#kiss off fic

[cherrycoloredfaith]

BEAUTIFUL artwork for Kiss Off by my beautiful friend Ashley!!! she's so talented and beautiful thank you SO MUCH for being a part of this @ash-yuh

Kiss Off

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 5

Chapter 4

He left the bar first and set off down the road alone, getting to his car in a matter of minutes. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to breathe again. Driving aimlessly for nearly twenty minutes he realized he was leaving the city, going to the only other place he knew: Munson Construction. The storm clouds in his head that had vanished at the bar returned on the drive. The roads were dark, but the air was clearer out here, and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. The wind wrecked his hair, whipping it around as he took deep breaths. Steve wondered if he should just book it to Hawkins and give up on all this. Wondered if he was ever really meant to leave his hometown. Wondered if he really messed up and should have just married that girl from high school. 

Parking in that same red dirt parking lot, he didn’t ask himself what he was doing because there was no point. He was going to wait it out, stay out of Robin’s hair and give her no reason to worry. Getting out of his car, he headed towards the front to lean on the hood and look out into the surrounding woods that reminded him of home. Except you could see right through them to the street lights beyond the thin cluster of trees. If he was in Hawkins, he could have looked out on a number of lakes within a few miles. Perfectly hidden and perfectly alone. Even out here, he could still hear distant cars from the busy highways, pulling him out of his reveries.

Steve wished he had a pack of cigarettes. Smoking never really tempted Steve until moments like these, where he was alone, searching for some sense of peace.  Pausing, he remembered the key to the clubhouse sitting in his pocket.

Maybe Eddie had some in his locker or office somewhere? Would it hurt to take just one?

Steve tossed his keys in the air, caught them, and thought once again, fuck it, they gave him a key anyway, right?

A single light illuminated the steps going up to the door, the screen door slamming against Steve’s back as he bent to unlock the deadbolt. Once inside, he felt along the wall for a light switch and failed. 

In the dark, his outstretched arms led his way around to the lockers, trying to use what little light came from outside the doorway. The red hard hat was the second locker from the right if his memory served him correctly, so once his hands made contact with the wall of open shelves, he started to rummage. He felt a small, soft cardboard box in the back of the highest shelf, thought, yes, and fumbled to open it in the dark. Just one. 

Steve heard a creak of the floor and his head snapped up, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark hallway beyond that led to Eddie’s office. Nothing but pitch black.

Suddenly, a yell rang out–no, more like a battle cry. The lights came on in a flash, giving Steve just enough time to register the baseball bat swinging for his head. He cowered down, covering his face with his arms as he shut his eyes tight, preparing for the blow. 

When none came, Steve peaked out of one eye at the scene before him. There stood Eddie, in Garfield pajama pants, bat still raised high, and hair coming out of its bindings–a look of utter confusion cast upon his face. 

“Whoa, dude, what the fuck?” Steve exclaimed once he’d found his voice. Is this guy going to kill me?

“Me, what the fuck? No, you, what the fuck?!” Eddie retorted, not moving to lower the bat. He looked from Steve’s face to his hands where he still clung to the pack of smokes. “Did you come all the way out here for those? I could have told you where to get your own. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“No, Eddie, God, I was just–” Steve realized he didn’t have a good explanation for this situation other than the truth. “Look, my roommate needed me out of the apartment for a bit, I was just driving around, looking for somewhere to go and I ended up here.” He shrugged. “And I wanted something to do. What are you doing here?” Steve was pointedly not looking at Eddie’s silly pajama pants. The last thing he needed was to be punched by his boss for laughing at his sleepwear.

“Shit, well, no fucking point now,” Eddie sighed and rested the bat on his shoulder. “I live here, asshole.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he picked the first question that popped into his head. “Oh. So… do you normally go to sleep at 10:30 on Friday nights?”

Shutting his eyes, Eddie finally dropped the bat to his side, and Steve could breathe again. When he opened them again, he glared at Steve. “For your information, I was watching a goddamn movie.”

It finally clicked. “Why didn’t you say you lived here before? I thought that was your office,” said Steve, looking towards the dark hallway.

“Because not everyone knows. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, I just didn’t want to stay with Wayne anymore, and it was convenient. I pay him rent, but it’s nothing like what the city would cost me.” He looked defensive. 

Steve just nodded, unsure of what to make of it all. Before he knew it, Eddie had walked back into his office–bedroom– and then returned with one shoe on his foot, the other in his hand, his bat nowhere to be seen. He hopped down the hallway trying to pull the other sneaker on.

“Alright,” said Eddie when he succeeded. “Come on, then.”

Steve didn’t move as he passed by, wafting a soft, sweet scent from his clothes. “Huh?”

“You need to waste some time, let’s waste it.” He was leading Steve through a door he hadn’t noticed before leading out of the kitchen. He grabbed a tin lunchbox as they headed outside. Steve followed as if on autopilot onto a surprisingly cozy, covered back porch, fit with a table, chairs, and even a couch and coffee table that made up for the missing furniture inside. It looked homey. 

