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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 months

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I love a good florist Steve, but what I love even more is a good but naturally bitchy florist Steve.

He'd have his own flower shop and years of dating experience behind his belt. He is not just a good boyfriend, he is THE good boyfriend. Going to his shop isn't just to buy a bouquet of flowers, oh no. It's a whole relationship coaching thing, he teaches husbands to do better, gives courage to teenagers asking their crushes out, gives advice regarding flower language to elderly ladies who just want to be slightly passive-aggressive...you know, the normal thing.

He has a catalogue with flower pictures to help people who have no idea what the flowers are called, they just know they were orange and didn't easily wilt.

He shows a local teenager the cheaper but still fancy options and throws in a bunch of free flowers that aren't really up to his standards. "Okay, you say she likes pink flowers. Does she like things to be a bit more decorated or does she prefer simplicity? You don't know? Okay, can you describe what she normally wears? No, I'm not being creepy, but you can sometimes tell the person's preferences from their clothes. Now answer or leave dateless."

He chats with the elderly ladies of Hawkins when they ask for a flower to gift to their fellow church ladies when they host their meetings. He cackles when he hears some of their orders. "Oh wow, Ethel, a yellow hyacinth? Would you like a gift card with that, something like sorry you're such a jealous hag? No? Of course I know the meaning, it's my job."

"Are you expeting her to say yes to the date with that atrocity on your face? Yes, I know it's a moustache. But it's also an atrocity. Shave it and thank me later. Now, would you like a ribbon for that bouquet?"

And most of all, he grills the unlucky conservative men in Hawkins who come to him for flowers for their wives without any idea what they like. "I see, so you want something pretty. What does your wife like? Flowers? Well, that's not specific. What kind of dresses does she wear? Expensive? Can you tell me anything about your wife's personality? ...nagging. No, I can't just mix something together, unlike you, I take pride in gift giving. Okay. I don't think this is a shop for you. Yes, that's what I'm saying, I won't play a part in your wife's disappointment. Oh sure, go take your money elsewhere, but I can give you this advice for free - you married a unique human being, so treat her like one. And if you really want a happy marriage - maybe come back when you learn something about her as a person. No need for that language, have a good day, sir."

For those that are more receptive, he goes through their partners' personalities and hobbies, suggesting date options and absolutely roasting the bad ones. "A football match. When your girlfriend hates sports. I don't care if it's your boys playing, you can try telling her that this is important to you and you'll take her out another time, but if you try to pass this as a date, you'll be single before you say "sorry". A date is for you as a pair, not for you only."

But the best thing his shop brings him is Eddie Munson, who sneaks in, absolutely ready to be roasted, and asks for a bouquet of bright colorful flowers for his best friend Chrissy. "She just got divorced from her asshole husband and I want to show her that she can have nice things. Platonically. But she deserves so much more. Uh...she really loves warm colors, so maybe yellows and oranges? What are they called...gerberas! She likes gerberas! And she likes things to be a bit messy and imperfect, so maybe some leaves there as well? A green ribbon would be nice."

And Steve just beams at him as he gets to work and says "Oh wow. Whoever your partner is, they are so lucky if you remember all of these things even for your friends. Makes a guy jealous."

Eddie just wiggles his eyebrows at Steve and mutters, "that position's sadly open. Has been for a while. Interested?" and he almost faints against the counter when Steve turns around.

Eddie is ready to run.

But Steve just fluffs his hair, reapplies his lipgloss and asks: "Where do I apply?"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #florist steve harrington

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tinkerbclla · 1 year

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Eddie Munson made it.

He did everything that his teachers had always told him that he wouldn’t. It was always “You’ll never make anything of your life if you don’t buck your ideas up!” and “Making music is such a longshot, do you have a backup plan?” and “Edward Munson if you don’t shut your mouth this second –”

Eddie Munson didn’t shut up. And now, he was a star.

His first EP ‘The Upside Down’ had been an instant hit. ‘Vecna’s Curse’ made it to number one on the rock charts and stayed there for three consecutive weeks. He’d had two successful albums since, been nominated for countless awards and even won a few.

But he wasn’t happy.

Eddie Munson was bored.

Well and truly bored.

He filled the days however he could. His music wasn’t fulfilling any more. It was bland and repetitive and he hadn’t been inspired for a while now. He was writing, sure. He was writing more than anything. He’d filled two notebooks in the last week alone. Then he flipped through them and ripped out every single page.

“It’s all drivel!” he complained to Gareth one day. “I’ve lost my touch! My edge! It’s gone forever!”

He’d met Gareth in high school. They were the best of friends, really. They’d formed a band together and they stayed together until Gareth went off to college to study music production. He emerged a new man and Eddie –

Eddie had still been playing for the same five drunks in the same dingy bars.

So Gareth had taken him under his wing. Gareth had a good knowledge of music production now and he became Eddie’s manager. He was signed to a label within six months.

It had all moved rather fast from there. Eddie had lost track of the time. It melted away, sped past him like the stars in the window of the Millenium Falcon as it shifted into hyperspeed. He’d been on every continent, played most major cities, sold out arenas that held more people than lived in his hometown.

And he was so fucking bored.

That’s how he found himself with – Jace? Kyle? Marc?

He didn’t know. He wasn’t going to see him again, so it didn’t matter. For now he would call him sweetheart and hope for the best. He couldn’t complain much from his position, with Eddie’s cock sliding further down his throat.

“Just like that, baby,” Eddie crooned. “You take it so well.”

There was a muffled cry beneath him that sent vibrations up his shaft to pool in his gut.

Eddie fucked into him harder, trusting his partner for the night to tap out if he needed. Eddie was a rockstar, he could take, take, take what he wanted. He gripped onto the blonde locks in front of him as his knees started to wobble. He wished he could give the other guy some credit, but Eddie was doing all of the fucking work.

Eddie drew himself out of his partner’s mouth. He was even bored doing this, and god, wasn’t that just the most depressing thing?

“Lie down on the bed for me, sweetheart,” Eddie tried with all his might to inject some interest in his voice. “Let me fuck you.”

The blonde nodded at him dumbly, looking fucked out and lovestruck despite Eddie’s apathy.

