#Eddie is just like me fr fr

[inthedarknessofnight]

Thinking about struggling musician Eddie who makes a living singing and playing guitar in a Metallica tribute band.

Thinking about bartender Steve who thinks tribute bands are the cringiest, most insufferable things to ever exist.

Thinking about Robin, his coworker, who made a bet on the very first day of their new job that Steve would eventually hook up with someone from a tribute band.

And the thing is, he almost makes it. Three years and he’s got a completely clean track record. Well, at least until the night some random Metallica cover band’s frontman has Steve questioning his sanity from the moment he sets foot on stage. Because Steve is mesmerized. By the way his lithe figure moves under the bright stage lights. By the way his fingers slide deftly along the neck of his guitar. By the way his voice permeates the room, filling the air to the point where Steve thinks he must be breathing the music into his lungs. And then, the motherfucker has the audacity to take off shirt his mid-performance, putting on display a well-curated collection of tattoos. Steve feels like an ancient deity has descended from the heavens and decided to play fucking Metallica, on a fucking Tuesday, in the shittiest fucking bar in all of Inianapolis. Well and truly distracted by the action on stage, Steve doesn’t register the glass slipping slowly out of his grasp, until the damn thing has hit the floor and broken into a thousand pieces. When he turns to examine the mess, Robin is already there, broom in hand.

“You might wanna think about closing that mouth, dingus. I don’t think you drooling all over this pristine countertop is good for business,” she says with barely contained laughter, quickly sweeping the shards into the dustpan.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he retorts, rolling his eyes, suddenly very aware of just how much he was staring. Instinctively, Steve shakes his hand to drive away the haze, grabs a new glass, and tries his best to focus on the task at hand.

It isn’t until the final number of the evening that Steve’s resolve truly crumbles. He’s all but managed to tune out the goings-on around him, which is why he nearly has a heart attack when he suddenly finds himself face to face with the beam coming straight from the main spotlight.

“Can we- Yes. Perfect. There he is,” says a low voice coming from the very center of the stage, followed by a cacophony of loud cheers.

And… Oh no.

“What the-,” he mutters, a hand flying up to shield his eyes from the blinding light. That’s when he sees him.

“Hey, pretty boy behind the bar. Get me some whiskey up here on this stage, will you?”

And Steve is so so so incredibly fucked.

He stares dumbly for a few seconds. Having seemingly lost any and all ability to think independently, Steve brain shifts into autopilot, causing him to grab the full bottle of Jack sitting on the shelf behind him, stroll towards the stage as if possessed, accompanied by the sound of cheering, which only grows louder with every step he takes. He climbs the steps leading onto the stage. As soon as he reaches the top, he finds himself face to face with…

He’s so close. For a brief moment, Steve wonders if he knew prior to this moment that a person can be this beautiful. They’re chest to chest. The guy is ducking his head to whisper something to Steve, his breath hitting the sensitive spot just below the ear as he does so.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, his like voice smoke, and milk, and honey, and all things Steve wants to breathe in, and drink, and savor. He plucks the bottle from Steve’s hand, ringed fingers grazing his.

He winks at Steve as he takes a few steps backwards, a devilish smile playing on his lips. Then, without breaking eye contact, he tips his head back, opens his mouth, and begins pouring the amber liquid until it spills over he edges, running down his neck and the length of his torso. After what feels like hours to Steve, the guy finally swallows the remnants of the drinking in his mouth, immediately leveling Steve with a dark gaze.

“Now you.”

Positively transfixed, Steve realizes a little too late that he has, in fact, missed his window to flee, and is headed head-first for whatever public humiliation the guy has in store for him. A strong, sure hand grips the back of his neck, long fingers tangling into the hair at the nape, tugging ever so slightly.

“Open.”

It’s not gentle. It’s a thing of lust. A command. Steve feels it in his bones. And he can’t look away. His body is not his own when he gives into the pull of the musician’s hand, his jaw going lax, mouth automatically falling open. The guy brings the bottle up to Steve’s mouth, pouring in a generous amount. Before Steve even gets the chance to swallow the liquid already burning its way down his throat, the bottle is being shoved rougly into his hand, the guy bringing his other hand up once again, only to press the palm under Steve’s chin, forcing his mouth closed. Forcing him to swallow. Steve nearly chokes.

“Good boy,” he says with a wicked grin, before pushing a spluttering, coughing Steve back in the direction of the stairs, causing him to nearly topple off the stage. The guy laughs maniacally into his microphone and the crowd goes wild, the drummer already counting them into the final song.

Still bewildered and absolutely dumbfounded by whatever just happened to him on that stage, Steve chances one last glance in the singer’s direction as he descends the stairs.

