#screenwriter!steve harrington

[dragonflylady77]

Should probably start posting this thing...

Actor!Billy x Screenwriter!Steve AU

[hairmetal666]

au where Steve is a famous Disney kid and Eddie is a teenaged singer-songwriter. They get pushed together at events because they're close in age, but they just quietly dislike each other.

Steve's got a new show starting, a spinoff of the one that made him a household name. They hire a newcomer, Robin Buckley, to play his best friend and the two quickly become BFF in real life.

The show runs for two seasons but when it comes time to renegotiate contracts, neither star is interested. They're older now, ready to live life on their terms and not the company's, or in Steve's case, his parents.

As soon as the finale airs, Robin and Steve celebrate by going to a gay club. A few weeks later, an interview is released where Steve comes out as bi and talks about how his parents mistreated him; how they worked with the network to pressure him to be a perfect "all-American" kid even off screen.

Meanwhile, Eddie's an impossible level of famous. He's had number-one hits, won a Grammy, headlined an arena tour, achieved every dream he had for himself as a kid growing up in a trailer park in Indiana. He's not shocked by the news that Steve is leaving Hollywood, but he's flabbergasted that the guy isn't straight. When Eddie reads the interview, he gets this weird pang in his chest, almost like regret. But he never even liked Steve.

Steve isn't in the news again and Eddie doesn't think of him for a long time.

Steve goes to college. He loves it. Not because he's great in his classes, or anything, but because he's free to be himself for the first time. He makes friends and goes to parties and relaxes. He and Robin share an apartment.

After a few semesters, Steve decides to take a couple of theater classes, and is quickly cast in campus productions. In the vague anonymity of college theater he rediscovers his love of acting. No one has expectations of him, no one forces him to perform. He graduates and slowly starts appearing in small roles in Indie films, gathering critical acclaim. He feels good. Happy. Hopeful.

Eddie is blissfully unaware of Steve's career resurgence, experiencing his own musical highpoints, until the day where he's scrolling Twitter, sees a Variety headline that's getting a bunch of attention, "Steve Harrington in talks to star in Max Mayfield's first film." Eddie's livid.

"Maxine, what the fuck?" He growls when she answers his call.

They grew up together in the same Indiana trailer park. When she moved to Hollywood to start a career as a screenwriter, Eddie was by her side. And when her first script wound up on the Black List, his involvement on the soundtrack and original songs sealed her production deal.

She gives a long suffering sigh. "Munson," she grumbles. "I know you have a weird history with this guy, but I swear he's the right choice."

"He's a stuck up rich boy who's never been in trouble in his life."

"He's changed."

"Doubtful," Eddie sneers.

"Look. I'll set-up a meeting. Come hang out and you'll see what I mean." Before she hangs up she adds, "Call me Maxine again and I'll end you."

They invite Harrington to Eddie's recording studio. His hopes are not high for this meeting, so he's already a little thrown when Steve Harrington walks in, all grown up. He's in a crimson sweater, tight jeans, hair grown long so that it flops around his face in tousled waves that actually look genuine, windswept and golden. Eddie's eyes instinctively trace the scatter of moles on Harrington's face and neck, a pang of something hitting deep in his gut. Fuck, this dude is beautiful.

"Harrington," he greets, sticks out his hand. Eddie barely hears the answering, "Munson," because instead of a handshake, Harrington pulls Eddie in for a hug. Muscles bunch under the sleeves of the sweater, against Eddie's chest, and he's assaulted by the scent of cedar and sunshine and Steve. Eddie's not prepared for any of this.

They make small talk, Harrington sharing about going to college, falling in love with theater, Robin Buckley who he calls his soulmate. Eddie's head rings with how wrong he was about this guy; the pretty kid he grew up alongside who seemed to have the world in his hands. Max was right, he's perfect. Except.

"Let's get down to it, Harrington," Eddie says. Can't bring himself to call him Steve yet, feels that will somehow change everything and he's not ready. "I'll admit that Mayfield had the right idea about you, but can you sing? Play guitar? You have to perform my music, dude. That's not a small ask."

Harrington smirks, asks for a guitar. He gets it settled across his lap before he speaks. "I started taking piano lessons when I was 4. Voice and guitar at 7."

Eddie belatedly recalls that Harrington's parents were the worst kind of stage-parents, pushing their cute kid to perform even as he sobbed about wanting to play soccer with his friends instead of going to auditions. He has a moment of shame that he forgets as the other man begins to play. It's one of Eddie's biggest hits, a ballad about a teenaged broken heart from a kid whose name he can't even remember.

Harrington's hair flops in a swoop over his forehead, his fingers move across the strings with ease, skill. His voice is a rasp, close mimic to Eddie's own, but not quite deep enough. Goosebumps spread across Eddie's arms, his neck, and warmth pools low in his gut.

Steve finishes the song, looks up, cheeks glowing pink, honey eyes bright. Eddie's fucking gone for this guy. He wants so badly he might choke on it.

"Good?" Steve asks.

Eddie's embarrassed suddenly. Unsure. He tugs at his hair. "Yeah," he laughs. "Good."

He reaches out to take the guitar, the one Steve's already handing to him, and their hands brush. Eddie flushes. Their eyes meet and Steve smiles. Eddie's thoughts are consumed with the desire to kiss his plush pink mouth.

"You wanna get dinner? Just you and me?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Steve," he laughs. "I'd love to."

🎬🎸🎬🎸

Fifteen Months Later

"Former Teen Heartthrobs Make Love Connection?"

Fans of musician Eddie Munson and former child star, Steve Harrington, were in for the surprise of their lives last night as the men arrived together for the premier of Harrington's new movie, Small Town Sins, written by up-and-coming screenwriter Max Mayfield, featuring original music by Munson. While Harrington's performance and the movie itself are garnering quite a bit of positive buzz, it's being overshadowed by gossip about Harrington and Munson's budding romance. They walked the red carpet together, pausing for photos as a duo, holding hands and flirting. When asked for confirmation of their relationship, Munson answered, 'we're bros,' before winking and pulling Harrington close.

There's a TikTok video embedded below the article, showing the men being interviewed on the red carpet. Their arms are loosely around each others' waists, and when their eyes meet they catch and hang for a beat.

"So, longtime fans of both of yours are going feral online right now because of the rumors that you two used to hate each other. Is there any truth to that?" An off-camera voice asks.

The men laugh. "We've always been great friends," Eddie answers.

"Eddie thought I was stuck up," Steve giggles.

"I did not." Eddie slaps at Steve, who gives him an affectionate smile.

"Liar," Steve answers.

Eddie leans into the camera like he's telling a secret. "Harrington here was afraid of me."

"Fuck off, I was not." They wrestle around for a couple of seconds.

Steve shrugs Eddie off, straightening his suit jacket. "Okay, maybe I was a little intimidated back then, but then this morning you found a pretty rock and cried about it."

Eddie shrieks, swatting at Steve until someone in a black suit and name tag shoos them down the red carpet.

Eddie walks off first, so he misses Steve withdrawing a hand from his pocket and saying, "Still have the rock, though." He flashes the red, grey, blue striped stone at the camera.

His gaze drifts away, landing somewhere in the distance, hazel eyes soft and heart-wrenchingly fond.

[rosewaterandivy]

Award season starts tomorrow and I can’t help but think of actor Steve and rockstar girlfriend attending all these award shows. And the public isn’t aware of their engagement until they hit the red carpet at the golden globes and anytime a reporter asks about the ring they both act coy 🥹

You are so right for that baby!

Regardless of the awards show, the prep remains the same: Steve doing fuck-all until the last possible minute, while you get poked and prodded within an inch of your life for the majority of the day before getting quite literally sewn into a gown for the rest of the evening. And he feels for you, really he does because it’s not fair that you’ll be raked over the coals for the slightest perceived misstep— choice of designer, amount of jewelry, hairstyle, makeup, etc.— while he can just show up in a Thom Browne suit and call it a day.

As much as he’d like to whisk you away, back to the cosy mountain chalet and honeymoon engagement haze (he very much misses the days of you running around an oversized cashmere sweater, illuminated by the lights of the Christmas tree— even better were the times when you were wearing the engagement ring only), awards season beckons. And you take it all in stride, god does he love you for that.

Vickie had absconded with you not long after breakfast and Steve hasn’t seen or heard from you in hours at this point. It’s torture and he finds it’s something he’d rather not take part in again. Robin is doing what she can to keep him occupied, going over upcoming projects and reminding him of his schedule while he idly sips from his drink. He half-heartedly keeps up with a texting conversation with Eddie, speculating on the ridiculous red carpet interview questions and whether or not you’ll be wearing something that will make Steve weak in the knees.