Eddie watched him for a moment, before retrieving a condom and some lube from his nightstand and finishing what he’d started.

If Eddie sat and thought about it, he realised that he spent too much of his time thinking about love. It was always something that had been so out of reach.

When he was young – really young – he spent a lot of his time vying for the love of his parents. He acted out, mostly. Got scrapes and bumps and bruises on purpose, because he’d seen how his friends’ mothers fawned over them when they were hurt. His parents were too lost to fawn over him. Eddie being hurt was nothing more than a nuisance. He stopped showing them the scrapes.

When he first moved in with Wayne, the uncle who had always seemed so distant before, whom he barely knew, he turned away from the love. Wayne was determined to cook him a decent meal every night, so Eddie complained that he wanted take-out. Wayne bought him clothes to replace the ones that were becoming threadbare, so Eddie screamed when he realised his favourite t-shirt was gone. He pushed Wayne’s love away until Wayne came home with a gift. He pressed the fabric into Eddie’s hands wordlessly and Eddie scoffed in the way he was wont to in those days.

And then he saw it.

Wayne had located an exact copy of the old Judas Priest shirt that he’d thrown out because it had a hole in the armpit. It looked brand new. It knocked the wind out of Eddie, he was totally in awe of Wayne from that moment. It was the most unambiguous sign of familial love he’d ever been shown. He stopped pushing his uncle away after that. He accepted the love.

The thing about love was that, as soon as Eddie had a taste, he wanted more.

He watched as his friends got girlfriend after girlfriend in middle and high school. He wanted what they had; he wanted soft hugs and gentle kisses on blushing cheeks. He craved affection more than he’d ever craved anything.

He didn’t get it.

One day in high school, some of the guys on the football team had gotten hold of the information that Carter Anderson was gay. He’d been spotted holding hands with his secret boyfriend under the bleachers, totally innocent shit, but he was immediately ostracised. He was either sneered at or avoided completely. Eddie didn’t know which was worse.

He’d wanted to comfort Carter, but he couldn’t have anyone know that he was the same. He was already a freak, Eddie didn’t think he could handle being the gay freak.

He’d come out eventually, once high school was over and he was no longer bound by a hierarchy that was controlled by meaningless things like who had the most money, or who was able to catch a ball accurately. He’d even had a couple of relationships that went nowhere.

He still craved something real, something permanent.

It seemed impossible to find, especially as a famous musician. People wanted fame and people wanted money. It didn’t matter much to them how they got it.

The thought crossed his mind again when he was in a meeting about his upcoming tour. He’d chewed on a pencil until the yellow paint had chipped off and he’d most likely swallowed some of it, while the tour manager droned on about their schedule and the record label representative chimed in with the demand that Eddie keep working on his new album while he’s on the road. They kept talking until it was all static and Eddie’s mind drifted to love. Or his lack of love, to be more accurate.

It made him laugh to think of how he’d changed since the start of his career. A meeting like this used to hold his attention. It was new and exciting; he was getting to share his love with the world. But he hadn’t felt the love in his music for the past two albums now. He was surprised that his fans hadn’t noticed, yet he seemed to be as popular as ever. More popular, even. He was selling more than ever.

And he hated it. None of it felt authentic. None of it felt like love.

Eddie let out a sharp gasp of pain as Gareth elbowed him in the ribs, bringing him back into the room.

“Oh, uh –” Eddie scanned the room quickly in an attempt to figure out what had been asked of him. “Sorry, run that by me again?”

The executive in front of him rolled his eyes, obviously growing tired of the meeting and Eddie’s habit of daydreaming, “The tour schedule was confirmed by your manager, Mr Emerson, we just need a signature.”

“Right,” Eddie nodded, dragging the paper over to him. “Sure.”

Eddie wished he’d listened to at least some of the plan for his tour, but he couldn’t help it. The whole thing made him feel listless. Miserable. Apathetic. He’d ask Gareth for the details later, but honestly?

Eddie Munson wanted a fucking break.

He wanted to find the love in his music again, and he couldn’t do that while playing the same songs that had made him lose it.

Eddie signed his life away and left the meeting without another word.

It was a dumb idea. It was reckless and stupid. Eddie knew that, but it wasn’t like he had any better ideas. Eddie sat at his desk and stared at the laptop screen in front of him. It was probably the only time he’d actually used the piece of furniture for more than just storage space for a thick layer of dust. He’d had to wipe it down thoroughly before he even thought about putting his laptop on it. The desk had sat in the corner of his music room unused; both Wayne and Gareth had insisted that he should have a desk to work at, but Eddie had written most of his songs either on the couch on the opposite side of the room or sprawled across the floor. A desk wasn’t exactly in tune with his creative vision.

He wasn’t writing now, though, he was researching, and that was a task suited to the rigid conformity of a desk. Eddie opened up a browser window with a swift click and began to type.

How to stop hating mys–

No. He erased the words before he’d even finished writing them. They sounded too pathetic, but so did every other combination of words that ran through his head.

But how could he make them sound less pathetic? There was no admirable way to admit that you felt as though you were drowning in everything that had once been your dream.

How to feel less lost

That search was a dud. Eddie was willing to accept a lot of advice, but “accept that it’s okay to feel lost” was probably the most useless advice he’d been given in a while. He was past acceptance. He wanted change. Needed it with every fibre of his being.

He strayed away from the searches that would give him identical results touting mindfulness and going out for a walk as the cure to all mental health issues. He’d done it all. He’d even been to therapy. He needed something different, something fresh. He racked his brain until he settled on his next search –

Find writing inspiration easy

Eddie waded through pages of awful advice, telling him to look at writing prompts or to exercise (how was a jog supposed to help him come up with a hit song, exactly?).

Then came a beacon of hope. His answer.

A writers’ retreat.

The idea sparked a wave of hope that hadn’t washed over Eddie in a long time. He didn’t want to go on a specifically planned writers’ retreat, to be surrounded by twelve other writers who were constantly asking him what he was writing and what brought him to their little commune – he shuddered at the thought. Definitely not.

