Eddie accidentally unfollowed Steve on instagram and all hell broke loose.
Suddenly, Steve's story was flooded with sad songs and heartbreak messages on black background. Everyone worried about him, but only Eddie knew it was because of his big thumb and his small phone's screen.
The Situation™️ only came to a conclusion after Eddie groveled his way out of the proverbial dog house by announcing his love for his beautiful wife (which he did every day btw) on his social media, and making sappy complication videos of their love story while tagging Steve in every single one of them. He also wrote another poem and song for Steve. Both had gone rival and been sold out within the first week.
model steve in a robe, laid back in the makeup chair with under eye face masks. eddie w his little palette on the back of his hand and a puff on his pinky, applying steve’s makeup—mostly eyes, b4 starting his base, making sure to keep it light so his freckles & moles peek through
My fics have been fighting me this last week, so have some softness I've been thinking about the last couple of days. This came from that post that has been going around about x overhearing y say good things about them.
*
Eddie didn't mean to eavesdrop, his interview finished before Steve finished his. Eddie loved his model boyfriend. He was gorgeous and looked amazing on his own or on Eddie's arm.
He moved to sneak up on Steve to hug him from behind, but he stopped when he realized his interview wasn't over with.
"Are you familiar with the trope 'the grumpy one is in love with the sunshine one'?" the interviewer asked. She was a pretty thing with long bleach blonde hair, tan skin, and a slinky pink satin dress.
"Oh yeah, it's one of my favorite tropes," Steve agreed. "Morpheus and Hob, Mulder and Scully, Nico and Will, Watson and Holmes."
She smiled at him. "Would you say that it also describes you and your boyfriend Eddie Munson?"
Steve laughed. "I'm assuming you think he's the grumpy one and I'm the sunshine one?"
"Exactly!" she said with a laugh.
"The trope works," Steve agreed. "But not in the way you think. If it was purely aesthetic, I would be the sunshine one and Eddie would be grumpy one, no doubt. But based on our actual personalities? He is so the sunshine one."
"Aww..." she cooed. But it was clear even to Eddie that she was only saying that to placate Steve.
"No I mean it," Steve said, catching her tone. "I'm only glitter and glow. I take my light from other people. The clothes I wear, the way I style my hair, my modeling. I'm definitely the moon and the stars. But I look warm and my skin is tan because his love for me shines every day. I glow because he is my sun."
The interviewer's jaw dropped. "Wow."
"He is so good and so bright and so happy all the time," Steve continued. "He lights up whatever room he walks into. That's what makes him a good performer. He shines on stage. He looks like a creature of the night, because he's moon kissed. Because I love him, I'm the moon to his sun."
"Does that make you sun-kissed then?" the interviewer asked.
Steve laughed. "Yeah, I guess it does."
There was a tap on Steve's shoulder and he was being told to move on. He said goodbye to the interviewer and turned around, spotting Eddie.
"There you are, sunshine," he greeted warmly.
Eddie reached out his hand to Steve who took it with a fond smile. And as they walked down the red carpet, Eddie thought. Before tonight he would have agreed with the interviewer. He was the moon to Steve's sun. But hearing Steve's explanation, it made more sense.
It also gave him an idea for the band's next album. A double album called Sun-kissed and Moon-glow. Steve on the cover of Sun-kissed, bathed in the light of Eddie's love, his skin starting to glow yellow from the kiss Eddie is pressing to his shoulder.
Moon-glow would be the reverse. Eddie golden but bathed in Steve's moonlight, skin turning alabaster from Steve's kiss.
He looked over at Steve one more time. The boys were going to love the idea. Almost as much as he loved this man at his side.
“This is painful. It hurts. The idea alone makes me wanna puke. Remind me, why do I have to deal with this?”
“Because you wanted to be a rockstar?” Chrissy asks, not unkindly, and Eddie is stunned for a second. She is… well, she’s right. He wanted to be a star. Share his music, ideas and dreams with thousands of people – it’s true. Everything about it is!
It just never occurred to him that in this fucked up world, everything is also about business. You can’t make art or share your ideas and reach other people without promoting it first, but everything about “going viral” disgusts (scares?) Eddie a bit. He doesn’t want to purposefully hype anything. It’s in fact one of the reasons why he wrote the song and decided that it should be released on the most capitalistic of holidays, Valentine’s Day.
And now, because he wants people to hear it, he has to promote it. Oh, how the tables have turned.
“Chris… Are you sure there’s no other way? It’s hypocritical,” he whines, sour expression transferring into his tone.