Eddie set the box down to plug in some string lights that provided enough illumination for them to see one another. They sat on opposite sides of the couch; once Steve saw Eddie prop up his feet, he did, too, hoping to give any semblance of a relaxed state–when, really, his heart was hammering in his chest. 

When Eddie opened the lunchbox in his lap, Steve immediately got a whiff of what was inside, and he prayed a silent thank you to whatever fates led him here. Eddie looked over at Steve with a grin. “You seemed like you’d need something stronger than those.”

That was the second time Steve forgot about the cigarettes clutched in his palm; he decided to set them down and nod as a sign of his gratitude. 

Then, Eddie started to roll his own joint as if he’d done this a million times. Steve even saw that he had proper rolling papers. He watched him with fascination while Eddie focused on his task. No words were spoken between them, but something about the silence felt comfortable. No, not comfortable, but… anticipating.  Steve stared in awe at how relaxed he was, delicately licking the edge of the paper to hold it closed. Eddie’s hair was almost completely out of the low bun it was in and long strands dangled down, creating a curtain around his eyes. Steve had the urge to brush it aside.

“How’s the sunburn?” Eddie asked. 

“The what?” Steve blinked out of his trance. His heart was pounding. 

“Dude, you’ve got to snap out of it. Did I scare you that bad?” Eddie leaned in, searching Steve’s eyes for something.

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Thank you.” What was he thanking him for? Steve was screaming at himself on the inside, begging him to regain his cool. “I’m so sorry–for barging in like this. I can go, you don’t have to let me stay.”

“I know, Steve. It’s cool. To be honest it gets… a little lonely living out here, not being in the city. Your presence is welcomed, for now.” He shot Steve another smile and began to light the end of the joint. Steve starts to wonder if Eddie has already done this once tonight based on his low, honeyed voice, the slightest glaze over his eyes. 

“Where’s Wayne’s?” wondered Steve.

“Closest suburb to the east of here. Not ten minutes down the road when there’s no traffic. I just needed some space to learn how to take care of myself, but still save some money.” He took a drag. “And to smoke without worrying about Mrs. Wheeler next door calling the cops,” he added, chuckling devilishly low as if it was something that actually happened. 

Steve took the pass, inhaling deeply, trying to hide his little coughs. “What movie?” he asked as he stretched his arm back out for Eddie to take the joint from his hands.

Eddie looked over and laughed. “Can you speak more than two words at a time?”

Steve rolled his eyes and snatched his hand back, moving it out of Eddie’s grasp to take another hit. “Fine, fine! I mean, what movie were you watching before I broke into your house?”

“Technically you didn’t break in, you have a key.”

Steve flushed. “That’s another thing to get back to. Are you avoiding the question?”

“Never. I was watching Back to the Future 2,” he said matter-of-factly, chin held high as he took back the joint, fingers brushing Steve’s, sending a shiver up his arm. “Arguably, the superior of the two films. With triple the Michael Fox. ” Eddie looked up at the lights dreamily. 

“Dude, what? You’re lying to me. The original is so much–wait, what?” he asked, caught off guard by Eddie’s last words.

He laughed, “Kidding, Harrington! So far, the original one reigns supreme.” He winked, but his gaze didn’t linger. “That was actually going to be my first time seeing it until…” he gestured to the two of them sitting on the couch. 

The confusion Steve was experiencing at Eddie’s implications caused him to flush again. “Oh,” was all he said in response. Maybe he should ask him if he’s into guys. “So why give out keys to literally your home? Does everyone have them?” Steve screamed at himself in his head. 

“Usually I don’t have to worry about anyone I work with thinking anything valuable is inside. Tonight I was sorely mistaken. And no, not everyone has one, but anyone needs to be able to get in, so…” Eddie shrugged. “It’s worked out for me so far. I keep my room locked too during the day, so don’t get any ideas.” He smiled.

Steve decided not to ask why he received one after his first day, and instead decided to change the subject. “My roommate wouldn’t really have kicked me out herself, but I knew she’d want the place since she was the only one getting lucky tonight.” Oh, God. Why did he have to bring that up?

“Ahhhh, are we in love with said ‘roommate’? Here on a feel-sorry-for-yourself evening escapade?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, peering at Steve through lidded eyes. 

“No. Seriously, it’s not like that. She’s my best friend. We went to this place downtown… near Pennsylvania Avenue,” Steve was cautious with his words, but he couldn’t help it. He had to know. “I forgot the name. Do you know any bars over there?”

Eddie met Steve’s eyes, but his were unreadable. “Yeah, I know of one. Did they play a lot of dream pop?”

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed, trying not to sound too overly excited that Eddie picked up on a similar detail as him. And appeared to have visited the same bar as him. This probably meant he was cool, but he still couldn’t tell anything about him. He should just ask. “Yes, that one. Red door?”

