steddie

Steve Harrington works at a hotel in Chicago, responsible for making and managing reservations for groups of all kinds: corporate, tours, entertainment, you name it. When some famous metal band signs a contract for rooms three months ahead of their concert date, Steve is swept into a flirtatious back-and-forth with someone he as been led to believe is the tour manager, Chris Cunningham, and quickly finds himself falling for the man... Eddie Munson is a rockstar still riding the high of Corroded Coffin finally, finally making it big, but with the fame he finds himself almost lonelier than he was before. So when he answers his tour manager's phone and a nice guy with a cute voice starts calling him "Chris," Eddie plays along and maybe gets a bit carried away...

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Links to read on Tumblr below the cut.

spent all winter waiting for the sun to arise

longing for isolation, for starlit skies [[ART]] [ CW: contains grief/loss, brief transphobia ]

dreaming of the forest, the whispering pines [[ART]]

soon as the summer comes, i will step out of time [ CW: contains smut ]

now i'm going out into the wild [[ART]] [ CW: contains smut ]

for once in my life i feel alive [ CW: contains smut ]

here to stay until the day i die [ CW: contains smut ]

OFFICIAL CORRODED COFFIN SETLIST

[corrodedbisexual]

Up in the air

Steddie | T | ~5.1k | AO3 link

Based on this post inspo from like half a year ago but now it's done overnight because @sidekick-hero made a joke and I took it seriously 😂

Featuring: AU - No Upside Down, AU - Different First Meeting, AU - 1990s, Flight Attendants Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley, Comic Book Artist Eddie Munson, Fear of Flying, Panic Attacks, Meet-Cute, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, POV Eddie Munson

It's Eddie's first time flying, and he's absolutely terrified. Luckily, there's a very cute flight attendant on board who makes it his mission to stay by Eddie's side for emotional support.

Snippet below!

Eddie adjusts his seatbelt for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. He keeps pulling the buckle tighter and tighter around his middle, because that makes him feel safer; but eventually, the belt starts digging into his stomach and making it hard to breathe, only adding to his anxiety, so he loosens it again. And then he starts worrying if he made it too loose, so he tightens it again.

A girl about his age keeps glancing at him from the window seat with an amused smile, eyebrows raised. Eddie finally had enough of her attitude and turns to glare at her. She flinches and turns her attention back to her book.

At least the middle seat between them is empty, so he can have a little bit of privacy. Eddie looks over at people across the aisle who are less lucky than him, packed like sardines into the three consecutive seats. He’s not sure how he’d have survived being constantly nudged with someone’s elbow or knee.

Eddie forces himself to leave his seatbelt alone and takes his own book out of the seat pocket in front of him. He brought The Hobbit, hoping that reading it during the flight would calm his nerves. But he just flips through the pages mindlessly, unable to focus on the words. After a while, he gives up, puts the book away and tries to pay attention to the pre-flight announcements instead.

They are just now reminding passengers that smoking on board is not permitted. Eddie curses. He's nervously itching for a cigarette already; and the Indy to LA flight will apparently take over four hours, Jesus Christ. Eddie did consider some liquid courage before the flight, but frankly, he was afraid it would only make him hurl.

Eddie stops listening after “in the event of an emergency…”, because that alone creates images in his head enough to make him want to bolt out of his seat and right out of this plane while he still can. Instead, he reaches for his walkman with a Metallica album inside and puts on his headphones. With the familiar guitar riffs filling his ears, he finally relaxes a little, his gaze falling upon the flight attendant currently demonstrating how to use a life jacket. He’s really cute, Eddie briefly notes, but the idea of needing a life jacket once again fills him with icy dread. He looks away.

For a while, Eddie just stares blankly at the back of a seat in front of him, tuning out everything else. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the cute steward stopping next to him. At first, he doesn’t even register that the guy is speaking to him; when he does, he jerks his head up, and is kind of dumbstruck for a moment because wow, up close the steward is even prettier. His eyes are a gorgeous hazel color with specks of green, and his sun-kissed skin is covered in little freckles and moles. His lips keep moving soundlessly as Metallica keeps blaring in Eddie’s ears; he’s smiling at Eddie, and it makes his stomach flip.

Then, he curses himself. Of course the guy is smiling. It’s part of his goddamn job, being polite and pleasant and all that corporate bullshit. Mortified for just dumbly staring at the man for the past several seconds, Eddie rips the headphones off his head, wincing when it feels like he’s plucked a few of his own hairs in the process.

“Uh, shit, sorry, what?”

The steward keeps on smiling politely, glancing at the walkman in Eddie’s lap.

“Sir, if I could ask you please to turn off all electronic equipment during take-off,” he repeats almost robotically, not a hint of annoyance about having to repeat the same thing he said while Eddie was ignoring him. “You’ll be able to freely use it once the seatbelts sign has been switched off, but for now, please keep your walkman off.”

“What? Why?” Eddie frowns. He belatedly realizes it was probably mentioned in the announcements. Which he didn’t bother listening to.

“The airline’s regulations,” the steward explains calmly. “Personal electronic devices can interfere with the aircraft navigational systems.”

Suppressing an annoyed groan, because he realizes it’s not actually the guy’s fault and he’s just doing his job, Eddie clicks the button on his walkman. Fantastic. Now he doesn’t even have his tunes to distract him from the imminent terror of being lifted several miles up in the air in a giant metal box that by some fucking magic is meant to be flying. (Eddie understands cars. Cars make sense. Planes don’t.)

How the fuck can his walkman interfere with the plane? And what, when they’re actually in the air, it will no longer do that? What a load of bullshit.

Eddie doesn’t realize he said that last part out loud until he hears a chuckle beside him. He glances up, wide-eyed as the cute steward, who was apparently on his way to the next row of seats when he heard Eddie, leans close to him and whispers, “It kind of is. But them’s the rules. Sorry about this.”

And then he flashes Eddie a brief grin, which is nothing like his polished customer-friendly smile. It’s like comparing a light bulb to the fucking sun. Eddie still feels the warmth of it in his heated cheeks several minutes later, when the plane is taxiing towards the runway. Sue him; he’s not immune to a pretty boy smiling at him like that, even if it’s just to cheer him up.

Read on AO3

[feralsteddie]

to hold on

modern!AU, no Upside Down, set in 2017, pre-steddie

        There were a lot of things Steve Harrington had been expecting out of life.

        He’d been expecting to be forced to join his father’s firm. He’d been expecting to marry a daughter of his father’s business partners that his mother approved of. He’d been expecting to acquire roughly six little Harringtons that his parents could show pictures of in the office like they’d ever been capable of a parental emotion in their lives.