But to be able to escape? To book a flight to Bumfuck, Nowhere and exist among people who had no idea who he was? To hole up where no one would be able to track him and demand photos and autographs? He’d been asked to sign someone’s tits when he was out for dinner, for god’s sake, and he just wanted some quiet. The idea of quiet was thrilling.

A new Google search: Rural towns in the Midwest.

The Midwest was probably the most boring place that Eddie could think of. He lived in L.A., and the West coast was somewhere he wanted to get away from. If he went too far East, he’d end up with New York, and he wanted to avoid that just as much. In fact, he was probably supposed to go there on the tour he’d blindly agreed to.

Eddie didn’t want busy. He wanted boring. So: the Midwest.

He clicked through a number of websites, waiting for a name to stick. A small town that sounded like it had some charm to it, something that would leave Eddie feeling in love again.

He found what he was looking for in Fairland, Indiana. The whimsical name was already enough to send soft flutters through his chest; he felt the inspiration already, felt the love that radiated from the small town. He trawled through the pictures that he could find. There weren’t many – even the Trip Advisor page for the town only had two entries – but Fairland seemed quaint.

Eddie was sold.

He was opening up a new tab to browse AirBnB almost immediately. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the reaction his plan would solicit from Gareth and everyone else who worked for him. He knew that this was impulsive, that there were a litany of fans who had paid for tickets to the tour already. The idea of disappointing his fans caused an ache that settled in next to his heart, but he couldn’t keep showing them this watered-down version of Eddie Munson. They deserved his love. He owed it to them.

The only issue with choosing such a small town was that the AirBnB options were few and far between. There was only the one option, actually. A home that Eddie could only really describe as cosy, as close to a cottage as he’d ever seen. Eddie thought that cottages only existed in fairytales, or, like, England. But it was there, right in front of him in a high-definition image. An honest-to-god cottage with ivy growing up the grey stone walls. Eddie hadn’t seen a brick house outside of Chicago; it added to the charm of the building. It felt like a hidden gem, a treasure that he needed to snatch up immediately.

He scrolled further. The room for offer had a double bed, the house itself boasted a large wood-burning fireplace and a private garden. The pictures looked ethereal. He quickly found the contact button, barely taking notice of the reviews (there weren’t too many anyway – Fairland apparently wasn’t particularly popular). His eye did catch one note under the owner’s profile, though: The owner lives in the main house.

It almost stopped Eddie from messaging, but surely he could put up with nodding politely at the man when he saw him in the shared spaces of the house? It was still rural and beautiful and everything he needed.

Eddie swallowed any hesitation and typed out his message.

Eddie: How soon would this room be available?

He immediately and deeply regretted forgoing a greeting, realising how rude and demanding he must sound.

Eddie: Sorry! Hi! Just very excited about your lovely home!

Eddie banged his head on the desk. Twice, for good measure. He was about to delete his entire profile when the reply came through.

Steve: Hi there Eddie! It’s available now and there aren’t any upcoming bookings. So I can accommodate you whenever.

He didn’t think before he replied, didn’t give himself time to.

Eddie: Would you think me insane if I suggested tomorrow?

Steve: I can get the room set up by then, no problemo!

Eddie: And if I don’t exactly have an end date to my stay?

Steve: As long as I’m getting paid, stay for as long as you want.

If he hadn’t been convinced before, he definitely was now.

Eddie didn’t have to think too much about money these days; he was impulsive and spent as much as he wanted to. He’d bought Wayne a house – an actual house with more than one storey and everything – without a second thought. He gave him an unlimited budget to furnish it and went to Ikea with him in disguise (it was a cap and sunglasses, very original and not the least bit effective).

Still, this was the fastest Eddie had typed in his card information in a long time. He paid for a month up front to sweeten the deal for his host and immediately switched tabs to look for flights.

Eddie was buckling himself into a plane seat before he let anyone in on his plan. He’d been putting it off, knowing exactly how much he was going to screw them all over. Gareth didn’t deserve it, the fans didn’t deserve it, but Eddie struggled to feel an inch of sympathy for any of the other executives.

Besides, this was going to be for the best. For both Eddie and his fans.

With a steadying breath, he opened up his messages to Gareth.

Munson: I’m not doing the tour.

Munson: Don’t look for me. I’ll be back, but not any time soon.

And then he turned off his phone before the barrage of texts started to flood in.

He’d been clever about it; he’d covered his tracks. Eddie’s laptop stayed in his penthouse apartment, but the history had been completely wiped. He had logged into his banking app and changed his password, just in case Gareth knew the old one. He’d even phoned the bank to make sure they wouldn’t give out any of his information. He told them, and the police, in no uncertain terms, that he was not missing and none of his information was to be shared. He wanted to cover all of his bases, because the men in suits were vultures and they wouldn’t stop until they found Eddie. So he had to make sure that he wouldn’t be found.

He was pretty sure that he’d done a good job.

***

The opening scenes from 'The Unloved Ones' by tinkerbclla on ao3.

LINK

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fic rec #steve harrington #eddie munson #florist steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things au #modern au #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #stranger things fic rec #zo writes

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spicycinnabun · 2 months

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pt. 2 3 4 5 6 7 💐

The first time Eddie visited Harrington Floral at Starcourt Mall, it was after he’d finished band practice and had a craving for an Orange Julius. If Californians were good for one thing, it was making smoothies.

It was the mountain of flowers being assembled in the window display that caught his attention, stopping him in his tracks on his way out. Eddie stood there with his guitar case slung over his back, slurping his way through frothy orange goodness as he watched.

The florist was biting his lip as he carefully adjusted the position of a baby blue delphinium. A strand of hair fell into his eyes. The arrangement was called Take My Breath Away, according to the cue card in front of it.

Eddie’s breath certainly had been. He was completely enthralled as the florist’s huge hands expertly handled those delicate little flowers. He hadn’t bent a single petal.

The florist seemed to realize somebody was staring and glanced up—and weren’t those some of the warmest, puppy dog brown eyes Eddie had ever been caught by?

“Gorgeous,” he mouthed, winking and gesturing towards the arrangement, though he was talking about both man and flower.

The florist squinted and frowned at him, pointing at his ear and shaking his head.

Eddie grinned and shrugged. Ah, well.

