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atlabeth · 2 months

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Girl for one get that glass of water! andddd this is a loose request but I LOVE knight Luke and we just gotta see them have that cinderella live action ball scene like romantic dancing maybe the secret garden as well but either way we gotta see these gals at a ball! Have a great day you're an amazing writer!

under the moonlight

fic about the ball

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: thank you so much for this request it is so fucking cute lmao. i changed it a bit to make it work with my vision (bc they wouldn’t really be able to dance at a ball) but the core is that they're dancing together!!! and it is much more intimate and personal lol. here is the cinderella scene that the ask mentioned (and that i took inspo from because it's a beautiful scene lol)

wc: 2.5k

warning(s): basically all fluff

as usual, a mix of hcs and traditional fic!

ALRIGHT LAST TIME WE LEFT OFF princess was dancing with princes during the ball and luke was sulking at his first ever ball accompanying you as a knight

and thankfully, that all goes okay.

You don’t get murdered, Luke only goes slightly insane, and you don’t fall head over heels for any royals.

All in all, a pretty alright night in retrospect.

But post-ball is rough on both of you.

You complain about how much your feet hurt from your heels and how uncomfortable your dress is and how your cheeks ache from smiling so much.

To your surprise, as Luke follows you down the halls, he laughs.

You stop in your tracks as you whirl around. “And what do you find so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says with a slight smile, almost private. “Just… good to be back with you, princess.”

A small smile of your own starts to creep on your lips. “It was only half the night, Luke.”

“And you have no idea how much I missed you,” he muses.

You just shake your head and continue walking. “You’re funny.”

(he’s not joking. he’s just going through it now that he’s not training 24/7 and actually has time to feel emotions again)

You finally get back to your room—thankfully, you got out of any post-ball events with any princes by citing exhaustion, and it’s very rude to demand more of an exhausted lady—and Luke shuts the door behind you as you sink into the edge of your bed.

“God,” you groan as you immediately peel your heels off, letting out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those.”

“If it’s any help, you looked very regal out there,” Luke says.

“It is my duty,” you say as you smile inwardly. “You looked very knightly out there.”

“And that’s my duty,” he says in kind. He gets a chuckle out of you.

You begin to take everything off—you undo your hair from whatever elaborate style it was in, you strip your wrists and fingers bare of bracelets, bangles, and rings (though you leave a certain necklace on), you undo parts of your dress. When you take your nightgown from your chest and go behind your folding screen, Luke clears his throat.

“Princess,” Luke says, “do you want me to—?”

“You can stay,” you say. “I don’t mind.”

And Luke, idiot that he is, gets all in his head.

(Does she not want me to leave because she doesn’t even see me as someone who could like her like that???) (We’ve been friends for so long, does she just see me as an older brother???) (Does this mean she trusts me or sees me as like. a painting on the wall.) (what the fuck)

It’s not any of those, poor boy. it’s just that you feel more comfortable around him than anyone because you’ve been around each other for your entire life—he knows you better than anyone. What’s the harm in him being in the room when you’re separated by a folding screen anyway?

but Luke is dramatic and also so fucking insecure when it comes to your feelings for him lmao

and he has a reason to be i guess?? because at this point while he knows that he has feelings for you (hasn’t fully realized he’s in love) you haven’t realized your own. you just think you have a lingering childhood crush on Luke and it’ll go away as you get older and start being courted

(spoiler alert: it will not go away.)

so he gets all weird and silent, giving one word responses as you talk with him, and when you come out in your nightgown you immediately stare him down.

“Luke,” you said, “what’s wrong?”

He blinked, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Nothing.”

“Luke,” you repeated. “Come on.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he repeated as well.

You crossed your arms. “Don’t act like I don’t know every single thing about you.”

“If you do, then you should know that nothing is wrong,” he countered.

You stared at him for a moment more, then you held out your hand. “Dance with me, then.”

That actually seemed to throw him off guard as he frowned. “What?”

“Did you go deaf back there?” you joked. “I want you to dance with me.”

He managed a smile, though it was slightly awkward. It only made your smile grow. “I don’t dance, princess.”

“Which is why I’ll teach you,” you said with a nod. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“And I have none.” Luke gestured at his armor. “I’m not exactly suited for it, either.”

“You can take off your armor,” you said. “It’ll make it all much easier. And a lot quieter.”

“My job is to protect you, princess.” Luke laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I can’t exactly defend you if all the armor’s gone.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. He really did worry too much. “Nothing’s going to happen here, Luke—not now. I’ll even let you keep your sword with you if it matters that much.”

He still didn’t seem sure. You inclined your head and took another step forward, still holding out your hand.

“I’ll count you through it all,” you promised. “And if you like, I can hum one of those orchestra tunes they played earlier tonight. And I promise it’ll make you feel better.”

“...Fine,” Luke relented, and he started undoing his armor. “But you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” you remarked.

It took a fair amount of time for Luke to get his armor off, but it took just as long for you to get every layer of your ball gown off earlier—and besides, you had endless patience reserved especially for him. The toned forearms revealed as he rolled his sleeves up certainly helped.

“Are you ready?” you asked as you held out your hand again.

Luke took it uncertainly. “I feel as if I’m the one meant to be asking you that.”

“You can lead next time we train together,” you said with a smile. “For now, you’re in my domain.”

You put Luke’s hand on your waist and reached for his other one, adjusting until it was right, then you looked up at him. “Does that feel alright?”

His eyes were startlingly dark this close, surprisingly intense. He nodded.

“Good. I’m going to teach you a few basic steps so you can get used to it.”

Luke nodded again. You wondered why words seemed behind his grasp.

yeah girlie I wonder why

Luke is. not a great dancer

You’re not surprised, and you don’t say a single word about it as you teach him the basics. he spent his childhood swinging a sword around, and you spent yours learning etiquette and ballroom dances lol

He steps on your foot about ten times and apologizes like a freak every time, you just laugh and smile and tell him you’re fine. Sure, your slippers don’t provide much protection and Luke’s boots aren’t great against them but you honestly don’t even feel it. you’re too busy getting lost in his eyes lol

And for someone who spent two years training like an insane person, he gets frustrated very easily when things don’t go his way.