        Granted, roughly none of those happened, except sort of maybe the last one what with his accidental babysitting gig, but… that was what he’d been expecting.

        What he hadn’t, under any possible conception of his life that he could’ve, in a thousand years, thought up in his rattled little head, was ending up with custody of the younger stepsister of the guy who’d tried to turn his brain into a slushy his senior year.

        He couldn’t figure out how it happened. One second he was serving ice cream. Trying not to think of an entire stack of college rejection letters, hitting on anyone with a pulse, and trying with all his might to ignore the snark from the asshole lesbian he’d been sacked with for every shift. The next, he had an armful of crying toddler and all he could think was “Same, kid.”

        It wasn’t like he was exactly shocked that his dad had knocked up some random woman, there were only so many times you could toss one out before accidentally nailing the bullseye, but the odds of her moving into the same nowhere town? Fucking astronomical.

        He probably would’ve never even known about it too, was the thing. Could’ve gone his whole life in ignorant bliss if Billy Hargrove hadn’t aggravated assaulted the wrong guy at the wrong time with a baggy of coke in his pocket and got cracked for two level four felonies. If Susan Hargrove hadn’t been desperate to keep him from the 4 to 24 sentence and tried to blackmail the one lawyer she could. If Steve’s mother had trusted any man a day in her fucking life and didn’t go through his mail and messages with all the intensity of corporate lawyer used to finding every single point of weakness and pointing out how to exploit it.

        But they all did, and the fallout of Cynthia Harrington and Neil Hargrove both discovering little Max Mayfield’s true paternity left two divorces, four people skipping town, and Steve in possession of a whole baby who clearly just wanted her mother.

        He could sort of relate. He’d been missing his mom since he was old enough to feasibly microwave himself dinner. He didn’t know how to tell Max that it’d become a sort of numb spot one day, that the abandonment would become background noise, a pain easy to ignore as long as they didn’t poke at it. He didn’t know how to do a lot of things with Max.

        He didn’t even know why he’d been the one with a kid dropped in his lap. He knew she had a grandmother and an uncle back in California, both adults with maybe more money and more experience. He knew his father had the money to hire out a nanny or something to watch her at his new loft in Chicago. Or, fuck, maybe the mother she’d been with for the entirety of her life could’ve taken her with her to wherever she fucked off to.

He was eighteen for fucks sake. He was making slightly more than minimum wage to wear some cheaply made slutty sailor outfit and scoop ice cream to every snot-nosed brat in the county and the mall rats who popped over after haunting the Hot Topic right off the food court. His free time was taken up by watching his ex-girlfriend’s little brother and all his playmates because he was freshly a loser with zero friends. He barely managed to keep himself alive and that was only through the power of having a near decade of practice.

And he was expected to actually raise a baby? A fucking toddler?

It probably could’ve been, like, the smallest, tiniest bit better if he’d been given any notice at all. A phone call, a text maybe. Hell, he would’ve settled for an email or messenger pigeon. Pretty much anything other than him walking in the door to the house he was trying to move out of, still covered in bubblegum ice cream and hair somehow greasy despite the lack of actual grease and the sub-zero temperature of Scoops Ahoy, to his mom gone and his dad tossing the tiny, screaming red head towards him like he could make it stop.

Steve had been left with the deed of the house he’d hated his whole life, a promise for money to be deposited into his account for childcare and utilities, and any dream he had of leaving shitty little Hawkins, Indiana in the dust crushed under his dad’s Berluti’s.

“Fuck.”

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie holiday drabble: Dirty Little Secret

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 11 prompt, Royal AU (also boarding school AU--whoops!)

When Steve is sent to school in the UK, he hates everything about it. Apart from the hot guy who lurks in the shadows and seems to get away with anything he likes…

Rating: T

CW: corporal punishment, bullying, cultural prejudices, swearing. Tags: hurt/comfort, whump, fluff. WC: 979

***

From the moment Steve arrived at that creepy castle-come-college, he couldn’t do anything right. 

“You’re using the wrong spoon, Harrington,” sneered some stuck-up idiot, at Steve’s first mealtime in the vast, mediaeval-style hall.

“He wouldn’t know,” jeered another. “Americans scoff cow-pie with their fingers.”

“Hilarious,” snarked Steve. “If I’m using the wrong spoon, how come you’re the one who’s drooled soup down their tie?”

A shout of “Touché!” broke the loaded silence. 

Steve spotted the shouter sitting alone on an otherwise empty table. He flashed Steve a grin which was… Woah! Not actively hostile? And kinda cute.

The kid beside Steve tugged his hair: “Has nobody invented scissors on your side of the pond? Matron’s going to scalp you, mark my word.”

“He’s got longer hair than me.” Steve pointed to the boy sitting alone. 

“He’s not an ignorant little yank with no manners.”

“Oh, sod off.” Steve had mastered some of the lingo.

In the dorm later, somebody stole Steve’s blankets from his bed. After a night shivering, he wore the wrong sneakers—sorry, trainers!—to gym class.

The teacher didn’t let him change into boots. Steve slipped endlessly on the muddy rugby field. The only rule he fathomed was that it was fine for any bastard to dump their butt on his face. Afterwards, the teacher summoned Steve to his office.

Steve mumbled: “What’ve I done now?”

Seriously, this son-of-bitch should worship Steve! If he had the right kit—and knew the rules—he bet he could whip some serious rugby ass.

“Hold out your hand.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be insolent. Do it. Palm downward.”

Steve obeyed, flexing his fingers apprehensively. The teacher produced a wooden cane. Steve’s blood jumped. “No, no, no, no. I’ll watch my mouth. Wear the right shit… uh, kit. Please!”

“You’ve earned five. One more word, it’ll be ten. On your rear.”

Steve battled his panic, fretted his lip. The cane came lashing down, razing a fiery trail across his hand. He smothered a whimper, swallowed bile. By the fifth strike, his knees had turned to jello. His hand was red, his knuckles puffy with one split.

“You’re dismissed, Harrington.”

He drifted mindlessly through the showers, got dressed, wandered out, cradling his hand. Totally lost, he encountered his hated dining companions:

“His socks are falling down! He’s so stupid, he can’t hook his suspenders.”

Steve was terrified of losing his shit, giving these dickheads the triumph of seeing how badly he was hurting, how horribly alone he felt. So…

Steve shoved the lead bully, who crashed onto their butt.  “What moron’s wear sock suspenders? Screw the lot of you!” 

