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#casual

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kinda I want to (steddie, 1.5k, T)

Eddie gets home from work to music playing louder than usual from the kitchen. It’s not Steve’s latest obsession, at least—the guy gets fixated on one single record at a time and listens to it over and over again, singing along with his regrettably beautiful voice until Eddie’s learned every fucking word to every fucking song in Dream of the Blue Turtle against his will. It’s a problem. 

He hangs his leather jacket over Steve’s blue-and-purple hoodie on the overcrowded coat rack, straining his ears. It feels vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite—

It’s nothing of Robin’s he can immediately place, either. Synth-pop, kind of dancey, except not New Order-bouncy. He takes off his boots and starts making his way to the kitchen. It kind of sounds like Depeche Mode? But the voice is wrong. Tougher, a little strained, a little… whiny? What the fuck is it?

He still hasn’t placed it as he gets to the kitchen. Steve doesn’t hear him approach—he has his back to the door, hands plunged into the suds-filled sink and he’s humming along to the mystery music. Eddie doesn’t step into the room yet. He needs to listen a bit longer, buy himself some time. Steve will think he knows what the tape is, and he’ll ask about it, and Eddie will have to admit that he doesn’t, and—

It’s a matter of principle, okay? He’s a musician and he works in a record store! He should be able to place whatever his less musically-educated roommate is listening to! Harrington catches him by surprise all too often, even after the nightmares they survived, even after moving to the city together, even after sharing this apartment that Eddie might refer to as shitty to get street cred with his intimidating goth co-worker at the store but is actually really nice, and warm, and by now probably, if Eddie’s being honest, feels more like home than Wayne’s, due in no small measure to Steve’s endless thoughtful little touches. The pink bathroom and the pale yellow walls here in the kitchen. The basil and mint on the windowsill. The mismatched wooden chairs, painted a glossy dark brown, set around the aqua blue formica table. It is but one of many surprises that Steve is just, like, weirdly good at—

The next song starts, and Eddie knows what they’re listening to. It’s something Pearl, the aforementioned goth co-worker, put on at the store a few times last week. Nine Inch Nails. Great band name, Eddie’ll give them that. Phallic and blasphemous at the same time? He’s almost jealous, honestly. They’re not metal, though, so it doesn’t count.

Eddie feels himself relax. He actually opens his mouth to finally say hi like a normal person, but then Steve starts bopping along to the beat. His legs bounce lightly, the movement rippling rhythmically through his thighs, his back, up to the soft curve of his shoulders. And it’s like Eddie can see what will happen if he announces his presence—Steve will turn to him, and smile, and say hi back. He’ll stop dancing. He’ll be embarrassed.

So Eddie stays right where he is. He doesn’t say a word, barely breathes at all, really. He surreptitiously leans one shoulder into the doorjamb because he needs some support during this difficult time. Steve is energetically brushing away at a gross saucepan, and his humming has turned increasingly coherent. “Your kiss,” he sings along with the second repetition of the refrain, shaking his hips. Your fist,” he croons, rinsing off the saucepan. “Na-na-na, na-na, under my skin.”

Because the thing is—and Eddie had noticed it already, pointed it out to Pearl in fact, who’d agreed with him, it should be noted—these lyrics are, uh, pretty gay? And so, and so, this, plus the dancing, isn’t helping one bit to rein in Eddie’s inconvenient, unrelenting crush on his roommate cum best friend cum life-debt beneficiary. He usually does a pretty good job of it, if he can say so himself, but it’s a daily struggle, of course, what with Steve looking like that, and being so sweet, and funny, and delightfully bitchy. There have been times—times! Moments, even. Steve coming out of the bathroom, freshly showered and drip drip dripping on the hardwood floor. Steve coming in after a run, flushed and sweaty and smelling like—

Eddie has turned out to be a much stronger man than he thought he was, let’s put it this way. Also, a constant source of free entertainment for their other roommate, who laughs in his face daily and slings baseless accusations about being able to cut the sexual tension with a knife in this fucking apartment.

Robin Buckley is unhinged and dangerous and should mind her own business.

As if the gay lyrics and the dancing weren’t enough, Steve’s wearing the good jeans, too: the Levi’s that send Eddie’s brain straight (ha!) back to the hallowed halls of Hawkins High, to his own sneaky, risky, guilty looks and the way light-wash denim clung to—not that Steve has any bad jeans, as such. And not that these could be the same jeans he had in high school: that pair was painted on, Eddie remembers it well, and Steve’s not as svelte as he was back then. (Personally, Eddie thinks he looks even better now, but that’s neither here not there.)

