Bananas' Stranger Daze

Hi, I'm Bananas! This is a Stranger Things in general and Steddie in particular Side Blog. I do multi ship though, so you will see other ships on this voyage of fun. Adult content /NSFW so no Minors. No bigots of any kind. Queer in all the ways - He/They. Let's enjoy fandom together. Have your cup of tea as you like it and let others enjoy theirs. I like to write and paint, please don't use things I make without asking. The Header is by Beksinski. If you like the upside down look him up. The Avatar is a drawing I did. Main blog:Tea42.

[bananahoneycomb]

My Stranger Things Fan Works

Art:

Steve with a bat

Pando Art for EMBB2025

The apple doesn't fall Art for EMBB2025

Ascension Art for SHBB2025

Won't You Let Me In? Art for SHBB2025

Steddie doodle

El and Kali WIP

pretty baby, i'm runnin' back home to you for SBB2025

Beast for SBB2025

My Ao3

[strangersteddierthings]

"You fucking left. I didn't do that. You did." Steve isn't yelling, his voice is just hard and cold. Eddie wishes he was yelling instead.

"I had to go," is all Eddie can say back, pleading at Steve to understand.

Steve does, is the thing. Eddie watches as the fight drains from Steve. Steve has always known him, in ways that terrified Eddie. Steve has always cared about him in an overwhelming way. Like the not yelling right now. Steve has every right to scream at him; he deserves it completely because he did leave. He packed his shit in the van and drove west until the ocean stopped him.

But Steve won't yell at him, because years ago, the first and only time Steve had yelled at him in a fight, Eddie'd frozen up, had a panic attack remembering his asshole father yelling at him and what always followed the yelling.

So even now, years later, Steve still won't yell at him.

"Go home, Eddie," is what leaves Steve's mouth next. "I can't do this."

"Steve, please," Eddie should leave. If he were a better person, he would have gone home, but instead he stays in the doorway of Steve's home, "I just want to apologize."

Steve lifts his eyes and stares Eddie down. "For what."

That's the crux of it, isn't it? What is he apologizing for? Everything? Nothing? Eddie gets the feeling that there's only one correct answer here and he's worried he'll be wrong.

"Sorry for going, even when I asked you to stay?" the hard tone is back in Steve's voice, "sorry for just walking away when I asked you to ask me to go? How you wouldn't do? Sorry about how you just ripped my heart out, rejected both options -you stay, or I come with- and then just walked out my house, my life, like it was the easiest thing in the world for you to do?

"This wasn't a-a two-sided fuck up, Munson. This is on you. I said 'stay' and you said you had to go, so I said, 'then ask me to come with' and you didn't. And if you couldn't even ask me, I wasn't going to follow after like some-" he cuts himself off and the breath Steve sucks in is watery. Eddie can see the tears gathering in his eyes, "I wasn't going to beg you to love me then. And I won't do it now."

"I fucked up," Eddie blurts, "I fucked up so bad and I'm sorry. I am so sorry that I didn't... I didn't give you a choice. I won't make excuses for myself, or explain -unless you want me to- but that's what I'm sorry for. I made a decision for both of us and that was fucked up."

"Glad we agree," Steve says, before sighing and stepping back, opening the door wider, "I've spent a long time wondering why you did it. If you're offering an explanation, I'll listen. If you give me an excuse, I will throw you out of my house."

[ghostengarden]

Gratitude

[verkomy]

don’t you, big boy?

you can get a print here: inprnt!

[offbeatrinkydink]

just a cool guy making totally normal faces

[scoops-aboy86]

For I wish you would write a fic where game—Steve has a little bit of a flashback to something while they’re in bed but is trying so hard to not let Eddie know and not ruin their night

In retrospect I'm not toooootally this fits what you asked for, but I tried. So did Steve but tbh I think Eddie did a better job than both of us.

1,578 words. (also on ao3)

(i wish you would write a fic where)

It’s the night after the Fourth of July, and Steve figures he should be safe. It’s a fucking Tuesday, who fires off leftover fireworks on a Tuesday? People have work and shit. And they’re at Steve’s house because Forrest Hills is a lot more prone to kids running around with firecrackers at the best of times. What are the fucking chances?

He hasn’t mentioned anything about the fireworks to Eddie because, like, it’s stupid. If Eddie sees a bat swooping around dusk he freaks out, but that makes sense because he was literally almost killed by bats. Steve, on the other hand, got the shit beaten out of him and drugged out of his skull by evil Russians… and freaks out about stuff that didn’t happen until hours after that, and he didn’t even get hurt during that part.

But not long after Eddie sinks into him for the very first time, Steve hears that telltale whistle followed by a high boom, and suddenly every muscle in his body is winched tight. Suddenly everything is so loud, from Eddie’s moan in his ear to every pop, whistle, and crack of artificial thunder that some jackass nearby is shooting off into the night sky.