Eddie nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me more about her. Your roommate.”

Steve got lost in talking about his best friend for a moment. He was familiar with giving the usual exposition of how they met working at an ice cream parlor but had gone to school together for years. They were inseparable ever since, up until she graduated and decided to go to college, which Steve hadn’t got in. He was so grateful she was close by, but he always felt that he couldn’t follow. When Robin’s scholarship finally let her live off campus, Steve was elated to come join her somewhere new. 

“So, she’s the whole reason why you're here?” Eddie asked. 

“Kind of. She’s who really got me out of my hometown,” replied Steve, shrugging.

“Hmm, sounds like you might be in love with her…” Eddie repeated. “Why else would you want to move just to work such a shit job with such a shit boss?” He gestured to himself, topped with a sickly sweet smile. 

“Seriously, dude, that ship has sailed. Or never even made it in the water. Or doesn’t even exist. I don’t–I don’t see her like that,” Steve answered, not sure if Eddie could pick up on what he meant. The weed was starting to cause his thoughts to swim around in his head. “This was the only job I got called back for.”

“Oh,” said Eddie. The joint had sat forgotten between his fingers as they spoke. Now, Eddie lit it once more, taking a drag. Instead of turning his head to blow the smoke away from Steve like he had before, he leaned in, locked eyes with him; he blinked slowly as he directed his exhale at Steve’s face in a powerful gust. Steve groaned, made a face and put up his hands, pretending to be bothered by it while his stomach did somersaults; he had to fight to not stare at his lips. “Guess Wayne was desperate, huh?” Eddie kidded.

“Hah, yeah, I guess so,” Steve nervously laughed to shake himself out of the trance Eddie put him in. He knew Eddie was reasonably joking, but it wasn’t far from what Steve suspected was the truth. But speaking the words out into the world of his failures didn’t hurt as much with the weed in his system. It didn’t feel so much his own fault as it was the nature of the outside world. Life outside a small town. Simple truths you learn as you age. Finding a job is hard, being gay is dangerous, etc. 

A quiet silence fell over them as they finished those last puffs of the joint. It was comfortable, but Steve couldn’t help but feel the absence of the words between them. It was nearing midnight according to Eddie’s digital watch on his wrist. Was it really just hours before Steve overheard Eddie complaining about him? Saying he was going to “ruin everything”? 

Steve jostled at the memory, the same concerns from before settling in. He had to ask. 

“Eddie… What happened last summer?” Steve urged. 

Their eyes met again. When did they get so close? Steve could see the expanses of Eddie’s brown eyes. They suddenly darkened, and it was as if Steve was being pulled forward ever so slightly. 

Then, Eddie pulled his legs back, leaned forward, and propped his elbows on his knees, putting distance between them as if nothing had happened. He looked out to the darkness of the woods ahead.

“Nothing that actually concerns you. I’m sorry you heard me yell,” he revealed, defeated and ashamed. “This guy on my crew last year, he caused a lot of problems. Didn’t treat Max well either.”

Steve’s stomach flipped again; so Eddie was referring to him with that outburst. Steve wasn’t sure what this last guy had to do with him. He hadn’t caused any problems like that, right? He barely remembered what he did that day.  Steve paused, taking in the information; he had that same feeling again, that there was more to be said about his guy, but before he could pry further, Eddie interrupted. 

“Anyways, you might want to be heading back before it gets too late. You good to drive? I don’t have anywhere for you to crash,” asked Eddie. 

Taken aback, Steve nodded, feeling dismissed. They stood to walk inside; Steve paused to assess how high he was only to find he was hardly buzzed. He was surprised, certain that he felt so much more a second ago.

Steve couldn’t tell what Eddie was thinking as his face was blank when they walked along a dirt path in the trailer to the front door. Eddie held it open for him as Steve tried to think of something to say.

“Thanks! For hanging out I mean, and the smoke.” Steve hoped he was successful at attempting to sound casual. In return, Eddie gave a familiar grin, nodding once and shutting the door behind him without another word.

Steve stood there for a moment, wondering why bringing up this guy set Eddie off so badly. He wished he could have stayed for longer, but it was getting late. Sighing, Steve brushed off his nerves and walked towards his car to head home. 

As Steve drove that evening, despite abruptly being sent home, he couldn't help but to be hopeful. Steve could drop the whole last summer issue if Eddie could. He imagined himself enjoying himself at work, making Eddie laugh, making him proud. Becoming his friend. Really learning how to do the work. He smiled to himself as he walked up to his apartment. He didn’t even feel so lonely when giggling drifted up from under Robin’s door. Steve went to bed in his new room finally feeling a little at peace. He fell asleep to the image of Eddie’s smile behind his eyes. 