The answer is always yes, and Ed’s got odds in favor a brief exit during the awards ceremony that will have Steve returning slightly flushed with a dazed look in his eye.

“Rally the troops,” your voice startles him from the entryway. “Harrington, let’s get this show on the road!”

Robin shoots him a knowing smirk and follows him into the foyer. Vickie stands behind you, her hands full with her clutch and yours, free hand carrying the excess black fabric of your gown.

And holy shit, Steve is in for a rough evening.

Hasn’t even gotten to the venue yet and he’s already slipping. Robin claps a hand on his shoulder with a wicked grin, “Deep breaths Steve, keep ‘em coming.”

He doesn’t know where to look first— your tits pressed against the black fabric, looking as if they could spill from the corset any second now, the high slit of the skirt showing an expanse of your thigh bracketed by a black garter and stocking drawing the eye down to an impressive heel that makes your legs look positively delectable, or the prominent gleam of the sparkler on your ring finger affixed over the black sheer opera gloves on your arms.

Steve wants to fall on his knees to grovel and beg you to skip the ceremony and let him worship you for hours instead.

The man is simply not going to make it.

When his eyes finally make their way back to yours, he raises a solitary brow as you wiggle your fingers in the gloves. “Yeah?” He asks with a nod to the ring on your left hand.

You smile so sweet and he swears he’s falling in love again.

Christ Harrington, get a fucking grip.

“Yeah,” you say, soft and low, extending your hand to fall into his. “Always.”

_

The Golden Globes was always fun.

Drinks and carousing, an atmosphere of humor and frivolity. Plus, Eddie always managed to sneak his way to Steve’s table with his screenwriter girlfriend in tow. He’d have you snickering and laughing more than the host could ever hope to, making it a boon for the camera operators to zip by for a shot of your table. Steve, ever the professional, had honed a poker face over years of these events. You, however, had decidedly not and, as a result, various memeable moments had occurred thanks to yours truly.

Eddie had one as your contact photo, as a matter of fact.

Before you can relax and settle in for the show, the red carpet had to be walked. In years past, Steve had braved it alone and done the perfunctory interviews, graciously dodging any inquiries about your relationship per the PR team’s advice. And you had done the same for the AMAs and Grammy’s. It was a good system and it worked a treat, occupying the media outlets with soundbites and quotes while one of you walked in after last call and bypassed the entire circus.

But this year…

“Steve! Cherry!”

A cacophony of voices calling your names as you step onto the red carpet and stand for photo call. As you exited the car, Vickie all but threw the black clutch at you, waving her left hand all the while. Now, the supple leather was safely in your grasp, effectively blocking your left hand from prying eyes. Steve’s arm winds around your back, settling his large hand at the small of your back.

His thumb moves in soothing circles against the fabric, pulling you close as the flashbulbs fire. “You look down right evil tonight,” he murmurs, voice pitched low, breath fanning against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Anything to say for yourself?”

You smother a laugh and look back over your shoulder, spotting Eddie. “I plead the fifth.”

As you wave him over, Eddie wolf-whistles loud enough to wake the dead. He cackles and drags his girlfriend over by the hand. “Damn girl, can I call you sometime?”

Rolling your eyes, you tug him into the photo. “Edward, you know I cannot be held responsible for the varied ways in which Steve will kill you.”

His girlfriend huffs a laugh, “That makes two of us then.”

A few photos are taken of the four of you before the handlers single out Steve. He parts from you reluctantly, dropping a kiss on your brow before he leaves. “You’re paying for that later, y’know.”

“Sure, honey,” you brush him off with a smile, “We’ll see if you can walk the talk once I’m through with you.”

He nearly stumbles at that, earning another laugh from Eddie.

_

“Steve!” The reporter crows into the mic, waving him over, “So good to see you, thanks for stopping by.”

“You as well, and thanks for having me.”

Steve hates this part. Well, truthfully he loathes most of his charade, but he’s not about to bite the hand that feeds him. Give a little, get a little, or so his publicist says. She prattles on about something or other— his nomination or upcoming projects, he’s not really sure— and turns back to him.

“Congratulations on your nominations tonight, but are additional congratulations called for? Maybe for you and certain Grammy award winning artist?”

“Oh thank you very much,” he effuses with a smile. “You mean Eddie over there?” He glances over his shoulder, finding the long-haired man easily. “I mean we’ve been buddies for a while—“

The reporter laughs, “Not exactly, but it is nice to see him here supporting you.”

Steve refrains from rolling his eyes, “He’s supporting Liz Finch. She’s nominated for best original screenplay, but I’m sure you already know that.”

You slowly turn, catching the last part of Steve’s clipped response, eyes narrowing. ‘Be. Nice.’ you mouth at him, knowing he should’ve eaten something before you left the house.

“Of course, my apologies.” The reporter has enough sense to look abashed, “I just meant that it’s nice to see the four of you together, supporting one another.”

He hums in assent, eyes trailing you as you chat with a few friends making the rounds. Their eyes generally fall to your left hand, still hidden behind the clutch you’re carrying, curious as you exchange pleasantries.

Steve does his level best with the remaining interviews, but they always try and cajole a confirmation from him either about his relationship with you or a potential engagement. Little do they know that behind that little black bag, nestled just underneath your engagement ring, sits a wedding band.

To his mind, it really doesn’t matter if he comes home with a Golden Globe tonight because he’s already won something better than another statuette or accolade: a rockstar wife.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @maryofdoom! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

@mojowitchcraft recommends the following works by ArgentumCivitas:

Tessellation

Every Time: A Steddie Drabble Collection

Corroded Coffin - Live On Tour - One Night Only

He Carries Me Quietly

Higher Education

Mary is such a talented writer, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by her. She’s an incredible story teller and very generous with brainstorming offering advice. - @mojowitchcraft

Below the cut, @maryofdoom answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

To quote Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, “I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” But for real, though, it's because my bestie and writing partner called me up on Discord one night and said, “Mary, you need to watch the first episode of Season 4 of Stranger Things. Right now. I mean it. I think the show is in love with Eddie.” (…Some, shall we say, substances may have been involved.) However, I stick with it because I love both the boys as characters. I think they're interesting. They have a lot of interesting aspects about them to explore, both singly and together, and I think we're all enjoying that.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual pining! Good God, give me so much pining that I think I’m in the forest. Give me so much pining that I need to use an oil-based paint on them. Give me so much pining that I’ll saw those two boys into planks and repanel my house. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

By far, it's when one of them has a crush on the other and is pissed off about it. There’s so much potential for sparky, interesting dialogue with other characters (and with each other) when the boys find themselves in that situation. And then it leads to interesting moments when they finally turn the corner and realize they’re not actually mad at the other one, they’re in love. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so, so many that I love. But instead of giving you one of the big ones, let me share this gem: Love My Way, by dreamspaces. It’s very short, at only 1,346 words, but sometimes a bite is as good as a meal. 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It might be interesting to do something with “and they were roommates.” I haven’t truly messed around in that space, yet. I also haven’t done a proper enemies-to-lovers, either, mostly because I can’t stand to set up a proper enemy relationship at the beginning…but I am chewing on an idea at the moment that might necessitate that sort of opening relationship between them.

What is your writing process like?

 It tends to follow a very specific order of operations:

Get an idea from somewhere. Possible avenues for ideas include conversations with friends, news stories overheard from NPR, something that hits while I’m listening to music, posts on Reddit, anything that turns up from general blorbo rotation, the works.

Write down the idea in my notes app of choice (I use Evernote)

Begin adding more thoughts and concepts to the idea (sometimes even snips of dialogue, if they hit interesting)

Once the idea has reached a critical enough mass, transfer it to Google Docs and turn it into a draft (if it’s a one-shot idea) or an outline (if it’s a longfic idea)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: begin writing the draft

FOR A LONGFIC: begin writing the outline, according to the outlining method detailed in Tom Lennon and Ben Garant’s Writing Movies for Fun and Profit (this book is half how to make it as a screenwriter in Hollywood and half solid craft advice on how to write a screenplay, and though I don’t want to write screenplays and though I was very skeptical until I tried it out, this is the only method that has worked to get me to finish any actual novel-length works)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: when the draft is done, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, heavily, to make it better

FOR A LONGFIC: once the outline’s done, actually write the thing 

FOR A LONGFIC: once the thing’s written, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, basically rewriting it completely

FOR A LONGFIC: do the same thing again, and then again, pausing in between each iteration for as long as I can

FOR BOTH A ONE-SHOT AND A LONGFIC: once it’s to the point where I don’t hate it, get ahold of my bestie and writing partner and have her read it and crit it and tear it apart

(cry a little because her crit is probably right)

Implement the good changes and ignore the bad ones - sometimes we have a (good-natured) fight about which ones are which

Send it to my other writing friends for their thoughts and comments and incorporate those, in a similar fashion

Revise, again

Once it’s as done as it’s going to be, make a posting schedule (if it’s a longfic)

Get it out there, according to the posting schedule

Begin working on the next thing

Do you have any writing quirks?

