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steviesummer · 57 minutes

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congrats on 1k!!! can i have Q and 🥵?

Thank you so much! 🥰

This was ... less angsty and more smutty in my head. 😅

Guiding light

Rated: E

Words: 997

Tags: Post-Vecna; Kas!Eddie Munson; monster!Eddie Munson; rough sex; monsterfucking; angst; hopeful ending

He doesn't know what pulls him in.

He doesn’t know a lot of things, these days.

The portals have closed. Master is dead. So are his siblings. The comforting buzz of their claws and wings and voices in his head, the cold, familiar slither of their minds against his, it's all gone.

It’s dreadfully empty, all alone in his head. His mind flails like a bird the dark, released from the confines of its … house? prison? A thing with bars, he doesn’t know the word. It’s lost somewhere in the void and he can’t grasp it, doesn’t know how to reach for it. Doesn’t remember.

That’s how the golden glow flickering beyond the trees finds him - naked in the night, stumbling around without aim. He doesn’t know why he follows it.

The house is dark, half-destroyed from the ground tremors. The light pulses from a window above him. A … a tiny fire thing. A candle.

A candle to light his way, like something from a … another thing he doesn’t remember the word for, a thing with words on pages that takes you to far-off worlds, a thing that smells of ink, paper, dust. A thing he used to … love.

The distant echo of the feeling makes his head erupt in pain, makes something horribly warm bubble in his chest. He scales the wall, using his tail and wings for support, ready to snuff out the tiny light.

“There you are.”

A whisper, barely more than a breath floating on air. He whips around as if yanked by a leash, fangs bared.

There’s a … sleep thing in the corner of the room. Blankets and pillows that smell of comfort, warmth, rest - but that isn’t what makes his mouth water and his stomach churn with a terrible, primal feeling. A feeling that’s close to hunger but not quite.

It's the figure sitting on top of the thing. A boy with eyes that are bright in the flickering candlelight, eyes brimming with emotions he doesn’t know.

But he knows those eyes.

The warm thing in his chest explodes, like boiling liquid eating at his insides. He roars in pain and confusion and fear and launches himself at the boy. He wants to shred, he wants to maim, he wants the burning to stop, he wants the emptiness to go away, he wants, he wants, he wants-

Something touches his face, something soft and light. A hand. He has the boy pinned, claws digging into his shoulders, ripping through the fabric of his shirt. Fangs inches from his throat, breath hot against his pulse.

There's no fear in those eyes. Instead, those lips - soft and inviting and familiar - curl into a smile.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” says the boy, fingers slipping up to his temples, gently combing aside the tangled curtain of his hair.

He doesn’t know gentle.

Then why does he remember it?

He peels back his lips and hisses, wings flaring out, tail slicing the air like a whip.

“It’s okay,” says the boy. His hand tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, slowly, tenderly and the warm thing coils in his chest, in his abdomen. “I know you're in there, Eddie.”

The pain in his skull turns blinding white. The word … the name ricochets in the empty cavern of his mind and his chest pulls with want, so hard he thinks it might crack open.

The boy's eyes are bright like the candle. Pulling him in. His claws shred through fabric, exposing soft skin, patterns of moles like … sky things. Stars.

“Go ahead,” says the boy. “I'm here. Take what you need.”

He doesn’t know what he needs.

But he thinks he remembers.

He doesn't know gentle, but the boy does.

His claws can only leave gashes and cuts, but those hands can tease and caress. His fangs can only bite and tear, but those lips leave kisses and whispered words of endearment. He's death and destruction and cold, but the boy is warmth and kindness and life.

He shouldn’t want that warmth, but he does. And he takes it. Takes it in all the ways he knows and all the ways he remembers.

The boy doesn't stop him once. Not when he pushes inside of him with a brutality that punches the breath from his chest in a hoarse whimper. Not when the force of his thrusts makes the sleep thing … the bed … groan and creak. Not when his claws leave bruises and draw blood, not when his tail wraps around the boy's throat, leaving him gasping for breath underneath him.

By the time he spills inside of that warmth and collapses on top of the boy, spent and exhausted and finally sated, the candle has burnt to a small stub and the sky beyond the window is turning brighter. Birdsong reaches his ears and he snarls reluctantly.

“You need to go?”

The boy's smile is tired and slow, and a little sad. He's beautiful in the waxing light, skin littered in marks. Marks he left there. The warm feeling blooms in his chest again. He thinks he could get used to the pain if means seeing that smile again.

“That’s alright.” Fingers combing through his hair, lips tracing the ruined remains of pictures etched into his skin. “I'll leave the candle burning so you can find me again, now that you know the way.”

He whines, even as he disentangles himself from the boy's embrace. He doesn’t know gentle, but he still presses his lips to the long stretch of that throat one last time, fangs scraping over bruised and bitten skin.