[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: improper use of plumping lipgloss, mentions of alcohol, oral sex, it's steddie endgame i promise | crossposted on twitter

it’s no secret, steve likes making out. likes isn’t a strong enough word. he loves making out. loves grabbing hold of someone and pulling them close, loves laying over them on a couch, on a bed, hips just barely moving as he takes them apart with lips and teeth and tongue.

that doesn’t change once he’s had a few drinks either, body tingling with tequila or vodka or something equally strong that has his inhibitions thrown to the wind. he’s always able to find someone willing to dance with him, hips pressed together and arms wrapped around shoulders.

it’s usually girls, pretty things with pretty hair that draw steve in like a punch drunk happy moth to an overzealous flame. they’ll turn their heads with a flirty shy smile and follow him out to the dance floor before pressing up tight against his front.

they’ll curl their fingers into his where they rest low on their hips and keep him close. they’ll drop their heads onto his shoulder and let their breath ghost over the side of his face until he gets the all too obvious hint.

steve likes making out on a dance floor. no, not likes.

loves.

that is until his lips are covered in sticky, sweet lip gloss and he’s pulling away because his tongue is on fire, tingling from something other than alcohol and the thrill of being in a pretty girl’s mouth.

“what is that?” he yells into her ear over the bumping bass.

“sorry,” the girl says sheepishly, “it’s my lipgloss. it plumps my lips.”

she goes back in to kiss steve once more and he isn’t exactly going to deny her. her lips are pretty just like her, plump and shiny and all too inviting, so he kisses her back. the gloss is spicy on the cracks of his lips, on the tip of his tongue when he he pulls her lip in between his teeth. it’s addictive in a way. he wonders if his own lips will plump up from the contact alone.

later, when they say their drawn out goodbyes outside of the club, he’ll ask to borrow the lip gloss since his night isn’t over yet. she’ll pull it out with a grin and apply it so sweetly to her own lips and then to his. her touch is gentle and precise before she puts the tube back in her purse and then connects their lips for a final time.

steve likes to make out. no, not likes.

loves.

so he goes to a bar around the corner, robin hot on his coat tails with some blonde she picked up attached to her side, and he’ll order a vodka soda that he can sip through a straw so he doesn’t destroy his pretty glossed lips. the bar is grungy, but steve almost prefers that, able to blend into smoky shadows and dark corners while he watches the crowd.

while he watches someone in the crowd watch him back.

he has wild curly hair and handcuffs on his belt and steve swears he’s staring at his lips and the way the light is bouncing off of the gloss, but he isn’t too sure. not until there’s wild curly hair and handcuffs on a belt standing right in front of him.

steve has a different confidence with guys. maybe it’s because he has to read them a little differently. maybe its because he gets read by them a little differently, too. but flirting is flirting all the same and steve finds himself biting at his lip and licking away some of the spicy lip gloss with a wince as it burns the inside of his mouth.

curly hair handcuff guy is cuter once they start talking for a while, all animated and vibrant, a bright shiny beacon in a dingy bar. he finds out his name is eddie with a lingering handshake that means something, fingers trailing and tingling like they had a spice to them, too.

they don’t dance, but they do end up out back, sharing a cigarette as drunk people stumble around them. it’s easy enough for eddie to light, flame from the lighter sparking in his big, brown eyes.

“so steve,” he says, flicker of some other kind of spark in his eye, “where to?”

and steve knows how to do this part. he grabs the cigarette out of eddie’s mouth and puffs on it himself, blowing the smoke over his head. “is it too forward to say i don’t think i can last much longer without getting my mouth on you?”

eddie grins and lets his eyes flit down. “no. is it too forward for me to say that i’d let you do anything to me, mouth or otherwise?”

he takes the cigarette back and steve can see his trace left behind on the filter, can see when the hint of gloss hits eddie’s lips if the wrinkle of his eyebrows is anything to go off of.

he doesn’t say anything, just winks over at steve. he doesn’t say anything, just drags him into a taxi. he doesn’t say anything, just wraps a hand high over steve’s thigh, just pushes steve up against his apartment wall, just fumbles over handcuffs and pushes down his jeans.

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

if he loves making out, then he really fucking craves giving head. he feels like a cartoon animal with hearts popping out of his head as he pulls eddie’s cock out of his briefs. he licks his lips like he’s starving and regrets it when the gloss singes his tongue.

steve looks up from his knees and swipes a finger over his lips, holding it up high for eddie to see. “taste it,” he whispers.

eddie’s eyes widen, but he obediently bends his neck, tongue lolling out so he can lap at steve’s finger. “your lip gloss is spicy,” eddie says flatly as he recoils.

steve nods. “and it’s going on your cock unless you say otherwise.”

which is how steve finds himself turning eddie into a writhing mess. his hands hold onto the backs of eddie’s shaking knees as he works over his cock. his hair stings as eddie tugs on the strands. his eyes water as he sucks him in deeper and deeper into his throat, spicy lipgloss tingly on his tongue and cheeks.

