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#day 9
mochiwei · 6 months
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Day 9: Deity
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tsubaki94 · 6 months
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Ectober 9
Dragon(s)
I had this old sketch for a fanfic that never happened but I liked the perspective and now I finally got the chance to finish it.
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kruk-art · 6 months
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Day 9 - Bounce
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wigglesdtuff · 2 months
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yeehaw
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formulaforza · 1 year
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diamond ring-- c.leclerc
pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 990 a/n: i melt i melt i melttttt
He told Lorenzo he was going to marry you on the plane from France to Austria. He’d kissed you goodbye at four in the morning in your shared hotel room because you had a flight to catch back to Monaco for work that morning. You were supposed to leave the night before, right after the race on Sunday, but, you didn’t want to leave him to his thoughts, so you changed your flight. 
You’ve known her for eight months, his brother told him, eight months and you want to marry her? 
Charles had laughed, shrugged, nodded. “I just. I know.”
It wasn’t until after the season ended that he finally got to the jewelers. One in Paris, because he thought a million people would notice him ring shopping in Monaco. He’d made Pierre come along, for moral support, and FaceTimed his mother for a woman’s perspective. 
They were at the jewler’s for three hours, and looked at just about every ring there was in the whole place before Charles finally decided that he needed to create something custom for you. Sounds like your girl is one of a kind, the associate helping them said, maybe she needs a ring to match. It’s another hour and a half before he’d made his decisions. He calls them once he’s home and three days later and is still making changes. 
Once it’s actually in his hands, little velvet box and all, his worry shifts to how to ask you. It has to be perfect, he thinks. Something you’ll beam about in twenty years when you tell your kids all about Mom and Dad’s love story. He could do it on a Monday morning over coffee, him on his way to the gym and you barely up, pajama clad and hugging a coffee mug like your life depends on it. He could do it after a long day at the track, where he’s exhausted and looking for a fight and you let him be, let him feel what he needs to feel. He could do it whenever, wherever, and as long as it was with you, it would be perfect for him. 
It needed to be perfect for you. He thought about filling the apartment with a million roses and balloons and champagne. It was private but grand. He thought about the cinema classics–a restaurant full of people, a ring in the desert. You would probably swallow it, he figured. Maybe he could do it in an airport–no. That idea didn’t even last long enough to become complete in his mind. You would kill him, everyone else in the airport would kill him. Just, no. Scratch the aiprort. 
Maybe out on the water, in the middle of a day of fun. He could do it then, in the heat of the sun and in the salty air just off the coast. What if you said no? Then he’s stuck with you, on a boat, in the middle of the ocean. That’s like…nightmare fuel, the stuff that haunts his dreams for six straight nights. 
He decides he’s going to do it at the beach. One of the private ones that nobody is really supposed to know about but everyone does, the one he’d referred to as his secret spot when he’d first met you. The one you’d named with a deadpan expression on your face right after he said that stupid, cheesy line. 
He forced Joris and Antoine to hide in the bushes far out of your sight on the evening he finally did it. The sun was setting on the French Riviera and every color in the sky seemed to highlight something stunning about you, complimenting your eyes, your dress, your hair, your smile. The wind ran its fingers through your hair and danced in the flowing fabric of your dress and he thought he could never be deserving of you, all good and right and ethereal like this. He couldn’t wait to spend his entire life trying to live up to the standard that was you.
There was a picnic spot set up in the sand at the end of the beach. “I love that,” you’d commented when you saw it, clueless that it was there for you. “It's so sweet.”
"It's for you," he hums, voice shaky and nervous.
"What?"
He says your name, all sweet and soft and you know. You don’t know, because you never really know until it’s happening, but, you know. “Charles,” You beam back at him with giddy, hopeful eyes. You are just as enamored as he is. He repeats your name again, draws out the sounds of the last syllable and you both laugh, fight back tears because this is really happening and you don’t want a single memory to be clouded and fuzzy with love in its purest, saltiest form. 