A customer in the store caught the florist’s attention because he suddenly glanced behind himself, wiped his hands off on his green apron, and then left the window.

Rocking on his heels, Eddie turned to leave, but he spent the rest of the day thinking about the cute brunet and his pretty blooms.

🌷🪻🌻🌹

co-writing this with @batty4steddie 💕

#fic #wybmb #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie au #florist au #flower shop #florist!steve harrington #eddie i can buy myself flowers munson #💐

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hotluncheddie · 1 month

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omg I didn't realize you wanted chubby steddie asks 🙈

as much as we love the babygirlification of Steve Harrington..... I'm obsessed with boyish manly Steve who is chubby and Eddie is obsessed with him!!!! I'm thinking about your one fic with the sweaty tank top!!!!! do you have more thoughts on this??

yesssssss!!! anon yes yesssssssss!!!!!

not me being like 'yeah! sweaty task top fic nice nice' then realising i have like three different posts that have Steve in a sweaty tank top lol

thankfully @scoops-aboy86 came in clutch with a new tank top sciario <3 (and held my hand thru writing the end lmao ty pal)

but i just love an ex jock trope, i love bulk under muscle and i think big beefy hairy guys are hot - and Steve harrington deserves to be all of that, and more

and also, importantly, eddie munson deserves to have all of that too, in and around him, all the time, in the form of Steve Harrington.

Eddie had come to accept the wealth of things he could be into, the actual buffet of people and scenarios that could get his dick hard. He's had more than his fair share of knuckle biting orgasms over the ex chief of police Jim Hopper. Before and, maybe worse, after getting to know him.

So he knew what it was to have something of a shame wank. To enjoy a moustache or two and a paunch at a middle.

But nothing, no deep seated daddy issues or fantasy of being held down, could ever prepare him for Steve Harrington.

Post upside down, post eventual college and transition to work. Post two bed apartment with Robin, then two bed apartment with Robin and Eddie. Then actual full blow house with Eddie, and more often than not weekend guest Robin. Dating Steve for as long as has was one thing, loving Steve with everything he had was another, and being loved by Steve was something he still had nights of panic about - silent tears as fear and self doubt gripped his throat, nightmares about it all being an elaborate prank that sneak their way in even with Steves arms wrapped tight around his middle.

but Eddie had him.

Was allowed to love him, and worship Steve for all that he was worth. It was wonderful. Eddie knew that.

But it had its challenges. Nothing past Eddie could've done would help current Eddie for what he was in for.

Like how Steve had bulked up over the years, settled and filled out in a way that made those visions of Hopper, and guys from bars he really shouldn't have been at, all come surging back.

Steve was thick, and strong and still so achingly beautiful. Boyish in his actions at times but also protective and capable in a way that made Eddie swoon. Honest to god. Made him feel like a main character in one of those bodice ripper books he had seen (taken out and read) at the library.

And then Steve made it worse.

So so so much worse.

Because Steve went and got a tattoo.

Well, another tattoo. He added roses to go along with the robin and branch on his arm, adding to its greenery with red petals and thorns that Eddie knew were secretly for him. He’d said, offhandedly, that they were his favourite and he knows, because he knows Steve, that thats something he'd listen to and remember.

He’s a die hard romantic.

And now Eddie is going to die, hard.

Soon, if Steve doesn't put a proper fucking shirt on.

Steves been wearing his stupid, old, cropped, white tank top since the appointment. He's "letting the tattoo breathe", "doesn't like the feeling of the healing skin against the fabric", "wants to do it properly". "hates Eddie and wants him to die of hard dick, big-fat-ball disease."

He glares at Steve from the other end of the couch, and maybe only three of those things are something Steve's actually said, but, he thought them. All of them. Must have.

Because Steve's tank is so old it's nearly see through, the peak of his pink nipple evident and distracting. The cropped end keeps rolling up and exposing his wider bellybutton and soft sides. And, as always, with any tank top, with any tank top on Steve, hit tits are there - hairy and lovely and out.

'Steve, please.' Eddie whines, he doesn't think he can take much more.

Steve just raises his eyebrows, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the tv. 'If I sweat too much, it'll mess with the healing.' He says.

Eddie just crosses his arms, sinks lower into the couch. ‘Can you put on a normal shirt at least? For my sanity, for that alone, please?' Not wanting to sound desperate, but he is desperate.

Steve sighs, muting the TV. 'C'mere.' He holds his arms out and Eddie crawls into his lap. Still sulking, arms still crossed. ‘Eddie, you’re the one who gave me the tattoo. I’m following your instructions.’ Steve says gently.

‘M’firing Robin for getting you to sign the info form.’ He grumbles.

Steve smiles at him, tucking some hair behind his ears. ‘You can’t fire her for doing her job baby.’

‘Maybe not’ Eddie sniffs. ‘But I’m not sharing my baby blue ink with her next time she gets one of her slutty little lady sailor pin ups booked in.’ He mumbles to himself.

Steve pulls Eddie in closer, hands on his waist as he leans in to whisper in Eddies ear. 'Aren't I being so good though? Following what you said, no strenuous activity for two days right?' His voice a little breathy, soft.

And that makes Eddie pause, makes his insides churn and his heart rate increase. 'Ye-yeah.' He rasps, eyes wide. 'So good Stevie.'

'So we have to wait until tomorrow, like you said, yeah?' Steve asks, eyes all big and sweet, lips in a little pouty.

Fuck. He's right. Eddie dug his own grave.

'Yeah.' He sighs. He can do it, for Steve.

Steve smiles sweetly at him, tapping Eddie on the ass and shifting him closer so Steve can unmute the tv and keep watching his game. 'Good boy.' Steve says, kissing Eddies temple.

…Wait. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows, half hard and confused.

But Steve just holds him closer. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, and whines.

