steddieasitgoes

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He’s talking about his new campaign… 🥰

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The Byers

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Incorrect Steddie - 9/?

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Eddie Munson and the Rainbow Unicorn Tattoo of Doom

Let me just start by saying that this headcanon came to me at 1 am. I woke up in a cold sweat and knew I had to write it down before it was lost forever.

I fully believe that Eddie Munson, if given the time and support, could absolutely become famous. If not mainstream famous, then at least in a way where he's known throughout certain communities. He draws people to him; people that feel lost or different. He's got fans that are Queer, punk, metal. Fans that are young and fans that are old.

Fans that have just found out about him.

And fans that have known him for a long time.

And I fully believe that the fans that have known him a long time are the ones that will notice... certain changes.

Eddie Munson, as long as he's been in the spotlight, has had scars. They pucker and pull at his cheek and arms, some of the worst collecting around his abdomen that are in full view when he's lost in a particularly sick guitar solo.

The media uses these to their terrible advantage. He cuts a scary looking figure - at least that's what the conservative mothers and fathers in their button up blazers think - and he's got a certain haunted look in his eyes when he sings about demons and other worlds that can leave concert goers breathless.

And then there are the tattoos.

When he started his career, he had a few of them. There were bats, a scary little monster, a tiny dragon.

The start of his career was... rough. The tabloids talked about overdoses. About a man named Wayne - Eddie's father - coming and going from a rehab center. A month later, more people began drifting in. Unknown, young people who looked nothing like rock stars or metal fans. Especially the one wearing the polo shirts and pressed slacks and just so happened to go more frequently than the others.

It takes a year, but Eddie begins to get back on his feet. And that's when fans start to see it.

Eddie Munson looks a lot... happier. Bouncier, even.

And not only that, but he's got a new tattoo.

A nail bat appears down his ribs.

By the next year, an ice cream scoop appears over his heart.

Fans that have stayed long enough track his skin like its the pages of a particularly intriguing novel. There are zines and fan club Q&As and photographs following Eddie year by year.

They track when a little bird is added to his wrist. When a pen is added somewhere near his elbow. A 20 sided die makes it onto his shoulder.

There was a near uproar of intrigue when a kiss mark showed up against his neck. That grew tenfold when a tattooed ring appeared around his finger, an actual ring safely stored away in his dressing room.

But it was the tattoo that showed up ten years into his career that garnered the most attention.

Eddie's tattoo's have always changed, but they've always had at least one constant. They were always, always, without color. Shades of black were all that ever graced his scarred skin. It was the only constant the fans knew to be true in their wild collection of rumors and speculations.

And then the unicorn appeared.

Bright. Gaudy. A little sloppy. It showed up on his side one day; bright purple in a dark blue outline. Above its head was a very scribbly rainbow.

"Maybe its a creature of darkness," fans whispered. "Maybe it's like... the rainbow of doom or something..."

It was the best they could come up with.

This was mostly because Eddie, loud as he could be on stage, was actually a very private person. Which meant that no one but his closest friends (and one polo shirted husband) got to see the same scribbly little rainbow and purple unicorn tacked onto his fridge with a Hawkins, Indiana magnet.

"You know that people won't think it's very metal," Steve had pointed out one night, weeks before the tattoo had become a reality. They'd just finished dinner and he was handing washed dishes over to Eddie to dry.

Eddie admired the picture on the fridge, storing a newly dried plate into a cabinet. Down the hall they could hear their daughter singing along with Cookie Monster, probably scribbling another picture with her arsenal of crayons. There were lines on the kitchen doorway tracking how much she'd grown in her three years of life. Sticky fingerprints lined the walls and banisters. There were My Little Pony dolls scattered in every room.

"You kidding?" he'd said, looking back towards his husband, mundanely holding a glass, yellow gloves all the way up to his elbows. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing more metal in the world."

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omfg the hawkins family video is open 365 days a year

it is very damn well likely stobin have had christmas, thanksgiving, new years eve shifts!! why haven't i realized this???

AND they are open till midnight on fridays and saturdays which means that new years eve in 1988 is prime midnight kiss territory

source:

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Stranger Things Chapter Eight: Papa | 4.08

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Redraw some steddie stuff from my Instagram

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vintage magazines 🔥

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Never has been, never will be.

sometimes it isn't all that funny to be queer in 1980's Indiana ig

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Stranger Things Chapter Four: Dear Billy | 4.04

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It's a commitment

written for @sidekick-hero 's 3.333 followers celebration 🥳💜🖤

wc: 333 | rated: G | tags: established steddie, best friend robin buckley, eddie is a stubborn drama queen, steve isn't as strong-willed as he thinks | also on ao3

"What's with the sad face?" Robin asks Eddie, who answers with a deep, dramatic sigh.