“How do you do this? It’s impossible.”

“I learned this dance when I was twelve, Luke.”

as much as you jest while you’re teaching him the basics you’re encouraging him the entire time because he’s your best friend above all else!!! and you honestly believe he can do anything lmao

And he’s a quick learner! He didn’t become the youngest kingsguard in history by learning slowly. So soon enough, you’re actually dancing together.

Luke’s hand on your back feels like the most natural thing in the world, and you can tell he’s actually starting to get a little into it.

You didn’t have to count your steps off anymore, so you’d switched to humming one of your favorite symphonies from the musicians back in Aurelda.

Luke is still focused on landing every move, but your lead and the music gives him confidence in this that he didn’t really know he had. He spins you, and you get an idea as you twirl your way to the balcony door. You open it and look back at him.

“Princess—” Luke starts as he takes a few steps towards you, but you just shake your head with a grin and hold out your hand.

“Trust me.”

And he does, somehow.

You didn’t know what part of himself Luke had to get to in order to actually go along with this, but he allowed you to fully take the lead. His eyes never left yours as you guided him through one of your favorite dances—sometimes you called out whatever move that was coming next, and he would do it perfectly. His instincts and reaction time, sharply honed by his training, actually came in handy.

“And lift!”

Luke braced his hands on your waist as he raised you into the air without missing a beat, and you found yourself actually laughing with pure glee as you landed. You grinned at Luke who had a smile smaller than yours, but that you knew meant the same. He glowed with exertion and the light of the full moon shone down on him.

Angelic was the only word you could think of to describe him.

“Princess,” he said, bringing you back to the real world, “are we done?”

“I see no reason not to end while we’re ahead,” you said, slightly out of breath from his lift. “You’re a natural. Are you sure you’re not a prince?”

Luke’s smile didn’t fully reach his eyes for the slightest moment—he covered it up before you could fully analyze it. “Thankfully, I’m not. Otherwise I would have had to do that all my life like you.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you said offhandedly. “Especially when you’ve got such a great partner.”

Luke suddenly lowered himself into a bow, his arm held in front of his chest as he bent over. You couldn’t stifle your laugh in time, but he was smiling when he rose.

“The only proper way to truly end a dance, so I’ve seen,” he said. “I wouldn’t be such a great partner if I forgot that.”

You grinned as you took the skirt of your nightgown in your hands and bobbed into a curtsy. “Thank you for the reminder, my lord.”

A shiver ran through you and Luke’s eyebrows creased. “You should get back inside. You’re not dressed at all for this weather.”

“It’s simply a night chill,” you said, and you walked over to the railing and rested your forearms on it. “And it’s too beautiful a night to ignore.”

“It truly is.”

You heard Luke walk up next to you, so you glanced over. His gaze was only set on you.

You felt your cheeks flush and you bit back your smile as you stared back up at the stars. For a moment, you stood together in comfortable silence.

“Thank you for tonight,” you finally said.

You could hear his frown in his words. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You leaned a bit closer to the railing, shifting your balance. “Your presence always… calms me. And I was a bit nervous for tonight.”

When Luke finally responded, it was more restrained than usual. “Why?”

“Well, I was nervous tonight because you put the idea in my head that I was going to get murdered,” you said wryly. “And your presence calms me because it always has.”

“So… I made you nervous and calmed you down for what I made you nervous about?” Luke shook his head. “I’m sorry, princess.”

“Why are you apologizing?” You finally turned to look at him, the smallest smile on your lips. “Anytime I got overwhelmed on the floor, or felt as if I was going to keel over from boredom, I just searched around until I found you.” You shrugged. “The sight of you alone was enough to get me through the rest of it.”

“And of course,” you tipped a shoulder as your gaze drifted back to the stars, “you danced with me for no reason. That gives you all the good will you need from me.”

“It wasn’t for no reason,” he said. “It made you happy. That’s reason enough for me.”

The chill in the air was a blessing as you felt heat rise in your cheeks, and your smile grew just so.

“Besides.” You could feel his eyes on you as he continued. “This was my first ball. Anytime I got overwhelmed, I would find you in the crowd, and your confidence got me through it.”

You chuckled as your gaze fell to the marble railing. You didn’t know if you’ve ever felt less confident at a ball—but knowing that Luke was looking for you the same way you did him made butterflies arise in your stomach.

Warmth spurned all through you, and the fingers on your forearms felt bumps rise on your skin. You didn’t exactly know what possessed you as you cleared your throat and started back towards your room.

“It’s late,” you said, perhaps a bit too hasty. “We— we should turn in. It’s going to be a long ride back to Aurelda.”

You paused at the door, waiting to hear Luke’s footsteps or his voice, and it took a few seconds for him to do anything.

“...Yes,” he eventually said. “I apologize for keeping you so long.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you opened the door and walked back in. Always so noble—it was no question he had knight’s blood in his veins.

“It’s not your fault, Luke,” you said. “You were just meant to drop me off—I got you to stay.”

You sat on the side of your bed as Luke put his armor back on. There was no point in it, but he refused to let the implications of him leaving your room at this hour in his underclothes fester.

“I chose to stay,” he said. “I know better.”

“You can give it a rest for a night, Luke,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’m your princess, aren’t I?”

“Certainly.”

“And you are my knight.”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t see how anyone could have a problem with my knight spending time with me.” You smiled as you leaned forward, meeting his eyes. A smile twitched on his lips for just a moment before he continued to get dressed.

Soon enough, he was ready to go. Luke paused at the door, fingers on the handle, and met your eyes.

“Thank you again for tonight, princess,” he said. “I…”

His breath caught for a moment. His eyes flickered down to your neck. A millisecond later, they were back at eye level, and you allowed a knowing smile.

“I enjoyed it,” he murmured. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight, Luke,” you said softly.

And you got one more smile out of him before he closed the door behind him.