#:)#eddie gets domed by pouty dilf Steve #he doesn't know how to feel about it - but he likes it #<3 #ask #hotlunch #steddie #chubby steve harrington #tattoo artist eddie munson #and robin #i think Steve is their part time receptionist and also works at the coffee shop across the street #or part time florist across the street - to really live the au tropes #hes hot

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fortheloveofallthings · 30 days

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Steddie Florist AU - mini fic (inspired by a twitter prompt)

Eddie never bought flowers. Not once in his life had it even crossed his mind. But every afternoon before he heads into his shift at the bar he steals a glance at the perfectly styled man through the window organizing the bouquets. Every once in a while, Eddie would catch himself stopping dead in his tracks staring between the guy and the flowers, and every once in a while they’d make eye contact. His face would flush red as he quickly buried his face back in his leather jacket and rush into work.

Steve loved making bouquets. He loved flowers, and the chill of the cooler they were kept in. He loved sharing holidays with the strangers that came and went. He loved the curly hair and leather that floated across the windows from the storefront. And he loved that stranger’s rich chocolate eyes even more. The deer in the headlights look he’d stumble upon when their views locked. One afternoon, the man finally walked in and after all his failed attempts at love here he was ready to try again. He stood from where he was kneeling, “What brings you in?”

Eddie practically burst into the shop with no game plan in mind and stopped immediately at the entrance. Thankfully the man, much more gorgeous without the glare of glass between them, spoke first. “Oh um, not sure? I walk by everyday and uh thought id look around?” A small giggle escaped the florist, “sure man, look all you want. I’m here if you have any questions.” He flashed a well executed customer service smile then went to tend to some of the house plants across the sales floor. Eddie waded through the aisles curiously examining the buckets of roses and countless other flowers he didn’t know the names of. He lingered around the… “Seems like you like the dahlias” the florist said, lingering next to Eddie making him jump. “Shit man! You have a quiet step” “I’m sorry, Robin scolds me for scaring her all the time.” He looked away sheepish. “Well at least you can make it up to her with all these lovely flowers,” he nervously chuckled, “She must love that quality in her partner at least.” The florist laughed, “Shes not my girlfriend, no. Shes my best friend… and co-worker.”

Steve could’ve watched this man walk around the shop for hours. The curiosity he wandered with held a child-like wonder, an interest in the unknown and he had to go and scare the guy. The man sighed relief and got back to the flowers, “wait? These are dahlias? Like the murder?” Steve lost it at that, “like the murder!?” He laughed, held his stomach and everything. “Yes like that, but it was a flower first.” “Oh right, well maybe ill get one of these?” The man asked so unsure if that was even ok. “Of course, you want just a single one?” The man combed his fingers through his curls then rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh ya just one of the purple ones. Im sure theres an empty bottle at work I can put it in. Might be nice to have it on the bar.” They walked over to the counter and Steve wrapped the single dahlia in a sheet of black tissue paper. “This one is on me,” Steve winked. The man’s cheeks flushed pink and the guy avoided any eye contact like the plague. “You sure? I don’t mind paying,” He offered. “I’m sure, least I could do for scaring you.” The man took his single flower with utmost care turned towards the door and just before leaving he turned back to Steve. “If you’re free later, head over to the Red Dragon. Its only a block down the street, I’ll get you a drink on me. Just ask for Eddie if you don’t see me, sometimes I get stuck recycling the kegs in the back”

Part 2

#steddie fanfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #florist au #tempted to make this longer

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dragonflylady77 · 2 months

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i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?”

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. “Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #valentine's day #florist billy hargrove

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ghostlyfleur · 2 months

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♡ stevie falls for the girl from the flower shop

#fleur museum™#moodboards #boyfriend!steve harrington #lovesick!steve harrington #steve harrington x florist #steve harrington #friends to lovers #steve harrington moodboard #steve harrington aesthetic #flower girl!reader #florist!reader #flowercore #flower aesthetic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #tooth rotting fluff #soft girl

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loveshotzz · 18 days

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ugh don't do this!!! i can picture him sitting on a stool in the morning after watering the flowers, steaming cup in hand :( waiting to see if a certain someone will come by :(

His eyes light up every time someone walks by, and by 9am he’s starts to lose hope so he busies himself with some trimming just to hear the door bell jingle. He doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s you, because the perfume you wear every day makes him wish he had a flower that smelled the same.

#asks #older!florist!steve #oh god #i’m yearning too hard #TOO EARLY #steve harrington

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abstractnaturaldisaster · 1 year

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Steddie Flower Shop / Tattoo Parlor AU

Thanks everyone for the continued warm reactions! I love hearing what you guys are thinking so feel free to reach out!

Part One I Part Two I Part Three I Part Four I Part Five I Also on AO3!

The first month celebration seemed to open the floodgates on Team Tattoos and Team Flowers (as Robin affectionately named their now fairly active group chat) seeing each other outside of work. It wasn’t always all four of them but Steve would start bringing over lunch to eat with Eddie when he picked up his order or Robin would stop by with coffees after doing a run. Chrissy would go over to the tattoo parlor when she needed a break from heavy metal while doing bank reconciliations.

Steve was in the studio alone on a no client day to get some sketching done and other small things around the shop. Robin had elected to avoid the winter weather and stay at their apartment.

“Hello! I come bearing lunch!” Eddie called out as he swung open the door.

After his first formal visit to the tattoo parlor, Eddie had gotten more comfortable waltzing in when the shop was slow. Steve was happy to see Eddie more as he slowly wore down the stubborn metalhead. Robin had started dropping some pretty heavy hints that Steve should just go for it and ask Eddie out but Steve wasn’t quite sure he was ready. As much as Steve was learning Eddie was different, he reminded Steve of the counterculture guys at some of his old studios. Steve couldn’t quite shake his insecurity that Eddie still thought he didn’t have any business running a tattoo parlor. Of course this didn’t stop Steve from becoming more and more obsessed with the man as they became something approximating friends. They even started giving each other small tokens. Eddie would find some cool rock or a weird stamp or something equally random and leave them on the reception desk when he stopped by to rap his knuckles on the desk and tell Steve whatever important fact he’d learned that he “couldn’t possibly just share via text, Steve, the delivery is half of the point.” Steve would always laugh, shake his head, and get back to whatever he was working on before Eddie burst through the door.