Steve could’ve handled any one of them; with wrecked knuckles, though, no way could he handle six. He wound up curled in a ball, enduring a brutal kicking. As the blows kept coming, he sank beyond wretched, losing his fight against furious tears.  A shout interrupted: “Hey, scumbags—scoot! NOW!”

The kicking stopped. Steve curled even tighter. Everything hurt, his head pounded, and he tasted blood. A gentle touch on his shoulder made him flinch: “Hey, are you alright?”

Steve swiped his damp cheekbones, peeped up. His rescuer was the boy who dined alone, with the cute smile and long, unruly hair. Up close, his brown eyes were mesmerising… and kind.

“Come on, you.”

Dazed, Steve let the other boy help him up. He took him to the matron, who seemed oddly nervous at their arrival. Steve perched on the edge of a bed, while his knuckles were bandaged, his other wounds tended. The other boy—Steve still didn’t know his name—held ice to Steve’s swollen brow till Steve’s uninjured hand stopped trembling enough to hold it himself.

“You can go, Matron,” said the boy. She obeyed. With a curtsy! These Brits sure were odd. Steve was still hurting badly, still furious at the whole world. Yet, now they were alone, he longed to throw his arms around this other boy and sob shamelessly. He was so mixed up.

“Steven Harrington, right? The US envoy’s son?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Eddie. Can I call you Steve? The surname crap makes us sound like a load of wankers. Which, let’s face it, most kids in this dump are.”

“No shit.” Steve chuckled, which made his face ache. 

“Besides, it’s hopeless for me.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Nobody dares say it.” Eddie leaned closer and his adorable grin spread slowly. “I’m the illegitimate son of the Duke of Cumbria.”

“He’s a prince! So you’re—”

“A dirty royal secret.” Eddie jokily pressed a finger to his lips, which Steve couldn’t stop staring at. Steve’s heart hammered like he’d met the Stones or the Beatles. Though, Eddie was the opposite of famous: “This dustbin has hid little secrets like me for centuries. I still get MI5 protection, if needed, and… nobody dares lay a finger on me. Or my chums. Not that I have any, because—”

“—they’re all complete wankers?”

“You’re fluent already, Stevie.” Stevie? Steve blushed and looked away. Eddie tenderly cupped Steve’s chin and turned his face back, tugging a slight smile from Steve, in defiance of his split lip. Eddie grinned all the harder.

The ‘dirty secret’ didn’t just get his own table. He got his own spacious dorm room. Steve moved his stuff in two days later, to find Eddie in a different mode—twitchy and bashful, endlessly fiddling with his hands. “Thanks,” murmured Eddie, as if Steve had done him the favour.

“Woah. That’s my line, right?”

“No. Look, I need to get this out.” Eddie paced, folded his arms. Unfolded them again. “I’m gay, Steve. And I like you. I’m not going to press myself on you or anything, but… It’s okay to have second thoughts. I can arrange for you to have a separate room, if you prefer.”

Steve shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “No sweat, Eds.”

He only hoped it wouldn’t be too long before his almost-prince stole a kiss. 

***

Thanks for reading :)

[lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus]

Twilight Steddie AU 👉🏽👈🏽

with some (heavy) liberties lol

Steve is Edward

Eddie is Bella

Steve gets migraines from all the voices overlapping

Steve used his gift to be a great lover in bed, possibly feeling like it was his expectation/only redeeming quality/only way he could feel

Robin is Alice

Just like Edward and Alice have silent conversations, so do Steve and Robin

They mainly use it to bitch

Robin sees a bunch of futures at once, and it often makes her anxious, fidget, ramble, etc.

Nancy is Rosalie

Nancy was turned while leading an investigative report on shady business/government opperation/etc. who were not fans.

They sent someone to kill her, and while she was quickly bleeding out, a passing vampire went into a frenzy (not that there was much blood left) and turned her

She 100% has her revenge and takes down the entire corporation she was investigating. Maybe she kills the vampire who turned her.

Nancy and Steve dated for a while, but nothing really clicked

Wayne either:

- already lives in Forks when he gets Eddie when his parent/s die, go to jail, or abandon him

- or, he already has Eddie with him and gets a better job in Forks. If so, Forks could be a place he used to live (with Eddie visiting whenever his parents dropped him off), or they vacationed there often.

Circling back to Eddie being Bella, pls consider: Big doe eyes; Pale AF; Long, unruly hair; [Steve/Edward]'s "singer" / singer

[kittythelitter]

Witnessed - an Amnesia+Witness Protection AU - pre-Steddie

Eddie finds himself coming to slowly, in a way reminiscent of waking up still a little baked and already hungover. He's kind of aware but also dazed and drowsy. His head is pounding and his mouth feels and tastes terrible. He's slowly becoming aware of a steady beep which calls him back to sitting at his mother's bedside in the hospital all those years ago.

As he becomes more aware of it the beep starts to increase in tempo and noise until it's indistinguishable from that terrible alarm clock his dad had insisted Eddie use to get to elementary school on time, because he couldn't be bothered to get up with Eddie.

Eddie tries to reach out to stop it but finds he can't lift his arm or sit up because he's tangled up in his sheets or something.

This is alarming enough that Eddie finally pries his eyes open, and isn't that a task. Not only is whatever he took or drank or did last night making his eyelids incredibly heavy, but his eyes had like. Three weeks' worth of crust sealing them. As the brightness fades and the room swims into focus Eddie spots a small swarm of nurses rushing towards where he is lying and surrounding what he now sees is in fact a hospital bed.

The room appears to be the unholy love child of some kind of jankey old corporate building and a hospital. The nurses are dressed way more neatly and in much nicer clothes than any nurse he's seen at the clinic where dumb kids in Hawkins get their stomachs pumped. (It's also the clinic he's gone to for every broken bone or vaccination needed for school as a child.)

Once Eddie is fully aware, one of the nurses seems to realize he's awake and rushes out of the room. Someone helps him sit up and pulls a tube out of his throat and another out of his nose. The ones going into his arms and all the wires stay but he can now sip at the straw someone holds to his mouth and chase the feeling in his mouth away with cool water. He still can't move his arms or legs. He's still strapped to the bed; it's just that now he and the bed are sitting up.

Did he get arrested? Do they strap down drug dealers who are coming off a bad high in the hospital? When they took Reefer Rick they'd just handcuffed one of his wrists to the bed. But Reefer Rick had been at the clinic in Hawkins not whatever weird corporate government hospital Eddie is in.