This time, however, he isn’t met with a sultry, dark look, or one of the guy’s infamous mischievous grins. Instead, he finds a pair of soft brown eyes staring back at him, and plush pink lips curved into the dopiest, most endearing smile Steve has ever seen.

…

By the end of the night, Steve has found the love of his life and Robin is collecting money from nearly every employee at the bar, sporting a smug, I-told-you-so expression on her face.

[ghost-proofbaby]

can y’all imagine sending one of those things where a girl texts her man about having a bad day or wanting coffee or something and he replies by sending her an insane amount of money (like $100+) to eddie, and just being like “why don’t you ever do this for me? 😐” as a joke

and then the man just sends you one (1) fucking dollar.

and when you’re like “REALLY??? A DOLLAR???” he just goes “I DONT KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME IM BROKE”

it would become an inside joke, him randomly sending you the smallest amounts of money possible and just going “buy yourself something nice 😏” or “don’t spend this all at once baby” to be a little shit

god i love eddie munson

[florallylly]

concept: eddie has heard many a rumor about king steve, but he's actually never really bothered to seek him out. and while he was doing his lunchtime monologues, steve was usually hanging out with tommy and carol in the parking lot. so despite hawkins high being a small school, he's never connected the rumor to the boy.

he HAS however seen steve, he just doesn't know it. and it's basically love at first sight, but eddie is never able to catch up to him and learn his name. so whenever he talks to his friends, he just calls him the guy with the Fat Ass.

and his friends always brush over steve harrington whenever eddie tries to point out the "love of his life." so it becomes a running joke that eddie is in love with some sort of ghost with a Fat Ass.

then one day, steve peeks into the drama room, looking for dustin. and all eddie can do is point and say "you... you fat ... fat ass." and steve is just like "rude."

[dilutedmayowater]

I NEED Steve to be portrayed as a silly little guy in fanfics. Eddie is always the silly little guy and I love that but Steve is also silly just not the same silly as Eddie is silly. Eddie is just a wild insane goober but Stevie is like the master of sarcasm and dry humor and I neeeeeeedddd it to be portrayed moreeeeeee. (I do see the sarcasm portrayed sometimes but mostly in smut Fics and not just Steve being a silly lil dude. FREE HIS SILLINESS)

[housewifebuck]

[navnae]

When Eddie makes it big the flock of girls that come up to him from high school is ridiculous. They try their best to flirt with him but it doesn’t work because they’re not his type. The scene catches Steve’s eye he makes a bee line straight towards them. It catches the group of girls off guard when Steve pulls Eddie in for a messy kiss and he tugs Eddie’s hair making him moan in between the kiss. Steve pulls away feeling quite smug that the girls are speechless and they all leave with wide eyes. Eddie didn’t expect Steve to be so possessive but he wasn’t complaining.

[symbiotic-slime]

perfect depiction of a man with a tummy ache who’s being very brave about it

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

But that exchange about the red party hat. What-what WAS that?? Definition of: if not meaningful, then why is it in the script?

[razmerry]

the crucial difference between flash and eddie's relationship with the symbiote is that while they both absolutely loved it, with flash it was purely queerplatonic while with eddie it was most certainly deeply romantic and sexual

[usercelestial]

Toxic Buddie shippers have turned into the a Republican state of mind after Tevan happened. Imagine hating on a queer post during Pride month. Insanity.

Literallyyyyyyy like they always show their colors the minute something doesn't go their way. They love to preach about representation and authentic queerness and yet when we actually get it, they act like this. When the queerness isn't palatable specifically to them, then suddenly it's all gay slurs and calling queer men predatory and abusive. It's wild to watch how quickly they switch from activist to homophobes. And the thing is they've always had this in them, they've never cared about good rep, otherwise they would pay attention to the other queer characters the show actually has. If they actually cared about what they preach, they wouldn't have hated every woman Buck or Eddie has ever dated, calling her disgusting names and insulting her appearance. But they are so willing to fall into slurs and homophobia and misogyny whenever they can utilize it to tear down characters they think get in the way of their ship.

[astroprinc3]

shhhh he’s honk shooing

[gregoryeddiesgoldchain]

idk y’all something about this ep has me feeling maybe gregory and jacob should kiss about it??

likee.. they’re hanging out all the time, gregory even feels comfortable enough to join in on the silly little jokes with jacob, the physical contact, the little smile after “yeah i have other pens” anddd the way gregory makes direct eye contact with jacob’s bare midsection at the end of the ep

i meannn i love their friendship but idk i just think maybe they should kiss about it and see what happens lol

[stellarspecter]

stwg daily prompt 4/10/24: guitar

1.8k, steddie, modern au, guitar teacher eddie/guitar student steve (+ dustin as steve's brother)

so this is literally just me giving eddie my exact job and letting the plot bunnies do as they may. will be up on ao3 in a day or two once i've had time to look it over and think of a title but here it is! divider graphic by @saradika-graphics

“Let’s try that verse again, okay? 5, 6, 7, 8…” 

The little girl in front of Eddie plays with the utmost concentration, her little brow scrunched up as she tries to switch to a D chord. 