After Steve had amassed quite a collection of Eddie’s found treasures, Steve felt like he needed to reciprocate. Eddie had told Steve about his collection of heavy metal tapes for the De Lucas’ van so the next time Robin dragged Steve to a thrift store he scoured the tape offerings for something that he could give Eddie. After sifting through the options for so long that even Robin had gotten bored of shopping, Steve decided on Voices from Hall & Oates. It was just cheesy enough he could play it off as a joke if Eddie made fun of it but it also had some absolute classics Steve loved. And if they happened to be love songs, well, the 80s were a love song filled decade, it couldn’t be helped.

“Munson! Welcome!” Steve called as he walked out of the back office. “Whatcha got for me?”

Eddie situated himself on the couch that he continued to insist he hated and Steve sat in one of the nearby armchairs and started setting out food.

“Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup, Steve-o!” Eddie said as he stooped into a low bow and spread out his arms to show off the offerings on the coffee table.

“This is so good, holy shit,” Steve said as he started wolfing down the sandwich. He should probably work on his table manners but hopefully Eddie didn’t mind. “Where’d you get this, dude?”

“Oh, uh, I made it,” Eddie looked a little embarrassed to admit it.

“Seriously, dude? Unfair,” Steve said.

“Unfair, why?” Eddie asked.

“Well you have the whole flower thing and you’re good at cooking? That’s like a whole first date package, man,” Steve’s mouth moved quicker than his brain could tell him to shut up and run into the nearest snow bank. “Not that, that’s, I mean–”

“Thanks, I think?” Eddie cut Steve off. “I owed you one.”

“Oh wait! That reminds me, stay here.” Steve ran off to the back room to pick up the cassette tape. “I got you this, if you ever feel like diversifying the van’s musical options.”

“You got me a tape?” Eddie looked skeptical. Steve couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or not.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not a big deal, but it’s Hall & Oates. I play them a lot at the shop. They’re kind of chill and I figured maybe if you ever wanted a change of pace, or whatever.”

“Steve, I know who Hall & Oates are.”

“And you hate them. Listen, it was a silly idea,” Steve said as he went to grab the tape back from Eddie.

“Nope, you already gave it to me, no take backs!” Eddie said as he jolted upright and nearly sprinted across the street. Steve was left a little aghast as he went back to the tomato soup Eddie had apparently made him. This was getting out of hand.

The next day Steve got to his studio and saw a square package waiting on the stoop.

Payback, Harrington. – EM

Steve opened the package to find a Led Zeppelin record. He knew he’d heard the name before but other than that he didn’t recognize it. It had a picture with what looked like an explosion and some historical photo.

“What’s that, Steve?” Robin asked as she walked in.

“Oh I guess Eddie left it?” Steve said and flipped the album around to show Robin.

“Ooooo, Eddie, huh?” Robin teased and wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, get the Led out. Rad.”

“What?” Steve had no idea what Robin said.

“Get the Led out? Led Zeppellin? The band whose record you’re holding?”

“None of that means anything to me, Robin.”

“You’re such a square, Harrington.”

Steve elbowed Robin but went to put the record on. “I guess it’s good to have some emergency rock?” Steve joked. He wasn’t sure what he thought about the band as the record started spinning.

“You’re ridiculous. You’ll have to set it off to the side so someone doesn’t put it on while you’re in the middle of a tattoo and scare you out of your trance,” Robin said.

She told Steve that sometimes he seemed so fully wrapped up in his work that she would get nervous that he’d spook at any sudden or unexpected noise. He knew she was fully kidding but Steve decided it would be a funny gag to get a frame to put the record in. He used some of the window paints Robin had got for the studio windows to scribble “Warning! Don’t let the Led out!” Robin thought it was the corniest thing she’d ever seen. That didn’t matter once Eddie saw it and laughed for a full thirty seconds.

Eddie started coming to visit Steve when De Lucas’ closed up and Chrissy left for the day. Steve noticed Eddie picked days where Steve didn’t have afternoon clients and was mostly just sketching and doing shop maintenance stuff. Sometimes Eddie would bring Steve coffee or a snack and other times Eddie would just bring over a book and read on the couch while Steve worked. Steve started joining him on the couch and Eddie would read out loud while Steve sketched. Those were Steve’s favorite days.

“Great engines crawled across the field; and in the midst was a huge ram, great as a forest-tree a hundred feet in length, swinging on mighty chains. Long had it been forging in the dark smithies of Mordor, and its hideous head, founded of black steel,” Eddie was reading while Steve was snuggled into the other arm of the couch working on his iPad.

“Oh! Mordor! I know this–it’s in that song from that band’s record you gave me!” Steve interrupted.

“Holy shit, you actually listened to it before you put the album in jail?” Eddie

“Of course, dude! Sorry I’m not much of a reader, what book is this?” Steve answered.

“It’s Lord of the Rings, it’s a pretty classic fantasy book,” Eddie looked over at Steve. “There’s actually a decent movie adaptation if you ever want to have movie night.”

“Oh, yeah, I think Robin likes that movie, it has elves, right?”

“Yes, Steve, there are elves,” Eddie laughed.

“Sounds fun!” Steve stretched out and kicked Eddie’s thigh accidentally. Eddie reached over and pulled Steve’s feet onto his lap, placed his book back on Steve’s shins. Eddie snuggled back into the couch and Steve stifled a laugh. “I don’t think you’re allowed to make fun of this couch anymore, dude.”

“It’s still obnoxious even if it also happens to be unfairly comfortable. Do you want me to keep reading or do you want me to stop so I don’t spoil it? I honestly kind of thought you weren’t paying attention,” Eddie said.

“Keep reading. I’m enjoying it.”

“Alright Stevie,” Eddie responded. “founded of black steel, was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf; on it spells of ruin lay.” Steve listened to the familiar timbre of Eddie’s voice and settled back into his work.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve started as he finished up his work. “Have you ever thought about getting, like, an actual tattoo?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie shut his book and pushed Steve’s legs off his lap.

“You know like the kind of stuff I work on? Hang on, I don’t think I’m explaining this very well. Let me show you.” Steve could tell something was off. He knew his work wasn’t Eddie’s style but he kind of couldn’t stop thinking about tattooing Eddie. Steve thought Eddie was absolutely breathtaking and he wanted to give him something equally pretty. Steve hadn’t realized it at the time but he was absolutely thinking of Eddie everytime he sketched one of the bouquets he brought over. He flipped through his iPad and found the drawing he was working on of the bouquet Eddie had made for their one month anniversary. “Something like this? Maybe? I dunno.”