#IF I EVER DO NOT DO THE “IT'S BEAUTIFUL” “YEAH IT IS” *LOOKING AT THEM* TROPE THEN I AM DEAD I AM DEADDDD DO YOU HEAR ME #posting at midnight because i once again have no self control #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan au #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #knight!luke #sadie writes

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reineydraws · 3 months

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mishanks sketch dump bc ive been doodling them to de-stress or when i need a break from other pieces lately ✨️

#mishanks #akataka #dracule mihawk #shanks #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #mihawk #one piece #one piece fanart #the two of them in fancy vests are based off the costumes from the production of great comet i saw at the start of the year #am i percolating on some sort of mishanks fic mihawk pov based on 'dust and ashes'? ...maybe.#im scheduling this for when i am on a plane with the hope that by the time i once again have wifi there will be at least one nice tag lol #here's hoping :')#i scheduled this to post at 3:09 lmao #theyre married ur honour

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fivepibbles · 9 months

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they have him pinned, but at least they're warm!

fanart for @tsunochizu 's backwards through the snow fic! im SO normal about this story (still emotionally recovering from chapter 15) i love this fic so much <3

they are the STINKIEST of family...

(for those who haven't read this fic, first of all, go read it now. but also pebbles is mostly ok. kinda. hes just dirty and stinky... amongst other things)

#rain world #rw backwards through the snow #am i allowed to use that tag i hope so #ouyhgdhggdh this fic.... THIS FIC.....#this fic is everytging i wanted for a rain world fix it fic #like this fic has destroyed me and fixed me again ugh its so good #i could gush about this all day but unfortunately i am bills to pay children to feed . so have this fanart #everybody say thank you tsunochizu for writing such an amazing story full of super interesting headcanons and hurt/comfort #five pebbles #artificer #my art #now that i look back on the size ref i think i messed up the proportions a lot errmmmm oops #confession. i may have ressutected my dead art account JUST to post this fanart c:#pibblescribble

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findafight · 7 months

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Robin chose Steve. Robin made the conscious and deliberate decision that she could and would trust Steve. She already liked him! She had fun working and bantering with him! They were already on their way to being weird little bffs and the torture just expedited the process. Steve chose Robin just the same! He thinks she's fun and cool and likes her so much! He chose to be honest and open with her too, putting himself out there.

Even though their interests on the surface level don't match why wouldn't they share them? Steve clearly caves when Robin wants to watch a movie he doesn't think he'll like, Robin can watch a March madness game or five.

Stop trying to take away their bond oh my god people can be close to more than one person!!! Their best friend doesn't have to be dismissive or mean or whatever in order for a romance to be special to them!

#if i have to see another fic or whatever that makes it seem like robin doesnt give a shit about what steve likes and talkes about im going #to scream and maybe even rampage #its nice to sit down and have someone who knows explain who the players are and what the stakes for this particular game!!#just because yall seem to not think anyone can be nutral towards sports doesnt mean people aren't #literally why is it so hard to believe robin would like to hear steve talk as much as steve likes to hear her talk #i am so close to telling some steddie shippers to not look at steve or robin or their friendship because some of yall do Not get it.#its like you can see them go 'have to make sure eddie is the most perfect specialest boy for steve...well that means robin doesn't Get Him '#or 'robin ignores him/dismisses his interests/isnt told everything happening in his life' like okay dont ever touch them again thanks #robin is steves specialest sunshine cupcake goober girl. steve is robins bestest happy times sweet funnyman. dont u dare take that away.#omce again tsgs longer than the post but ah well.#stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #finda's rambles #steve and robin #this is a scheduled post just to jazz things up i guess #but seriously some of yall need to STOP MESSIGN WITH STOBIN

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whump-is-love-whump-is-life · 4 months

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Screaming.

Please do not do this but I just screamed for 30 minutes so here’s what you should know.

Can’t do it continuously for very long, have to stop to breathe (amount of time and breaths it takes to recover depends on how long you hold it)

It is EXHAUSTING. Seriously, if your whumpee has been screaming for more than thirty seconds multiple times, they won’t have ANY energy to fight back against the whumper. My head was hanging down for a bit because I was just so tired. The exhaustion also caused dizziness when I stood up. Also it’s been around five minutes and my throat still hurts super bad.

Oddly, I could still talk, maybe a bit of rasp in my voice but still effectively and fairly easily. (Again, about thirty minutes with tiny breaks)

Seriously when the exhaustion hits, it hits H A R D

Mouth kinda hurts too tbh

Heart beats pretty rapidly during and shortly after

My head hurts

Both hurts and helps to cough

Update an hour later: slightly hurts throat to talk

Moral of the story:

Don’t scream so much that you exhaust yourself,

Make your whumpee scream to the whumpers content

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cappydoodle · 1 year

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rereading my own fic and yeah I'm a comedic genius I think

#pokemon #ingo #emmet #akari #hisuian sneasel #submas #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #my arts #id in alt text #aaaand know what im making a new tag #my fics #ehehe i've never promo'd my own writing here i'm a lil nervous but it's fun tho!#self care is rereading your own writing and having fun doing it <3 #if ur interested in the fic it's called tag-along and yknow it's a post-pla submas reunion fic #ingo brought akari and a sneasel with him and emmet found them in the subway tunnels and now they're trying to get akari home #it's still a wip that i am slowly chipping away at again (got sidetracked cause of college bleh)#this scene in particular takes place in chapter 5 and it legit caught me off guard cause i did Not remember writing this lmao #fr i really do love writing this fic cause i get to have big emotional goodbyes and reunions and also the Pizza Argument #tag along au #2k

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wolfpants · 24 days

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long haul - a drarry fic

Long Haul | E | 8.6k

The last person Harry expects to run into on a long haul flight to New York City is Draco Malfoy.