“It’s our little triangle, remember? On the ��� good, exactly,” Eddie nods and keeps strumming. “And to C, slide down to the first fret… 1, 2, 3, to E minor, yep, 1, 2, 3, 4.” The last notes fade into the slightly stale air of the practice room. “Good job! You did a lot better with your chord transitions this time. We’re about out of time for today, but try and practice that verse and chorus at home, okay? And then we’ll see about that bridge next week,” he tells her.

She nods with a big gummy smile. “Okay!” Eddie helps her put her guitar back in its case and walks her back out to the little waiting area they have behind the lessons desk. It’s honestly a little cramped, but before they hired him, he hadn’t even known that Guitar Center offered lessons at all, so it makes sense. He sends the girl off with her parents and a promise to practice every day before he slides behind the desk to check his schedule for his next student.

Usually he has a half hour gap on Wednesdays that he uses to practice for his band or chat with his coworkers, but today there’s a new name on the schedule: Steve Harrington.

“Huh,” he mutters. His manager hadn’t mentioned any new sign-ups to him. Maybe it was from online? With a shrug, he settles in to wait for the guy to show up. It’s 5:57, so he’s still got a few minutes.

After a minute or two of dicking around on his phone, someone calls out, “Hey, Eddie!”

He looks up to find his 6:30 student standing in front of him, an excitable kid named Dustin Henderson. He’s fun to chat with, and Eddie looks forward to his lessons — especially since it’s an opportunity to get yet another young mind hooked on metal. Sure, he’ll play and teach whatever is required, but he’ll never forget his one true love.

“Henderson,” Eddie responds, standing up and leaning against the pillar bracketing the desk. “You know your lesson is in half an hour, right?”

“I know!” He replies, chipper as ever. “I’m after him!” He jerks a thumb back behind him, and Eddie finally notices the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing behind Dustin.

Dear god. If this is his new student, he’s absolutely fucked.

“Hi,” the man says, extending a hand when it becomes clear Eddie is incapable of forming words. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie forces himself to act normal and grabs his hand, shooting him a smile that he hopes comes off as confident. “Eddie,” he replies. “Munson. I play guitar.”

“I’d sure hope so,” Steve jokes, eyes dancing, and Eddie is fuuuuucked. Completely and absolutely. How is he going to be able to be alone with him in a tiny practice room for a whole half hour? 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Eddie says, kind of operating on autopilot while his brain reboots. “It’s. Guitar Center.” He mentally facepalms and claps his hands together, spinning and walking them back towards the practice rooms. “So, Steve, what brings you here on this fine day? Are you Dustin’s… dad?”

Usually, his mom is the one to drive him and wait in the lobby, but it’s not out of the question that Steve could be his stepdad or something, with their different surnames. He seems around Eddie’s age, but maybe he’s just into milfs or something? 

He can’t be single. The universe is never that kind to Eddie.

Dustin bursts out laughing. “My dad? Dude, he’d had to have had me at like, twelve!”

Eddie flushes. “Well, I don’t know!”

“He’s my brother.” Steve swoops in and saves him from embarrassment. “The Hendersons took me in when I was sixteen, that’s why we have different last names.”

Eddie nods. “Oh, cool. So I assume Dustin got you to take lessons too?”

Steve laughs a little, just when Eddie thought he could finally cope with his unearthly beauty, the dick. “Yeah, he’s dead set on us starting a family band or something. I told him I could just dust off my piano skills, but he insisted. Little twerp.” He goes to ruffle his brother’s hair, and Dustin expertly ducks — clearly a common occurrence in their household.

“Cool,” Eddie says again. “Well, you ready to get started?” 

Steve nods, and Dustin goes to look around the store and mess with the DJ equipment. 

“So, you said you played piano? How long ago was that?” Eddie asks as he ushers him into the practice room.

“Oh, years and years. My parents made me take lessons when I was a kid, stopped in middle school, so it’d have to be… ten years or something now? Eleven? Jesus, I’m getting old,” Steve answers.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, trust me, I get it. Every time I say I’ve been playing guitar for over a decade a little part of me dies.” They share a laugh as they both get situated on their matching stools and guitars on their laps. “So that’s a little bit about me, that I’ve been playing for over a decade. I didn’t go to school for music or anything, but I’m in a metal band in my free time, and I like to think I have a pretty good understanding of music theory and techniques after all this time, so don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” It’s easier than he’d expected to slip into his practiced first lesson spiel, but he’s still hyper-focused on Steve’s reactions, taking in every hint of a smile. “I’m actually self-taught, so I learned basically by just watching YouTube tutorials and spending a lot of time on Ultimate Guitar,” Eddie explains with a wry smile. 