"Steve said he doesn't love me anymore."

Steve groans defeated, rubbing his temples. "That's not what happened. I simply told him no when he asked if we could get a dog. That's all."

"It's not a dog. Her name is Bean," Eddie protests, and Steve takes another calming breath.

He loves Eddie with all his heart, but sometimes he makes it hard not to want to shake some sense into him.

"Thought you always wanted a dog when you where younger?" Robin wonders aloud, and Steve wants to strangle her when Eddie perks up with newly sparked interest.

"He did? You did? Then why-"

"Because," Steve starts but is suddenly unsure of what to say. "It's a commitment," he offers weakly.

"I know that." Eddie rolls his eyes and Steve can't blame him; he sounds like his mother, who always made the same lame excuse.

That won't be enough to convince him.

"The dog would be home alone all day. And- and we'd have to go on walks, no matter the weather. You hate going out in the rain. And what about the costs? She needs food, and a cozy bed, and toys, and- what? Why are you both looking at me like that?"

Robin laughs and Eddie smiles so big, his teeth are showing.

"You're the best," he says and leans in to kiss his cheek.

Steve's confusion must be visible on his face because Robin answers his unasked question.

"She is going to have the best, most loving dads and aunt. Congratulations, Dingus! You're getting a dog."

Every day after joining Steve on his morning run, Eddie takes Bean to work, where the other mechanics spoil her rotten with cuddles and treats - just like her aunty Robin does.

And every night, Steve thanks Eddie for changing his mind and making a dream come true he'd long given up on. Making their already perfect life even better.

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mind-blowing

written for the @steddiebingo splash into summer mini event | prompt: sand | rating: t | wc: 775 | tags: crack treated seriously, bi steve, featuring eddie’s super normal reaction to this, discussion of blow jobs

read on ao3

“Worst place you’ve ever had sex in. Go,” Eddie says, handing the joint to Steve, who’s sitting next to him on the trailer’s old couch. 

They’ve been throwing stupid questions at each other for the last twenty minutes, so Steve doesn’t react any differently to this one, just takes a hit and thinks it over.

Eddie allows himself three seconds to stare at his pursed lips before he glances back at the stained ceiling.  

“The beach,” Steve says finally. “Sand, man. It gets everywhere.”

Eddie sniggers, taking the joint back. He’s never had sex on the beach but he trusts Steve’s judgement, he already hates it when sand gets in his hair, he can’t imagine having it– elsewhere.

“But,” Steve continues like he’s lost in thought. “At least it washes away, you know? Maybe it’s actually the alley behind this bar in Indy– my knees were hurting for days after that.”

There’s a sound like a record scratching in Eddie’s brain as he processes Steve’s words. 

“W–What?” He stammers out because Steve can’t mean–

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have been kneeling there for that long,” Steve says, making grabby hands for the weed. Eddie hands it over without taking a hit. “It was gross, too,” he continues, his lips wrapping around the joint enticingly. Eddie can’t help but glance at them. They curl into a smirk when he adds, “The floor was gross, not the– you know.”

Eddie splutters. “I– I don’t,” he chokes out. There’s no way Steve is talking oh so casually about blowing someone in a dingy alley. Eddie needs clarification before his brain starts getting any ideas. “What– what were you doing on your knees?”

At that, Steve gives him a quizzical look. “What do you think, Eds?” He says with a chuckle, brushing his hair back with his free hand. With the other one he offers the joint back to Eddie who waves it away, his mind reeling already.

“I’m not thinking! My brain is just like–” He makes an explosion sound, his hands mimicking his head being blown. And it is– by the realization that Steve Harrington admitted to sucking dick. “You– were you blowing a guy?” He asks, his voice raising embarrassingly. 

Steve nods sheepishly and Eddie’s mouth drops. “Why?”

Raising an eyebrow, Steve repeats. “Why?” When Eddie nods a little impatiently, he snorts. “I don’t know, Eddie, why do you suck dick?”

“Because I like it!” Steve gives him a look like duh, exactly. Eddie sputters some more. “But I’m gay, you’re-”

“Something,” Steve finishes when Eddie trails off, gesturing uselessly. “Bisexual is what Rob called it.”

Eddie blinks at him, at a loss for words.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “I thought you knew.”

At that, Eddie lets out a bark of laughter. “No! Steve, of course I didn’t fucking know! Do you think I would act normal around you if I knew that?”

“You never act normal,” Steve teases. “You’re not acting normal right now.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty, for this jester needs a moment to erase the image of you sucking dick from his brain,” Eddie snaps, his voice bordering on hysterical.

Steve’s eyes sparkle. “Would you rather see it for yourself?”

A strangled sound slips past Eddie’s lips in response. 