“I love you in ways words will never be able to explain,” He starts. “In the early mornings and the late nights and the average afternoons, I am completely in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, trying to find the words,” he continues. You laugh, choked and teary, soft fingers on your smile in disbelief. He pulls a tiny velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket and drops to one knee in the sand. “So,” he laughs, pops open the box and you’re eyes are too fixed on the man you love to even look at the ring. “Will you marry me?”
You smile, try so hard not to cry only for them to fall down your cheeks anyway. You nod, hold your left hand out for him. “Yeah?” He says, pulls the ring from the box and slides it on your finger. Perfect fit. 
“Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot.” You grin, both laugh, curl over to kiss him while he’s still on his knees in the sand. “I love you so much,” you tell him, hands on either side of his face, kiss him again.
“I love you, too.”
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hermitcraft-daily · 6 days
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[9] me tired today, he too
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daily-odile · 3 months
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for a request maybe. odile taking a well earned nap for once
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eepy (and a bonus)
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sidekick-hero · 2 months
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(steddie | explicit | 2.7k | tags: friends with benefits, they are in love your honor they are just bad with words, food sex (ice cream), slight dom/sub undertones (dom Steve/sub Eddie), blowjobs | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is sharing food by @sparklyslug | AO3)
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Thursday is officially Eddie's favorite day of the week.
He freely admits that this is a recent development, because before he and Steve started their weekly movie nights, Saturday was Eddie's favorite day. But not even the prospect of having a full day off and another one to look forward to could beat spending several hours alone with Steve.
It's not that he really minds sharing Steve most of the time, because Eddie knows that Steve is happiest when all members of their unconventional little family are safe and accounted for. But the greedy part of Eddie revels in the knowledge that he could have Steve all to himself for a few hours each week.
In hindsight, he should have known that this particular kind of possessiveness was probably not normal friendship behavior. Nor was it really making an effort with his clothes and his appearance for a night on Steve's couch with just the two of them and their movie of the week. But Eddie can be slow on the uptake, especially when it comes to his (previously non-existent) love life.
It took Steve kissing him with lips that tasted like the buttery popcorn he had prepared for them for Eddie to realize that what he felt for Steve was different from what he felt for his other friends.
After that, their movie night routine changed slightly.
It was still every Thursday, but now Eddie usually stayed at Steve's place or vice versa after the movie was over.
They still took turns choosing the movie, but now they always had to pause or rewind whatever was playing because they got lost in each other again.
It was still a rule that they had to bring their own snacks, but now they made sure to bring something that the other one liked, because they knew that's what their kisses would taste like.
Of course, about two months after their friendship has evolved into what it is now, Steve has to break one of their few (admittedly unspoken) rules.
"I can't believe you would betray me like that," Eddie exclaims as Steve squeezes the cold plastic tube into his hands so Eddie can put it in the freezer. At Steve's questioning look, his eyebrows practically hidden behind his floppy hair, Eddie waggles the ice cream in Steve's face. "Mint chocolate chips! The ice cream of heathens and old men."
The sound of Steve's laughter fills the trailer's small kitchen.
"I don't know what's so funny, Steve. This is disgusting. I refuse to let you near me if you taste like this vile abomination."
"Oh wow, tell me how you really feel," Steve laughs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He crosses his arms over his very broad and lickable chest, the white t-shirt straining against his biceps and distracting Eddie enough that he doesn't notice the calculating look in Steve's eyes.
"I bet I can convince you otherwise before the night is over," Steve says, sounding like he has no doubt he can change Eddie's mind. As if he never had to deal with Eddie's stubborn ass before.
"Yeah, sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
With a cocky smile on his pretty face, he looks just like King Steve did at the height of his reign, only now the sight makes heat pool in Eddie's groin.
"Wanna bet?" He asks and Eddie's animal brain senses the danger behind those two simple words, a predator playing with his food. Too bad Eddie has a very twisted sense of self-preservation, so he just sticks out his hand for Steve to shake.
"Sure, I'll bet you can't get me to like mint chocolate chip ice cream by the end of the night. If I win, I get to pick the movies for two months."
"Two months?" Steve exclaims loudly, clearly shocked, before he catches himself and the confident look returns to his face. "Fine. After I win, I get to take you on a weekend trip to Indy, on me."