“you are a fucking wonder,” eddie whines, hips humping as he grinds himself further into steve’s mouth. “just fucking made for this, huh?”

steve pulls off and spits on his cock to jack his hand over it as he pulls the head to his lips. he rubs the sensitive tip over his lips just to watch eddie twitch.

“you have no idea.”

he blows a line of cool air over the gloss that’s left there and drinks in the way eddie’s eyes roll back in his head before swallowing him back down, reveling in the spice that hits the back of his throat as he does so.

when eddie comes, he pulls steve off so he can paint his pretty, puffy, plump lips with it, dragging his cock over them to make a mess. it’s not a surprise when steve licks it off, spicy and salty and a special kind of sweet that he thinks is all eddie. he leans up to place a kiss into the thatch of hair over eddie’s cock, smearing behind come and shiny lip gloss.

“you gonna wait for me to come in my pants or can i go fuck you?”

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

and he loves giving eddie head. and he loves fucking eddie. and he loves waking up with a spicy, sticky residue on the side of his cheek after falling asleep with his head on eddie’s chest.

and maybe, just maybe, he’ll love eddie someday, too.

[demaparbat-hp]

“Zuko?” Ming searched for the Prince in his silence. He was staring intently out of the window, mouth blown wide open, eyes distant and awed and sincere. Oh. His whisper was a fragile, breathless thing.

“We're here.”

Ming’s doubts and concerns are hers alone, but that doesn't mean the rest of the Crew doesn't share them. This sudden mission, Zuko's change in attitude, his obsession with the Water Tribes...

Ming tries to discover the root of it all in For the Spirits Chapter VIII: Make You Stay, but will Zuko let her in?

[halfbaked00q]

Im soooo weak to when Bond is like casually being used or exploited at his expense for some ostensible Greater Good except the situation doesn't HAVE to come to that, not really, and he's so inured and even numb to it that he barely pays it any mind; meanwhile, Q absolutely minds and is very indignant on his behalf and works overtime to like either try to avert or forestall the situation before it gets to the point where Bond has to dig his own claws into more of his soft underbelly to offer up on the sacrificial alter of politics of all tawdry things, or to manufacture a way in which he does the needless "needful" so as to spare Bond at least one unnecessary additional wound upon his psyche.

bonus if Bond finds out and maybe after being angry or indignant about it - I don't need you to do my job for me, Q, this is what I'm here to do - and either Q tells him/lets slip or he deduces that like, this isn't Q thinking he can't get the job done, this is Q finding him precious and worthy of protecting, and like. he's just very in awe of that and does in fact feel very safe and cherished within the cradle of his Quartermaster's regard

[amusl02]

Son of Ogre

[justsomecouscous]

'in my relationship I only want a guy who's 6ft and has muscles' this 'I want a girl who has a big ass and boobs' that

Nah FUCK that

I want someone to lovingly hold my face in their hands and look adoringly at me then kiss me while the fans scream and cry from happiness after waiting for 5 seasons and the old bitter white men to sit seething in their arm chairs

[justaz]

i saw a tiktok from sapphirerainsky/starry about a love spell and there was no way i could expand on it in a tiktok comment so i’m here. anyway, sorceress casts a spell over camelot that makes everyone fall for the person who has saved them and the intensity of their feelings corresponds to how many times they’ve been saved. so the average camelot citizen is quite fond of merlin while the knights are more forward and flirtatious and offering him gifts and whatnot. and then theres arthur who physically cannot stand being more than -3 centimeters away from merlin at all times, like it physically pains him to not be touching merlin.

anyway the sorceress finds it amusing once they all catch on and confront her. her eyes pin on merlin and she explains the spell and why everyone feels the way they do. since they’re all conscious/aware under the magic, they’re like “wtf?? we know merlin has saved us a time or two here and there but i would literally gut myself and offer my skin to him to keep him warm” especially arthur who is like “i want to mold our bodies together into one to breathe the same air, for our heart to pump the same blood, for our eyes to see the same sky”

so the sorceress is like “well, lets let them save you this time” and snatches merlin before disappearing. the knights are frantic, arthur is quite sure he’s having six heart attacks at once. merlin and the sorceress are in her cottage sipping tea next to a fire. she’s chatting with some serving boy who has somehow saved not just the king but all of camelot at least three times and then boom apparently she’s talking to freaking emrys??? he asks politely for her to undo her enchantment and she’s like “holy fuck yeah ofc i’m so sorry”

the knights get a clearer head to search for merlin and eventually the sorceress just returns him and arthur drags him into a bone crushing hug and is babbling all this nonsense about worrying he’d never see him again. merlin exchanges a look with the relieved and amused knights behind him. but merlin is never the one to turn down affection from arthur so he returns the hug and is like “uh arthur?” and he hums against his shoulder. merlin grins “you know she removed the spell, right?”