Eventually, he starts feeling less like he’s fondly witnessing his good friend’s moment of joyful abandon to the music and more like a fucking creep, so he leaves the safety of the threshold to take a step toward the boombox and turn down the volume. Not by much! He definitely doesn’t want to discourage Steve from turning shit up to eleven.

As expected, Steve startles, freezes, and his shoulders rise up toward his ears. He half-turns toward Eddie, doesn’t stop rinsing the saucepan under the tap. “Oh hey,” he says. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He looks caught, as if Eddie had surprised him doing something way more damning than listening to some music that’s a bit out of character.

Eddie clears his throat, steps closer, tries very hard not to look at the water splattered over Steve’s white tee and the enticing tiger stripes of see-through fabric on his belly, pink with skin and dark with hair. “Hey yourself,” he says, normally. “What in the world are you listening to?”

“Oh, this?” Steve says, gesturing toward the boombox with a couple of wet fingers. He sets the saucepan to dry, face down on a towel on the counter. “Just something Jon thought I’d like, I dunno.”

“Jonathan Byers,” Eddie clarifies, taking another step closer. “Lent you his Nine Inch Nails tape?”

“Gave it to me, actually,” Steve says. He shuts the water off and roughly wipes his hands on his jeans to dry them off, turning fully toward him.

“Gave it? To you?” Eddie repeats, less normally. What next, a fucking mixtape? he thinks, scoffing internally. “He’s—giving you music? I—”

I’m the only one who can do that! he wants to say. He also wants to kick his feet like a toddler. He does neither, because Steve steps closer still. He steps closer still, and he tilts his head in such a way that somehow brings him to look through his lashes at Eddie, even if they’re exactly the same height, and he asks, “Why, are you jealous?”

Eddie gulps, swallows nothing. He thinks of Robin’s smug, smug face and resigns himself to being mocked for the rest of his natural life. He would pay a steeper price, honestly, if that means he can— 

“I am,” he admits. “I’m really fucking jealous.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks. He presses one hand to his chest. It’s still damp, and the warmth seeps through the fabric of Eddie’s shirt.

“Uh-huh.” He nods, stepping forward so his leg slots between Steve’s. “That’s my job.”

The stupid music is still going, another track change. How can you turn me into this? After you just taught me how to kiss, the guy whines, and it’s a bit too on the nose, right, as the soundtrack to a first kiss? But then Eddie touches his lips to Steve’s and allows himself a cliché: the music fades.

He pulls back, just a second, just to see what Steve’s face looks like from this new vantage point of a handbreadth away, but Steve had his eyes closed and he frowns as he opens them again. “Eddie,” he says, low, serious. “Don’t you want—”

“I do, I do, fucking—of course I do,” Eddie mumbles against Steve’s lips. “Jesus.”

Steve laughs, and then he takes Eddie’s fumbling first kiss and makes it ten thousand times better, angling his own lips and Eddie’s with a gentle hand on his jaw. “God, finally,” he sighs between kisses, pulling him closer.

+

Later, Robin finds them on the kitchen floor, very much not fit to be seen. To her credit, she doesn’t even shriek much.

“Seriously? In our shared kitchen?” she says, looking down at them with her hands on her hips. Unimpressed, but with a smile dancing on her lips. “Happy for you dinguses,” she adds. “I’m ordering pizza.” Then she turns and leaves them to the thirty-seconds walk of shame to their rooms.

Or, well, to Eddie’s room. Steve trails after him and Eddie’s sure as hell not sending him away. Not now, not ever.

#st #fanfiction by op #steddie #this is really cute #also those jeans are fucking legendary

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For fics with colors in the title: Lavender Overload by Mr_Flamingo! It's technically mostly about Steve & Robin, but Eddie's there too and it's just such a sweet story <3 (Lavender is a color right? Surely??)

Lavender Overload by Mr_Flamingo

@unfinishedslurs

Rating: Mature

22,487 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: lavender marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Gay Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, but no actual homophobia in the fic, the domino effect ft. Steve coming out, and every teenager in the vicinity realizing smth about themselves, Steve becomes an unwilling gay mentor, steve: pls ask anyone else I’m as clueless as you are, the party: but Steve what other older gay friend will answer our awkward, and increasingly invasive questions, robin and eddie: Am I A Fucking Joke To You, this is a stobin love letter, bc i love them

Summary:

Four months after he comes out on the floor of the Family Video bathroom, Robin sits him down on his bed. “Okay, I’m gonna suggest something completely insane, but I’ve actually put a lot of thought and research into it and I need you to hear me out.” Steve squints suspiciously at her, but shrugs agreeably. “Yeah, okay.” “We should get married.”