I mean, I can sit here and say “Oh no, I definitely don’t,” but I’m sure that I do. I am sure I have a distinctive writing style, just as everyone else does, but I would have to defer to anyone who’s read multiple works I’ve written to pull out any specific “quirks.”I will note that I really try hard to get the characters’ voices down, in their dialogue. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I try.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule, ABSOLUTELY. More power to those of you who post when you’re done writing, but I am the kind of person who needs to have everything DONE and ready to go before I put even a HINT of it up online. You can see this from my writing process. It doesn’t lend itself nicely to just throwing stuff out there as a work in progress. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Oooh, good question. I would have to say it’s a tie between the next two fics on this list. Tessellation, because I worked really hard on it (and because I figured out work skins), and He Carries Me Quietly, because I think it’s beautiful. The way it ends still gets me, even now. Not just because of the action that happens, but because of the words that I chose. I read them and I’m like, “...I wrote that? Damn, girl.”

How did you get the idea for Tessellation?

I mention it a little in its ending note, but I got the idea for Tessellation from a couple of places, one of which was the Steddie fandom itself. I love the idea of every single one of these 25,000+ stories about Steve and Eddie all being true all at once. Even the story of Stranger Things itself, as we see it on our TV screens, is just one possible version of the story that’s happening somewhere. (I truly believe that. I didn’t become an extremely lapsed Catholic for nothing. HECK THE RULES.)

When writing Tessellation, what was something you didn’t expect?

It was surprisingly easy to make connections between the six stories. It wasn’t like I was hunting for places to jam them in—they ended up falling into place very naturally. And I think my favorite one of these is when Steve, in the space story, is describing the spaceship that he pilots as “Rusalka class, she’s a good swimmer,” to Eddie, who presumably understands what this means in the context of the sci-fi world in which they live. 

What inspired He Carries Me Quietly?

It started as something else entirely—a whole established-relationship fic with the kids coming over to Steve and Eddie’s (either house or apartment) to play D&D, with an arc about a blind Max being included as kind of an oracle or super-NPC through Eddie passing her index cards with Braille on them, so she could be part of the game when and if she wanted to be. The whole thing was supposed to be told in flashbacks. I had a whole scene where Steve was figuring out how to bake cookies for everyone with whatever meager ingredients he had on hand. …Then it took a hard left into religious trauma, through some meandering means.  I guess it would be reasonable to say the inspiration, at that point, was seeing a tweet on then-Twitter with some speculation about how Eddie had come to live with Wayne. If it was the common (and unfortunate) queer-kid arc of being disowned by one’s parents. And then I thought, “Let’s go ahead and put Steve through that too, but let’s do it several years after it happens to Eddie, so that Steve has someone to guide him through the whole process.”

What was your favorite part to write from He Carries Me Quietly?

I think it was probably the opening, because of the rhythm of the sentences and how the sounds fit together with one another. I mean, if you choose to check it out, try reading the first few paragraphs out loud. It’s kind of what I think of when people talk about how writing has a cadence, or a musicality to it.  That, and the ending. The ending, starting with, “There’s one more thing that Steve wants to know,” was one of those things that just fell perfectly into place. I can see it so clearly in my mind: the two of them having a conversation, late at night in bed together, after a traumatic day. 

How do/did you feel writing Higher Education?

I love this goofy little story! It was part of a Discord server gift exchange in 2022 and my recipient said “College AUs are my jam,” so this is where my mind went. I wanted to consider a world where Eddie was the frat boy, instead of Steve. But if that were the case, the fraternity would have to be a pretty non-traditional one, wouldn’t it? The fictional Lambda House is based heavily on the fraternity house where I used to hang out in college. (It was at an engineering school and was populated entirely by nerds.)

What was the most difficult part of writing Higher Education?

The actual writing itself, honestly. Winter 2022 was a really difficult time for me, personally, and though I signed up for the fic exchange with all optimism and good wishes, it was a struggle to get everything done in time. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

One that really stands out to me is from Wrong Number, which was a oneshot I wrote based on a short conversation with some Discord friends. Picture it: Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle are all hanging out in the basement, and they’re all extremely high. Argyle, in his own way, can sense that something is wrong with Eddie. In order to get him to confess to whatever’s on his mind, they reference the pact they made that “anything said in the basement stays in the basement. It’s the law of the basement.” That just hits me as something so quintessentially Argyle. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh my, yes! I have two longfics in the pipeline that I hope to be sharing with everyone soon (or, well, as soon as I can get them through my Process). The Music of the Spheres is a Regency AU with a smoldering slow burn and an eventual happily-ever-after, while Home for the Holidays is a genre mashup: Steve’s in a Hallmark Christmas romance and Eddie’s in a psychological thriller. I am also rotating a couple more ideas in my brain that could potentially be longer works as well, but we’ll see how those go.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think the esteemed and prolific two-time-Hugo-Award-nominee Dr. Chuck Tingle puts it very nicely when he says: “CREATE. BUILD. EXPRESS. CONQUER THE LYING VOICE THAT SAYS YOUR TECHNICAL PERFECTION IS BETTER THAN TRUTH OF THE MOMENT. FILL THE VOID WITH ART and do not fear because weve got your back buckaroo. we are ALL creators in our own way so LETS HECKIN CREATE.” Let’s heckin’ create, buckaroos. I’ll see you out there in the word mines.

Thank you to our author, @maryofdoom, and our nominator, @mojowitchcraft! See more of @maryofdoom's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

sorry about the blood in your mouth (i wish it was mine)

by antithetical_dreamgirl

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & The Party, Eddie Munson & The Party Character: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley, Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler, Eleven | Jane Hopper Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Eddie Munson, POV Steve Harrington, POV Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Eddie Munson Lives, Idiots in Love, Pining Steve Harrington, Pining Eddie Munson, Non-Linear Narrative, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Steve Harrington, Jealous Eddie Munson, Found Family, Steve Harrington Has Abandonment Issues, Background Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Background Will Byers/Mike Wheeler - Freeform, background robin buckley/nancy wheeler, Eventual Fluff, idiots to lovers, Friends to Lovers Words: 36,736 Chapters: 10/10

Summary

Max had read every one of Eddie’s novels and every one of his screenplays. In every single one of them, in every universe that Eddie could think up, she watched as Eddie fell in love with Steve, over and over and over again. They had different names, different professions, there were different, wild, fantastical circumstances, but it was always them. In every version of reality, they found each other. It was time they found each other again in this version and Max was going to help them do it, even if it killed her. OR: It's 1997, ten years after Eddie and Steve leave Hawkins. Eddie, a novelist/screenwriter, Max, Hollywood's shiniest scream queen, and Dustin, the hottest indie horror director in the business, reunite to make a movie and they're bringing the Party along with them to the middle of nowhere to do it.

[greatunironic]

Hey!! I absolutely love your writing. You always strike such a good line with emotion, characterization, and background character management (I'm looking at that scene where Will is running book on Steve and Eddie). I was wondering what your writing process is like? You just fit so much in so seamlessly and its just so good.

aw shucks thanks -- that means so much!! also this got long so i'm dropping it under the cut so i don't clog up people's dashes, and folks can ignore me rambling pretentiously about The Process lol.

(i should also preface this with saying that i am a very type a person, and i like lists + guides, and the idea of writing a story without an ending in mind makes me want to break out into hives.)