[harringroveera]

Billy loves to get under Steve’s skin (and in his pants too probably)

(Incorrect Harringrove + Gallavich Quotes)

[cherrycoloredfaith]

Kiss Off

Hello everyone! I'm sharing my first fic with you all over here, but chapters 7/10 are already posted on A03! See there for more tags!

rating: Explicit

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Construction Crew AU - No Upside Down, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers

playlist!

next chapter

Chapter 1: One 'Cause You Left Me

If you would have stopped Steve on the street 6 months ago and told him the only job he could get in Indianapolis was joining a construction crew, he would have laughed in your face and then went home to cry himself to sleep. He didn't think he could land a dream job or anything, but to get no offers from retailers caught him by surprise and, honestly, bruised his ego. That was where his experience was, after all. He applied here on a whim of desperation after seeing the ad in a paper; he never anticipated he’d actually get a call back.

Yet, here he stands at the foot of the stairs leading to a trailer sat on a field of red dirt in the outskirts of the city. He stared at the “Munson Construction, est. 1980” signage on the door, the color bleached from years of direct sunlight. Now, the sun was blazing down in the late morning light. Freshly purchased denim, still starchy as he wipes the sweat from his hands, stiffly hugged his legs, and drops of sweat were already dripping down his back. It's only early June, but Steve can tell it's going to be a hot summer. He’s not certain he'll be able to cope.

The new work boots feel stiff and alien on his feet as he takes his steps up to the door.  Clunk, clunk, they went over the aging wooden stairs. The guy who called him to offer the job gave him a list of items he'd need to buy: jeans, work boots, white t-shirts. The uniform of his unforeseen future. Steve swallowed down his nerves and knocked on the door. 

He heard a faint call answer and turned the knob, peering in as the door swung. Old wood paneling covered the walls and a softening, patchy linoleum tile lay under his boots. His new boss, who he assumed was Wayne, looked up from addressing someone, who he assumed was another employee. 

“Harrington, right?” he said as he stood to greet Steve at the door. Holding his hand out for Steve to shake, he added, “I’m Wayne, we spoke on the phone. This here’s Eddie. Eddie, meet your new addition.”

Steve looked over. Behind a mess of long hair that definitely goes against the rules outlined to him days before, sits a man sprawled in a chair, legs up on the edge of the desk to balance his seat on the hind legs. After a sigh and the slightest shake of his head, the man, Eddie, swung around to shoot Steve a dazzling–clearly forced–smile that caused his stomach to flip. Under different circumstances, Steve would have blushed. The first thing he noticed was that the man was beautiful–and clearly not happy with his presence. Caught off guard, Steve looked to Wayne, trying not to make the wrong move, suddenly sensing the tension in the room, primarily radiating off of Eddie.

Steve cleared his throat. “Hey, it's nice to–”

With a thud, Eddie stood, his chair's legs knocking to the floor. 

"Hello. Stephan, was it? You should run off before it’s too late, Wayne runs this place like a prison. Unpaid labor, grueling hours, no benefits. Don’t even get me started on the whip,” Eddie warned, placing the back of his hand over his forehead as if he was preparing to faint and faking a shudder. Steve just raised his eyebrows.

Wayne shook his head and looked dead Steve in the eyes, “He’s just tryin’ to scare ya. You got nothing to worry about here but him.” Eddie shot Wayne a look that said he should be feared; then, he glanced back at Steve, looking him up and down. Steve felt exposed under his gaze. 

Eddie clapped his hands together, the crack causing Steve to jump. “Would love to stay and chat, but I'm gonna run off now." As his false smile fell, he huffed, pulling out a pack of smokes and skirted around Wayne and Steve in the small trailer to leave without a second glance in his direction. That's when Steve registers his outfit. Leather jacket, dark denim, and a black tee, assorted jewelry. Definitely against the rules. 

"Ah, that went about as well as I thought,” said Wayne. “Excuse him. He's rough around the edges until ya get to know 'm.” He signed and sat behind his desk once again, clearly exasperated. Steve moved into the now available chair. 

Just as he sat down, the trailer door barged open again. It was so loud that as Steve turned around, he suspected this Eddie guy had come back. Instead, in came a much younger girl, probably barely out of middle school, fiery hair tied back as she carried a bunch of rolled papers in her arms. She passed Steve, her green backpack bumping into his shoulder in the tight quarters. Dropping the stack onto the desk, she turned to address Wayne when she finally noticed him. She narrowed her eyes and looked to Wayne for an introduction. 

“Thanks, Max. This is Steve Harrington, he’s joining our team this summer. Steve, this is Max Mayfield. She helps around while she’s out of school.”

Steve shot her a gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension he saw in her eyes. “Cool, uh… nice to meet you.” 