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics with colors in the title!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#st #fanfiction recs #this is one of my ABSOLUTE FAVES #stobin #steddie #the party

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💜 Steddie please? - @steddierthings

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss from this prompt meme for @steddierthings !

Eddie doesn’t mean to do it. 

It’s late. They’re cleaning up in the kitchen after a midnight snack, movie credits rolling in the living room, a pile of blankets abandoned on the couch. Eddie’s been spending a lot of time at the Harrington house lately for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely, and each evening it ends like this - the two of them side by side, maybe too close, sneaking looks and making excuses to touch. A lingering hand on an elbow, a brush of fingers when handing over a beer, innocent if not for the heat in their eyes when it happens.

They’re on the precipice of something. Balanced on a cliff’s edge and every evening spent together makes him feel like he’s toeing the edge nearer and nearer to falling. Eddie’s been following Steve’s lead, coming when invited, inserting himself into his space when it seems welcome, tucking himself in close and worming his way into the spaces of Steve’s life that he opens up for him.

He’s not a patient man, never has been, and maybe that’s his downfall this time, maybe that’s what makes this particular night the night, but he can’t help it - it’s so plain to him where this is going, where they’re going to end up, and he wants. His blood burns in his veins, but it isn’t desperation that drives him to do it - it’s just another one of those simple, sweet little touches. His own hand lands on Steve’s back as he comes up behind him, slipping a plate they’d missed into the sink where Steve’s doing the dishes, and Steve turns to give him a little grin, maybe tease him, maybe say thank you, Eddie won’t ever know, because he sees that pretty smile aimed at him, those warm eyes catching his own, and he doesn’t think - he just ducks a bit, and he presses his lips to Steve’s, chaste and quick and sweet.

He’s pulled away before he even realizes what he’s done, halfway across the kitchen before his stomach drops and his face goes hot.

He whips back around, eyes wide, finds Steve staring at him with his mouth dropped open in shock and his gaze still fixed on Eddie. His cheeks are flushed pink, he looks so fucking gorgeous, and panic squeezes Eddie’s heart so fucking tight because fuck, fuck he can’t ruin this, not already, not before it’s even begun. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I don’t - I didn’t–”

“Don’t,” Steve interrupts, and he turns fully to face Eddie, hands dripping suds onto the kitchen tile, and Eddie’s voice dies with a strangled sound in his throat. “Don’t apologize. Not unless you regret it.” 

“Never,” Eddie says, too fast, shaking his head hard enough to make his hair swing. “I could never regret you.”

Steve holds his gaze and slowly, a smile spreads over his face. “Then get back over here,” he tells him, “and kiss me like you mean it.” And what can Eddie do but obey? He closes the space between them, hands finding Steve’s sides and pulling him in close, laughing when wet hands slide over his shoulders and up into his hair and then they’re kissing, messy and grinning into it, and Steve bites at his lower lip and tugs it with his teeth and Eddie’s laugh turns into a groan.

“Upstairs?” he breathes into Steve’s mouth, and Steve laughs, bright and happy.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He pulls away, takes Eddie’s hand, and pulls him to where they both knew they’d end up eventually.

#st #fanfiction by op #steddie #this is really sweet!!

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this is assuming its on art you normally wouldn't jump to reblog. i myself only rb stuff i really really like so .

The 'rude/demanding' tone would be stuff along the lines of "if you like but don't reblog I'll [threat]" which i see surprisingly often, both serious and more silly

#it's actually made me occassionally not reblog #like I get it and it's important conversation to have esp since tumblr doesn't work like other social media #but putting it on the post of art/writing/etc itself puts a weird pressure on people #and I hate being pressured even if it's something I originally wanted to do

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For Challenge Monday (4/22, color in title), I'd like to recommend Everything is Blue by steddieasitgoes. It's a sweet and angsty Starcourt Mall/Scoops Ahoy era fic with no Upside Down. There's dual POV between Steve and Eddie, and the story follows the color blue around as a feature in each scene.