“That’s what the team has decided. I tried to tell them that you didn’t want this, but you know how it is. You have a nice idea, but the label has a different idea. In the end, it’s their decision.”
Eddie grimaces. “We’re just here to deliver.”
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” she replies, genuine, and Eddie immediately feels guilty.
“No, don’t. It’s not your fault, I’m being a jerk. Though, you said you were the one who found this guy, right?”
“Yes,” she responds. There’s an edge to her voice, something that makes Eddie sit a bit straighter, like he’s about to receive a punch. “But please, Eddie, be nice to him. It’s only one photoshoot. I couldn’t find anyone else on such short notice.”
Eddie frowns. He always makes sure to be nice to anyone who’s working with him, and Chrissy knows that. They’d both worked in customer service together before Corroded Coffin made it anywhere. “What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I be nice?”
“Just—” he can practically hear her pinch the bridge of her nose. “You’ll see. And have at least a bit of fun! I’ll see you after.”
Before Eddie gets to say anything, she’s already gone. He stares at his phone with a frown. Well. That was something.
He sighs and looks out of the window. Like Chrissy said, it’s only one photoshoot. Eddie wrote a song about how you can buy practically anything now, but you have to pay the price for it. Then he themed it with Valentine’s Day, plastic flowers and plastic love, and now he has to pose with a random guy he doesn’t know, play lovey-dovey make-believe and act like it doesn’t go against everything he believes in. He hopes, at least, that it’s going to be as satirical as possible.
*
First thing he notices about the set itself is how dauntingly normal it looks. Well, besides the angry pink background. That’s unsettling, Eddie thinks—but aside from that, it’s almost boring.
“Oh, you’re here. Good to see you, man.”
Eddie whips his head around and smiles. Jonathan Byers hasn’t changed a bit since they last saw each other.
“You too,” he shakes Jonathan’s hand with a grin before gesturing vaguely around the set. “So, what’s the plan for that?”
Jonathan’s face isn’t too enthusiastic. “Maybe I’ll explain when we’re all—”
“Hi.”
Eddie blinks, very slowly, not sure if he’s really seeing what he’s seeing.
The model he’s supposed to work with is gorgeous, simple fact. His face is handsome and the gentle smile he’s wearing only adds to it – another fact. His wiry glasses make his eyes pop in a way that’s physically indescribable – third fact. Lastly—gods help him. The guy’s longish hair is more blond than highlights, and Eddie has no idea if that’s how they were supposed to turn out, but it looks just perfect in combination with his pink sweater and blue jeans. Only the moles on his cheeks and neck make Eddie frown a bit—both because they make him insanely handsome instead of just handsome and because they remind Eddie of someone. He just can’t recall the name.
“Well, speak of the devil,” Jonathan says when the guy stops next to them. “Hello Steve.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, feeling very out of place. “You two know each other?”
Jonathan and the guy—Steve—exchange glances. They both squint a little and smile awkwardly, like they know something that Eddie should know, too, but he’s being the stupid kid of the bunch.
“I mean…” Steve says, his eyes never leaving Jonathan’s face until the very last word. “Don’t we all know each other?”
This time, Eddie is stunned enough to take a step back. He’s also confused enough to frown. Surely, he’d remember this guy if they’d worked with each other before, right? And damn, why is he getting all philosophical now? Don’t we all know each other—is this some kind of metaphor? About humanity and shit?
Weird silence stretches out while Eddie’s mulling this over inside his head, knowing well that he looks stupid, but unable to stop the train of thought. Jonathan and Steve exchange another glance, clearly deciding not to continue with the conversation.
Eddie feels misplaced. Because, yeah, on stage? He’s free. He’s an animal. He can do whatever he wants, however he wants it. He has nothing to lose, nothing to prove – he’s there to be himself. Same goes for when he’s with people he trusts, or with people whose trust he wants to earn. He will do anything to make them more comfortable than they’ve ever been.
Whereas put him into one mildly awkward social situation and his brain will stop working, especially if there’s someone really attractive on the other side of said social situation. He can flirt if he wants to, but half of the time it comes out odd and misplaced, so he hardly ever tries.
Especially with guys like Steve.
“Alright,” Jonathan says, finally, and Eddie shakes his unease off. “No time to waste, let me tell you what they want from us.”
Jonathan tells them alright. With every sentence, Eddie’s eyes grow larger, until he’s sure they’re about to fall out of their sockets. This is not what he was hoping for.