The boy sighs and melts into the touch.

“I'll get you back, Eddie. No matter how long it takes.”

He doesn't know gentle, and he doesn’t know the person that name belongs to.

But the darkness is a little bit thinner now. And he thinks that some day, he might remember.

Steve guiding Eddie back to himself through unhinged monsterfucking? Why not?

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steviesummer · 2 hours

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I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since.

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something.

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile.

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy.

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy.

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers.

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck.

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page.

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.”

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around.

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there.

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him.

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.”

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive.

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm.

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor.

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual.

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.”

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back.

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.”

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.”

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands.

“You’re serious.” Eddie says.

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases.

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?”

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.”

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?”

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull.

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear.

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

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steviesummer · 3 hours

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Pt. 4 | NDA + two milkshakes and two straws -May 26th '86 <- Part 3 (prev.) (Start from beginning // part 1)

This one's probably the weakest i've done so far but oof.... i really struggled with this pic D: i had three other attempts to draw part 4. I dunno why it's been so hard. I really wanted to put in the details such as the NDA papers, the crutches and the milkshakes (bc, yes, we'll revisit the milkshakes later again)... This pic's far from being a "body part" pic but ehh. Part5 is gonna be the last one for the whole "hospital" setting!!! :D I'll be switching to a new one then ;D Pls be patient tho! It might take a minute longer. I'll be participating in the Steddie big bang as artist and that's gonna have priority for a wee bit ❤ Instagram

also, here's another speed colo vid in case you wanna watch that:

and last but not least! Taglist!!!

@unclewaynemunson kindly asked to be tagged! so here you go ❤ if *you* wanna be on the list, lemme know and i'll add you, too. Thanks ❤

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steviesummer · 7 hours

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Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

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#steddie #fic #akdjfaldk #yesssss #i queue because i love you

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steviesummer · 8 hours

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I made more because I have no chill

#i queue because i love you

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steviesummer · 9 hours

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nancy walks into the room to find eddie mid-rant, wailing about the cruelty of deforestation. she’s surprised, not knowing eddie was so passionate about the planet — until mike sighs and tells her eddie’s upset that steve waxed his chest hair

#i queue because i love you

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steviesummer · 10 hours

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Sweet and Spicy

G | 384 words | ao3 link (coming soon!) | Steddie | no cws, just fluff!!

STWG Prompt: Sweetheart ❤️

dividers by @enchanthings (here) and @saradika-graphics (here), thanks for making awesome free dividers guys!!!

Steve was going to die.

Keeled over in the kitchen, using the counter for support, and laughing his ass off as Eddie tried washing his tongue in the sink.

Eddie made a grouchy groan at him, giving up on talking but not on their conversation.

Steve eased down his laughing and righted himself on the counter.

"Eddie, baby, I'm sorry, but what did you think would happen?" he said, wiping amused tears with his wrist, extra careful not to get any trace of pepper juice near his eyes.

Eddie jumped into a heated ramble, but all weight it had was lost as he ranted with his tongue still out and under the water, his words a slew of vowels instead of... well, words.

Steve couldn't help the smile at Eddie's commitment to absurdity.

That, and the slight smile at the edge of Eddie's mouth that said he wasn't really mad about how dumb he was acting.

Steve leaned against the counter like he was listening and covered his mouth to stifle more laughing.

Eddie ran with it, playing up the dramatics while his head was still confined to the sink. Steve only caught a couple words here and there, but once he figured out "ee-thayal" was supposed to be "betrayal" he let out a fond sigh and opened the fridge.

"Mhm, how awful. Someone should've told you these are spicy peppers, Eddie, don't touch the pepper if you don't like spicy, Eddie."

Eddie 'speech' ramped up as Steve grabbed the milk, but he still scooched to the side out of habit when Steve needed to get to the cup cabinet.

Steve poured him a full glass and set it by the sink, then leaned back against the counter and waited for Eddie to notice it.

Eventually, Eddie paused long enough to see the glass next to his boyfriend and snatched it, taking a good few chugs before slamming the glass back on the counter and huffing dramatically.

"My hero. My savior. I am forever in your debt."

He 'swooned' and 'crashed' into Steve's chest. Steve stifled another laugh and nuzzled his cheek into his boyfriend's fluffy hair.

"Maybe just stick to listening to your sweet-tooth."

Eddie's act fell apart as he huffed his own tiny laugh and nuzzled back.

"Yeah, not a problem, sweetheart."