Tags: EWE, NYC, mile high club, professor Harry, ward expert Draco, a history of missed opportunities, past background ships, drinking, sleeping together, competent Draco, flirting, mentions of infidelity (not between Drarry), hung Draco, public sex, dirty talk, pet names, mild D/s elements, mild humiliation kink, praise, blow jobs, deep throating, face fucking, light choking, exhibitionism, facials, these tags are kind of ott but this fic is v cosy I promise, kissing, morning sex, hand jobs, anal fingering, finger sucking, spanking, rough sex, anal sex, happy ending

Harry glances at Draco’s hand again, and this time, Draco catches him looking. “Oh.” Draco spreads out his fingers, turning them over. “That.” Harry blushes. “Sorry. I’m being nosy.” Dry and amused, “Subtle as ever.” “It was in the paper.” Harry shifts, turning to rest his arm on the back of the couch, his head in his hand. Draco does the same, mirroring him, crossing his legs. Their knees graze. He doesn’t move away. “The announcement, I mean,” Harry says. Draco pulls in a measured breath and nods, looking at his naked ring finger. “That was a long time ago.” He looks up with a smile. “They only gave us a few inches. You must have been looking very hard.”

read on ao3 here

#oh my god I am so happy to finally be posting a drarry fic again #drarry #drarry fic #writing #harry/draco #draco/harry #harry x draco #draco x harry #hp fanfic #hp smut #drarry smut #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction

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ghosttrolls · 3 months

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First passes at comics are always so wonky avsjdkdbbd

#ghostly posts #danny phantom #my art #hmmmmmm I should add... more to that one panel #since I didn't take up the full page maybe I like. make that one taller #wip #-> based on a fic I basically wrote in its entirety last year sometime #I am tweaking it a bit for the format of comic. maybe I post the thing itself too idk #once again jumping into the MIDDLE BTW. I cannot start a comic at the actual start

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quinn-pop · 7 months

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let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

#i almost considered not posting this on a wednesday but then i wrote everything and uhhh yeah i think i gotta so #happy cringe day wednesday #for as many notes as i have on these characters i really don’t talk about it much #but meta knight is a special case because i am terrible at subtlety and he wouldn’t be meta knight without it #so this is to contextualize some things #because of what ill have in the next few days haha #basically these are just things i consider when writing meta #but a lot of it is subtextual and i dont know how well it comes across #kirbyposting #kirby #meta knight #headcanons #autism headcanon #this is practically an essay lol oops #i have like 2/3 of a fic that explores most of this in a way i probably won’t do again #but we’ll see if i ever finish it #god kirby concepts are so fun to chew on #i overthink everything i make so much lol

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hiding-under-the-willow · 23 days

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Thinking about him falling asleep on top of the tower, overlooking the neighborhood. Also thinking about him waking up in the middle of the night due to strange happenings.

#atlas.art #artists on tumblr #mcyt #hermitcraft #hermitcraft 10 #rendog #renthedog #i am once again bringing you all out of context looks at the fic I've been writing with no context <3 #likeahouseonfirefic #look! it has a tag now! nice and official lol. maybe that means I'll actually post it at some point #anyways I'm struggling with my phones wifi hotspot to get this to you all at 10 o'clock at night while i'm away from home so be nice lmao

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exhuastedpigeon · 25 days

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I want to be your fantasy (maybe you could be mine)

Buddie | Explicit | 7.2k Bachelor party, former stripper Eddie, pole dancing, lap danced, smut, getting together

“Let me get this straight,” Eddie asked, voice as deadpan as Buck had ever heard it. “Chimney wants a classic bachelor party, but he doesn’t want to go to Vegas and he doesn’t want to go to a strip club and he thinks we’re too old to go to a regular club.”

“Yep,” Buck had his feet kicked up onto Eddie’s coffee table, a beer held loosely in his hand, his thigh pressed against Eddie’s even though Chris wasn’t there tonight so they didn’t actually have to sit so close.

“Which is why you made us watch The Hangover.”

“Correct.”

“Even though Hen is his best woman and she’s the one in charge of planning the party.”

“She asked me to help. I-I’m pretty sure I’m getting on Maddie and Chim’s nerves trying to help with the wedding and they asked her to give me something to do.”

“Well, did you learn anything about bachelor parties?” Eddie asked, voice no longer deadpan and instead a little teasing. Buck couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach when Eddie smirked at him, but he could ignore it.

“Maybe we can just go golfing?”

“Yeah, that could work,” Eddie took a sip of his beer. “Make a whole weekend of it and stay at one of those fancy ass golf resorts.”

“T-that’s actually a great idea,” Buck pulled his phone out to text Hen. “Getting drunk on a golf course feels like a very classic bachelor party.”

“It’s what we did for my cousin Diego a few years back,” Eddie smiled at him as he spoke. “We also went to a strip club that night though.”

“No strip clubs,” Buck said with a sigh. “This would be so much easier to plan if he wasn’t marrying my sister and if he didn’t have so many requirements.”

“You’re the man with the plan, you’ll figure it out,” Eddie said, clinking his beer bottle against Buck’s with a cheeky grin.

Buck sighed when Hen said no to the golfing and texted her back that maybe they should just go to a Dodgers game, Chim loved baseball. Baseball could be a bachelor party activity.

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#buddie #my fic #buddie fic #911 #ao3 had a meltdown and when I posted the fic it disappeared so I had to post again (I AM WEEPING)

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hardly-an-escape · 6 months

Text

A Close Shave | Dream/Hob | 2150 words | Rated G

tags: retired!Dream, shaving, unmitigated yearning and longing, the pining is probably mutual but you only get Hob's POV

“Been meaning to ask," Hob says. "How are you feeling about... this?"

He gestures to his chin, the stubble there, and across the table, Dream slowly puts down his spoon. Even more slowly, he raises one hand to his own chin and runs the backs of his fingers along the newly-grown layer of hair there.

It’s been a little over a month, and by now Hob is used to the speed – or rather, lack thereof – with which Dream finds it necessary to live his freshly-human life. A month, since Dream had chosen to live, and chosen to live with Hob, taking over the spare room and filling it with books and soft cardigans and snacks as he learned his own likes and dislikes as Dream-the-human.

It still feels to Hob as though there’s a minor miracle sitting across the breakfast table, now thoughtfully fondling the brand-new beard on his chin.

“Ah,” Dream says eventually. “You mean this. The hair on my face. Yes, I have noticed it.”

“I’ve never seen you with a beard before,” Hob says neutrally.

“I suppose I never felt the need to manifest one when I visited the Waking World,” Dream says. He returns most of his attention to his oatmeal. It still requires some concentration, to hold the spoon steady; to make sure it reaches his mouth without spilling. Hob watches for a moment, impressed all over again with Dream’s willingness to try.