“No. No, I disagree,” he says immediately after Jonathan’s done speaking. “Not a chance! It goes against—Wait, is that why we’re dressed like that?” He points at the clothes he and Steve are wearing. Steve’s look expensive, they’re well-fitted, colorful and bubbly, while Eddie looks like he took a dive into a trashcan—not that he’s too mad about the tears or the off-brand shirt and jacket, he’d wear that himself, but in this context they just piss him off. Jonathan shrugs, holding up the camera with the most helpless expression Eddie has ever seen.
“It’s not my favorite scenario either, but that’s what they told me to do. Do you have any other ideas?”
Eddie stays silent for a second. He peers at Steve, who looks solemn, but not too distraught.
“Are you okay with that? It’s quite, you know. Stereotypical. And mean. And it’s the premise’s long-lost cousin, at best.”
Steve shrugs. His face is almost unreadable. “That’s what they’re paying me for. I guess we have to do it, unless you have a better idea.”
Eddie grits his teeth. No, he really doesn’t.
“Let’s get this circus going,” he breathes out.
Surprisingly, although it appears that they both at least dislike the idea, the photoshoot itself goes smoothly. Jonathan takes the separate photos first and Eddie hates everything about it, but watching Steve do the silly faces cheers him up a bit. He can stand ABBA playing in the background (lie—Eddie actually likes ABBA himself, but no one has to know that) if it means that Steve is going to be smiling like that for the rest of their workday.
They’re eating lunch when Eddie realizes that the difficult part is about to begin. How is he supposed to fake-flirt with a person he’d like to real-flirt with, but he doesn’t have the capacity to flirt at all in the first place?
“I’ll give you five more minutes and we have to get going, guys,” Jonathan tells them. Eddie glances at Steve and Steve glances back at him with an uneasy smile. They’re both nervous.
They can’t be nervous. They’re supposed to be—act like lovers. It can’t stay this tense.
Eddie looks around. There’s an open box of heart-shaped chocolates on the table. He takes one of them and makes his last-ditch effort to relieve the tension. “Hey, Steve,” he says, and before Steve even manages to assess the situation properly, he throws the chocolate in the air haphazardly, “catch!”
The second he does it, he starts to regret it. Only Eddie Munson could get an idea this stupid and—and then Steve just dives forward, roughly in the direction of the falling candy, clutches the table for some stability and catches the chocolate in his mouth without fail.
Eddie stares at him in awe.
“Man,” he says, a big grin slowly growing on his lips, “that was so fucking cool. How did you do that?”
Steve chews the chocolate with a tight-lipped smile and speaks from behind his hand. “My best friend trained me to do that. When we worked together in customer service. We were the laziest employees imaginable, we spent half of the time doing stupid shit like throwing peanuts at each other until we got it right.”
Eddie’s rendered speechless. His shocked smile is so big it feels like his cheeks are starting to crack. “You’re kidding. How many tricks do you know?”
Steve shakes his head and laughs shortly. There’s so much joy glistening in his eyes it makes Eddie feel something. “Too many,” he replies. “As I said, we weren’t diligent workers by any means,” his eyes go wide for a second. “Not that, uh—not that I’m lazing my way through the day now—”
“Don’t worry, man,” Eddie replies, reclining in his chair. “I’m not your boss. And I have a history of lazing my way through basically everything, so…” he stops mid-sentence, catching Jonathan’s eye. “Nevermind. I think we have to get going.”
“Oh,” Steve looks over at their photographer and then back at Eddie. His face is grave, but there’s no trace of the usual curiosity Eddie sees immediately after exposing even a sliver of his past to a stranger. Either Steve really doesn’t care about Corroded Coffin at all or he has the least self-serving soul of all people.
They stare at each other for a second, and Eddie smiles first. He’s still a bit nervous, but it’s much better now. Steve’s just a person—and a really good one, it seems. When he smiles back and stands up, Eddie doesn’t try to postpone the moment any longer.
Actually, it turns out that they’re able to work in almost perfect sync. Everything goes smoothly and Jonathan seems to be genuinely excited about some of the shots, which surprises Eddie to the core, but whatever. Maybe they’re just good enough.
It’s just—the awkward tension is gone, yes. But there’s something entirely different in the air now, and Eddie doesn’t know how to go around it, exactly.
They stare into each other’s eyes and it’s not weird, even though it should be. Eddie laughs and he doesn’t even have to think about anything funny to laugh honestly, because Steve mumbles something unhinged every few minutes to keep him entertained. Their knees bump under the table – it’s not in the frame, but it doesn’t really matter. Their fingers brush when they both reach for the grapes, and it’s not even staged, it just happens.