#i queue because i love you

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steviesummer · 11 hours

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His weight over Steve’s hips shifts, and then he’s pressing his forehead against Steve’s. Something about it, how Eddie just holds himself there, nose brushing against Steve’s and breathing against his lips, makes Steve go absolutely still. The well of tenderness in his chest is downright embarrassing, and he worries that if he moves at all, it’ll spill everywhere and ruin this surprisingly tender moment.

guys. @sparklyslug gave me the best birthday gift ever (and I have a million doodles I want to do for it :))). My love of Star Wars (the dinluke of it all) and steddie have been combined into a single fic and I am absolutely floored. it made my day, year, entire life. I will cherish this FOREVER AND EVER 🧡

It’s called make those hidden worlds mine .✨ give it a read (whether you like star wars or not) you wont be disappointed 🥰

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steviesummer · 12 hours

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Steddie goes to the pool

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steviesummer · 19 hours

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To the bravest hero for the town who hated him. Eddie Munson. It’s your year, you didn’t run away this time. ‘86 baby. 🖤

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steviesummer · 21 hours

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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.

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steviesummer · 23 hours

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the first time eddie asked steve out, steve had been a little confused and it'd taken him a while to figure out; "oh, like a date? why didn't you just say so!" and it becomes a little joke after that and, every time eddie asks him on another date, he always adds a little, "you know, like a date" and it never fails to get steve to do a little sigh laugh

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steviesummer · 24 hours

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eddie borrowing steves clothes is very cute but also I keep imagining him first openning steves closet and immediately realising that steve has a lot of the same tops but in different colors. he'd thought he'd just been remembering wrong, but no. that navy top with the white stripe we all love from s4? he also has it in green, yellow and purple.

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steviesummer · 1 day

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stranger tweets part 6

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 5.5] [part 7]

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steviesummer · 1 day

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For @hellion-child. Inspired by a little convo about this textpost and just how hilarious I find Robin barging into Nancy's bedroom in s4. Hel your textposts are an absolute joy 💖💖💖

"And this is my – Wha? Robin!"

But it's too late, Robin is barging past, squishing Steve up against the doorframe and leaving him choking out a hearty yelp before he can give any further introduction to his bedroom.

He should have known better, he guesses. His new friend had been pretty goddamn nosey throughout the rest of the house tour.

Steve straightens up and pulls at his striped vest, tugging it back into place as he watches Robin make a beeline for his dresser.

He scowls at his new friend as she ghosts her hands over everything sitting on top. His Little League trophy, some baseball cards and comics he had forgotten to pack away, his sparkling clean Wayfarers.

Robin pauses and makes a face.

"Your room is..." she hums, turning to scan the entire room, "It's really tidy... Too neat."

"What?" Steve defends, folding his arms, "I like keeping it neat."

"I need you in my bedroom," Robin says, spinning on her heel to step towards the desk. She freezes with her skinny fingers on the desk lamp switch, "Wait – that sounded way weird. I meant that I might need you to come over and help me clean my room. My Mom wants me to 'downsize' my wardrobe, which really means actually using it to store clothes and not craft supplies."

Her use of air quotations thankfully stops her from messing with the lamp, but instead, she runs her hands over the empty desk. A piece of furniture Steve has left untouched since graduating.

"A-ha!" Robin exclaims, pointing to his framed print of a red Corvette above, "You're a car guy."

She turns to the desk drawers now, her snooping failing to pause even for a reply to her commentary.

"Yeah," Steve answers, smacking her hand away as she reaches for the bottom desk drawer, because... well...

He and Robin might have escaped a Russian-controlled basement and survived a drugging and several monster attacks, but he isn't too sure if they are at, Sharing Titty Magazines-level of friendship just yet.

Even if Robin is already calling them, "best friends".

"I see," she winks, nudging Steve with a little too much force square in the stomach before she heads for his bed.

"I t-thought you wanted to go out to the pool?" he splutters, still a little sensitive to pretty much everything after Starcourt.

"We'll get to that," Robin calls over her shoulder.

"And it's way past lunchtime," he adds, looking at his watch as he begins to crave a sandwich.

It could be his muffled hearing, but Steve swears he hears his stomach rumble.

"Dude! Where is everything!" Robin demands, positively flailing her arms as she speaks at a whiplash pace, her voice creeping higher with every word, "Your stuff, your junk! Knick-knacks! Old stuffed animals. Movies! Music! Days-old clothes, random thoughts on a notepad!"

"I have boxes under my bed," he offers, thinking he is stating the obvious.

Robin drops to her bandaid-covered knees, all giddy with glee. She rubs her hands together before flinging back the plaid bedspread to reveal several plastic storage boxes, all labelled and aligned under the bed.

"Eureka!" she praises and looks up, smiling wide, "Come over here, Harrington, I need you to tell me everything while I look."

She beckons him over and Steve joins his best friend on the floor, ready to show off all his favourite things.

Except for his dirty magazines... For now.

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