(and also everybody is different!! write how you want to write, write what you want to write and what makes you happy, and have fun, and if you find something valuable in this, that's awesome! if you don't, that's awesome too!!)

so my personal background with writing comes from playwriting, specifically, and then screenwriting, so i feel like i come at it from that angle a lot? or, at least, it informs how i think about structure + storytelling + planning...

when i'm getting started, i like to do a sort of logline, which helps solidify the main story thrust for me; often these will become my summaries, which you can see for "remarkable" specifically + also the regency au.

from there it depends on if i want to do a one shot or something with parts. if it's a one shot, i'll expand the summary and write out the major events that i want to happen in a list; if it's a multi chapter project, i'll write out the major events for each chapter. for example, here's what i did for the first three parts of the regency au:

part one: introductions to steve + the harringtons, loch nora manor, robin, the town; we go to market day, listen to some gossip, begin to see a little something going behind steve’s mask part two: the new tenants arrive + steve, robin, chrissy go to say hello; eddie is introduced; we also get a glimpse into something that happened to steve post-eddie, that only mrs hopper (nee byers) and max (hopper’s ward) seem privy to part three: steve finds himself becoming part of the hopper family’s day to day existence, after the children find out he is an excellent rider, all of them demanding lessons from him on his gentle bay mare bimmer; steve is slowly befriending hopper’s demon horse as well, is determined to ride it at some point; he attends a few dinners with the hoppers, etc etc; two encounters of note: one with mrs hopper, and one with eddie; we also introduce heather in this part as a potential love interest for eddie

this is also when i write out the list of characters i'm using, and the roles i want them to play in the story. another regency au example: "joyce: a former governess, now his wife – knows steve’s darkest secret from when she was a governess for the hargroves ". depending on the story, these will be more fleshed out here + there in an attempt to make sure everyone has some sort of internal life i can reference, even if they're not the main focus of the story. sometimes this gets unwieldy; i have a genuinely insane document in my google docs called "remarkable apocrypha" that details the lives of the kids and other characters off screen for that story.

if we're covering a lot of time, i also write out my timeline around this step for any prior major events that may have happened preceding the story, so that i can easily reference them + make sure i'm internally consistent with said timeline.

also, if there's any specific research i want to do for the story, i do that around this time too, and give that it's own google doc. (each story or universe has it's own folder in my drive, so i can manage it easier lol.) i compile any musical influences, or mood boards, here too to get my vibes in line. (i talk a little about that here in reference to titling stories.)

after i have those written out + organized, i do an outline; these typically look like the diary of a crazy person, to be totally honest. it's stream of conscious stuff, lots of asides to myself, occasionally actual lines and phrases that i want to use. it's really about fleshing out smaller events around the main beats that i want to hit with the story-telling. having written all the character + timeline stuff previously, i pick + chose from there too to add any background color for people, or throw away jokes (specifically like will running book on them in "remarkable").

once i have the plot completed, i'll start writing in earnest, using my ramblings as a guide post. obviously, things change. (if you're reading the regency au, you'll see above that the part three summary makes no mention of the dance -- this idea appeared when i was outlining/plotting it out.) sometimes my ideas don't work, or sometimes i think of something else to add, and i need to shift some stuff around to make something make sense. sometimes i get long winded and end up writing 8k about a fictional dnd encounter and have to add an entire extra chapter to something because i've lost control of my own life! shit happens!!

all of this to say: this is why i find all the leg work i do leading up to writing the actual story super valuable, because if i write myself into a corner, there's usually something in there that helps me get out; or, if i'm writing + posting in real time, it helps me adjust course + fine tune ideas based on reader feedback or observations or, indeed, those verbal sojourns into nonsense (but fun) interludes.

then, after i get a part (or a story, if it's a one shot) finished, i let it marinate out of sight for a few days before i circle back. this is when i like to read it on a different device than i wrote it on -- personally, i write on a laptop and then read it on my phone. something about the way it looks helps on a different screen helps me see it in a new light as i begin the first phase of editing. i also like reading aloud here and there, because that also helps me catch typos or overly repetitive lines, and if the dialogue actually sounds like a human being and not too overly poetic or pedantic.

i edit it myself a few times like this, switching between devices and sometimes just even changing the fonts or background colors (i'm in dark mode constantly on my phone and it's a white background on my laptop), i'll try to send it off to one of my homies for a final pass + edit from a different set of eyes. usually, tho, i'm pretty happy with it at that point -- usually by the time i'm writing, i've worked out most of the bugs through the outline or the idea generation stage, but sometimes someone will suggest different pacing, or moving a scene around.

finally i set it free in the world (and catch a few new typos on the ole ao3, naturally) and anxiously await the approval of the readers like i'm sweet dee in "it's always sunny". (tell me that was good tell me tell i'm good tell me i'm good tell me --)

anyhoodle. i hope this answered the question, and i hope if you got to the end of this there was something interesting in it lol.

[shopcat]

btw steve harrington is transgender because he figured out the best way to be a man was to copy those around him and the only one around him was the mean kid tommy who pushed kids over on the playground and he always imagined what it'd be like to play with the other little boys so so WHAT if making the byers kid like eat a bug behind the slides was a shithead thing to do because he was one of THEM and he realised he could keep this going and fit this role and play the game and win the girls he just had to stick to the script and they would see him as him

and it was never really this huge fear or gut wrenching thing or hidden secret it was just a little footnote on all his actions and a little nudge here and there telling him how he SHOULD act just in case and it all came easy so why mess a good thing up so like YEAH he was an ASSHOLE and he did everything he could to be the guy who could be king and he felt like he deserved to be up there bc why wouldn't he like it was HIS throne yknow

and he KNEW what to say to the girls and what to DO with the girls and you don't have to PERFECT a performance if you're the screenwriter so YEAH he was good with the girls because he likes the girls because he had to like the girls but that's how that one goes. so he takes them to the makeout point so they know that's what its for and he doesn't have to rehearse his lines and then when ALL OF THIS is pulled out from under him when he realises the people he was building his life off of have this like rotten inner core he didn't have he doesn't like. throw himself into the quarry he decides to be a man

and he decides to go apologise and own up to his mistakes and not run like a coward and he finds a way to redefine his masculinity without the bitterness and like juvenile bullshit he grew up on its something that can be used to protect and care for people out of KINDNESS and like loyalty and honesty. and he didn't realise how desperate he was for everyone's approval of him being him until he had it and it painted him as this twisted thing that maybe echoed a bit TOO close to his asshole dad. so like its not this big dramatic thing its just a thing. and that being a man is what you make it and not what you WEAR or how many guys pat you on the back at the end of a sports game.

and he's always been in TOUCH with his emotions he knows who he likes and who he doesn't like and he knows what to say and when to say it and when to go for it he's careful about REAL STUFF but emotional stuff is nothing. he goes with the flow!!!!!!! and like YEAH he took swimming because he likes swimming but maybe it helps that it broadens the shoulders and YEAH he kiiiind of sleeps around but there's a reason the girls LIKE him and he likes taking care of people anyway so being good with his hands or GENEROUS in other ways isn't a bad thing to be known for and maybe his past exploits are played up a little because nancy was his first real girlfriend anyway so it's easy to fly under the radar a little. and a small town in indiana isn't going to remember that little steve harrington was born with a different name because yknow. his mom is super well respected around town.

[superblysubpar]

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[kurokoros]

Do you really think Steve will die? I want to stay positive, but you all make me physically sick with those posts. Death wouldn't be a satisfying end to his arc even if he dies a hero. Plus the whole Dustin grieving storyline could prevent Steve from dying because it's just too much and Dustin would do anything to protect him, so full circle moment. Idk I just don't want to see him dead and still hold on to the positives :/

Okay, so I'm going to start off by saying I in no way want Steve Harrington to die, and I'll be very disappointed if the writers go that route. That being said, I do think there's a distinct chance that if any characters are killed off in S5, it'll be Steve. S5 isn't even filming yet, so it's way too early to seriously speculate on who might die. No one can see death flags until the season is airing. Now, as a writer myself, and someone that's taken screenwriting classes, there are a few reasons that I think it would make more sense for Steve to die than other characters, namely: Steve is the perfect blend of fan favorite character and combatant/protector. This doesn't mean I actually think he'll die, it's all just speculation and meta.

Steve is very well loved by the fandom. A lot of the characters in Stranger Things are very well loved, but not all character deaths are created equal. I believe that, of the main characters, Steve's death would have the most potential to make the audience and the other characters grieve. I could do a bunch of analysis here, but I won't, all we need to know if that Steve's death would be extremely upsetting to fans of the show and would at the very least would devastate characters like Robin, Dustin, Nancy, and probably Max, Lucas, and Erica as well. Being a fan favorite automatically has setup for killing a character for an emotional moment, but it's also the final season of the series, so the Duffers wouldn't have anything to lose or risk by killing off Steve. Personally, I think Eddie's death had more emotional weight than it deserved to, and the scene would have made more sense if it was Dustin and Steve instead. To me, it seemed like they wanted to kill Steve in S4, but chickened out do to the potential of backlash. Same with the writers choosing to not kill Max.