A man who was not particularly portly but had a gentle sort of roundness about him in a sweater under a blazer strides into the room and everyone seems to come to attention around him.

"Mr Munson!" The man exclaimes, "We're so relieved to see that you're awake. You gave us quite the scare!"

Eddie stares at the man and trieds to respond. All that came out was a croak. One of the nurses brings the straw back towards his mouth. As he sips and tries to clear his throat the man continues.

"I'm Dr. Owens, my colleagues and I have been taking care of you while you recover. I don't know if you recognize me, Eddie, but we've spoken a few times you were quite disoriented at the time and seemed to be experiencing some memory loss. I hate to keep asking this right when you wake up but, what's the last thing you remember?"

Eddie croaks again but manages to push past that to ask. "Where am I? Do I need a lawyer? Does my uncle know where I am?"

The man's face falls and he seems to chew on the questions for a moment. "You're at a specialty hospital in Washington DC. You don't need a lawyer. You're not in any trouble. In fact can someone please take those straps off? He hasn't had the convulsions in a while and he certainly won't have them now that he's awake." The nurses immediately start unbuckling the white rubbery straps keeping Eddie in place. "As for your uncle- well. Eddie, what do you remember? There might be a lot you need to be caught up on."

"Wayne and I can't afford a trip to DC let alone a specialty hospital. Let me talk to him. I get a phone call right?" He'd leap out of bed if someone hadn't filled his limbs with lead.

"Eddie please calm down. I understand that this is stressful. Don't worry about the cost; this is all on the government's dime. If you can tell me what you remember I can go over all that happened but I need to know how far back to start."

Eddie didn't understand but maybe he just. Didn't remember. Anything.

"I don't remember anything that would result in me being in a government hospital in DC."

"Okay. Do you remember the date? Of whatever you remember most recently?"

"It was uhhhh." Eddie tries to remember what he was doing before waking up in the hospital. "It was the last day before spring break so Friday, March 14th. Henderson said it was Pi day and I asked why he hadn't brought any in, and he told me in his snarky little way that it was the mathematical pi."

"Okay. What's the last thing you remember that day?"

"I was. I was. Leaving Hellfire, the DND club at my highschool, the little bastards had pulled a spectacular victory out of nowhere and defeated my big boss. And uh. Then I had plans for. Uh."

"A drug deal?" Eddie fought back a finch.

"No! Uh I-"

"It's fine Eddie, you're not in trouble for that. Compared to the rest of what happened giving a cheerleader some weed is the least of the government's concerns."

Was this the world's weirdest sting?

"We don't have any sure information on what happened that night but the current theory is that you gave Christina Cunningham a ride from Hawkins High to your residence in order to perform some kind of transaction. Initially we thought you were selling her marijuana, but information we have indicates that you normally did those deals at school, which means we've basically had to speculate why you brought her home. Any information you can give us. Anything you can remember from that night, will help us. And hopefully you, figure out everything that happened. "

Eddie stares. "What the fuck man! I don't- Is this an elaborate setup? If you don't know why don't you ask Chrissy?"

The man winces. "Unfortunately Miss Cunningham was killed that night."

"What the fuck. What the fuck. Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Regrettably not." Dr Owens gestures and one of the nurses hands him a file. He flips though it and pulls out a photo. Chrissy Cunningham with her eyes gone and her whole body twisted and snapped. In Eddie's fucking trailer.

"Holy shit. Holy shit. What the fuck happened."

"Well we're hoping you can help us clarify the details but we have a rough idea. I assume, based on your reaction that you don't remember witnessing this."

"I -what? No she was gonna come home with me. The game ended and I think she got in my van but after that is somewhere between fuzzy and totally gone. I was at. A friend's boathouse I think? And I was terrified. I remember being terrified. Flickering lights. Pain. " Eddie wheezes and realizes his face is wet and a panic attack is rolling in.

"Okay! Don't strain yourself. You did great." Dr Owens rambling fades into the background and someone fits an oxygen mask onto his face.

"I'm sorry Eddie. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to piece together what we don't know. I'll tell you what we do know happened, and we can go from there. You mentioned Hellfire. Are you aware that there's some that believe that dungeons and dragons promotes satanism?"

"Yes?"

"Well. A small group of religious zealots in your town took that idea too far. Do you remember the chemical leaks a few years back? "

Eddie nods slowly.

"Well a slow chemical poisoning of a few people with the right beliefs and dispositions over the course of a year led to the formation of a cult led by Jason Carver, who genuinely believed that you were some kind of demon infiltrating their town. We are not entirely sure why, but he and his followers abducted you and Chrissy Cunningham that night and brutally and ritualistically killed Chrissy and two other students of Hawkins high. It's our belief that they chose people who who had been formerly 'innocent' before, in their eyes you 'corrupted' them. People in their in group who they found out bought drugs from you.

Chrissy was probably just convenient. She was dating Jason. So believed to be good or innocent, part of their group, but she was at your trailer when they abducted you. From what we heard you were drugged and made to watch the murders. They had you for about two days before you managed to escape. Once you were free your friends in Hellfire found you but before you could go to the police, Jason managed to pin the murders on you, and because of the chemicals in the water supply, the town was incredibly susceptible, and some were even hallucinating. He managed to convince all but the Hellfire Club that you were guilty. At some point they found you again and you and the Hellfire Club managed to fight off the angry mob long enough that our guys, who had been alerted to something strange happening in your town, were able to rescue you. But not before there were some casualties. Your uncle, and several Hellfire Club members among them.

Unfortunately, other than Jason, you were subjected to the most contamination, while being drugged by the cult, and it has affected your memory as well as your immune system. For that reason you will need to stay in this facility for a while yet. The town is also still recovering from the affects of the leak and as a result we fear for your safety should you go back to that town. Most people believed you died in the mob's attack and we believe it is in your best interest that it stays that way.

As recompense for the loss and trauma you experienced, the government will continue keeping you here, no cost, until you're fully recovered, at which time you will be given a new identity and whatever you need to get back on your feet and start a new life somewhere you've never been attacked by a mob. We'd offer to let you bring or otherwise stay in touch with your family and friends but your uncle, along with the other members of Hellfire your age didn't survive the mob. If there's anyone else you're very close to. Who you'd trust with your life. We can find a way to get you in touch with them. But they'd have to sign NDAs and you might be putting them at risk if there's any cult members still out there after all this. "

The thing is. There weren't. Everyone Eddie loved was dead, and his hometown was out for his blood. His only real option was to go with what the government said to do.