“Does it bother you, having one now?” he asks.

“Why would it bother me? It is a part of my body, is it not?”

Hob, wisely, refrains from mentioning the other body parts and functions – the sunburn, the stubbed toe, the sensations of hunger and dizziness and nausea, the need for sleep and to relieve himself – which have bothered Dream an inordinate amount over the past four weeks.

“But do you like it?” Hob presses gently. “I mean, one of the great things about being human is that it’s pretty easy to change our looks, generally speaking. Maybe not as easy as just… manifesting. But still. You get to choose what you look like, whether it’s a beard or clean-shaven, or, or pink hair. Or anything. Infinite variety.”

Dream puts his spoon down again and brings both hands up to his face. His palms cup either side of his chin and his long, narrow fingers stroke gently, from the downy hairs peppering his cheekbones, down into the hollows of his cheeks (not quite as gaunt as they used to be, Hob notes with a swell of gratitude), and then along the line of his chin to where it ends in a devastating little point.

In the morning light, with his face framed by those artistic fingers and a look of such solemn concentration on his features, he looks like a statue; a religious icon, perhaps, contemplative and blessed. His eyes are closed and his rosebud of a mouth is very pink and very slightly open.

Hob has to dig his fingernails into his own thigh to stop himself from reaching out and running his own fingers down Dream’s cheek, or brushing his thumb along that unfairly soft-looking bottom lip.

“Hm,” Dream says finally. “I do not think I dislike the beard. But equally, I am not sure that I like it. I am not sure that my face… feels like me.”

“Well,” Hob says. “You can shave it off, if you want. See if you feel more like yourself. I can – I can help you. Obviously.”

Obviously. Obviously. He supposes it is obvious – it must be – how desperately he wants to help Dream. How abject his desire to make this fragile, human life a little more bearable, in any small way he can.

“Yes,” says Dream. “I would… like that. Thank you.”

Hob drags a kitchen chair into the bathroom. Digs out his softest hand towel and wets it with hot water before wrapping it carefully around Dream’s face and neck. He chatters idly as he gathers his supplies: random recollections about his favorite Turkish bath in London, which had gone out of business during the Great War, and the Russian steambaths and Finnish saunas he’s seen during his travels.

He doesn’t use his old straight razor much anymore, preferring a good reusable safety razor for himself when he’s going clean shaven, but he’s always found a well-honed, old-fashioned cutthroat to be more comfortable when shaving someone else. And he keeps his razors, like any tool, in good condition whether he’s using it regularly or not; the mother-of-pearl handle is clean and polished, the joint moves smoothly, and the blade gleams.

Dream watches through hooded eyes as Hob strops the razor and mixes up the suds of shaving foam. He loads up the soft bristle brush before removing the towel and making sure Dream is positioned in front of the mirror.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Hob says. “I’m going to start by just doing your neck and cheeks, clean up the edges a bit. You might like it more when it looks like an intentional beard, not just a couple weeks’ worth of shaggy growth. And if you’re still not feeling it, we’ll shave the rest. Sound okay?”

Dream nods, and Hob goes to work.

Touching Dream is – not difficult, not exactly. If anything, it’s too easy. Hob’s fingertips hunger for the soft brush of Dream’s skin, for the fluff of his dark hair, for his stubble and his slender hands and the little creases in the corners of his eyes. In those earliest mad days, when Dream hadn’t even been strong enough to walk on his own, Hob had manhandled him matter-of-factly. He’d helped him walk, and dress, and eat; taught him how the bathtub worked and washed his body, cheerfully ignoring the furious flush on Dream’s face at the indignity of needing to be cared for. They’d gotten through it.

He’s mature enough to admit to himself that he misses it, now that Dream has gained enough strength of body and mind to do it all for himself. There’s something so intimate about that contact with another person: about being needed in that particular intense way. It’s heady. The longing for it almost chokes him, sometimes, with how badly he wants it: to hoist Dream in his arms and cradle him against his chest. To wash his hair and rub him gently dry. To hold a cup of water or warm milk to those perfect lips.

But Hob, for all his faults, is trying so hard not to be an asshole these days. So he doesn’t touch Dream that way, now that it isn’t needed – now that he isn’t needed. No matter how much he might like to.

Until now.

Now, for just a moment, he lets himself indulge. Runs his hungry fingertips along the soft, vulnerable curves of Dream’s throat and the firmer lines of his jaw as he brushes on the shaving foam. Tips his head gently this way and that, revels guiltily in how biddable Dream is as he sits quietly in the chair.

Hob takes his time with the actual shaving, both out of caution (perhaps even a bit of terror, that he might inadvertently mark that precious skin) and out of a desire to linger over the experience for as long as he can get away with. Unfortunately, shaving just a person’s neck doesn’t really take that long, regardless of how carefully one does it. Within just a handful of minutes, he is carefully wiping the last spot of soap from the hollow of Dream’s throat and turning him fully toward the bathroom mirror.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Dream doesn’t answer right away. He turns his head from side to side, surveying his reflection. Then he tilts his chin up and runs his fingers down the newly-soft skin of his neck. Hob’s fingertips tingle. He knows the sensation Dream is experiencing, knows it intimately: the smoothness of the hairless skin, the slight tackiness of the moisturizer. Knows it from his own face, and from the faces of lovers over the decades, and even from poor, long-dead Robyn’s face, when he’d taught his son to shave.

He doesn’t say anything, and after a moment Dream meets his eye in the mirror.

“I think I would like to have the rest of it off,” he says. “If you would not mind…?”

“No problem,” says Hob softly.

They go through the whole ritual once more: the hot towel, mixing up the foam. Hob strops the razor again, just to be sure. This time he carefully rubs a little pre-shave oil into Dream’s beard to soften the hairs as much as possible, then covers his face with the thick foam.

“I don’t really know if the oil does much,” he admits, “but the last time I went for a proper shave at a barber’s, the bloke who did it swore by the stuff. I guess I’m a sucker for a good upsell. And it does smell nice.”