“Oh g-god Steve,” Eddie gasps, his hips jerking faster and—

Steve is just cold, frozen goddamn through. He isn’t sure how much time has passed, only that his chest feels tight and each breath comes so fast it’s accompanied by a twinge in his side. His ribs hurt, his head hurts, he works for—

“Steve? Did you not…? Hey, are you okay? … Steve, can you hear me?!”

Someone is gripping his shoulders hard and Steve has his eyes screwed shut as he rasps, “S-scoops, I work for… Scoops Ahoy…”

He hears cursing, but in American not Russian. The pressure on his chest lets up and hands cradle his face, calloused but… he knows those hands, can feel skin-temperature metal against his jaw. When he opens his eyes, tears of relief start to leak out.

“There you are,” Eddie breathes, his hair wild and damp and his face still flushed. “Fuck, baby, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Steve shakes his head. It wasn’t Eddie who had hurt him, the evil Russians had done that. Doctor was going to pry his fingernails off—he curls his fingers protectively into his palms.

There’s a pop-fizzle of the sparkly kind of fireworks outside and he flinches again. Eddie sees it this time, face falling in grim understanding. Realizing that the whole Forth of July thing is rearing it’s ugly head, even though it’s 1988 and Steve should be over this by now, what the fuck is wrong with him—

Eddie is cradling him in both arms, Steve resting on his chest where a moment ago they… they’d been in the opposite position, more or less, hadn’t they? Hand with the fewest rings smoothing over Steve’s hair, repetitive and soothing. Murmuring reassurances that don’t make any sense to Steve’s scrambled brain. Because he’s concussed again, isn’t he? No. No, that was three years ago. He wasn’t naked and sticky after being tortured.

Blood didn’t get sticky, it gets tacky. Important distinction. Important… ish.

Eddie is humming something in Steve’s ear, possibly Master of Puppets. It helps drown out the deafening static of waiting for more fireworks.

“Eds,” Steve sobs, forcing his hands to uncurl so he can grab on and, and warn him. “We have to—go, not safe, th-the vents, Dustin and—They’re just kids, it’s, this is all m-my fault—“

“They’re safe, they’re safe,” Eddie assures him quickly, cupping his cheek and tilting up until their eyes meet. Steve can see him through both eyes; this is important. “Robin too. Everyone’s okay, it’s all okay, it’s over.“

Steve tries to nod, but his eyes well up again and his throat feels too tight. “It keeps coming back.”

“I know baby, but not anymore. We ended it. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down was destroyed for good.”

With a shuddering breath, Steve tries to internalize all that. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Dustin is safe. Erica is safe. Robin is safe. It’s 1988. Vecna is dead…

There’s another bang outside and Eddie starts humming again, loud, while petting Steve’s hair. Just holding and rocking him.

Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Dustin is safe. Erica is safe. Robin is safe. It’s 1988, not ‘85 or ‘86. Eddie is alive.

Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The Upside Down is dead. Eddie is alive. It’s 1988. Steve is naked. Eddie is naked. They were—

“Oh my god,” Steve whines, clutching at him tighter, mortification threading through the dread in his veins. “Oh my god I r-ruined it. Eddie I’m—“

“Nothing ruined,” Eddie interrupts gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what was happening sooner, sweetheart. I’ll, uh… I’ll get you cleaned up in a second here, you just focus on breathing. Okay? In and out, with me. Feel that? In… and out…”

Steve just tries to breathe. His ribs hurt. They don’t. His head hurts. It doesn’t. Eddie is holding him and rocking him and showing him how to breathe like a person instead of pure panic with arms and legs.

He’s tired. It’s all so much.

The Upside Down is dead. It’s 1988 Everyone is safe, and alive. Eddie is here. Eddie is holding him. In and out. The Upside Down is dead. The Russians are long gone. Steve is naked and safe. Eddie is safe. Vecna is dead. The Mindflayer is dead. The fireworks will end. This isn’t Starcourt. In. Out. In. It’s 1988…

He’s so fucking tired.

By the time Steve feels steady again he’s cold, and Eddie is already pulling the blankets up in answer to his shivering. He grumbles wordlessly into Eddie’s chest—the mess that’s dripped out from his hole has long cooled and is probably getting on things that might not have needed to go in the laundry otherwise.

“Baby,” Eddie responds with a ghost of a chuckle, “don’t worry about it, I’m gonna strip the whole bed in a minute anyway. As soon as I get you in a warm bath, m’kay?”

“But we were… We were going to…” He holds back a sniffle. “For the first time.”

“We’re gonna have a new first time later,” Eddie tells him with a kiss to his forehead. “One without projectile explosives whistling through the air. I promise.”

Steve pulls back a little to squint at him. “I feel like you should be more mad at me.”

“Okay? Well…” Eddie gives a halfhearted little shrug from where he’s half propped up on the headboard, arms slung low and loose around Steve’s waist, holding him without any impression of restraint because he knows about the Russian torture stuff. The broad strokes, anyway. “I’m not.”