- - -

Except. That was almost all a lie. Which he didn't find out until many years later, when he and some of his friends were in Boston.

MJ and Spike had a show at a place called the Rat and were staying at a friend's grandma's townhouse in Somerville for a whole week for free. There was plenty of space so anyone who could get the week off was welcome in the townhouse and in the piece of shit van to ride up there, so long as they brought their own snacks and grass, gas, or ass. (the only one who brought any kind of "ass" was MJ's girlfriend, Tara, the other clingers-on needed to bring some kind of green). The trip ended up being Eddie, MJ, Spike, Tara, Lillian, Ronnie and Kit.

MJ and Spike were performing Tuesday and Thursday, so the rest of the week the group could do whatever. Mainly play boardgames, get stoned, and listen to music. They were all a little past their days of partying every night, and would rather save their money to spend it on better food. That being said, Friday, the last night they were in town, the girls talked the rest of them into going to this bar that they'd heard gay things about. So the group spent Friday night at Machine, a nearby primarily lesbian bar.

The first round had been brought to their group by Tara who wanted to celebrate her girlfriend's amazing shows, but after that the couple, and the rest of the sapphics, split off, and the remaining two went outside to smoke.

They stood in the alleyway passing the spliff back and forth, when the door banged open and someone dressed like they got dressed to Rocky Horror while pulling exclusively from a men's workwear store stumbled into the alley, hurling into the gutter.

As they straightened, palms braced against the rough brick of the alleyway, Eddie was able to read the sash hap-hazardly pinned to their outermost layer. "Future Groom," it had presumably read before someone had crossed out the word "Groom" and written "Bride" over it. Someone else had written "I could be a groom if I wanted to! Don't be sexist!"

Eddie pulled his eyes away from the sash and up to the face. The person looked vaguely familiar, but what really threw Eddie off was the vast range of emotions that flashed over their face as they drank in Eddie's face with their rapidly filling eyes.

They stumbled, hand outstretched towards Eddie's face. Before he could react the door once again slammed open and a voice announced, "There you are Robbie! I was looking all over for you. Your soon-to-be wife would like a dance." A tall broad figure, only focused on Robbie strode out into the alley. They had an undercut under what should've a gross messy sweaty bun, but it looked stupidly fabulous. Their toned back was exposed by their golden glittery fishnet mesh shirt, tucked into tight black leather pants.

Robbie glanced between their face and Eddie's still in some kind of shock. "Stevie, I think somebody slipped me something."

'Stevie' gripped Robbies face in their hands. "What's going on? Spins? Colors? Drowsiness? Full on Starcourt?"

"I- I'm seeing Eddie!" Tears spilled out of Robbies eyes and Stevie pulled them close.

Eddie stood, frozen with shock and fear as he heard a name he hadn't been called in almost a decade. He realized why Robbie looked familiar. Robin Buckley, and probable fellow friend of Dorothy, band geek in the Hawkins fucking High Class of '86. She probably thought she was seeing a cult leader and serial killer that tormented her senior year of High School. She was probably fucking terrified. He hoped, as his brain started kicking into action, that whoever she was with was not someone who would recognize this, and she'd think it was a drug fueled nightmare tomorrow.

Eddie's luck did not decide to grant him his wish, as fucking King Steve fucking Harrington, in a gold fishnet mesh shirt of all things, turned around to look at Eddie.

Eddie expected a punch to the face. To be killed, or maybe arrested. He did not expect for King Steve fucking Harrington's eyes to also fill with tears and something almost like desperate hope and love. Harrington, like Buckley, reached out towards Eddie, but he succeeded in touching Eddie's face. So reverently. So gently.

"What the fuck?" Harrington breathed, his voice choked up with some kind of emotion. "Eddie?"

If Eddie's logical brain were in control, he might've used his self-preservation skills to try to gaslight these two drunk people into forgetting they saw the supposedly dead cult-leader and serial-killer from their highschool.

It was not.

Instead of all the things it could've been, what came out of his mouth was, "King Steve knows my name?"

He's not sure why that's what did it, but, in what might've been the most surprising turn of events Eddie could remember, he suddenly had his arms full of two sobbing near-strangers, who were clinging to him like they were afraid he'd disappear.

***

I'm thinking this would be like 1995 which means gay marriage wouldn't be legalized in Massachusetts for another 9 years but. Robin and her fiancee don't know if/when it would be legalized so they're doing a not-legal with friends as witnesses wedding.

In my mind most of the party ends up based around Boston. Robin went to BU class of '91 (gap year because Trauma) to study languages and play trumpet in the BU band. She chose so she could get away from Hawkins while also having someone who Understood nearby in case of a Code Red. (Nancy at Emerson. Maybe Nancy's her fiancee if you like that!)

Steve, of course, followed Robin and they lived together in Allston for a while. Dustin went to MIT class of '93. Erica is at Harvard class of '97. I'll make a separate post about all my thoughts but. For this. They're in Boston. It's 1995. Steve, Robin and Nancy all live in/near Boston. Eddie lives in Chelsea, NYC. I don't know New York as well as Boston.

[softsnzstuff]

🎂 radio host steddie Au for Steve!

🎂Sick at a Party for Steve!!!

Here’s a little short something!! Still working on these fills, sorry.

*~*~*~

Steve coughed into his elbow before taking a careful sip of champagne and rejoining the group. It’s a small gathering to celebrate one year on-air. Chrissy, Jonathan, a few of the studio producers, and the main four of course.

Eddie walked over and nudged the younger man with his arm.

“Easy Tiger, you okay?”

Steve cleared his throat and nodded, “Yeah just went down the wrong way I think.”

Eddie gave a skeptical look, eyebrow raised, but let it go, moving to go mingle with some corporates.

As soon as he was out of Eddie’s line of sight, Steve let his shoulders drop, rubbing at his throat that was already sore.

Feeling his nose twitch, he turns and shuffles to an empty corner of the room, bringing his collar up quickly.

“Hihh! HAESSSH! Snrff… Eh’KTSCH!”

Steve sniffled wetly. When he turned around, he jumped, Robin was right in front of him.

“Bless you!” She smirked.

“What’s that look on your face for?”

“You’re getting sick, huh? I can tell.”

“Maybe?” He lies, “it’s fine.”

“Okay so Eddie doesn’t know is what that means.”

Damn Robin for being so acutely aware of all Steve’s tells and ailments.

“Not yet. I’ll tell him later. After the party though. Tonight’s for celebrating.”