On top of that, Steve is one of the characters that put themselves in harms way on a regular basis. Steve, Hopper, El, and Nancy are the series combatant characters. Of those four, I can't see the writers killing Nancy, and Hopper and El have already received fake out deaths. I could see El maybe dying in the final confrontation with Vecna (or whoever the final boss ends up being) because narratively the Upside Down and everything supernatural has to disappear for the series to have a neat ending, but I also think killing El off would be extremely cruel, so she'll probably just lose her powers again, if anything. ANYWAY. Steve is the melee fighter that's injured every season, with those injuries increasing in severity. S1 he's in a fistfight that he's able to walk away from. S2 he's in a brawl that leaves him unconscious. S3 he's tortured by Russian soldiers. S4 he's mauled by monsters. The only way to take things up a notch would by outright killing Steve or mutilating him in a way that can't be healed or just forgotten about in the next episode.

I also think that narratively the Duffers have no where for Steve to go, purely by their own writing faults. The Duffers aren't very good at fleshing out characters beyond their debut, so a lot of characters are just there with nothing to do. Steve doesn't really have a plot of his own, and the writers don't know what to do with him aside from romantic plotlines and continually rehashing the fact that he was an asshole in high school. This could be a reason to kill him off, but it wouldn't be very good from a writing sense. You don't kill off a character unless it provides an important beat in the story, or the character has had an otherwise complete and satisfying character arc.

Steve's death wouldn't be closure to his arc. The narrative has repeatedly punished him enough for being a jock and an asshole. And, as you said, it would be like rehashing Eddie's death in terms of how it would affect Dustin. Personally, that would deter me from killing off Steve, but I haven't been happy with the Duffers' writing since like mid-S2, so I keep my expectations low.

TLDR: I don't know if Steve will die. It depends on if the Duffers want to kill any main characters in the final season. If that's the route they choose to go, I think Steve could be a contender for character deaths just based on the fact that he's one of the series primary fighters. And if Steve does die, you'll be getting plenty of fix-it fics in your future.

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Navigation ☆ About Me

About Me:

→ name: emmy/emily/mills

→ age: twenty-one

→ religion: Christian

→ pronouns: she/her

→ zodiac: leo ☼ libra ☽ aquarius ↑

→ personality: enfp ☆ 2w3 ☆ gryffindor

→ other stuff: chronically ill ☆ suspected neuro divergent ☆ currently studying creative writing

My Favorites:

→ shows/movies: criminal minds, stranger things, supernatural, dharma & greg, alexa & katie, monsters inc, the princess bride, hot air, peanuts, twilight, harry potter, christopher robin

→ characters: spencer reid, penelope garcia, steve harrington, robin buckley, max mayfield, sam winchester, dharma montgomery, greg montgomery, alexa mendoza, sulley, westley, buttercup, lesley smith juniment, woodstock, snoopy, alice cullen, seth clearwater, winnie the pooh

→ music: one direction, niall horan, harry styles, noah kahan, blake rose, taylor swift, hozier, sabrina carpenter, five seconds of summer, bts, lewis capaldi, julia michaels, phoebe bridgers

→ romantic ships: spencelle/reidaway, hotchniss, demily, garvez, dharma x greg, spenlexa, buttercup x westley, lesley x summer, jalice

→ platonic ships: garceid, moreid, morcia, stobin, elmax, stustin, kalexa (?), bellice

→ interests: novel writing, screenwriting, acting, fashion, baking, listening to music, watching new shows + movies

About This Blog:

→ who i will write for: steve harrington, eddie munson, billy hargrove, jonathan byers (i may branch out in the future, these are just the ones i feel comfortable and confident writing right now!)

→ things i will write: fluff, angst, somewhat suggestive content (never full smut), hurt/comfort, pretty much any genre you can think of

→ things i won't write: character x character (just because i don't really have anything i ship enough to want to write fics for it), kids x reader, full on smut (you can redirect these requests to my nsfw blog @hornyhornyhimbos), self harm, anything non-consentual

Links and Such:

→ main blog: @ofwilliamandwalter

→ fanfiction recs blog: @paperbackprettyboy

→ icons blog (inactive): @scrapbookspence

-> nsfw blog: @hornyhornyhimbos

→ beta reader signups: linked here!

→ masterlist: linked here!

→ current pfp: these icons by @ilovegilmoregirls

→ header image: pinterest

→ navigation images: pinterest

→ navigation dividers: these dividers by @firefly-graphics

-> masterlist icon: these icons by @peachy-ash

-> masterlist images: pinterest

-> masterlist dividers: these dividers by @anlian-aishang

Tags:

-> steve reblogs - #steve 🫶🏻

-> eddie reblogs - #eddie 🎸

-> robin reblogs - #robin 🍦

-> chrissy reblogs - #chrissy 📣

-> nancy reblogs - #nancy 👒

-> jonathan reblogs - #jonathan 📸

-> argyle reblogs - #argyle 🍕

-> dustin reblogs - #dustin 🤖

-> mike reblogs - #mike 🕹

-> lucas reblogs - #lucas 🏀

-> max reblogs - #max 🛹

-> el reblogs - #el 🧇

-> hopper reblogs - #hopper 🚓

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-> stobin reblogs - #boobin and steeb 🍦

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[steddie-fic-recs]

the_onionknight: sorry about the blood in your mouth (i wish it was mine)

Status: Completed

Chapters: 9/9

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & The Party, Eddie Munson & The Party

Tags/Tropes: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Everybody Lives, Writer! Eddie, Coffee Shop Owner!Steve, Actress!Max, Director!Dustin

Max had read every one of Eddie’s novels and every one of his screenplays. In every single one of them, in every universe that Eddie could think up, she watched as Eddie fell in love with Steve, over and over and over again. They had different names, different professions, there were different, wild, fantastical circumstances, but it was always them. In every version of reality, they found each other. It was time they found each other again in this version and Max was going to help them do it, even if it killed her.

OR: It's 1997, ten years after Eddie and Steve leave Hawkins. Eddie, a novelist/screenwriter, Max, Hollywood's shiniest scream queen, and Dustin, the hottest indie horror director in the business, reunite to make a movie and they're bringing the Party along with them to the middle of nowhere to do it.

Read the fic here.

[rosewaterandivy]

Live from New York…

Summary: a meet cute for everyone’s favorite rockstar!eddie and head SNL writer/weekend update anchor gf

WC: 4204 🫠 (my hand slipped)

Pairing: rockstar!eddie x screenwriter!gf

Warning/Themes: work related stress, smitten Eddie, hectic SNL schedule built around cocaine, meddling actor!steve harrington, encounters in close quarters, Eddie wearing Le Labo Santal 33– which should be a warning all its own, my usual brand of filth™️

A/N: we’ve had our meet cute with actor!steve, now it’s Eddie’s turn!

Series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

At Studio 8H, you always hit the ground running on Mondays. Hopefully, you’d lazed away or slept off the hangover from the after-party on Sunday, but sometimes you weren’t so lucky.

Today was one of those days.

A subway ride from hell, you were pretty sure your bodega guy was mad at you (again), and the inevitable spins and mouth sweats which could only mean—

“Hey killer!” Pete greets, towing the week’s host and musical guest behind him.

And because this situation could only get worse, you hold up a solitary finger and duck into a nearby dressing room to puke and rally.

“Fuckin’ Mondays, am I right?”

A rich voice greets you as you make your entrance back into the hallway, someone wearing a panoply of rings shoves a cold water bottle in your hand while you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Y’alright there, boss?”

A nod as you guzzle some water.

“Just peachy, Davidson.” You heave a sigh, grimacing as you make eye contact with the host, Steve Harrington, and one fifth of the musical guest in the form of Eddie Munson. “Sorry for the uh—" you gesture vaguely to the dressing room.

“No worries,” Steve says with a smile, “We’ve all been there.”

Eddie, for his part, snorts a laugh.

“Charmed,” you chirp, readjusting your canvas tote on your shoulder and resuming your walk down the hall.

“Pitch meeting in 5!”

_

The Monday meeting was always a wash. Pitches that were half-formed or outright veto’d by Lorne or the host, and Pete giving the same pitch for the fourth month running that no one bit at.

Typical.

Steve was affable enough, charming in the way only an actor could be, easy to laugh and joke. Eddie Munson, however, was all long-limbed ease and looked at you in a way that was unnerving.

No matter. You didn’t have the time to contemplate why the frontman of Corroded Coffin irked you, not when the cast members were especially needy for your attention and the writers retreated to the conference room.