Eddie blinks at him, confused, because that doesn't sound like a price to Eddie, more like a reward. But Steve looks so sure of himself that Eddie doesn't correct him. It doesn't matter anyway, because there's no way Eddie can lose this bet.
They shake hands on it, both holding on longer than necessary to seal the deal.
After the brief interlude in Eddie's kitchen, the rest of the evening goes on as usual. They watch Stand By Me because Eddie loves Stephen King and Steve secretly loves coming-of-age movies, which is no surprise considering his own upbringing was filled with absentee parents, a rude awakening to the shiteness of his ways, and, oh yeah, monsters and fighting for his life since he was 16.
The movie doesn't really set the mood for making out, even for two chronically horny boys in their early twenties, so they just watch it bundled up under the blanket, pressed together in a way that could almost be called cuddling.
They never really put a name to what they do every Thursday night, but cuddling before their clothes come off is new. It turns Eddie's chest into a garden of perilous hope, like cherry blossoms unfurling in response to the warming embrace of the spring sun. It makes it hard for him to concentrate on the movie, and he's glad that he's read the book several times, so Steve doesn't notice anything off when he asks Eddie about his opinion of the movie.
Eddie really needs to get a handle on this whole thing. He has fallen in love with the boy who casually rocks his world every Thursday, only to be the best friend Eddie has ever had the rest of the time.
It's neither smart nor safe.
It will most likely end in heartbreak.
As the credits roll, Steve stretches lazily like a big cat in the sun, pressing his body even closer to Eddie's. The sensation of hard muscle and soft flesh so close makes his hands itch with the urge to touch, and Eddie feels the burning hunger inside him, dormant during the movie, awaken.
One look into Steve's eyes tells Eddie he's not alone.
They don't need words when Steve gets up from the couch and holds out his hand, waiting for Eddie to take it. When he does, Steve pulls him to his feet and takes him in his arms, their faces suddenly inches apart.
"Hi," Steve says, brushing his nose against Eddie's, making Eddie's stomach flutter.
"Hi," he whispers back, embarrassingly short of breath. Steve has that effect on him, and he wonders absently if he should quit smoking before Steve sends him to an early grave just by being Steve.
It's his last thought before Steve leans in to capture Eddie's lips in a soft kiss. It's almost chaste, the way Steve explores Eddie's lips with his own until Eddie opens his mouth, silently begging Steve to claim him, to turn this kiss into something hungry.
Steve has never denied Eddie anything, and he's not about to start now.
Wandering hands search for heated skin, clothes discarded all over the living room floor as collateral damage from the wildfire Eddie has willfully ignited.
His hands work on the button of Steve's jeans as Steve gently pulls away from their kiss, forcing Eddie to lean back and look at him as well. It's a sight to behold and Eddie admires how disheveled Steve looks. He preens at the sight of Steve's perfect hair a mess, his lips shiny with spit, his eyes glassy and his cheeks pink.
Eddie did this.
"Go and wait for me on your bed. I'll be there in a minute." Steve tells him. Orders him, really. They haven't talked about it, but they both know that some days Eddie wants to be told what to do. He wants the chance to be good, but more than that, he wants to be able to just let go of the weight of responsibility that has been on his shoulders since he was a kid, when he had to learn to take care of himself because his father clearly wouldn't, and put it in Steve's strong hands.
Eddie trusts Steve to take care of him.
"Okay," Eddie agrees, stealing another quick kiss and earning a smack on his ass.
"Brat," Steve says with a smile before getting serious again. "I want you to be naked by the time I get to the bedroom."
Eddie swallows hard and nods before turning around to do as he's told.
When Steve enters the room a few minutes later, Eddie is on his back on the bed, naked and painfully hard.
"Look at you," Steve says, and the awe in his voice makes Eddie squirm. He turns his head, needs to see the look of lust that he knows will be on Steve's face, and takes it in, greedily. Steve has stripped off the rest of his clothes as well and Eddie's mouth waters at the sight of his heavy cock swaying slightly from side to side as Steve walks toward him.