Everything Is Blue by steddieasitgoes

@steddieasitgoes

Rating: Mature

27,775 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Falling In Love, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Scoops Ahoy (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington Works at Scoops Ahoy, Summer Love, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Humor, Minor Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson Friendship, Freeform, Mild Sexual Content, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Angst and Humor, Sexual Tension. POV Alternating, Mutual Pining, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Supportive Wayne Munson, Skinny Dipping

Summary:

Steve waits for Eddie to disappear into the mall crowd before turning around in time to watch Robin uncap the blue whiteboard marker she keeps in her shorts. She doesn’t say anything, just gives him a mischievous look before placing a tally mark in the “You Rule” section of her trusty whiteboard. It’s his first ever tally on the “You Rule” side. “Robin!” Steve groans, rubbing a hand across his face. “How does whatever that was get a ‘you rule’ tally, but last week when I successfully got Michelle’s number, you refused to add a tally.” “Because, dingus, Michelle is annoying, and you had to put on the whole King Steve persona to get her number,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And you didn’t do that with Eddie.” “Uh, yeah, cause I wasn’t flirting with him,” he defends, hands coming to rest on his hips. Or: The Summer of 1985 is in full swing. The sun is shining, Starcourt is bustling, and Steve and Eddie can't deny the feelings happening between them as their paths continue to cross.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics with Colors in the Title.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#st #fanfiction recs #steddie #robin #this looks fun!!!

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✨ Please reblog the polls to make them reach out to as many people as possible, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people listen to the music with an open mind 💖 Artists and titles will be revealed after the poll's conclusion, check the original post for an update! ✨

#banger

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✨ Please reblog the polls to make them reach out to as many people as possible, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people listen to the music with an open mind 💖 Artists and titles will be revealed after the poll's conclusion, check the original post for an update! ✨

#this is nice #have no idea what it is

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✨ Please reblog the polls to make them reach out to as many people as possible, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people listen to the music with an open mind 💖 Artists and titles will be revealed after the poll's conclusion, check the original post for an update! ✨

#believe it or not this is another song I hear more at karaoke than anywhere else

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do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me

third installment in my series unsafe, medium sane, very consensual, but you can read this as a stand-alone!

Fandom: Stranger Things Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Established Relationship, kind of?, Dom/sub, BDSM, Under-negotiated Kink, Kink Discovery, Subspace, Spit Kink, Dacryphilia, Blood Kink, again just a bit, weird teeth shit, weird scent shit, Mild CBT, References to gore, Biting, Hair-pulling, references to choking, Painplay, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining While Actively Fucking, Bad Communication, trying to fuck your way out of the cave of your own issues, Switching, Dom Eddie Munson, Dom Steve Harrington, Sub Eddie Munson, Sub Steve Harrington

Description:

“What if we tried it the other way around sometime?" Eddie sat up and stripped off his shirt. “Like you’re in charge of me for once.” Steve paused. “Do you want that?” he asked carefully. Eddie twisted around to look at him. “I like the way we do it. Obviously. But we don’t have to do it that way every time. You’ve been pushing yourself with this crying thing.” “You don’t think I can do it?” Steve frowned. “I know you can,” Eddie said. “That’s not the point. Look, say no if you want. I just think you should know what it’s like. On the other side.” “To be you,” Steve said, zeroing in on the idea. Eddie’s eyes widened a fraction. “And vice versa,” he said, a half second too late.

#st #steddie #fanfiction by op #I look forward to reading this!!!!

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wrap around, take a hold

Written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘fool’

It's the companion to 'what a feeling', but is good to read on it's own too.

Title from 'What a feeling' by Irene Cara

wc: 454 | rated: M tags: pining, kink discovery, omorashi, pre-relationship cw: piss [AO3 link]

That was absolutely not how Steve had pictured the first time a guy – not just any guy, nope. Eddie – touching his dick was going to happen. He'd pictured a more ... romantic setup, maybe after a nice dinner or maybe during a movie night with just the two of them when he'd finally found the courage to act on his feelings, moving closer, maybe cuddling and maybe after a kiss too...

But no, Steve had to be a lovesick fool and try on outfit after outfit, searching for the perfect one, then spend an eternity on perfecting his hair, and when Eddie was there to pick him up, he didn't have any time left to take a leak.

And then he'd been even more of an idiot; ignored Eddie’s offer to take a break, even being too stubborn to stop at the side of the road while already having leaked.