“Chloe,” you huff as the small blonde trails after you, mouth going a mile a minute about a new impression she’d perfected.

You stopped short at your office door, causing Chloe to bump into you. With a slow turn, you try to smile in a well-meaning way, sunglasses sliding down your nose again.

“Can this wait until later?” Your hand twists the handle, allowing you to slip inside the room and escape the sad fall of her face. “I promise you’ll have my undivided attention this afternoon, okay?”

That seems to perk her back up. She gives you a smile and salute before trotting off back to her dressing room.

You sigh and slide back against the closed door, eyes slipping shut for the briefest of moments. Not open long enough to clock a mop of brown curls lazing on your couch.

“Exhausting being on top, isn’t it?”

Your eyes open only to land on Eddie Munson, laid out on your couch as if he owns the place.

“How did you get in here?”

You cross to the desk, heaving your tote onto it and peel the glasses from your face. Falling into your chair, you await his reply and open up your laptop.

Rooting around in your tote for your notes, you notice a coffee cup and danish at his side.

“Is that my cherry danish and cold brew?”

“Hmm?” He turns toward the sound of your voice. “Oh, this? An intern dropped it off.”

Eyeing the bite taken out of the danish, you sigh. “And you just assumed it was for you?”

“It’s not?”

“Unless Corroded’s rider has something about cherry danishes on it—“

“I just thought since your little performance this morning, you wouldn’t be in the mood.”

He sits up with a stretch, arms rising above his head, a sliver of skin visible above the band of his boxer-briefs.

Calvin’s, of fucking course.

You repress the need to roll your eyes. “How kind,” you say instead, flipping through your notes and typing a few ideas down.

“I thought so.” Eddie stands up, depositing the danish and coffee on your desk. “I’m more of a bagel and lox guy myself.”

“I’ll alert the media.”

He smiles slow, which is more attractive than you’d bargained for, annoyingly enough. His teeth are perfect against the plush pink of his lips, and he’s close enough, leaning against your desk, that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne— wood, leather, and violet?— cut through with a faint aroma of tobacco.

“I only have your best interests at heart, sugar.”

_

By Thursday, things started to even out. Some solid pitches turned into sketches, bumpers filmed and canned, and one only one sex dream about Eddie Munson.

You’d take what you could get.

It was basically inevitable, that fucker has been annoying you all week— popping into your office uninvited, sending the interns out for inane tasks just to get you alone, and, the real kicker, sending Harrington in as reinforcements.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Steve says, taking another bite of his lunch— subs from the Teamsters, your favorite day of the week.

“Munson?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, having made out your garbled phrase. “Ed just comes on strong, but he’s harmless.”

You roughly swallow and take a sip form your drink. “Whaddya mean?”

Steve pauses, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Oh, uh,” he shrugs, “He likes you. Was that not obvious?”

You stare at him blankly.

Eddie Munson, attracted to you?

Yeah, when hell freezes over.

“He’s just razzing me,” you say, more to yourself than Steve.

He drops his sub on the wax paper and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“That’s what you think?!”

“Well—" you sputter, indignantly. “If that’s how he shows his interest…”

Steve laughs, a bright and delightful thing. If only it wasn’t at your expense.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Robin’ll get a kick outta this— holy shit.”

He pulls out his phone and sends off a text. The next thing you know, his assistant is barreling through your office door.

“You’re shitting me,” is what she says, eyes cutting from him to you. Communicating in some secret language of eye contact and gestures that was wholly beyond you.

That lunch was the last semblance of peace you’d had for the week before Eddie Munson began wooing you with increased vigor.

_

By Saturday, you’d had just about enough of his nonsense. More flowers than you knew what to do with, mini fridge in your office stocked with all your favorites, the writers actually doing their jobs for once— which was honestly just creepy, but you’d allow it.

“What did he do?”

It was the final read-through before the dress rehearsal later that evening. The writer’s room was packed, and no one had tried to kill anyone else yet.

Truly bizarre.

“What did who do?”

“Cut the shit,” You grouse back. “Munson, what did he do, threaten you idiots? Promise backstage passes— what?”

A hang-dog new hire sighed. “Said he’d have our guts for garters if we fucked up your week.”

“Yeah,” someone else chorused. “Said we’d wish all those Satanic rumors were true once he was done with us.”

And, as a result, no one had tried to steal your Emmy this week, you occasionally went home at a decent-ish hour, and no one had unnecessarily barricaded themselves in their dressing room.

Huh.

Maybe Harrington had a point.

Eddie Munson attracted to you? It’s more likely than you think!

The thought eluded you through the dress rehearsal and show itself, but reared its ugly head at the after-party.

A successful show, a compliment from Lorne, and several drinks had you feeling warm and buzzy. Harrington had wrangled you up on a table when “Teenage Dirtbag” came on, assured you it would be fine dancing on tabletops in high-heeled boots.

All was well and good until someone spilled a drink on said table and nearly sent you toppling to the floor.

Strong arms gripped your waist, settling you against a broad shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“The fuck was that?!” crowed up at Steve, the music far too loud for you to make out his response, before you’re carried from the dance floor to the coat check room and placed back on your feet.

Right side up, Eddie looks flushed and concerned, checking your face and body for any signs of injury.

“You okay?”

Voice softer than you’re used to, not the gruff exterior or persona he plays into for the public. And, it’s nice. You’re just buzzed enough not to be horrified at the realization.

You laugh and press a finger into his heaving chest, “You like me, dontcha?”

Eddie laughs, dodging your gaze as his chin tucks into his chest. “Honestly?” He says after a beat, “You scare the shit outta me.”

“What,” you pout, “Little old me?”

Your finger idly traces nonsensical shapes against the black cotton of his shirt. He takes a breath, watching the trajectory of your hand.

“Not in a bad way,” he allows, eyes finally dragging back to you. All warm umber and hints of whisky. His hand touches yours, bringing an end to your wandering fingers.

Eddie swallows audibly and cocks his head to the side. “You’re just so…”

“Intense?”

There’s that slow smile again. He takes a step closer to you, hesitant as if he’s expecting you to push him away.

You don’t.

A shake of his head that frees a few strands from the low bun he’d dawned at curtain call. You brush your fingers against the soft curls and scruff of his jaw.

Eddie takes in a sharp breath, eyes closing minutely as his forehead rests against yours.

“You,” he breathes, voice low, “Are going to ruin me.”

Not a threat, but a promise.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Awfully presumptuous of you, Munson.”

“Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

You close the distance between you with your lips. They slot into his with ease, your hand tangling itself into the curls at the nape of his neck.

He groans, something low from the cage in his chest and steps between your legs as your eyes fall shut. Your back hits the wall, his hand cradling your head, thumb rubbing idly along your scalp.

Eddie smells divine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the drinks or your own hormones that are to blame. But he tastes even better, the burn of whisky a comfort as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

You open beneath him like a night-blooming flower, lips, and legs parting with ease. A wet click when you part, allowing you to take a shaky breath in. He moves along your jaw, soft lips sponging kisses there before lighting upon your neck.

“Fucking hell,” you groan, head rolling back against the wall behind you, earning a low laugh from him.

Everything feels amazing, your skin is buzzing at his attention, hands desperate to grab hold and never let go.

As his hips cant into your own, you can feel the hot, hard line of him. Your eyes flying open at the sensation and the thought that you may very well die getting dicked down by Eddie Munson in a coatroom.

But oh, what a way to go.

He’s on you again, lips and tongue eager for entry, before you can say anything stupid. Your mouth opens with a stuttered breath as Eddie slowly grinds against you.

He’s saying something, praises falling from his lips but you can’t possibly reply. Too wound up from arousal to be any sort of conversationalist. The pressure against your clothed heat is just right, and you’d like nothing more to get his pants off and ride Eddie to kingdom come.

That is until Steve Harrington barrels through the door.

“Oh shit,” he says, stifling a laugh. “My bad.”

He’s in and out in two seconds, but the mood is broken.

Eddie’s head rests against your shoulder while he catches his breath. You can feel the heat of his flush against your neck.

“So,” he begins, voice a low rasp. “I guess—"

“Your hotel is closer.”

He perks up at that, head rising from your shoulder with a quirked brow.

“Essex House, right?”

Eddie nods, picking up what you’re putting down. He scrambles for his phone, texting something before grabbing you by the hand and leading you out of the club and into the brisk New York night.

_

Falling back against the plush comforter, you drag Eddie down with you. Teeth clicking against each other in the effort. He huffs a laugh into your mouth, pushing you back against the pillows on the bed.