“What is this?”

“It’s just a sketch I did of one of the bouquets I picked up? The one from the day we went to the Hideout?” Steve explained.

Eddie took a closer look at the sketch and Steve couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Oh shoot, is that the time? I gotta get back to my side of the street.” Eddie abruptly stood and walked out, leaving Steve to wrack his brain as to how he fucked it up this time.

Steve was confused. He didn’t know what he did to make Eddie leave. His face was hot and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He’d thought Eddie was different. That he was at least starting to understand Steve. He must have missed something. Obviously, Eddie, with all his metal tattoos, was absolutely not the kind of guy who was into floral tattoos and in fact maybe judged Steve for his style. It was probably stupid to offer to tattoo him. Steve never did that. Robin bugged him as soon as he started tattooing clients until he had to explain that he just couldn’t. He didn’t want to mess up and have someone he was actually close to hate something that was relatively permanent. He knew it was sort of a weird hang up for a tattoo artist but he couldn’t get past his mental block. That was until he met Eddie. Something about Eddie and his flowers had so captivated Steve.

Steve closed up his shop on autopilot. He put everything away for the night and locked up trying to put the metalhead across the street out of his mind. He kept his head down as he walked out to avoid seeing De Lucas’ and Eddie’s stupid van. He managed to mostly keep himself together on the L until he got home. Thankfully Robin wasn’t home yet so Steve pulled on his softest sweatshirt and rolled himself into a tight blanket cocoon and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

***

Part 7 now available here!

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list! I’m sorry for the angst! I promise there’s a happy ending coming!

Also if you’re enjoying my writing I have a Warped Tour AU up on my AO3 if you’re interest! It’s available here.

Taglist: @a-little-unsteddie @maya-custodios-dionach @eboyawstenn @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @thehumblefigtree @throwbackthrowaway @micheledawn1975 @blisschaoss @vecnuthy @grimmfitzz @spectrum-spectre @croatoan-like-its-hot @momotonescreaming @beckkthewreck @korixae @citrus-owl @baron-zemo-trash @sleepdeprivedflower @nuagedemots @lololol-1234 @books-and-current-obsessions @acrolius @mightbeasleep @vi-an-te @gregre369 @i-must-potato @vampireinthesun @steveisabicon @child-of-cthulhu

#my fic post #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tattoo parlor / flower shop au #tattoo artist steve #florist eddie

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hallow-is-hallow · 5 months

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why all the fanfic where eddie is a tattoo artist has to have steve as a florist like okey is cute but I want something else!!

he could be a biker an apprendist tattoo artist or idk a hs teacher

#eddie tattoo artist #enough steve!florist pls #give me a biker steve #omg #or a tattoed steve pls #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #tattoo artist eddie munson

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wiildhcartsrun · 11 months

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what should be my next fanfic project? all steddie

role reversal - where it's role reversal from the get go. steve lives in the trailer park and is held back in school, runs hellfire, eddie has the rich parents and date nancy briefly and now works at family video with robin

better sorry than safe - one day, eddie had up and left in the middle of the night, leaving steve hurt and like eddie didn't love him anymore, but eddie left because it was too safe for him, based upon better sorry than safe by halestorm, angst with happy ending

friends don't - fanfic where eddie hasn't come to terms with his sexuality until after befriending steve and realising oh shit i like men, based on friends don't by maddie and tae

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #do i have two other ideas up yes? my tattoo artist / florist au AND a tangled au #wish i had more ideas for nancy/chrissy but all ideas i get for them are pwp ideas

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guitarsolosmakemefeellthings · 1 year

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Okay so I've seen both florist!Eddie and florist!Steve by now and I am a bit biased about these tropes. I love both of it for reasons and got thoughts about it.

Anyways, I can picture these two practicing latin flower names together. But they both have shit memories so their way of remembering the names is coming up with the weirdest terms ever. Like 'Imperator of the fries' for Frittillaria imperialis for example.

I can also see Eddie remembering names that sound like spells ( e.g. Corydalis cava) a lot easier because he feels like a wizard whenever he says them out loud.

Steve would be the one to easily remember names that just sound super dumb, like Tussilago farfara. He also likes that it sounds like an insult.

And then there's the name that send them into the biggest laughing fit so far. Cardiospermum halicabum. They've been a little high while learning this one and got carried away, leading to the sentence "just picture sperms doing cardio training!"and more laughing until their stomachs hurt. Needless to say, that name stuck best to both their memories.

#okay so this might be me projecting here #inspired by me learning for my final exams back in the day #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #florist!steve #florist!eddie #my writing

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tinkerbclla · 1 year

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for fancy

Eddie Munson made it. He did everything that his teachers had always told him that he wouldn’t. It was always “You’ll never make anything of your life if you don’t buck your ideas up!” and “Making music is such a longshot, do you have a backup plan?” and “Edward Munson if you don’t shut your mouth this second –” Eddie Munson didn’t shut up. And now, he was a star. His first EP ‘The Upside Down’ had been an instant hit. ‘Vecna’s Curse’ made it to number one on the rock charts and stayed there for three consecutive weeks. He’d had two successful albums since, been nominated for countless awards and even won a few. But he wasn’t happy. Eddie Munson was bored. Well and truly bored.

---

Or, Eddie Munson is a rockstar who should have it all, but he needs a break. That's how he finds himself in Steve Harrington's cosy little cottage in a rural town in Indiana, falling in love with his AirBnB host.

a part of the fruity four christmas exchange 2022

#steddie fic #steddie fic rec #steddie #christmas #but not too much #just some mistletoe mainly #rockstar eddie munson #florist steve harrington #modern au #no upside down

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spicycinnabun · 2 months

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pt. 1 2 4 5 6 7 💐

The third time Eddie stopped by Harrington Floral, it was simply because he felt drawn to it.