The bed sinks under Steve's weight, his shitty mattress on the soft side, causing Eddie to roll slightly toward him. Steve reaches out to steady him and his hand feels shockingly cold against Eddie's heated skin.
"What the fuck?" he exclaims, the heady feeling of seconds ago gone as he leaps back from the freezing touch.
Chuckling slightly, Steve apologizes, "Sorry, I didn't think -"
"Didn't think? Why are your hands so cold, Stevie? Are you a ghost?" Eddie asks, only half-joking, blurting out the first thought that comes to mind.
"What? No! I'm not a ghost, you idiot. I just brought something for us to play with."
Surprised by these words, Eddie pulls his eyes away from Steve's face and looks around, searching for whatever Steve brought. It must be in the hand Steve has strategically placed behind his back, and Eddie knows what he has to do to get it.
"Show me? Please?" he begs, his eyes widening even more and his lower lip sticking out just a little. It teeters on the edge of being too much, but for some unknown reason it works like a charm with Steve.
His eyes soften even as he playfully nudges Eddie's shoulder. "Get rid of those puppy dog eyes, man. I'm not falling for them," he insists as he moves to show Eddie what's in his other hand.
It's the fucking ice cream tube.
Eddie groans at the sight and tries to sit up and get away, but Steve is faster. Before Eddie knows what's happening, Steve has straddled his hips and is practically sitting in Eddie's naked lap with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Nuh-uh, we have a bet and I intend to win it."
Huffing, Eddie rolls his eyes. "You can't order me to like it."
"No, and I don't have to. You'll be begging me for more soon enough," Steve replies and Eddie wonders if they're still talking about the goddamn ice cream.
He's not sure he wants to know.
"And how are you going to do that?" Eddie asks as he puts his hands on Steve's hips to keep him on top of him. He may not like the taste of mint chocolate chip, but he sure likes the weight of Steve in his lap.
Instead of answering, Steve takes the spoon he's also holding in his big hands and plunges it into the ice cream before taking a spoonful of it into his mouth. It's already on the creamy side and the sight of it on Steve's tongue is surprisingly hot.
Even more so when Steve squeezes Eddie's jaw between his fingers until Eddie opens, then leans in and practically shotguns the ice cream into Eddie's mouth.
Before Eddie can react, Steve's tongue follows, sliding the cream back and forth between them until it's gone, their cold mouths heating up quickly as the last of the taste fades.
"Good?" Steve asks, and Eddie is so far gone that he almost, almost agrees. He catches himself just in time and clicks his tongue.
"Nice try, Stevie."
Steve just hums and does it again. Puts a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth to share with Eddie. When it's gone this time, he doesn't even ask if it's good, just dips the spoon into the tub to get another.
By the time they share the fifth spoon, Eddie begins to believe that Steve has never tasted like anything but mint chocolate chip, and he doubts that he'll ever kiss him again without searching for that taste in his mouth.
So when Steve starts to pull away from their kiss, Eddie blindly follows. He sits up and wraps his arms around Steve so that he couldn't get away from Eddie if he tried.
"Good?" Steve asks again, but this time Eddie is prepared.
"Uh-uh," he says, shaking his head before fastening his mouth to Steve's neck.
Above him, Steve giggles and it's such an endearing sound that Eddie can't help but smile against the spit-slick skin beneath his mouth.
He's in no way prepared when Steve grabs his hair close to his scalp and pulls his head back. Before Eddie can ask what's wrong, suddenly afraid he's done something wrong, Steve demands, "Stay still."
He lets go of Eddie's hair and when Eddie does as he's told, he's rewarded with a quick kiss on the forehead and a gentle, "Good boy."
Then Steve takes another spoonful of ice cream, the frozen dessert well on its way to melting, and dribbles it down his neck and chest. Some of it gets caught in his chest hair, and when a drop lands on his nipple, Steve inhales sharply.
Between them, Eddie's cock twitches.
"Come on, puppy. Lick it up, be a good boy for me," Steve purrs, and fuck, Eddie has no idea where this is coming from, but judging by the way his dick is so fucking wet that it keeps dripping onto Steve's hairy thighs where they bracket his, he's really, really into it.