Robin laughed, taking his champagne glass, “then how about we switch this out for some water hmm?”

[hbdttg]

Part 1 / tag list below the cut

“I’m quitting,” Eddie declares, “I’m out. Call me a tree, ‘cause I’m leaving. Call me a banana, ‘cause I’m splitting. T-t-t-t-that’s all, folks!” he adds, doing his best impression of Porky Pig’s signature stammering.

Chrissy’s laser focus doesn’t stray from her monitor, even when Eddie bodily throws himself into the chair across her desk with a long, strangled groan. Wordlessly, she raises her left index finger at him in a silencing gesture. With her brows furrowed in concentration, she drags her mouse around on its pad and double-clicks something on her screen before nodding decisively to herself. After another few clicks, she finally lowers her finger, raises her eyes, and meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Would you mind grabbing what I just printed? Please?” she asks, smiling at him imploringly.

Chrissy could ask Eddie to bleach his hair and shave off an eyebrow and he’d do it. She’s actually who he has to thank for landing such a cushy job with HHH—a referral from a trusted associate like her goes a long way in a place like this.

And despite Eddie’s many complaints about becoming a corporate sellout, he can’t deny that it certainly has its perks. The office is only a ten-minute commute from his apartment, the compensation agreement he signed amounted to more money than his last two jobs combined, his benefits package is frankly ridiculous, and he gets to work with one of his best friends in the world. Overall, not a bad gig.

Even so, he makes a show of sighing, loud and longsuffering, before doing as Chrissy asks, leaving her office to grab her job off the printer. Eddie knows she works in HR and some of her stuff can get pretty confidential, so he doesn’t even try to skim the contents of the page as he walks it back over to her.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the paper at Chrissy facedown.

“Thanks!” she says. She makes no moves to take it from him. “That’s for you, actually.”

Curious, Eddie takes the paper back and flips it over. In the center of the page is a graphic of safety sign one might find in a cartoon factory, though Chrissy had edited the original from “[___] Days Since Last Accident” to “[___] Days Since Eddie Last Threatened to Quit His Job”. There’s a big red zero in the counter box.

Eddie tries to glower down at Chrissy, but it’s sort of hard to maintain when she bursts into laughter. It’s been years, but the sound of Chrissy laughing like this, all bright and breathless and unrestrained, never fails to transport him back to his (third) senior year of high school, when they first became friends over a failed drug deal.

“Don’t be cute,” Eddie says with a laughable lack of authority, dropping heavily back down into the chair.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Chrissy counters, brow raised archly.

Eddie rolls his eyes, crumpling the page into a ball and lobbing it in between them.

Chrissy lets the ball land harmlessly on her desk before sweeping it into the trashcan by her feet.  “Just so you know, I’ve had that saved on my desktop since Monday—and I haven’t had to edit the days count a single time.”

Eddie scoffs, but it’s hard to defend himself when this current visit marks the fifth day in a row he’s floundered into her office, vainly announcing his resignation. “Yeah, well,” he says weakly, “printing it seems like a gross misuse of company resources.”

“What are you going to do, report me?” Chrissy says with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“Let me guess: you’re the one who receives those reports?” Eddie says dryly.

��Yep!” she says cheerfully. “Now, go on and tell me about your latest trainwreck of an interaction with Steve Harrington.”

“Christ, Chris!” Eddie hisses, leaping to his feet and immediately spinning around to check if anyone was around to hear her damning words. The coast is clear, luckily, but he still scrambles to shut her office door before falling back into his chair. “You can’t just go around saying his name all willy-nilly.”

“He’s not gonna suddenly appear if you say his name three times, Eddie. See, watch. Steve. Steve. St—”

“Don’t risk it!” Eddie squawks loudly, cutting her off.

“You’re an absolute mess,” she says through a laugh, shaking her head at him.

And well, Chrissy’s not wrong.

Eddie’s been a mess since Monday morning, when he unknowingly produced, directed, and starred in The Roast of Steve Harrington. He blames his shitty memory for forgetting what floor his new office was on—if he’d known he was sharing the elevator with someone he could have potentially worked with (let alone someone whose surname made up a third of the company name), he wouldn’t have opened his big, fat mouth in the first place.

When he finally gathered the courage to make it back down to the fifty-second floor and show his face at the HHH office, he kicked off his onboarding with Chrissy with a strangled, “I know it’s my first day and I technically just started ten minutes ago, but I quit. Thank you for the opportunity and good-bye forever.”

Chrissy, the traitor, spent a full five minutes laughing in his face over his shamefully recounted story before patting him twice on the head and informing him he wasn’t allowed to quit for at least six months. The overly saccharine tone of her voice alone told Eddie there was no room for argument there.

Still, that didn’t stop him from following her into her office after the all-hands meeting on Tuesday, all the while whining in her ear, “I can’t thrive in these conditions, Chrissy. Please, I beg of you—accept my sincere and humble resignation from this cursed hellscape.”

‘These conditions’ consisted of any rooms and/or conversations that contained Steve Harrington. Eddie hadn’t been expecting to see the guy doting over the catering when he walked into the conference room that afternoon, and he certainly wasn’t expecting his supervisor and trainer, Murray, to lead him over to Steve to introduce the two of them (though that was likely just an excuse to head straight for the sandwiches that were laid out for the meeting).

While Eddie choked on his own tongue trying to spit out some generic, inoffensive greeting, Steve merely watched him with an amused smirk before thrusting his hand out and offering a perfectly friendly “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie, I’m Steve”, as if Eddie didn’t have Steve’s name and face (and stupidly fit body—who the fuck looks that good in a pair of khakis?!) burnt into his memory from the day prior.

Afterward, Murray, who most assuredly did not have a filter of any kind, bluntly commented on Eddie’s awkwardness, then spent the next five minutes trying to determine if it was normal, strangers-meeting-for-the-first time awkwardness, or something more sensational. Eddie stubbornly kept his mouth shut until the meeting started.

Wednesday followed a similar pattern, with Eddie flouncing into Chrissy’s office with a dramatic “I choose to break my blood oath. At this point I’d welcome the sweet release of death if it meant I didn’t have to work here anymore.”

Chrissy just corrected him, patiently explaining that he was employed at-will, rather than by blood oath, and that if he left before his sixth month, she’d personally skin him alive. Eddie had to pause and weigh the pros and cons of being skinless. Surely it couldn’t be worse than his latest exchange with Steve—via email this time, mercifully.