Steve scoots closer, a smirk stretching over his face. “That’s why you’re freaking out, right?” He asks, lowering his voice and sending shivers down Eddie’s spine. “Because you wish it was you.”

Eddie opens and closes his mouth a few times. 

“It can,” Steve whispers, crowding Eddie against the arm of the couch. “If you want.”

“What– What’s happening?” Eddie asks, finally finding his voice. 

“I’m offering to give you a blow job,” he says just as casually. 

“Because you like sucking dick,” Eddie says, matter-of-fact. 

“Yes,” Steve shrugs. “And because I like you, dork.”

“Oh.”

When the silence stretches, Steve nudges Eddie’s leg. “So what do you say?”

“What do I–” Eddie laughs, less hysterical but still disbelieving. Giddy too. “I say yes, of course, Stevie, Jesus H. Christ!”

“Good,” Steve chuckles amusedly. “Hand me a throw pillow then, I’m not hurting my knees this time,” he says with a wink. 

Eddie shudders, his dick twitching in his pants. Blindly, he grabs one of the couch’s pillows and shoves it into Steve’s hands. 

He slides to the floor, settling between Eddie’s legs, his knees on the pillow. There, he quite literally blows Eddie’s mind. 

And as it turns out, Steve didn’t really need the pillow. Eddie comes approximately forty-five seconds in and then Steve is off the floor and climbing on top of Eddie, grinding against him, his knees digging into the plush couch instead. 

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Next One, I Land

AO3 | for @sidekick-hero 's 3,333 follower celebration | rating: t | wc: 333 | cw: none | tags: season 3; scoops ahoy; robin is a menace; steve is both bad and good at flirting; eddie is a flirt; fluff and flirting

Can you burn dry erase boards? Steve’s never wanted to burn anything in his life as much as that damn board. He knows Robin would still find a way to track his failures, probably on the back of a napkin dispenser or some shit.

He's determined not to let her increase the visual of his failed dating life. Not again.

“Next one, I land. Just wait.”

“Sure, dingus.” Robin smirks, propped on the half-wall behind the counter.

“You’ll see.”

Someone clears their throat, prompting Steve to turn back toward the counter.

“Hey there, sailor.” Eddie leans across the counter on his elbows, head propped in his hand. “You know, you’ve been running through my mind all day, sweetheart.”  He grins devilishly, eyes glittering under the harsh fluorescents. “Those pretty little legs must be tired.”

Robin cackles. He can hear the distinct pop! of the dry erase marker being uncapped – can practically see her tallying up another mark in the “You Suck” column. 

Steve looks Eddie over. Eddie’s not bad looking. He’s, honestly, kind of hot, in like a grunge, wild kind of way. Steve licks his lips, admires Eddie’s own plush ones jutting out, just begging to be kissed.

Yeah, Steve can work with this.

Steve smirks, presses his hip against the counter as he leans forward. “As a matter of fact, I’m exhausted. Think I could rest my head on your pretty little chest for a while, baby?” He reaches out, twirls a strand of Eddie’s hair, and tugs slightly.

“Wh– uh, I – the fuck?” Eddie’s eyes widen. “Did you just–”

“Yeah, I just.” Steve leans in, his lips against Eddie’s ear. “The real question is, are you all bark, or do you got some bite to you, Munson?”

He leans back, presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s reddening cheek.

“Taking my break, Robin.”

All Steve hears after that is the dry erase marker clattering against the linoleum and Eddie’s sputtering breaths as Steve drags him into the break room.

taglist (open): @sunshine-daydreams0809@saramelaniemoon@probablyin-bed

divider credit:@saradika-graphics

thank you for reading :)

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when your boyfriend is too busy figuring out the fingering for the fucking paradise city solo when he was supposed to be fingering y–

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[steddieasitgoes]

my comfort character will always be steve harrington. every once in a while, i’ll leave the building, come back and somehow, everytime i come back my love for him grows bigger than it has before. there’s something so beautiful about the way he was written, canonically or fanonically, here’s a boy. he’s young, he falls in love, he makes a handful mistakes along the way, but when it comes to life or death, he chooses the right thing to do. he adopts a few a kids along the way, throws his body around to keep them alive, fights whatever monster is there to fight at that moment. but the most beautiful thing about him, is his ability to change and grow. i’ve watched so many characters get their redemption arcs, but nothing has ever hit me like steve’s. it’s like, he didn’t even know he was capable of that change but it’s been in his core all along.

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The night before they finally kill Vecna, Steve Harrington buys flowers.

Which is such a ridiculous thing to do. Steve makes sure everything is ready for tomorrow. The guns, the molotovs, the newly sharped knives, the walkies are loaded with fresh batteries, his nail bat. Everything is ready.

When he’s double— tripled check— that everything is ready, Steve goes into town. It’s barely a town anymore. There’s ruins everywhere, abandoned cars strewn all over the street, the roads still broken and uneven from the last earthquake.