“You’re all red,” Steve presses, a different sort of distress making his pulse pick up again. Because Eddie is blushing—and it’s not the cute bashful kind, it’s the avoiding eye contact and chewing on the inside of his cheek kind. Frowning, Steve musters his little remaining energy and starts to pick himself up, rising onto his knees. “If you’re mad at me I wish you’d just—“

Eddie groans and spares a hand to press over his burning face, and—Are those tears in his eyes? “Oh my god, Steve, I’m not mad. You got all tense and I… thought… you were, y’know, finishing, and I came. I came in my boyfriend while he was having a panic attack, like an asshole. I feel like you should be mad at me.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and Steve is tired. What were the chances there would be fireworks, all the way out here, tonight? Or the chances of Eddie surviving the demobats attack. Or the chances of Eddie kissing him for the first time. Or the chances of it working out, of them making it all the way to this, of Steve clinging on instead of lashing out, of… anything. What were the chances of being born?

Christ, his thoughts get weird when he’s this tired.

He sinks from his knees back down onto his side, leaned against Eddie again, and sighs, “Wouldn’t I be the asshole, and you’d be the dick?”

“I…” Eddie blinks too-rapidly down at him as Steve rubs a cheek sleepily against the remaining tattoo fragments across his scarred chest. “I guess?”

“Okay,” Steve says, as if that settles that. It does, for now. The pounding in his head and chest have stopped and that—along with just wanting to be held still—is about all he has the energy to care about. “We’re both getting in the warm bath. Do the bed when we get out. Please?”

He lifts his head, angling for a kiss, for comfort, and Eddie immediately gives it to him. Soft and searching, like they’re both simultaneously checking that the other is okay and they haven’t messed anything up.

Eddie is safe, and he’s Steve’s safe place, and no one is hurt or dead (except for the monsters, who should be). Maybe Steve will be more upset about spacing out through the technical loss of his guy virginity, or whatever, but for now this is enough.

They’ll try again later.

When the leftover fireworks have all been used up.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added removed): @a-drop-of-magic @cosycryptid @gambita7x @grtwdsmwhr @hamiltonswiftie

@hehimmommy @hiei-harringtonmunson @iridescentrylandgrace @mascarponedaydreams @motherofpirates

@mrsjellymunson @sofadofax @stevesscoops @steviewashere @th30ra3k3n

@wheneverfeasible @yesdangerpls @bananahoneycomb @connected-dots @cryptid-demon-antics

@readerlev @revevivant

[sparkle-fiend]

“Stargazing” ⭐️🌌

(Another one for @thefreakandthehair and the Spicy Six Spring Fanworks Challenge)

[bananahoneycomb]

I could see them making a Time Skip Stranger Things Movie

Not even touching on conformitygate stuff, I could see it. It would be similar to 'It" except the time skip would be a movie.

It would make the most sense if Eleven was still alive. Going with the story more or less at face value, she has successfully faked her death (with Kali because that is the logical aspect missing from Mike's hypothesis). Years later they need to stop something else. Hopper is old. People see him talking to nobody and assume he's senile. He is talking to El. Kali has them invisible to others.

Alternate to following the story at face value: group dream

if the end was a group Hive dream/hallucination Eleven and Kali are outside it in the real world trying to wake her loved ones up and save them.

[disjointed-art]

Klimt’s “the kiss” but make it steddie and vampire/kas eddie

I’m very happy with this and it’s been added as a print on my shop :3 which link is in my bio or here I have lots of stickers and over 30 print options there and the keychains too 😬

[nancywheelesbian]

Every time customers piss me off I start thinking really dark Blorbo thoughts. Today’s is “Steve asking Max to tell the ‘I was once a passenger in a car being used as a weapon’ story with tears in her eyes to really sell it as a way of guilting Eddie into driving safer”

[januscadet]

You guys voted, and here she is- Rockin Robin, as the Three of Wands!

I love this woman to pieces. Will forever be sad she didn't have more screentime... Now!

Who's next?

Joyce

Will (+ Party)

Dr. Brenner (+ Lab children)

Hopper

Jonathan

Nancy

Remaining time: 1 day 10 hours

The collection is growing... Slowly, but surely.

[butterflykisses86]

No DNA Test needed, that is Mama...

[bananahoneycomb]

I love the junkyard/graveyard gang

[ford6692]

tw: bl00d & spooky scary 🙁

pov your son returned home with.... a little buddy..... gulp..

i know it's not time-accurate AT ALL i just wanted to draw wiw 🤏🤏

[joppersfemme]

Very underrated shot THE HANDS

[mothiky]

Cleradin print for the masses🔮🛡️

This one was lots of fun YAYAY

[spectrum-spectre]

I like to imagine Will and El moving back to hawkins in sophomore year and pretending they're twins and that El has just always been there. like low-key gaslighting their classmates but in the funniest way possible. a few kids remember Will from middle school but swear up and down that he didn't have a sister and the siblings try not to laugh and do the whole "she was just in a different class, you don't remember??" and the whole Party are in on the joke and back them up on it when they're asked

[jewisheddiemunson]