He’d just learned how to field helpdesk tickets and received one from Steve Harrington himself. It was a simple enough software request ticket, so he assigned it to himself and replied with next steps, asking Steve for a code so he could remote into his computer and install the program.

Steve replied back, asking where he was supposed to find the code. It was an innocuous enough question, but then Eddie noticed something a little off about his email signature: his last name was bolded.

Eddie ignored it, assuming it was a stylistic choice—nothing to read into, surely—but then Steve sent another email shortly after to let him know to disregard his last email; he’d found the right app and was just waiting for it to generate a code. This time, Harrington was bolded and at least two sizes bigger than his first name.

Then, in Steve’s third email, sent not a minute later with the requested code, Harrington was bolded, two sizes bigger than his first name, and highlighted yellow—a tactic Chrissy found so hilarious that she had to shoo Eddie out of her office with tears in her eyes so that she could compose herself and actually get some work done.

Thursday was a blessed reprieve from Steve’s unique brand of psychological warfare, but Eddie still somehow managed to royally humiliate himself in front of him. After he slunk into her office and silently pushed a scribbled-on napkin across her desk—

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as Systems Analyst II at HHH, effective immediately. Effective yesterday. In fact, I’ll pay you back the entirety of my wages earned if we just forget I ever worked here.

—Chrissy tutted at him sympathetically before taking the napkin and reaching over to dab it at the large wet stain on his shirt.

He’d been walking back to his desk from the breakroom when he rounded a corner and bumped into Steve in the hallway. Literally bumped into, bodily contact and surprised yelps and everything. And it probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal, really, if not for the fact that he had a newly refilled mug of coffee in his hand.

“Eddie, oh my god, are you okay?”

No, Eddie wasn’t okay, because he just splashed himself with hot fucking coffee and now Steve Harrington was worriedly fussing over him and tentatively trying to mop up the liquid with his own fucking hands for some reason, and he was embarrassed (and a little turned on?) and he had to get the fuck out of there now.

“I’m okay, sorry, it’s fine—” he managed to squeak before whirling around and scurrying to the bathroom.

So yes, Eddie’s been an absolute mess the past few days, and today is no different.

…Actually, scratch that. Today is different. Today is worse.

“Okay, now spill,” Chrissy says. “What happened?”

With another drawn-out, pitiful groan, Eddie sinks down in his seat and lets his neck hang off the backrest, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Talk to me, Eds,” Chrissy says, concern starting to bleed into her voice. “If he’s actually bullying you, you can file a complaint. I have a form here somewhere.”

Eddie hears her open one of her desk drawers and reluctantly sits up. “He’s not bullying me, Mom,” he says with a huff. “We actually…we talked.”

“You talked?” Chrissy asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, about the elevator. Buried the hatchet and everything. I said sorry, we laughed about it, it’s over and done with.” Eddie’s gaze darts around Chrissy’s desk, searching for something to distract him from the warm and fuzzy feeling growing in his stomach at the memory of their conversation.

“That’s great, I’m so proud of you!” Chrissy says cheerfully. “But wait, if you two are good now…”

Eddie doesn’t want her to ask what she’s about to ask, because the answer might be more embarrassing than all of his other Steve stories combined.

“Why are you still going on about quitting?”

Eddie drops his face into his hands, feeling totally and utterly pathetic. “Um, because I think I’m sort of, kind of, just a little bit…in love with him?”

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

tbh I didn’t think I’d be writing a second part, but if strangers on the internet validate me enough, I guess I’ll do anything~

Y’ALL. I’m blown away by the response to part one of this silly lil au. I didn’t reply to any of the lovely comments or tags, but please know if you engaged in any way (or even if you just read the fic and snorted a little through your nose at a bit you found funny) I love you with my entire heart and you’ve made my entire life.

[Now for the tag list, which I’ve never done before. Sorry if you didn’t actually want to be on here! Or, sorry if you’re stumbling upon this post on your own after asking to be tagged and I missed you oops.]

@messrs-weasley @n0-1-important @bornonthesavage @thing-a-ling @eddiemunsonswife @changenamelater @ispyblu @thesuninyaface

@invisibleflame812 @4nemo1egend @ikolanatari @mavernanche @songbird-garden @trashpocket @original-cypher @over7joyed 

@commonxsenss @justdyingontheinside @mojowitchcraft @maya-custodios-dionach @justmiiriam @imzadidragonfly @lillemilly @gay-stranger-things @child-of-cthulhu @bleedingoptimism @lemanzanabizarra @melaniehere91

@iswearitsjustme @silver-snaffles @csinnamon-fox @paint-music-with-me @epicsteddieficrecs @sweetcreaturetm @hxneyfarms @bossyknow-it-all @vecnuthy @stevethehairington @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @nburkhardt

@gayngerthings @patchworkgargoyle @violetsteve @henderdads @2btheanswertothequestion

[undreaming-fanfiction]

The office was boring.

Boring. Booooring. Borrrring. BoOoRrRINg. No matter how Eddie spelled it, it still sucked. Everyone so prim, so proper, so focused. And yeah, Eddie was over the moon that he had a stable and fairly well paying job, don't get him wrong, but he'd always had a rebellious streak and now he really, REALLY felt the urge to shake things up.

It started innocently enough, with a 1 dollar goggly eye sticker sheet in the display window of the local stationery shop. So sue Eddie, he liked ridiculous crap, no doubt inherited from Wayne Munson and his mug empire. So Eddie bought the sticker sheet and the next day, he secretly stuck a pair of goggly eyes onto Nancy Wheeler's webcam. He really wanted to see if there was anything else to her than the painfully annoying drive and perfection.

He got his wish when Nancy was preparing for her Zoom call and Robin Buckley snuck behind her, pressing a finger against her lips. "Shhhh. Not a word. You're being watched," she whispered and pointed at the webcam.

That was when Eddie learned Nancy had the cutest snort laugh and that Robin grew an even cuter shade of pink when she heard it. Two birds, one stone and all that .

He decided to keep his identity as the goggly eye bandit a secret. No one knew where and when he'd strike.

Meeting invites? If you looked closely enough, you'd see a small goggly eye stuck in the g of the word meeting.

Forgotten lunch in the kitchen fridge? One goggly eye per day, growing like mold.

A directive against use of goggly eyes? Of course there would be a NO spelled out of goggly eyes.

The office became a beautiful, goggly eye-infested place. Not boring anymore, not when the team lead found his stack of business cards gogglified.

But then.

THEN.