“You’re a pretty good kisser,” you say, propping up on your elbows.

“I may have heard that once or twice,” he says, tugging his shirt up and his head before tossing it elsewhere.

You make quick work of his jeans, while he occupies himself with mapping the geography of your body with his lips. He nips at your hip, earning a squeak of surprise from you as his arms cage you in.

His hair, now loose from the torment of your hands, tickles as it drags along your exposed skin. Eddie popping open the buttons of your blouse torturously slow.

Your lips claim his once more as his finger skims against the soft curve of your breast. You shudder at the sensation, unable to focus on anything except him.

Half-lidded eyes gaze down at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. With a roll of your eyes, you wiggle out of your shirt and pop the button of your trousers.

He’s quick to follow, fingers pulling at the fly and tugging the offending fabric from your legs.

The second the damp lace of your thong makes an appearance, Eddie groans loudly— head falling against your hip.

“Oh, my god.”

Too pent up to feel bashful, you tangle your fingers in his hair and give it a tug. Another groan, lower and deeper than the last.

“So pretty,” he breathes against your heat causing you to shiver.

His fingers hook into the fabric and pull them down the plush of your thighs, lips skating across the sensitive skin as he goes. Eddie is back on you before you can sit up to take off your bra; tugging you up to settle on his lap while reaching around to expertly unhook the lacy garment.

Distracting you with a kiss, it takes you a minute to realize that Eddie has apparently been struck stupid at the sight of you bare before him. His eyes rove over what feels like every inch of your body, as if he could never get enough.

“Hey,” you prompt with a roll of your hips. It’s delicious and delightful, sending sparks straight to your core. A soft sigh before you continue, “How do you want me?”

That seems to wake him back up. Eddie shakes himself alive and says with a bite to your lips, “As many times as I can have you, sweetheart.”

He lays you gently back down and grabs a condom from the bedside table. Before you can offer your assistance, however, he’s back between your legs with a singular focus: making you come. Hard and frequent.

By the time you reach your peak for the second time, he’s three knuckles deep and two fingers in. Your babbling incoherently while he smirks up at you, occasional coos of “Doin so well f’me” and “You can take another, right sugar?”

You nod, impatient for your next orgasm. Who would’ve thought that Eddie Munson could turn you into a needy brat without even seeing his dick?

Certainly not you.

“Eddie,” a broken pathetic whine from you. He’s worked in a third finger, impossibly, and you’re about to explode.

Pulling his lips from you clit, he glances up, lips and chin wet with your slick. “Yeah?”

The lighting in the room is low and warm, only enhancing his features, eyes blown dark with lust and lips ruddied and swollen from licking and kissing.

Another whine as you make grabby hands at him, “Wanna come on your cock.”

He chuckles lowly, sponging a kiss at your hip. “That so?”

You nod dumbly and wet your lips.

He rubs along your g-spot and your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Hmm,” he hums, “Why don’t you come on my fingers again and then you can make a mess on my cock?”

Not the answer you wanted to hear, but you’re too far gone to care. A petulant pout on your lips, but before you can make your retort, Eddie does that magical thing with his fingers again making you keen as you come.

Your vision whites out briefly, walls shuddering at his ministrations wetly.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, voice silky and low. “Knew you could do it.”

Damp fingers grasp your chin before prodding at your lips. You open your mouth to suck at them, tongue grazing against the cool silver of his rings as he watches.

Faintly, you hear the tearing of the condom wrapper as he extricated his hand from your mouth. Calvin’s long gone now, Eddie fists his cock to roll the condom down his shaft. And you can’t seem to pick your jaw up from the floor.

He looks almost nervous, brows furrowed and biting his lip. You can see why— he’s got the biggest and prettiest dick you’d ever seen. Cockhead flushed a rosy pink as he strokes himself, and you're not the best at spatial awareness but there are definitely several inches of him to reckon with.

“Hey,” you say with a swallow, mouth having filled with saliva at the sight of him. A jerk of your head, “C’mere, honey.”

With a smile, he returns to you. Kisses laved to your chest, neck, and finally lips while he situates himself against your petaled heat. Bumping against your abused clit, you sink back into the pillows with a moan.

Hands loosely cradling his collar and legs wound high against his back, you pull Eddie down for a slow kiss as your rock up against his shaft. He licks messily into your mouth as one of your hands snakes down to guide him inside.

He shudders at the sensation and the visual of your hand on his dick, small and dainty in comparison. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You hum contentedly. “You ain’t seen nothin' yet,” and drive the message home with a buck of your hips. His cockhead slips in, stretching you slightly but not unpleasantly.

He pauses, not wanting to hurt you or go too quickly just for it to happen again— too big, can’t fit. Surprisingly, you shimmy working him further into your cunt, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.

Eddie thinks he’s going to die like this— bottoming out in the girl of his dreams, all before he can blow his load or get you off like he wants to.

The stretch is good— hitting depths you didn’t realize were possible until now. Making your own efforts with the aid of your fingers and toys appear pathetic. You could vibrate out if you skin at the sensation— keyed up and pulled taught before he’s even had the chance to move yet.

You clench at the thought, causing Eddie to pant and moan against your neck. His left hand taps at your right leg.

“Can you raise that up, just a little?”

You acquiesce, and he thrusts experimentally. The angle changes everything, causing your blood to thrum and punching the breath from your lungs. Right leg wrapped around his waist while the other rests lazily against his hips.

Eddie kisses you quick, tongue eager as he works you open. You can hear the smack of his skin against yours, both damp with the exertion, accompanied by a sound and sensation wholly unfamiliar to you.

There’s a wet squelch when he bottoms out every other thrust or so, and the coil in your gut gets pulled tighter and tighter. Heat and pressure are building in your cunt and radiating outwards.

You jolt upwards, breasts brushing against his chest, nipples hardening in the cool air. “Eddie I’m—" your voice catches in your throat, a tear falling from your eyes and cascading down your cheek.

Before he can see your unintended emotional display, you bury your face into the curve of his neck with a gasp. His hips stutter as you draw closer, neck growing damp with your tears.

“Shit. Did I—"

You quiet his concerns with a shake of your head, “No baby, I’m good. Keep going.” And with a languid roll of your hips, you seal the deal.

Eddie’s thrusts slow, the angle forcing his pelvis to tilt and drag exquisitely against your clit. Your head drops back against the pillows. He licks his lips and watches your mouth fall open with interest. He loves the way your eyes can’t seem to focus, the way your tongue lies heavy in your mouth, the way you try to hide from your pleasure, but he knows you’re excited.

Your next orgasm crashes upon you like a tidal wave, walls fluttering like the wings of a frantic hummingbird. You nearly scream from the pleasure of it all, mingled with a pinch of pain as a gushing soak drenches the both of you.

Your body jerks forward, pinned by Eddie’s hips and the cage of his arms holding you close. You can feel him moving inside you in long strokes before he stills to let you ride it out.

“That’s never happened before,” you slur out.

“Yeah?” He smirks, resuming his thrusts, pace nearly brutal now— diving into you so fast and hard that your eyes well up with tears. It doesn’t feel like you’ll reach the peak again, feels like you’ve been on the cusp since the coat room.

Your brain is fried and completely blissed out— fucked stupid by a rockstar you'd known for a week. You can only gasp in clipped short breaths as the air is continuously punched from your lungs.

Eddie bites his lip, eyes fixed on the way his cock spreads your cunt. The way your pussy is glistening and cherry red from his ministrations.

“Wish you could see yourself,” he groans out. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me.”

Eddie could be talking gibberish and you would still nod along, falling apart as you stutter and plead, begging for him. I want it. I want it. Iwantitiwantitineedit. I need you.

A few more strokes and Eddie comes hard, thick ropes of come released into the condom, shuddering against the clenching of your walls— tight and wet and hot. Your name falls from his lips in a broken moan causing you to break open, crying out pitifully and throwing your head back against the pillows.

And, god damn, he’s just so pretty. All pink lips and pupils blown wide, chest heaving with desperate breaths before he collapses on top of you.

You feel positively ruined for other men. It’s unbelievable, the way he’s seared his touch into your body and brain. And yeah, if you had a soul or whatever, probably that too.

It may not be the most orgasms you’d ever had, but it’s damn near close and certainly the most intense yet. Your body trembles against Eddie’s torso, while he sucks on your neck, murmuring praises into your ear. Calls you sweetheart, baby, good fucking girl. Keeps himself inside, nestled comfortably deep.