On top of that he then also tried to explain it away with a lie while Eddie was coming up with a solution. And then–

Then he was pissing in a bottle, while driving, and with his dick in Eddie's hand. And it felt so good. The relief, Eddie touching him... Steve had to try so hard to keep from moving into his hand, to keep his body from reacting.

His bladder is content now, but his mind reeling.

He feels out of his body, still gets them to the location in record time, and when, once they're inside, Eddie announces that he's going to piss, something in Steve snaps.

He follows Eddie to the bathroom, crowds him into a stall without thinking.

"Steve," Eddie whines, but nonetheless let's himself be pressed against the wall without further complaints.

"Eddie?"

"I–," Eddie starts, chuckles, "I know you're good now."

At that, it's Steve's turn to chuckle. He's so far from good, feels out of his mind too and frantic, turned on and mortified and unable to make himself let go of Eddie, as if touching him was the only thing keeping Steve from vibrating out of this reality and into another plane of existence altogether.

"But I really have to piss. Now." Eddie states.

He moves away from Steve, who reluctantly eases his grip, still his hands follow, and stops just out of reach in front of the toilet. Eddie gets his dick out but doesn't start pissing. He sighs.

"You wanna–", he trails of, looks back over his shoulder.

"Come here. Your turn to help me out."

Steve feels puppeteered as he takes a step forward, slots himself in at Eddie's back and let's his hands be tugged to hold his dick.

Steve instantly feels the force of his stream. Both moan.

#st #fanfiction by op #steddie #YESSS GET IT STEVE > : )

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my manager just asked me what my hobbies are outside of work and i cannot accurately describe how surreal it was. it was like being asked by the guy who locked you in the dungeon if you used to do anything fun before they locked you in the dungeon.

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this is kind of crass and not disability related mostly but i have more of a following here and i'm using it

if your art looks bad to you ask yourself this: does it really look bad or do you just hate yourself.

i do this often. and then i go "this doesn't look bad i just hate everything i do so i'm going to keep working on it and then i'll get the fuck over it"

and eventually i get the fuck over it

you may not. sometimes i don't. i have a huge problem with "this isn't completely satisfactory to me" but it's worse for me to literally physically and emotionally hurt myself by trying to make things "perfect" than it would be for me to just leave things "imperfect"

you don't have to like it if other people do and other people don't have to like it if you do

art is supposed to be fun

you also don't have to put so so so so so much effort into things if you can't which is disability related but i'm tacking it onto this. messy art is good art. "simple" art is good art. abstract incomprehensible scribbly vent art is still art. scribbles are still art. there is no bad art besides art that's used to hurt people

you don't have to spend hours and hours and hours on something if you don't want to or can't or don't have the time or energy or just want to move on. if something looks finished to you it's finished. if you could have done more you could have done more and it's always ok to revisit things later if you want too. you don't have to post things immediately and you don't have to post things at all if you don't want to. if you want people to see it but don't want it spread you can turn reblogs off. you can do whatever you want forever etc

your life is your own mob psycho. i'm not trying to be funny i'm serious. please don't hurt yourself trying to do something that is, and i cannot emphasize this enough, supposed to be fun

i've been watching a lot of bob ross lately and i love how he constantly says "you can do this, anyone can do this" anyone can make art and art can be anything. if you arrange like m&m's in a certain order that can be art. writing and music and jewelry and sewing and paper crafts and pottery and a lot of other stuff i can't think of are art. i also want people to make art if they want to so so so badly because i love art i love looking at art i love making art i love colors and i love shapes. i love seeing all the different things people do. i love seeing people experiment with both irl art supplies and brushes in programs and apps and i love doing it myself

all art is good art i'll fucking cry. whatever art you make however you make it however much time you spend on it however much effort you put into it whether it has meaning or you wanted to just draw something pretty and mindless whether it's very simple or very detailed or scribbly or the color is outside the lines or not completely colored it's still good art

splatter colors on a canvas whether physical or digital i'm begging you. just throw some colors or lines or shapes together

#make art like you're in kindergarten

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“what’s the song of the summer” ?? it’s DANCING IN THE DARK by bruce springsteen for the 40th year in a row

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bella was lucky she didn’t have a cell phone of any kind because you know ya boi edward would be blowing up that phone 24-7 going “saw a snail today…. effervescent” or some shit equivalent

#I've never seen twilight and this post has changed my entire view of it so I can never see it #I want to believe that it's exclusively this post