He offered his hand; Max shook it with a surprising force. “Sure.” Despite her confidence, Steve sensed she was wary of his unfamiliar presence. He tried not to feel like he was failing this whole first impressions thing. She turned back to Wayne, “These are the updated plans they gave me. The GC wants you to call him after you look over it all, said the architect’s being a real pain in the ass.” 

Another sigh from Wayne. “Sounds about right.” Steve noticed the slight drawl of his voice, making the i’s sound like ah’s. “Could you ask Eddie to write down what he needs to go over with Steve tomorrow while I show him his way around today?” 

Max nodded and grabbed a nearby legal pad and oddly shaped pencil. She didn’t ask where Eddie was or appear frightened to face the man who had shaken Steve earlier. She exited the trailer, leaving him alone once again with Wayne. He stood up and gestured for Steve to follow out the door. 

Once outside, Wayne felt in the breast pocket of his light plaid shirt for a pack of smokes, lit one and started walking. “We only got a couple work trucks, so some crew got to ride to the jobsites on their own,” he said as he gestured to the pickup trucks parked to the side. Two identical 1980 Ford F250s sat over the red dirt. Beyond, he could see the other employee’s personal cars, his BMW sedan sticking out like a sore thumb amongst an older van and a few other pickups. He silently prayed he would never have to pull up to a construction site in his own car, thinking about the damage that could come to it, let alone the embarrassment of not owning a proper vehicle for this setting.

“I’ve got three crews working for me, but Eddie’s meets here regularly for smaller jobs. I got the others on renovation jobs all over the city. I’m trainin’ him to lead the projects, startin’ small and all,” he explained. 

“Where are the other guys on Eddie’s crew?” asked Steve.

“Gave them the day off today, while we got you adjusted. You’ll meet ‘em tomorrow mornin’ to finish up a project on the East side of town.”

Across the trailer of the main office sat another with matching white metal paneling and a shiny aluminum roof. Wayne walked them towards it. “This is our break area. I think Eds calls it the clubhouse or something or other. It's got our lockers for personal belongings, a kitchen, places to sit. Plus some storage for us. Those drawings rack up after 20 years.”

Wayne laughed; Steve smiled and nodded as if he was in on the joke.

They walked up the steps and entered. The layout looked like it wasn’t meant for work, like it was a home transformed into a shared space. Open lockers sat against the far wall, each with hanging bright yellow light vests and white construction hats, except for one which was red. Dirt had clearly been trailed in on the floors for years, marking paths throughout. One led to the kitchen, a couple fold out tables surrounded by mismatched chairs. Another led to what was clearly a bathroom; Steve wandered over, pleasantly surprised to find it very clean despite the disheveled state of the rest of the house. He registered the shower before turning back to Wayne. 

“It’s there if you need it. No guarantee you’ll stay clean once you step out,” Wayne laughs, looking to the floor, still smoking his cigarette. Steve looked past him at the doorway to what should have clearly been a bedroom. The door was shut. 

“Ed’s office,” he answered the silent question.

“How long has Eddie worked here?” Steve tried not to admit to himself he was curious about him. 

“Ever since he was a teenager. He’s been here about…six years, now, I s’pose. I been looking after him that long at least.” He must have seen the question on Steve’s face. “He’s my nephew.”

Oh. Steve nodded. “What about Max?”

“She joined last summer, she’s my neighbor back at home. Her mom needed some help keeping her out of trouble, and she gets along great with the guys. I keep her from doing any dangerous work, just odd tasks here and there for her. Don’t know how long she’ll let me keep that up though,” he explains.

“She likes it?” He was surprised. 

“Oh yeah, she loves it. You’ll get to know her over the summer.” Wayne turns to Steve, suddenly serious, pointing his cigarette butt at his chest, “You seem like a great fellow, but I don’t know ya that well. No goddamn funny business. We look out for her, one slip up, you’re outta here.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, putting the pieces together. “No- yes- of course, I wouldn’t dream of it. She seems like a great kid.”

Wayne nodded, satisfied with Steve’s response, “Good, good. Let’s go on and get your paperwork sorted out and I’ll tell you about the jobs we got goin’.” 

Steve followed him out of the trailer, taking a deep breath of muggy air once he stepped outside. At least the guy in charge seemed to like him. He would have to try harder the next day to land in Eddie’s good graces if he’s really going to work directly under him. 

------------------------------------------------------

“Rob, what the fuck am I doing?”

Steve was staring at the wall across from the couch as he sat on it upside down, legs hanging over the back and his head off the seat cushion. The wall was bare except for a single David Bowie poster Robin had found at a thrift store down the street. Their boxes were barely unpacked, despite them having moved in four weeks ago. A few sat scattered around their few pieces of furniture, consisting of a couch, one side table, a rug, and a dining table with a pair of mismatched chairs. Late afternoon light poured in through the tall windows, heating Steve's skin where he sat. 

Steve ran his hands through his hair. The joint he’d smoked out on the fire escape did a good job of easing the tightness in his chest, but didn’t help to quiet his mind. He’d have to ask for something different next time. 