Someone started to add puffy cartoon-ish lips to his goggly eyes. Eddie couldn't believe it - his rebellion was being rebelled against. Or co-rebelled. His mockery was being mocked. And the worst part was - no one knew it was him so he couldn't complain anywhere. What would he say to the HR? That he voluntarily took upon himself the responsibilities of the office gogglifier position and someone has been encroaching on his territory? 

But that wasn't the end of Eddie's suffering, oh no. Because in his anger, he got sloppy - on Friday he came home, slammed his backpack on the desk...and the goggly eye sheet was gone. He searched for it frantically, retracing his steps, praying he hadn't done the only possible thing - leave it on the pile of paperwork on his desk. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the repercussions would be when he came back to the office on Monday. He was certain he was fucked.

Except...not?

Monday came and Eddie rushed to the office, throwing himself onto the pile of papers on his desk and digging, digging...and finding nothing.

Huh. Maybe he lost it outside? Maybe he accidentally threw it out?

As he moved his chair to start his work day, he noticed an envelope on his work seat, labelled - "FAO Mr. Munson". Probably another directive, notice or something.

Nope. It was his goggly eye sheet. Along with a horrendous lip sticker and a note that said I ONLY HAVE EYES FOR YOU.

You might think that this was the biggest shock of that week for Eddie, but you'd be wrong.

The real shock came the same day, when he attended a joint team meeting in which the office pretty boy, Steve Harrington, was presenting, making notes on the whiteboard, and, after an agonizing half an hour, Eddie finally realized why the handwriting seemed so familiar. Because there was a small twirl in the Os that Harrington wrote and the puffy lip bandit note burned in Eddie's pocket, tempting him to take it out and confirm his suspicions.

As everyone started leaving the conference room, Eddie still stared at the whiteboard, wondering if this was it, if he finally found his arch nemesis.

Harrington just motioned towards Eddie's company badge and touched it, briefly pressing the plastic into Eddie's chest. "Looking nice there, Munson." He winked at Eddie and left.

Eddie's confusion very quickly dissipated when he noticed that the fucker stuck a puffy lip thingy onto his picture in the badge. His lips curled into an evil smile as he exited the conference room.

This meant war.

[roosterbox]

Don’t mind me, still brainstorming ideas for fics. In fact, how about this one? It’s a combination of two of my biggest fandoms.

Stranger Things/Inception AU

Richard Harrington has a reputation as a ruthless businessman. Anything he wants - sales, mergers, whatever the fuck - he gets. Even in situations where the other party is emphatically against complying no matter what, he seems to convince them… somehow.

But then, [X Business] comes into his crosshairs. Previously run by a guy named Al Munson, he has since passed away, leaving the business in the hands of his ne’er do well son, Eddie. His son, who surprises Richard with his resistance to corporate takeover, if not his actual business acumen. He’ll need to be dealt with. So Richard calls in his secret weapon.

Enter Steve Harrington, Richard’s long suffering son, who went into dreamshare at his father’s request - demand, more like - to give him (Richard) a leg up when dealing with stubborn people. If someone refuses Richard, he’ll just send in Steve, who’ll secretly go into their dreams and, after some adjustments, have them completely changing their minds about things. Steve is damn good at this, but he also hates it. The ruthless business side, at least. He’s often wondered if he might do other, more positive things with this job.

Eddie and Steve eventually meet in the dreamscape. And, surprise surprise, Eddie has experience with dream-sharing. And he’s smart enough to figure out that this Steve guy is not one of his own projections. But he strings him along a bit, because why not, right? He is fucking gorgeous, after all. They’re together for hours in dreams, but of course Steve is always long gone by the time Eddie wakes up. Steve, meanwhile, is STRESSED. No matter what he tries, he can’t seem to dig any deeper into what actually makes Eddie tick. So that he can work his magic, you know? And he’s worried about how his dad will react. Also he is absolutely falling for Eddie. Falling HARD. (Eddie is too)

Fast forward. They somehow meet IRL. Recognition. Confession. Smooch. (Maybe more than smooch, but I’m flexible on that part.) Maybe some angsty misunderstandings - does Eddie actually care for Steve, or is he just leading him on? Is this all part of Steve’s (really Richard’s) plan of corporate manipulation? - but they work it out eventually. They realize that, not only does Steve hate doing this constantly for his asshole dad, but Eddie isn’t even interested in running [X Business] at all - he hated his dad, and he just wants to be a musician. But he also doesn’t want the company to end up in Richard Harrington’s grubby hands. Which is fair. And so, plans are made.

Insert exciting plot stuff here. Steve tells his dad off, essentially that he’s either gonna have to actually pay a dreamshare expert to do his dirty work (unlikely, as he is a stingy fuck and dreamshare, even the more legitimate kind, ain’t cheap. The more underhanded stuff doubly so), or he’s all on his own, because Steve is OUT. Eddie gives complete control of [X Company] to someone else (Wayne?), who turns out to be EVEN MORE stubborn than Eddie. And then Steddie rides off into the sunset, happily dreaming together for the rest of their lives.

Alternate ending idea: Steddie turns the tables on Richard and incept him instead. Maybe inspire him to dissolve his company like Robert Fischer in the movie. A heist-esque story where the heister becomes the heistee. Either way, the important part is that Steve and Eddie are together and happy.

Needs work overall, of course, but I like the few seeds of idea that I have. Plus the world always needs more Inception crossovers. The world of dreamshare is a hugely untapped gold mine. Every fandom should have at least one Inception AU.

[theosputnam]

Aus for steddie I would kill for:

(Update if I find any of these I’m gonna link them here if you have any of these please feel free to send and anon or dm with the link)

Coffee shop/bookstore/music store au

Any sort of fantasy/royalty au(preferably king Steve or king to be)

Werewolf! Steve and vampire! Eddie

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40449324/chapters/101332152

Famous rockstar au Eddie and reluctant concert goer Steve(Nancy/Robin or even chrissy drag him)

Modern au of any kind

Summer Camp councilor au(horror slasher like fear street 1978 optional)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39842187/chapters/101282103#workskin

Steve and Eddie actually becoming friends in highschool au

Older Single parent of Dustin Steve modern au(like Dustin’s mom died suddenly and Steve adopts Dustin) and somehow he meets Eddie

Tattoo artist Eddie and corporate Steve wanting to piss off his parents and saying fuck it and getting a big tattoo

[mxnson13]

steddie dharma and greg au where steve and eddie get married the first day they meet and then steve has to bring eddie back to his corporate life and it’s just them charming the pants of each other and steve’s parents vs. uncle wayne but more lighthearted

i just want stranger things the sitcom