Eddie’s baffled. He’s not uncomfortable, he’s not weirded out, Steve seems equally fine. There’s still some nervousness about them, but it’s more like—like a natural reaction. When he realizes that he would like to do it again in a more serious manner, it takes him aback. Eddie doesn’t do crushes.
Steve spots the change in Eddie’s attitude. When he finally manages to catch his eye, there’s a barely noticeable frown on his face. Everything’s alright? he mouths, leaning forward. Eddie immediately straightens his back to keep the distance, not ready for more proximity, and—oh. Oh, well. Maybe he does crushes after all.
“Alright,” Jonathan says, taking one last photo of them. “We’ll be wrapping up, I think. You can take a break if you want.”
There’s probably something more after that, but Eddie doesn’t have a chance to hear it. He nods at Steve half-heartedly and leaves the studio in haste. He needs a smoke.
He dodges the security successfully and finds his way outside. When the cold air hits his face, he immediately lights up a cigarette.
He’s so overwhelmed. This is—all of this, really, it’s just so stupid. It was supposed to be one photoshoot. Did Chrissy really have to find the cutest, nicest guy for him to work with? She knows him. She should have known better. He should have known better—he should have distanced himself the second he noticed how his heart quickened for the first time.
He doesn’t do crushes, not anymore. Especially when it comes to cute guys he’s never going to meet again.
Eddie’s frying up his brain with another cigarette and a whole lot of unnecessary thoughts when the door opens up behind him.
“Hi,” Steve says, fixing up his beanie. Blond strands fall over his face and forehead. He’s still wearing glasses. “Jonathan said that we’re done. He has everything he needs.”
Eddie hums, looking at him over his shoulder. Steve shoves his hands into his pockets. Eddie cringes inwardly; it’s awkward again.
“I love stealing from sets too. Best part of the experience,” he tries, not sure how to salvage the moment. Steve looks at him in genuine confusion, so Eddie points at his imaginary glasses. Steve opens his mouth and pushes his glasses further up his nose.
“Oh, no. They’re mine. I can’t see shit without them,” he counters, the glasses fogging up as he speaks.
Great, Eddie thinks. So he is cute like that on a daily basis. Great. Great.
He squishes the cigarette with his shoe. He wishes it was his stupid, overly eager heart instead.
“So, my Uber is here.”
Eddie looks over at him again. God, this is really awkward now. Steve looks like he’s waiting for something, but Eddie doesn’t know what to say.
“It was nice working with you,” he utters and barely holds back a grimace. Where is his bravado when he needs it?
Steve casts his eyes downwards and Eddie’s sure he’s never seen anything more miserable in his life. They nod at each other, smile and wave, and Steve leaves—all that without even exchanging a glance.
When he’s finally alone, Eddie punches the wall with the side of his fist. Fucking hell. Sometimes he wishes he was just a regular person, someone who knows how to interact with other people.
You can treat this as a silly little oneshot, or if you're interested, you can check out extended version with another part here, bc I'm posting both at the same time! Happy Valentine's Day people, I hope your chocolate tastes great today <333
Rockstar Eddie who was obsessed with model Steve and collected every issue that had Steve on the cover.
He had disdained the Harrington’s little prince at first until he hate-watched every interview of the so-called talentless nepo baby and realized that yeah, he was so fucked.
Meanwhile, Steve had no interest in the metal scene, much less a random rock band named Corroded Coffin.
But Nancy said the paycheck was good and Robin had guaranteed that the band’s frontman was definitely his type, so featuring in their MV wouldn't do him any harm.
That was why Steve was here, fishnets and leather shorts, high heels and handcuffs, straddling Eddie Munson who was devouring him with those dark wild eyes.
They were shooting a scene where the two of them met in a strip club with Eddie being a heartbroken man and Steve being the stripper.
To say Eddie was his type was still an understatement. The man was literally his teenage wet dream with those tattoos and sharp handsome features.
Steve had to restrain himself from doing anything unprofessional like catch those plump lips in a heated kiss and said fuck the consequences.
He could barely focus on the camera as he rode the toned thigh while those large hands roamed his bare skin and kneaded his cheek through the leather.
"Been a fan of your work, sweetheart," hot lips trailed down his neck in open-mouth kisses.
"Need me to sign anything?" Steve twirled a curl with his finger.
"Yeah," Eddie smiled playfully and winked at him. "Even better if you use those lipsticks of yours."
Steve would've kissed him right then and there had the director not yelled, "And... Cut!"
And their bubble burst just like that.
Before he could get up from Eddie's lap with disappointment, he was hoisted in a pair of strong arms, steady hands braced under his thighs like he weighed nothing.