“That’s really cool,” Steve says, impressed. “I could never do that.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, right?” It’s a familiar back and forth to Eddie. Maybe he can do this. “I like to run my lessons the same way — instead of learning some random two-measure exercises from a book, we learn songs that you want to learn, and through that we can learn some new chords and strumming patterns and techniques. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “That was always the worst part of piano lessons. The music was so boring.” His nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Awesome,” Eddie says, and pulls out his phone, already open to his notes app. “So, what kind of music do you want to learn?”

“Uh.” Steve pauses. “I, uh, I listen to a lot of, um, pop? And, like, indie? Kind of just top forty radio type stuff.” 

Eddie nods as he writes that down. “Cool, cool. Any artists or songs in particular? Or just pop as a whole?”

“I dunno,” Steve admits. “I like most of the popular stuff. Oh, there’s this one artist my friend has been getting me into — Chappell Roan?”

“Nice,” Eddie responds, somehow managing to keep from jumping with joy that he might actually have a chance with this guy if he listens to gay people music. 

“You don’t… mind?” Steve asks hesitantly. Eddie looks up at him, confused. “I just mean, you don’t exactly look like you would love all that girly pop music.” He waves a hand at Eddie’s Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, and patch-covered vest. 

Eddie shrugs. “Well, maybe, but it’s my job. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Swifties I’ve got, I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to. And I mean, it is pretty catchy,” he concedes, if only to see Steve smile again. “And,” he continues, “even better, really easy to play.”

“Oh, good,” Steve laughs.

Eddie pockets his phone and reaches for his folder, taking out a sheet of empty chord diagrams. “So usually for a first lesson, we just learn a few basic chords, and then get started with our first full song next week, sound good?”

Steve nods. “Yep.”

“Great.” Eddie sets the sheet on the stand in front of them and pencils in two little dots on the first diagram. “Here’s our first chord. This is called an E minor. You wanna put your first finger on the second string…”

He goes on to teach Steve an E minor chord, then a C chord, then a G chord, and by the time they’re done learning D, Eddie thinks that Steve’s fingers are going to haunt his dreams. He’s not mad about it. Just sad that he won’t be able to see them in person again for a whole week.

They make their way through the lesson, stumbling from one chord to another, but by the end of the thirty minutes, Steve is already doing pretty well with his chord transitions. Eddie’s honestly impressed. He drops him off in the lobby and exchanges him for Dustin, who is bouncing up and down with excitement.

“How was he,” he bursts out as soon as the door is closed.

Eddie snorts. “He was good. Just learned a few chords.”

Dustin waits expectantly. “And?”

“And what?”

“And how was he! Like, was he excited? Did you have a good time? Are you guys gonna be friends now?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and takes a seat. Technically, he’s not supposed to be actual friends with students, or even talk with them outside of work, but with Dustin and now Steve, they don’t feel like paying customers so much as friends he’s doing a favor for. “He was good. I’m sure he’ll tell you in the car on the way home.”

Dustin groans. “Come on.”

“You come on. You better have been practicing, show me what you’ve been doing.”

With that, Dustin drags himself to his seat, and the lesson goes great from there, both of them distracted from Steve by the intricacies of Stairway to Heaven.

When he brings Dustin out, he’s almost taken off guard by Steve waiting for them. In just half an hour, he’d already forgotten his stunning resemblance to a Greek god. It’s honestly unfair for his memory to do that to him. 

“Hey,” Steve greets them. “Had a good lesson?”

“Obviously,” Dustin scoffs.

“He did great today,” Eddie tells him, “And so did you. Just remember to practice, alright? Gotta build that muscle memory.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, too used to hearing it, but Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. See you next week?”

It’s a simple phrase. He says it every day. It’s a contractual obligation that yes, he will see them next week. But when Steve says it, it feels like a promise. Eddie can’t wait to fulfill it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, mesmerized by the way the fluorescent lights bring out the green in Steve’s eyes. “See you next week.”

Steve smiles and turns to leave, picking his way through the aisles of musical miscellany. Eddie can already hear Dustin interrogating him about his lesson. He leans back against the wall with only one thought in his mind: only seven days until he gets to see Steve Harrington again. 

He’ll be counting every single one.

[ghostlycasp]

⚠️welcome home update spoilers⚠️

The brainrot is real!

[fairyysoup]

eddie munson who dramatically falls to his knees whenever he sees your bush

[trasho-pando2011]

they're just like me fr