And judging by the sounds coming out of Steve's mouth as Eddie licks and nips all over Steve's skin, so is he.
Eddie alternates between broad strokes with his tongue and sucking motions with his mouth, adding a bit of teeth as he scrapes the remaining sweetness from between the coarse hairs between Steve's pecs.
When it's all gone and Steve's skin is glistening with Eddie's spit, they kiss again because this is Steve's favorite ice cream and Eddie has to share the taste with him.
He gets lost in the smooth glide of their tongues and when Steve moans "fuck" into his mouth, he thinks it's just because of how hot everything is. But when Steve pushes him away with a firm hand on his shoulder and grabs his chin to direct his gaze down, Eddie realizes what caused that particular sound.
There's half-melted ice cream all over Steve's beautiful cock, running down the veiny flesh and onto his heavy balls. Someone whimpers and Eddie fears it's him.
A gentle hand on his cheek pulls him out of his reverie and he lets himself be moved, his head slowly lowering as his back bends until his lips close around the head of Steve's hard cock.
"So good, baby, so hot, lick it all off, yeah?" Steve babbles and Eddie hums in approval. He's going to be good, he's going to lick it all off Steve and then share the taste with him again.
That's what he does, his tongue swirling around the head before he lowers himself even further onto Steve, lips and tongue eagerly scooping up the sweet cream. The coldness of the cream only adds to the hotness of it all, the contrast of the soft, cold cream against Steve's hard, hot flesh slowly driving Eddie crazy. Steve is not faring any better, his moans turning to whimpers, his voice breathy and high as he continues to praise Eddie in an endless litany of filth and sweetness.
It's a surprise when Steve suddenly freezes over him, his whole body going rigid as hot cum floods Eddie's mouth. It spills from his lips before he realizes what's happening and drinks the rest down eagerly. Its taste mixes with the taste of mint chocolate chip in his mouth and Eddie knows that Steve has won the bet here and now.
He'll be begging for more as soon as Steve catches his breath, dreaming of how it will taste when he licks it out of Steve's hole and from between his cheeks.
But first he seals Steve's mouth with his own to share his new favorite taste.
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pawsandsuch-office · 3 months
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Always check the weather report before going out
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nonetoon · 6 months
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Caught-on-Tober week 2: Party Guests 🧛‍♂️ 💀 🧙‍♀️
8. Frankenstein’s Monster / 9. Vampire (?) / 10. Polkadot Ghosts / 11. Witch in the Sky / 12. Mysterious Skeleton / 13. Lost Werewolf / 14. The Cat
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sykloni · 6 months
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9. Dragons
Ectober 2023
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danikatze · 6 months
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[ID in alt text]
Inktober day 9: worry.
I coloured this one, because I recently found out what blending modes do (thanks drawfee!) and I wanted to play around with it :3
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[ID in alt text]
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cosmic-nopedog · 6 months
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CRINGETOBER DAY 9 Yeah this isnt concrete garden stuff but they are VERY cute ur honor
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archiesoniconline · 6 months
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Sonictober2023 Day 9! Theme: Adoration.
Dress to impress, especially during the night of frights when everyone trying to look the best. Seems like Charmy's succeeding with his popular costume. Though knowing your audience and catering to their tastes helps too.
Art by Ochibi
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steviewashere · 2 months
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Orange Slice for All My Lovin'
Rating: General CW: None apply for this one! Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Sharing Food, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Peeling Oranges, Tooth Rotting Fluff
For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is sharing food."
💕—————💕
Eddie hated peeling his oranges. Didn’t like jabbing his thumbs into the peel. Or the juice that sprayed out. Because then he was sticky. And he didn’t do sticky as a texture—not on his skin. It was gross to him. Usually, he’d have Uncle Wayne peel his oranges for him. But, he doesn’t live in Indiana anymore, doesn’t live with Uncle Wayne.
He lives with Steve Harrington in Chicago, Illinois. In a little apartment with two windows that don’t open fully, a fridge door that has to be shut with their hips, and the air conditioner that always gave out mid-way through July. But it was theirs and it was snug and they loved being away from the past that haunted them.