The world had been dumping on him lately, and looking at the arrangements was a nice distraction from another college application rejected, another job prospect gone down the toilet because he just “wasn’t the right fit”, his friends leaving Hawkins because they had gotten into colleges, Corroded Coffin officially disbanding, and losing his D&D group, having passed the torch on to Will after he graduated.

Real life wasn’t shaping up to be very metal at all.

The only good thing to transpire was the news Wayne had broken to him last night over their Swanson TV dinners. He had met the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

They had been dating for a few months now, much to Eddie’s surprise. Wayne said when you got to his age, you didn’t fuck around with time. When you knew, you knew.

He wanted Eddie to meet her before he popped the question—not that he needed Eddie’s blessing. It was great for him. He deserved to have someone, especially after going so long denying himself the chance.

Maybe Wayne could finally start his own family that didn’t include his mooching failure of a nephew.

Eddie had about a month to get his shit together, find a (legal, decent paying) job, a place to live, and scram. Wayne told him he didn’t have to be so hasty, that the trailer was his home and he could stay as long as he damn well pleased, but there was no way Eddie was about to crash Wayne’s newlywed life.

It was time for Eddie to finally make his own way in the world. He just wished he knew what direction to take.

In his pocket was the phone number of a dude who needed a roommate. He’d torn it off an ad he found taped to a payphone outside the mall.

He would call tonight. Maybe it would pan out. Maybe it wouldn’t.

The When I Think of You bouquet had long since been sold and replaced. The new one in the display window was called Wedding Bells, Eddie guessed, because it had bell-shaped flowers. They were an assortment of white, reds and yellows, with baby’s breath layered in between.

Maybe Eddie would place an order for Wayne’s wedding. He wondered, too, if he would ever get married. Probably not. It wasn’t legal and most likely wouldn’t ever be.

Not only that, but he would have to find someone willing to spend their entire life with him. That seemed… as likely as hell freezing over. Eddie knew he was a lot to handle for a single week, let alone years or a whole damn lifetime.

Eddie leaned over to smell one of the dramatic, bridal white Angel’s Trumpets.

He’d always enjoyed flowers. He had a tattoo of one on his inner arm, another small ode to his mother, but he wanted more. He wished there wasn’t such a stigma about men liking them. It wasn’t fair, but neither was most shit in life.

🌷🪻🌻🌹

co-writing this with @batty4steddie 💕

steve’s pov is next!

#fic #wybmb #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie au #florist au #stranger things #florist!steve harrington #wilted flower eddie #🥀#little bit of angst

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fortheloveofallthings · 26 days

Text

Steddie Florist AU - Part 2

Part 1

Steve watched in a haze as Eddie stepped out the front door with his new dahlia. Of course this mystery man gravitated towards them, he thought to himself. They stick out in a crowd, are revered for their beauty, often symbolizing kindness and everyone that loves dahlias is obsessed with their moody aesthetic. Perfect for Eddie. Thankfully Robin wasn’t here today to poke fun at his now blossoming crush. He continued his usual tasks, happily letting thoughts of the bartender fill his mind. 4 hours, he can stop by the bar in 4 hours.

Eddie practically skipped the remaining block from the Flower Shop to the bar. Chrissy was already pulling down chairs from the tops of tables as he entered. “I finally walked in!” He announced. Her blonde ponytail whipped around as she placed another chair down. “You walked in? Like actually step foot inside?” she questioned, excitement woven into her tone. Eddie nodded as a smile stretched across his face. He held out the dahlia with Shakespearean flare knowing it would be proof enough. “He gave it to me on the house, so I offered him a drink tonight,” he smiled walking past Chrissy towards the rows of liquor behind the bar hoping to find something empty enough to use as a vase. It didn’t take long skimming through the shelves before he landed on a Tanqueray bottle he could rinse out. Chrissy made her way towards him to start prepping the garnishes, “A flower on the house?” “Yes, on the house.” Eddie reiterated. “I can’t believe the first time you actually step foot in there, the florist who you’ve been eyeing for months, flirts with you within what? 5… 10 minutes of you being there! And you arrive with a dahlia of all things,” Chrissy says in almost disbelief. Eddie had already rinsed the now completely empty bottle of gin and carefully unwrapped the flower from its tissue paper to place it in and out on the bar in full display, “So? It’s just a flower, he’s a florist, it’s a flower shop. He’s probably given loads of customers free flowers.”

The statement was as humbling as it was disheartening. Eddie wanted the flower to be a special moment between the florist and him. But romance was never company, not for any of the Munsons. Romance was a daydream. So the realist in him crushed any hopes of love before they could take root. No one had won the key to his gated heart. “Oh come on Eddie!” Chrissy scolded as she placed the lime knife down, “Dahlias represent long lasting bonds, love, devotion. Flowers have their own language and meanings. This man thinks you’re beautiful and I’ll bet he also has a crush on you.” Eddie was struck, dumbfounded, “What do you mean flowers have language? You can tell all that by a single flower?” “Yes, Eddie, I can. Lesbians know a lot about Victorian flower language. It’s a whole gay thing,” she explained. He humphed in curiosity, contemplating this new information, “Well don’t get my hopes up too high. I barely spoke to him and I can only pray to whoever’s out there he’ll even make an appearance later.”

Steve wrapped up his shift soon enough. Thankfully a customer’s custom bouquet order held his attention for the last 2 hours making the time fly by. He left the keys for Vickie to lock up as she arrived and he ran out the door. He sprinted back to his apartment, and opened the door to the small studio decorated with plants, paintings Robin made for him, and photos of him and his step-brother Dustin. Steve rushed through his shower so he could spend a decent amount of time on his outfit and hair before racing towards the Red Dragon. After much deliberation and a quick FaceTime with Dustin and his girlfriend Susie he settled on his light brown bomber jacket with the olive tinted elbow patches, a perfectly fitted off-white button up with a small leaf pattern, blue jeans and his slightly worn down converse. Susie suggested most of his clothes which was new territory for them but Dustin reassured him he looked like himself and not the straight-passing jock he typically would anywhere outside the shop. Steve smiled in the mirror as he did a final fit check, laughing at the accuracy in which Dustin described him then was out the door without any further hesitation.

#steddie fanfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #made it longer #look out for part 3 #florist au #steve is a florist #eddie is a bartender

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