It takes much longer this time, of course. He finishes the first pass, wipes Dream’s face, lathers him again and goes for a second pass. He leaves Dream’s sideburns mostly alone, just taking them up enough to blend in with the hair falling shaggy over his ears – if Dream wants a haircut that will have to be another adventure, to a real barber or a salon, because Hob doesn’t trust himself with that kind of artistry, not where Dream is concerned.

He narrates as he goes, describing the best angle to hold the blade, how to gently pull the skin taut to avoid nicks, when to go with the grain of the hair and when to scrape against it. Reminiscing further on his favorite barbers and spas and on a broad history of facial hair and shaving. He is babbling a bit, he knows, but he tells himself it’s for educational purposes; that this kind of general knowledge could potentially serve Dream well as he navigates a new human life.

He’s certainly not talking in order to distract himself from the sensation of Dream’s skin and the soft sounds of Dream’s breath, or to stop himself from saying something much more revealing and embarrassing. Like how he wants to take care of Dream for the rest of time. Or how badly he wants to see if his skin is as soft all the way down as it is in the tender place just behind his ear. Or how fiercely grateful he is that Dream has chosen to live, to try, to be here, to sit in a kitchen chair and eat oatmeal, to sit in this bathroom and let Hob run his fingers down the line of his jaw, over and over, trying to memorize the feeling of every inch of skin he’s allowed to touch as he runs the razor over the valleys of Dream’s cheeks.

He will never run out of words to say to Dream – or words he wishes he could say – but eventually he does run out of skin to shave. At his direction, Dream leans over the sink and rinses his face with cold water, then gently pats in aftershave while Hob meticulously dries his razor and clears away the shaving tackle.

Then it’s quiet in the little bathroom for a long, long moment while Dream reexamines his face in the mirror.

“Well?” Hob says eventually, so low it’s almost a whisper. He allows himself one last touch. Drops his hand onto Dream’s shoulder and squeezes gently.

Dream makes eye contact in the mirror, and Hob is shocked by a swift bolt of recognition. Here, in front of him, is Dream – his Stranger, his centennial mystery – so different, so human, and yet, suddenly, so familiar. It could almost be 1489 again, save the electric lighting; his hair is nearly long enough, and the imperious pout is back on his lips.

And then he opens his mouth.

“Hob, I –” he trails off. Breathes. “I am me.”

Hob squeezes his shoulder again. “Of course you are.”

“No, you misunderstand. I – I recognize myself,” Dream says, unconsciously echoing Hob’s thoughts. “I see a man, and he looks like me.” He meets Hob’s eye in the mirror once again. “I – thank you.”

Dream’s eyes are, unaccountably, welling up with tears, as beautiful and delicate as the rest of him. Hob does the only thing he can think to do, which is to drop his chin to Dream’s shoulder, lay his own hairy cheek alongside Dream’s newly-smooth, freshly-scented face, wrap his arms around Dream’s bony chest, and hold him.

One of Dream’s hands comes up and wraps itself around Hob’s wrist, and they stay that way for a long time: Dream in the kitchen chair, in front of the bathroom mirror, and Hob behind him, holding him, crouched somewhat uncomfortably, but exactly where he wants to be.

---

this has been languishing in my drafts for absolute ages and I wish it hadn't taken me so ding dang long but it is what it is || this two cakes situation is inspired by @watercubebee's art and dedicated to her and @valeriianz 🎂🎂 || art, Kris's ficlet (plus part two)

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#hello I am once again posting barely edited fics in the wee hours AS IS MY WONT #do you know how long I've had a tab open with the wikihow article on shaving with a straight razor?? it's been WEEKS #someday I will improve on my current writing speed of twelve words per day smh #my writing #dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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bigboysteveharrington · 1 year

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Eddie lowkey outing himself by accident but Robin’s the only one that’s even certain that’s what’s happening

Eddie’s finally graduated and he’s having a celebratory bonfire with the Hellfire Club and Steve and Nancy and Robin at it. They’re out by Skull Rock so that they won’t get shit or noise complaints from other people in the trailer park. They’ve already ceremonially burned 6 years worth of Eddie’s notes and homework and failed tests by the time Eddie goes off on his own

Which later, he’ll realize wasn’t a great choice. But it’s supposed to be safe in Hawkins with all the gates closed now and in the moment, he just knows that his bladder has caught up to all the drinking and he really needs to take a leak. And okay, maybe he goes a little further away from everyone than is strictly necessary, but he has a shy bladder

And it’s fine at first. He takes a piss and zips his pants back up and goes to head back to where everyone else is but then he gets cut off by the latest kind of demo-monster to be on the loose in Hawkins and he has nothing on him but his wallet, his lighter, and a pack of cigarettes so he is certain that he’s really dead meat this time

He stumbles backwards in his rush to get away from the demo-thing and ends up falling over a broken branch and landing on his ass. The things still moving closer and they’re not supposed to like fire, so he pulls his lighter out and holds the pathetic little flame at arm’s length and yells at it to keep back as if that’s going to do anything. He shouts at it as loud as he can, but he’s the one that brought the boombox and set the volume at the highest so he’s not holding out a lot of hope about being heard and he doesn’t know that it would really help if any of them heard him anyway. So mostly he just thinks he’s dragging out his own death by making the thing come after him slightly more hesitantly because of the fire

But Steve notices Eddie sneak off on his own and it hasn’t been that long, but he thought he’d be back by now, so he’s already contemplating going to check that he’s fine when he hears something off in the direction Eddie went over the shitty music

And clearly Nancy heard it too because she’s already rushing off in that direction and while Robin and the kids rush after her to see what’s going on and Eddie’s out of the loop friends look at each other confused about what’s going on, Steve grabs a big ass stick off the ground and pours the last of his drink over the end and dunks it in the fire and then grabs a big ass bottle of vodka for good measure because even though he couldn’t totally hear what Eddie called out and even though this might just be Eddie up to his usual dramatics on the way back, Steve knows there’s a very real chance that it’s not and that once again the nightmare with the Upside Down isn’t really over like they thought it was and there’s no way he’s risking rushing in as weaponless as everyone else and putting them all in danger. He’ll be the weird guy that chased Eddie with a flaming tree branch to his Hellfire friends if he has to be because he’ll take that over risking anything happening to anyone there