And god was it hot to wrap his legs around Eddie's waist and let himself be carried back to his trailer, ignoring everyone besides winking at Nancy’s exasperated eye roll, Robin’s dorky thumbs up, and that pretty blonde Chrissy’s impish smile.
Because hell yeah, Steve was the one scoring a fun night with the Eddie Munson here. Keep talking and looking bitches.
"Wait, what about the MV?" He asked as Eddie settled them both on his couch.
"Don't worry," Eddie pecked his chin softly. "The strip club is our part for the day. We'll only have one scene left tomorrow."
"So what are we gonna do now, Mr. Rockstar?" Steve raised his eyebrow, drawing lazy circles on Eddie’s chest.
"Whatever you desire, sweetheart," Eddie grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss on its back.
And well, Steve would be ashamed if he passed on such a golden opportunity.
So he hooked his arms behind Eddie’s neck and leaned in to whisper against those plump lips.
"Then ruin me, hot stuff."
When the MV was out, it caused a crash on YouTube and was flooded with countless comments about Steddie—the internet’s ship name for a certain rockstar and a certain model who had been together for months and blissfully lost in their honeymoon phase without a care for the world.
Their names were top trending on Twitter and the MV had become a hit thanks to their through-the-roof chemistry.
When they eventually announced their marriage to the world, they received well wishes from their fans, friends, and family.
And a few years down the road, everyone would know about them as that one happily and disgustingly in-love couple.
hiiii, this is a snippet from my new (and first!!) fic on ao3 (chevymalibu.)
Chapters 1 & 2 are up now!
Dead Asleep (Dreaming Away Your Life)
In the Rutherford Bench area of Napa Valley, California, the February sky is clear and sunny despite the rainy season, and Nancy Wheeler has been offered an outdoor tasting and vineyard tour on Eddie Munson’s secluded grounds where he lives tucked away from prying eyes.
The 53-year-old musician purchased his $20.3 million Mediterranean-style estate surrounded by budding vines and vibrant green hillsides a few years back. Behind a sturdy gate hides a six-bedroom, nine-bathroom abode that underwent extensive renovations by the current owner, including giving it a rustic ’plucked straight from the south’ décor. Available only to those within Eddie’s inner circle, the property contains a hush-hush storage unit that holds approximately 500 of the rocker’s favorite sips—some being produced and fermented by his own personal team of specialists.
A bottle is opened. Eddie fills a glass with the burgundy nectar and hands it to Nancy, but does not pour one for himself. ”Dr. Erica Sinclair would be kickin’ up a fuss if she heard I was drinking before noon,” he explains, “supposed to be doin’ this shitty thing called ‘Drynuary’. Ever heard of it?”
“The challenge where people abstain from drinking alcohol during January?” Nancy asks, eyeing him curiously.
“And February,” Eddie answers but it’s comical how quickly his eyes widen, “just January, ain’t it?” he waits for a confirmative nod before cursing under his breath, “Dr. S is one sneaky lady, fuckin’ Christ,” he laughs.
Still, he seems to be content to remain without a drink. Nancy wonders if perhaps his latest visit to rehab had finally given better results—how badly the previous attempts had failed are only one Google search away. But as Eddie tells her, he is far from perfect, has made mistakes and is “slowly becoming a person he likes.”
They are soaking up the sun in a brick-laden backyard bordered by hedges and trees that provide ample privacy. The stone patio wraps around a glowing swimming pool that complements the surrounding landscape and reminiscences of Old Hollywood glamour.
Nancy places a digital tape recorder between them on the poolside. Eddie splashes water around with his foot like a child. Pulls his other knee up and presses his cheek against it. Hums a melody vaguely familiar.
He looks healthy. Very different from the scrawny, vampire looking guy who might just drink your blood—in a romantic way, of course. Now he looks more mellowed and balanced, has a corny sense of humor and good (or at least better than before) manners. He’s still ostensibly dark and charismatic, though.
“Where do you want to start?”
Eddie gives a conspiratorial grin, “don’t think that’s my call, o’ great interrogator.”
“Okay,” agrees Nancy, “let’s start with the Callahan ‘93 campaign.”
“Straight to the commercial, huh?”
“Well, that is how you first met Steve Harrington, right?”
Eddie’s grin changes, turns into something softer, something sadder, his eyes gaining a distant, faraway look. “That’s right.”
“Then that’s where we start,” Nancy musters up a smile she hopes looks like an encouraging hand pat. “Are you ready, Eddie?”
Eddie nods, all his piercings flickering sunlight, his mane of curls swaying, “yup, but I bet you aren’t.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