When Robin didn’t answer, he continued, “I have no clue what I’m doing. I don’t know anything about concrete or wood or whatever. I probably barely know how to work a drill. Do you think they’ll make me operate a crane?”

Steve watched as Robin’s legs suddenly came into view; her hands were on her hips, looking down at him disapprovingly. How many people were going to give him that look today?

“What’s up? Why are you moping? I thought your boss liked you!” she said indignantly. 

“Well, one of them did. I think,” he answered. “The crew leader- guy- thingy.. The one who leads the crew I’m on. He didn’t seem like he wanted to meet me, like at all. He walked out after being introduced, I didn’t even have an opportunity to shake his hand.”

“Okay, that is rude,” Robin cocked her head to the side. “What did his boss say?”

“Just that he’s like that sometimes. It's his nephew, so he probably gets special treatment,” said Steve, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, pouting. Steve sat upright from his strange position, suddenly needing a snack and a glass of water. 

Before he could get up, she was already on it, filling up a glass from the kitchen sink, and walking over to hand it to him. He drank greedily to ease his cotton mouth as best he could. 

“What was he like?” she asks.

“I don’t know, I hardly saw him, didn’t even speak to him,” he said looking at the ground, avoiding Robin’s eyes. “He didn’t look like you’d expect. And his hair definitely didn’t meet the dress code requirements,” he blurted before he could stop himself, blushing as soon as he brought it up. Robin’s eyes lit up.

“Ohh, his hair… What else did Stevie notice about his scary new boss? Pretty eyes? Good smile? Was he tall?” she teased. 

Steve put the glass on the floor and buried his face in his hands, feeling the heat coming to the surface. He decided to ignore her. “Wayne just said hair must be short or tied back! I even got mine trimmed for meeting him today just in case.”

“Fascinating,” Robin joked.

“But I’m serious, Rob. What am I even doing working this kind of job? Wayne seems nice, but there’s no way I’m going to fit in with these guys. Preppy, polo-wearing Steve Harrington working on a construction crew in the city. They’ll probably all think I’m stuck-up.” 

“Okayy, well, don’t be stuck up, then! I thought you weren’t that guy anymore,” she reminded him. “Steve, come on. They’re going to teach you everything you need to know, right? So, stop stressing.”

“I guess…” Steve gave in. He wouldn’t admit his uneasiness in front of anyone else but her. Steve wanted to appear confident, but he was out of his element. If he even had an element?

He stood and walked over to the small kitchen, deciding on a TV dinner to keep things easy. He placed the frozen tray into the microwave, and as he waited, staring as the tray rotated, he began to wonder to himself. 

Steve felt out of place, uprooted since he left home. He was excited to be here with Robin, to have so many opportunities ahead of him. He could potentially be great at this job, he could meet someone he really likes, he could create a new home. Yet, he found himself missing Hawkins; the trees, long drives in the country, always places to hide. Here, in the city, it felt stuffy. People surrounded him with their constant presence. Upstairs, downstairs, at the park, at the grocery store. He didn’t have anywhere to hide now.  Here, the unfamiliar and unknown was constantly looming, no stability in sight. There was opportunity for success but also for failure. More failures and more people to disappoint, Steve thought.

Beeeeep!

[turtledotjpeg]

@hxhbigbang24 time!!

I drew for this fic which made me SAD and also made my HEART WARM!! I will not say too much to avoid spoiling future chapters, but I illustrated a few moments from this scene near the end of the story that I loved!

[eweplease]

A moment from "Moneta The Gentleman Thief" (by Kamisa on AO3) that made me Lol. such a good fic i want to draw more of it!!

[illyrianbitch]

“rae why do you like writing friends to lovers so much” because these are texts between me and my ex guy best friend of 5 years

[spagheddiesquash]

jawfizz doodles… actually maybe ill work on that ship name idk if i like the name i said.. anyway i mentioned before that my plan was to ship fizz with jawbone and so thats what i did!! never drawn anything like this before but im really liking how it turned out :^DDD

liked this? maybe u want to see more?? i dunno. but anyway if you liked it feel free to reblog!!

tracked time + kinda crappy bonus doodle under the cut

tracked time:

(do keep in mind this is elapsed. it really took me the past 3 days, on and off)

bonus doodle:

(i used up all my good art juices coloring the doodle sheet so unfortunately this one is noticeably not as good of quality. i at least got the idea down tho!!)

[mrmeepsmadmind]

rewatching this over and over again.. mainly bcs tarn makes soundwave into a manlet but also bcs it's hilarious

[a-lesbianshadowinthenight]

every day i mourn the story of jesslupe we could have gotten. they were setting them up for the most perfect friends to lovers arc, the tension, the subtle flirting, the open affection they have for each other. and you can tell kelly and roberta were on fucking board with it and it's just.... lost in the ether. i'm so miserable