Steve enters Melvald’s or what used to be Melvald’s. The shelves are empty and looted, the glass windows shattered to the ground. He doesn’t know why he’s here, but he knows he had to look. There hasn’t been a sign of nature since that day it rained ash. What was that— three weeks ago?

Steve finds what used to be the flower fridge in the backroom and grimaces when he sees all the dead flowers in it. Wilted and brown and just— lifeless.

“Of course, they’re all dead.” Steve whispers to himself, his flashlight scanning them, “What was I thinking? Looking for flowers.”

Steve turns, about to leave when his eyes catch a singular door at the end of the backroom. Steve walks towards it, and opens the door gingerly. It’s a small office with no windows, papers are strewn around and boxes slashed open.

In the corner of the room, up above a filing cabinet is a pot of orchids. It’s sitting on a small pot, barely clinging to life but there’s flowers to it. There’s only two branches, the rest of them faded into wilted brown. The petals are blue-ish at the bottom, and darker purple at the ends. Steve reaches over for it, and stares at it in fascination.

“Well, you’re coming with me.”

Steve takes a five dollar bill from his pocket and leaves it at the table. Because yes— he has looted so much in the last few weeks— for guns, for food, for clothing— but this is the one thing Steve wanted to pay for.

—

The grave is hidden. They hid it for a reason. Dustin was adamant it’s someplace that couldn’t be found by people, but the people of Hawkins are two things: close-minded and relentless and somehow, they still found it.

Steve stares at the red paint— blood— whatever it is they used to write atrocious things at Eddie’s headstone this time. Steve doesn’t speak, just falls to his knees and starts scrubbing. Joyce thought him how to clean her fridge years ago when they put the dead demodog in her fridge and Steve is still using that technique to this day.

He scrubs as hard as he can until the water in the bucket is tinted brown and dirt. He tries not to think of the fact that it’s the same color when he was washing his hands after that night, after he didn’t let them leave Eddie’s body in the upside down.

When he finishes, Steve stands up and dusts his jeans off. His knees creaks and his back ache.

Steve never says anything. When he visits Eddie, he starts scrubbing whatever is written in the stone, he stares and then he goes home. Always unable to say anything. Like if he acknowledged it and the grave doesn’t speak back, Steve will finally realize that Eddie truly is gone.

He stares at the pot of orchids he bought. They’re bright in contrast to the headstone and plot. Before he can think twice, Steve crouches down, snapping one of the two stems and putting the stem just below the headstone. He takes the pot back and stares at the headstone once again.

Steve takes a deep breath. He knows he needs to go home soon. Robin would wake up and panic if she realizes he’s not home. His arms clutch on the pot on his hands.

When he finally speaks, his voice is scratchy and unsure.

“You were gone so fast.” Steve says, to no one in particular. It bounces off the trees and fades into the quiet of the night.

There’s a vest hanging on the back of his door, a ring on his night stand, a newly stolen tape of Metallica in his walkman. Robin notices things, but has never said anything. Just holds on to him tighter and gives him a sad smile.

Steve knows he’s never said it out loud. Never even let himself think of it too much. But tomorrow, Steve might die. He doesn’t know where anyone goes after death, he doesn’t even know if he believes in heaven. But if somehow, it’s someplace he never gets to talk to people again, Steve doesn’t want things left unsaid. He doesn’t wanna go with words lodged in his throat.

“You were here one moment then you were gone so— so fast, Munson.” Steve repeats, his voice cracking as he feels the lump grow on his throat.

Steve thinks of him. Thinks of Eddie. Thinks of the bright, brown eyes, the long, messy hair, thinks of the dimpled smile.

He thinks specifically of that one moment after they went to War Zone, and Nancy and Eddie switched seats. Eddie talks about the kids, and high school, and how he was so wrong. Steve remembers the afternoon sunlight, bathing Eddie into a hue of orange in a way that made Steve’s stomach twist and curl, his hair fluttering against the wind as he says, “You’re okay, Harrington.”

Steve stares at the unmoving, lifeless headstone and speaks the truth into the world.

“I haven’t even loved you yet.”

Steve tries to say more, knows there’s more things pressing on his chest. But nothing else comes out, because what else can you say? What else can you do when the person you’re talking to is six inches into the ground?

So Steve backs away, goes home and fights some monsters. Somehow, he survives. He lives his life. Day by day, but living.

And everyday since that night, Steve waters the singular pot of orchid sitting in his and Robin’s kitchen window sill. Steve talks to it, waters it, cares for it. It survives for another five years.

Dustin never says anything, but knows it’s been Steve.

There’s always one singular stem of orchid in Eddie’s grave.

And maybe for a love that never had a chance to grow, that’s good enough for now.