You’re likely to faint if he doesn’t stop— intense whispers, slow movements, and rubbing sweetly against your walls. Eddie drags another orgasm out of you, miraculously so, almost letting you forget how torn open he’s made you feel. Your toes curl and go limp again for what feels like the umpteenth time, plaint against him as you catch your breath.

He lands a soft, barely-there kiss against the lobe of your ear and wipes the sweat from your neck and brow away.

“You okay?” He asks in a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “You got a little—"

“Overstimulated, yeah,” you answer with a laugh. Your arms drape around his collar lazily. “I’m good,” you say with a smile, “Never better.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s smile is a bright bashful thing. He ducks his head, like he can’t believe you’re real, and bites his lip.

“Gonna be pretty useless for the next couple of hours though.”

He glances back up at you. “Really?”

“Totally.” Your fingers card into his hair, working against his scalp. “This guy fucked me stupid and now I can’t feel my legs so.”

He laughs, the vibrations reverberating against your ribs before rolling off of you to discard the condom. His hand finds yours again in the near-dark, cool metal against the damp of your palm.

You lay beneath the fluffy duvet, facing Eddie. Your legs were entwined with his and he has a big, stupid grin on his face. You were sure your smile matched his own.

A phone trills into the still of the room, Eddie groans in frustration and grapples with finding it on the nightstand. He answers it with a huff of annoyance as Steve Harrington's voice cascades through the speaker.

“So…” he sings, the street noise of the city serving as background, “You guys fuckin’ or what?”

_

[women-on-screen]

hi everyone! I’m new here— I’ve been a writer for awhile (I’m a screenwriter but I love other forms of writing too) but am new to tumblr writing/fic writing— and I have a question/interest check for all the lovely steve harrington fic readers on here: would anyone be interested in reading a steve fic about him with a pregnant gf/love interest set after season 4 in the canon stranger things universe? and/or would anyone be interested in reading a steve fic but formatted as a screenplay? it totally doesn’t have to be written as a screenplay but I thought I’d ask that question just to get a feel for what people like to read on here/if anyone would be interested in that!

basically I have an idea that I’m kinda obsessed with and even if I can’t make the stranger things writers room use it for season 5 I still need to write it (I literally made this account just for this lol), so I thought maybe the steve tumblr community would be interested! please leave a comment or send me a message if you’re at all interested in reading something like this!

thanks and have a lovely day! :)

[longhairedwriter]

hi everyone! I’m sorry if you’ve already seen this post but I’m posting it again bc I’m dumb and didn’t realize that I should’ve made my writing blog my primary blog so I can reply to people from it lol. anyways!

I’m new here— I’ve been a writer for awhile (I’m a screenwriter but I love other forms of writing too) but am new to tumblr writing/fic writing— and I have a question/interest check for all the lovely steve harrington fic readers on here: would anyone be interested in reading a steve fic about him with a pregnant gf/love interest set after season 4 in the canon stranger things universe? and/or would anyone be interested in reading a steve fic but formatted as a screenplay? it totally doesn’t have to be written as a screenplay but I thought I’d ask that question just to get a feel for what people like to read on here/if anyone would be interested in that!

basically I have an idea that I’m kinda obsessed with and even if I can’t make the stranger things writers room use it for season 5 I still need to write it (I literally made this account just for this lol), so I thought maybe the steve tumblr community would be interested! please leave a comment or send me a message if you’re at all interested in reading something like this!

thanks and have a lovely day! :)

[amazingmsme]

hey bestie!!! got some things for ya

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

i hope you have an amazing rest of your day!!!!

-@the-new-ginger-switch

Thanks for sending these!

🛒 This one’s kinda hard lol. Gonna state the obvious that most of my fics are tickle fics, so obviously there’s a lot of cute, funny scenes with these kinds of shenanigans. When it comes to the witcher, I really like nonhuman Jaskier finding himself after the mountain scene. I like to think I can also be serious & existential, incorporating themes of self doubt, insecurities, & tackling heavier topics like trauma or death. I also think I do a good job of writing romantic, borderline lovesick fics. I haven’t written something along the more serious route for this blog in a good bit, I might finally post some chapters of a few fics I’ve been hoarding lol

📚 Babe that’s literally what I’m doing😂 But seriously tho, I’m planning on being a screenwriter & director, & I also want to write a book or too sometime on the future

💞 I have too many to count lol. My main man is Tony Stark, he was the first one I really latched onto. Hayden Upchurch from Unwind is my little scrungly from my teen years & I have a special place for him in my heart. My more recent comfort characters are Dale Cooper from Twin Peaks, Caleb Widowgast, Fjord Stone, Klaus Hargreeves, Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson. I have quite the collection

🏆 I had to half assed dig through my blog to find the answer lol. The winner seems to be Dandelions Don’t Die with 362 notes! Swatting More Than Flies has 252 notes, but if we count the attention my fics get on wattpad as well, then Not Touching might be my most popular, & it already has 205 notes here in tumblr. But yeah, people really seem to like that one

🙋‍♀️ Yeah some family & a few friends of mine know I write fics. Thank the dickens they don’t actually read it!

This was so much fun! Please send more, I love doing these kinds of things!

[pappydaddy]

🌵 congrats on 500!! could i be shipped with a teen character from stranger things, and maybe one from harry potter too? im an entj, ravenclaw, sagittarius, and enneagram 3w4. i'm a writer and want to become an author & screenwriter for tv. im 5'3, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. i'm impatient, strongwilled, ambitious, perfectionistic, and blunt. i love reading fantasy books, listening to jeff buckley & fiona apple & the cure, rainy days, and being in nature <3

hi lovely! thank you so much, it's very exciting!! i love this underrated prompt as well so you picked wisely! it's been a few events since i've done one of these, so hopefully i've still got the magic shipping quality! i stalked your blog (a little, not in a creepy way - love the theme btw, the shade of green is perfection!) but i couldn't find any pronouns or anything to specify what you are comfortable being referred to so i left it as gender neutral, i hope you are okay with that!

i hope i did some good match making and you enjoy the little snippets of the relationships i've created!

for stranger things i ship you with:

jonathan byers (non-creepy au - or now current universe since duffer brothers changed the scene we all saw👀)

and/or steve harrington (post-king steve)

for jonathan, i think he is drawn to a strong person when it comes to romantic interest. he is definitely more withdrawn, quiet, and stand-off-ish. he also likes smart people (i feel) who know what they want. he is very go-with-the-flow as long as you respect him. i also feel like he would love to read fantasy books if introduced to it (i don't think he had time to allow will to introduce him into the world of fantasy as he had to work from a young age and help his mother). i feel like you two would have roughly the same taste in music. you two would have a lot of dates where you just enjoyed each others company while listening to the rain as you sat on the byers porch. you two would have dates where joanthan took one of the thing you wrote and took pictures of things he thought went with the story/play/screenplay you wrote and you would choose one of his already developed photos and write a story/(quick)play/(quick)screenplay based on that. on the flipside of that, i feel like you would bring out jonathan's more social side. he's an introvert so you two would probably bring out different sides for each other.

for steve, i think he would definitely fall for you when you come into family video. he probably would make a fool out of himself, but you two would strike up a conversation. since i picture steve as an extrovert, he would have no issue doing anything with you. you two would click like a puzzle piece. while you are both extroverts, you both are in tune with your domestic/calm selves so you two will have a healthy balance of chaos and calm in your lives. you can have a nice, calm date, but then you can also have an exciting, adventurous date. you could also bring out the outdoorsy part of steve who has probably never had the chance to really experience nature until you. steve would absolutely love reading what you write and would brag to anyone who came into family video that one day, his partner will write a tv show that would put whatever movie they are buying to shame.

for harry potter i ship you with:

oliver wood (circa 1990s - teen Oliver, but y'all would last)

oliver shares a lot of traits as you. he is incredibly competitive so i am sensing a little enemies to lovers troupe. you two would definitely banter, bicker, and have your own little competition of wits, but love swirls beneath the surface and it eventually it will come to the surface. there will be fights, there will be arguments - you two are similar in many ways. but, since you also enjoy the calmness of life, you can show oliver that there is more to life than the go-go-go. once the love starts to come to the surface, i think both you and oliver would open up more to each other. sharing vulnerabilities, worries, fears, etc. through it all, you guys wouldn't lose the spark that brought you two together. you will never lose the light-hearted banter/competitiveness. you two will never be bored or not know what to do. your relationship would be built with adventure woven into the seams. it's you and oliver! showing that sometimes opposites attract does not apply to love.

feel free to send in more prompts for my 700 follower celebration lovelies! it's my pinned post (until it closes)!