The fun thing about Steve, his wonderful and beautiful Steve, is that he absolutely adores oranges. Always has one for his work lunch. Eats one with his breakfast. Has an orange ready for his study sessions and an hour before he sleeps. He’s very intricate in the way he peels his oranges. And, the thing Eddie never thought to do, he uses a little pocket knife.
That’s something Eddie likes watching. Steve will grab fruit from their fruit bowl on the counter. He’ll hold it out in front of him. And lift the pocket knife to its skin, slicing it away from his body. Sometimes, depending on the fruit, he’ll eat the slices off the blade of the knife. It made Eddie think about somebody rugged like Indiana Jones. And, he won’t deny it, Harrison Ford had been one of his first celebrity crushes. So that says something, he’s sure.
But that’s not the point. Eddie hates peeling his oranges. Steve loves doing so.
They’re sitting at their dining table the next time either of them wants an orange. Steve’s got the newspaper folded over to the crossword puzzle, a mug of steaming coffee to the left, and his pocket knife and orange dutifully staring up at him from the table. Eddie simply has a plate of toast, a mug of coffee, and his orange. His stupid, vicious, sticky orange.
He watches Steve peel his. All intricate, delicate, and juice free. Eddie slumps in his chair, orange between his palms, thumb gliding over the textured skin. He wants his so bad. But he will not put himself through the torture of having sticky fingers. Not when he has other stuff to eat and things to do this morning. Yes, absolutely, he could wash his hands afterwards. But even when he does so, it’s like the sticky feeling resonates with him, it quite literally sticks to him.
He resigns himself to having a banana instead. Though, just as he’s passing by Steve to get to their kitchen, Steve’s palm shoots out and lands in the center of Eddie’s stomach. Effectively stopping him. He hums at the contact, orange in his grip, the citrus of Steve’s own filling his nose.
Steve’s hand travels south to Eddie’s fruit. He sets it in front of him, where he’s still leaning over the crossword puzzle, and gestures to Eddie for him to sit back down. So, Eddie sits down, intrigued. Until, wonderfully, Steve begins to peel Eddie’s orange, too.
Away from himself. The skin in long stripes. Barely any juice trickling down his fingertips. He reaches across the table for Eddie’s plate of toast, rearranging them, and setting the orange in the middle. And then he just slides it back over.
All without saying a single damn word. Eddie wonders how he just always knows.
“I don’t know how you do that,” he says in awe.
“Do what?” Steve murmurs, nose to his newspaper.
“Just peeling my orange. Like it’s no problem.”
Steve, the bastard, just shrugs. Nose down, glasses perched on his nose, tongue poking out between his lips, filling out the paper. Free hand gripped to his mug. Surrounded by stripes of orange peel. But noticeably, there are no slices of oranges.
Eddie picks his own up. Twisting it around in his hands.
Now, Eddie doesn’t like the juice dripping down his fingers. But Steve doesn’t like the white pulp. So, Eddie does the only logical thing. He gets up from the table, wanders into the kitchen, and sits back down with a fork in hand. And he peels as much pulp off as he feasibly can.
And when he’s done, he reaches across the table, unwrapping Steve’s hand from his mug, and plops down the pulp free slices in his hand. Half the orange in Steve’s beautiful palm.
Steve looks up to Eddie. His eyes wide and his mouth agape.
“Thank you for helping me, baby,” Eddie whispers.
The view from across the table could be compared to every painted sunset. Steve smiles softly, his eyes crinkling with it, smile lines deepening, his nose crinkling. He sets a slice of orange on his tongue. And he wiggles in place in his seat. He’s such a dork, Eddie can’t help himself from thinking.
“You’re cute, sweetheart,” Eddie mutters, going back to his food.
“Love you, too,” Steve whispers.
💕—————💕
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fentoaster · 6 months
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Ectoberhaunt Day 9: Dragons
I just really love how the nightlights look... I think Danny would love them. However if we were going into what dragon he would have, I definitely think he'd have a snow wraith (affectionately named Frostbite)
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