Eddie’s lying on his back on the ground with the full body weight of the demo-thing on him and he’s got his eyes clenched shut and he’s holding on tight to his lighter with his hands up with to protect his face as if that’s going to do anything to stop this thing from ripping him to shreds, but then suddenly there’s a squelching thwack and then an awful ear-splitting screeching and there’s nothing holding Eddie down anymore. He opens his eyes and sees Steve beating the thing with a flaming tree branch and Nancy grabbing an equally large not flaming stick to join in while everyone else rushes over to check that Eddie’s okay. And then Steve warns Nancy to back up and throws the vodka bottle at the demo-thing and lights it fully on fire

It takes a bit for it to burn and Eddie to remember how to stand back up, but by the time he does, Eddie’s adrenaline is still running wild and he’s floating on the natural high that comes with narrowly escaping death. He tells the kids he’s fine and gets up and then turns to Steve and starts heading toward him while he laughs and gushes, “That was incredible. I was sure I was sure I was a goner and then there you were just casually pulling off the most badass move I’ve ever seen out of anyone. Seriously dude. That was awesome. I swear I could kiss you right now.” Which he emphasizes by grabbing Steve’s face in both hands and then planting a quick dramatic kiss on him and he only really realizes what he’s done in front of everyone after he’s already let go of his face so he quickly rushes to add, “Seriously, I could kiss all of you right now” but then nope, that’s not a good cover either and he realizes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, so he quickly adds, “I mean not any of you kids because that’d be weird, but” and thankfully Robin chimes in with “I’m good without” and Nancy quickly adds that she is too so Eddie doesn’t have to start kissing all of his friends near his age just to try to cover for the whole heat of the moment kissing Steve before thinking it through thing. And Steve hasn’t hit him, so that’s a good sign that he might get out of this with people just assuming this is another one of his eccentricities and nothing serious

The kids and Nancy just assume that the kiss was just an extension of his dramatics and that he thought it would be funny. Robin is onto Eddie, but not about to say anything about it. Steve’s too busy with his internal huh, okay… apparently I like that to even start considering Eddie’s motives until long after the kiss has actually happened

#Gareth and Jeff after learning monsters are real and watching their friend kiss King Steve on the lips out of nowhere all in under 1 minute #like 🧍🏼‍♂️🧍🏾‍♂️#This week’s mood is well I’m not going to get to writing any of these in fic form any time soon but I’m thinking about them again so may as #well make a post about them in the meantime #I am so sorry but I am once again night posting and not rereading for mistakes and just accepting I’ll be sad about them being there later #lmao why did autocorrect change me mistyping closed into the gates fliers #This is what I get for no rereading at the time #Steddie #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #ST4 #ST #Stranger Things #Mine

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 11 months

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So there's a 60s song. One of my favorites. I have several, but let's not focus on that. Its called Give Him A Great Big Kiss by The Shangri-Las, and everytime i hear it, it makes me think of steddie.

More so of Steve finding the song, probably in his mom's old record case. And he's always loved the song. But then he met Eddie. And it's meaning changed. His thoughts constantly drifting to Eddie when he hears it. And he starts singing it all goofy and love sick when he hears it now.

He and Robin work at a bar downtown, Eddie works at the mechanic shop around the corner. He comes in for early lunch a lot, and that's how they meet. They get along great. All of them do. Robin loves him to death. As far as she's concerned she gained another soulmate along side Steve. One who blabbers like her and they rant at each other constantly, Steve watching them fondly.

But he's also got it bad for Eddie. Obviously. And Robin knows this. Knows about the song. And the way Steve sings it all gooey and adoring and lost in thought.

After a few plays of the song she sings along with him, they duet they're hearts out when it comes on and the bar is empty. Usually right before they open. Both of them using mops, or bottles, or dishrags as microphones as they sing.

Eddie is pining too. He's got it so bad for Steve that he finds it hard to look at him sometimes. And Robin, drukenly one night, after Steve had fallen alseep in his chair beside the pool, had told Eddie to shoot his shot. That he'd sink it, or get a home run, or a touchdown, or some other sports term that neither of them really understood.

But everytime Eddie has tried to make a move, something comes up. They get interrupted. Every. Single. Time. Eddie had decided fate was against them and almost given up hope.

He'd had a plan today. Come to the bar for lunch before they opened, ask him, whether Robin was there or not. She'd been making it a point to not speak to them if it looked like they were talking about something important. Eddie knew it was pity for him. Was endlessly greatful.

But that was how he ended up at the bar. Ducking in the side entrance they left open for him. And he's about to burst in like normal, all loud enthusiasm to see his friends, but he hears Steve groaning about something, hears Robin laughing, hears his name, and it stops him, his hand pressed gently to the door.

"Uuugghhh my god. I'm useless. I was so good at this in school. I could ask anyone out. Like it was nothing." Steve grumbles, Eddie's stomach flutters, he pushed the door open, just a crack, can only see Robin where she's perched on the bar top, legs crossed.

"Maybe that's the problem." She shrugs, Eddie sees her drop her hand to the left, he bites his lip and carefully pushes the door a bit further. He has to stifle a laugh when he sees Steve, looking forlorn, head dropped onto the bar, Robin's hand petting at his hair absent-mindedly. He turns his head to look up at her and Eddie moves to the side a bit, hoping Steve doesn't notice him.

"Huh?" He huffs, glares up at her. She pats the side of his face a couple times and takes her hand back.

"You said you did it like it was nothing. Maybe this isn't nothing? With Eddie, I mean. Maybe it's... bigger. Better!" Her hands move in a flurry in front of her as she talks, Steve ducks away from them as he sits up on the stool properly.

"Better. ...elaborate?" He says slowly, his eyes on the ceiling, his face all screwed up the way Eddie loves, his concentration face, it would be Eddie's downfall one day.

Robin nods enthusiastically, plops her feet down onto the stool next to Steve.

"Well does it feel different? With Eddie? Than it did with all those other people?" She asks, looking down at him with an impossibly fond look.

Eddie watches Steve bite his lip, think for a long moment, his hand moves absent-mindedly to his stomach. Eddie mirrors him, his stomach fluttering as he watches. Feeling a bit guilty, but he can't look away. He can't move. He has to keep listening. Needs the courage, he tells himself. Steve nods.

"Yeah it does. It's different. He's different." Steve says, and he's got this dopey look on his face that Eddie's never seen. Robin nods, slides down off the bar, her butt replacing her feet as she holds Steve's knees tightly.

"Different then what? Then who?" Robin promtps, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Different then everyone." Steve breathes it like a prayer and then immediately shoves his face into his hands with a groan as Robin makes a high pitched noise in her throat.

"You know what this needs don't you?" She asks, excitement coursing through her now. She's on her feet before Steve answers, bouncing out of veiw, toward the jukebox in the corner. Steve groans again and turns to follower her.

"Alcohol?" He asks, voice dry. Eddie hears Robin snort.

"Maybe after work. But right now what we need, is.... drum roll please." She draws out the please. Eddie watches Steve sit on the stool, watching her. He gives her nothing.

"I said drum roll!!" She shouts, and Steve grins, tapping his hands on the stool between his legs.

"Theeeeeee Eddie song!" She sings, and Eddie faintly hears the click of the Jukebox before a womans voice fills the air. Music kicking in after the first few words, Steve already bobbing along. Eddie's heart stutters in his chest. He knows this song. Has heard Steve humming it a few times. It's not a bad song. Eddie's open to things.

He watches Robin dance back into view as Steve starts mouthing the words, pretending to fight against it. But all Eddie can hear are the lyrics, as Steve really starts to get into it, taking Robin's hand and letting her pull him off his seat.

"Thick wavy hair. A little too long. All day loooong, he's singin his song." Steve starts to sway, and Eddie can't do it, they're moving out of view and he needs to see this. He ducks through the door quietly and sinks back to the back corner silently, both of them lost in the song as they dance. Robin chiming in now.

"Well, what color are his eyes?" She asks Steve, perfectly in sync with the song, they've clearly done this... a lot. Steve shrugs and counters,

"I don't know. He's always wearing shades." He sighs wistfully.

"Is he tall?" Robin asks, climbing back onto the bar, laying on her stomach, feet kicked up in the air.

"Well, I've got to look up." Steve stays out on the dining floor, dancing between the tables, swaying his hips.

"Yeah? Well I hear he's bad." Robin scrunches her face as she sings.

"Hmm. He's good bad. But he's not evil." Steve furrow his brow, 'thinking'.

"Tell me more. Tell me more." Robin sings, kicking her feet to the beat, chin in her hands as she grins at Steve. He does a fancy twirl and falls into a chair, dreamy look on his face as he continues.

"Big bulky sweaters, to match his eyes. Dirty fingernails, oh boy what a prize." He swoons a little, his head resting on his chin for a moment before he spins up out of the chair again, dancing towards Robin as he sings through the chorus again.

Eddie's breathing is fast now, his palms sweating as he watches and listenes to Steve sing about kissing him in the street, and loving and caring for him. Wanting to always be there for him. Eddie doesn't miss how fond he looks.

He's looked fond this entire time. Fond and... something else. Eddie's not sure there's a word for it. But he thinks 'longing' might be close. He wipes his palms on his grease stained jeans and moves foward, slowly, not wanting to draw attention, but he can't stay put any longer. Robin chimes in again, rolling onto her back dramatically, arms crossed over her chest.

"Is he a good dancer?"

"What do you mean is a good dancer?" Steve laughs into the line and Eddie's stomach flutters, he could watch Steve like this forever.

"Well how does he dance?" Robin sings, sitting up and facing Steve as he closes in on the stool in front of her, places his hands on it and practically sighs the last line.

"Close. Very, very, close."

The music fades. Robin singing the last of the 'oohs' gently as it does, both her and Steve smiling at each other. Eddie takes this moment to bump into a chair, sending it screeching a few inches across the floor, both of them flailing as they turn to look at him.

"Oh my god!" Robin yells, her hands clamping over her mouth. Steve is frozen as she looks between him and Eddie. Eddie raises one hand from his thigh, wobbles his hand in an awkward wave.

"Uhh... hey." He says, brilliantly. Steve's face is getting redder and redder as he stands there, and Eddie can see him tensing. About to bolt.

So he does something he's never been very good at. For Steve. He finds his bravery and walks right up to Steve, plants himself in front of him, hands landing on his shoulders harder than he meant too, but Steve doesn't flinch.

"Hey." Eddie breathes, his thumbs soothing over Steve's collarbones.

"You already said that." Steve says flatly, he's still staring at Eddie. Eddie's pretty sure he hasn't blinked since he hit the chair.

"Right. Yeah. Lemme try somethin else then." Eddie breathes, ducks forward, presses his lips gently to Steve's, feels Steve gasp against his lips and then feels his hands clamp down on his hips, hard.

It's a small kiss. Just a press of lips really, warm, and sweet, and gentle. But when Eddie pulls back, they're both breathless. Eddie vaguely hears Robin make that happy high pitched noise again, and clapping. And then any sounds from her are drowned out by the next song that clicks on, You Send Me by Sam Cooke. Eddie loves this song.

"You wanna dance?" He asks, brushes his nose against Steve's cheek, laughs when Steve follows him, trying to catch his lips again.

"I dunno. Are you a good dancer?" Steve asks, smirking at Eddie, though his eyes are shining and soft.

"What do you mean am I good dancer?" Eddie asks, feigning offense.

"Well... how do you dance?" Steve recites, sounding almost shy.

Eddie bites his lip, wraps his arm around Steve's waist, and pulls him tightly to his chest as he turns him further onto the dance floor, guiding them between tables with an out of character grace.

"Close. Very, very, close." Eddie breathes, his heart fluttering as Steve throws his head back and laughs, his arms circling Eddie's neck as they sway together, holding each other close as the music plays on.

#OKAY Y'ALL I AM SO STOKED ABOUT THIS FIC I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #I. GONNA POST IT AND THEN RUN AWAY AND MAYBE REPAINT MY NAILS AGAIN CUZ IM NERVOUS BUT EXCITED OKAY HERE WE GOOOOOO #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #Fates Endless Inkwell #fei #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #my writing #mine #my fic

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