#i love this idea so much u have no idea | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minteayoongimakesmewoozi · 9 months

Note

what about royalty!au Sanemi and Akihiko?👉👈

ohohohoh! sanekihiko, eh? they are actually such a special lil pairing for me, if only because we see so little of them in fits canon.

and i really wanna write them... TwT so here are some drabbles of them!!! interspersed with some hcs cos why not

- The first time Sanemi meets Higuchi Akihiko, he finds him pretty annoying.

That guy is always hanging around the Butterfly Estate, even when he isn't injured. Talk about not reading the room; he should just fuck off and let the Kochou sisters do their job. He should have better things to do.

Sanemi also hates the way Akihiko stands. It's a little odd - spine straight and shoulders sitting in a way that looks regal. He never fidgets with his hands, an almost well-trained stillness to him that makes him almost look like a painted doll. When he is introduced to Sanemi for the first time (by Masachika), there's a calculated tilt to Akihiko's lips as he bows and murmurs his pleasantries.

It's the little jerk Akihiko does before he bows a little lower that has Sanemi's lips curling into a sneer. Just because he has the kanji for prince in his name doesn't make him an actual prince.

"Shinazugawa-san, it's a pleasure to meet you," Akihiko says politely, before visibly dismissing him to shoot the shit with Masachika.

That fucking asshole.

- of course, their relationship eventually thaws. it was hard to hate the guy when sanemi heard the way akihiko talked about his little sisters. he still thought it was amazingly idiotic of him to run around being a demon slayer when his family was still living, but to each his own.

although sanemi would appreciate it if akihiko didn't make such googly eyes at kanae-san. seriously, his hero worship had to end some time. it was disgusting. (sanemi didn't know if he was more jealous of kanae-san or akihiko.)

- The first time Sanemi starts to suspect that prince isn't just a part of Akihiko's name is when they have a run-in with minor nobility.

If you ask Sanemi, the thought of even having minor nobility is ridiculous. The notion is so antiquated that it makes his stomach cramp. He can't stop himself from scowling, his expression growing darker when he finds Akihiko and his annoying little crow that he calls Kin at the front of the house that was attacked.

Well, Sanemi calls it a house, but it's really a mansion. The garden could fit the entirety of his childhood home, and he wouldn't even know what to do with all this space. There are more rooms than there are shoes that sit in the genkan.

Akihiko is nonplussed, which just irritates Sanemi further. He enters the mansion with enviable grace, and the distraught daughter who is worrying over her little brother. He speaks to the minor noble with elegance and poise, his words carefully chosen and his every movement deliberate. Sanemi feels clunky and rough, like a stray mutt that was dragged in from an alleyway.

"Who are you?" Sanemi asks.

He doesn't mean anything by it. He finds himself surprised at the solemn look on Akihiko's face. To call it serious would be a mistake, because it's more than that. There is an entire lifetime that is left unspoken within those blue eyes that gaze at him.

"I'm no one important." Akihiko's laugh is hollow and doesn't reach his eyes. "Honestly, Sanemi, it's just manners."

Was it really just manners, when he had known exactly how to refer to the minor noble?

Sanemi doubts so. Then again, a prince wouldn't be a Demon Slayer. That's just absurd.

- masachika and kanae are the only people akihiko tells about his status as minor royalty. it's nothing, all things considered. akihiko has abdicated from his title, so he isn't any better than any other commoner. he finds himself more used to being called higuchi than o-akihiko-sama.

at his core, akihiko is just a simple boy. he isn't a prince at all. (even if he is.)

- what's the use of a prince who cannot even protect his younger sisters?

- "Why Akihiko?" Sanemi wonders aloud.

Akihiko pauses in his swings, tilting his head at Sanemi curiously. Sweat glistens on his bare chest, sliding down pale skin and dripping to the dirt. Sanemi carefully doesn't let his gaze wander, eyes fixed to Akihiko's face as emotions flicker across his features.

Three became two. Masachika rots in the ground and Sanemi is a Hashira. Akihiko is still Akihiko.

Akihiko laughs, resting the blunt edge of his bokken on his shoulder. "You're asking me? I didn't exactly choose my name, you know."

Sanemi scowls. "Just asking."

A shadow passes over Akihiko's face. His dark hair - as black as ink - is plastered to the back of his neck. It's getting long; he'll be asking Kanae-san or Sanemi himself to help him trim it.

"A name's just a name," Akihiko insists. "Don't think too much about it."

What's kuge mean? Sanemi wants to ask. He heard Kanae-san tease Akihiko about it the other day, but all he knew was that Akihiko had sputtered like a child and hurriedly shushed her. He doesn't know they the thought of Akihiko having secrets with Kanae-san makes him burn on the inside.

"What does your name mean?" Akihiko asks, flicking a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes.

Sanemi shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet."

"Huh? You making fun of me?"

"No." Akihiko lobs his bokken at Sanemi's head half-heartedly. Sanemi snatches it out of the air, rising to his full height. "It just means that even if you called a rose something else, it would still be a rose. It would still smell the same, and still be just as beautiful."

Sanemi clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, inexplicably irritated. "Never heard that before. It sounds like bullshit."

"Maa... others might call you Shinazugawa-sama, but you're still a grumpy old bastard, Sanemi."

The bokken whistles through the air. Akihiko let's out a yelp as the flat of the wooden plate cracks against his ass. He jumps a foot in the air, then whirls around to kick Sanemi's side.

Sanemi is more than ready for it. He traps Akihiko's leg against his side and takes a step forward to unbalance him. Of course, Akihiko being a Breath of Water user means he doesn't fall over, although he does hook an arm around Sanemi's neck so he doesn't land on his ass.

Belatedly, Sanemi realises that they're far too close like this. He hadn't thought this through.

"I don't get it," Sanemi says instead of a scathing retort.

This close, he can see Akihiko's unblemished skin, the curl of his eyelashes. Red paints Akihiko's cheeks like streaks of paint, and his blue eyes are wide.

Sanemi clarifies, "About the thing you said earlier."

It was in another language. He didn't know Akihiko spoke anything other than Japanese.

He realises there isn't a lot he knows about Akihiko. He knows the Breath of Water user has five sisters and two loving parents. He knows he came from a village somewhere in the northern part of Tokyo. He knows that Akihiko rarely scowls when met with civilians, but doesn't hold back his expressions when amongst Kisatsutai members - or at least he hadn't with Sanemi and Masachika. He knows Akihiko grieves stoically, but cries openly.

That's just about all he knows. He doesn't know what Akihiko did before he became a Demon Slayer, why he became a Demon Slayer when his family is still alive. He doesn't even know what kanji makes up Akihiko's name.

Akihiko chuckles. It's quiet and slow, and Sanemi can feel it in the depths of his chest.

"It means," murmurs Akihiko, "that whether your name is Sanemi or not, you're still you. You'd still be beautiful. Just like a rose."

The tension in the air is palpable. Sanemi can barely breathe because of it.

This is the moment he should let go. Akihiko should stumble away with an irate complaint - then he'll storm off while flipping Sanemi off.

Instead, Akihiko looks at him like he's something precious. Something beautiful and fragile and untouchable.

His arm around Sanemi's neck loosens, but he still rests his calloused palm against his sensitive nape.

"I shouldn't," Akihiko breathes.

His gaze darts downwards. Sanemi feels hot all over when Akihiko licks his lips; he's staring at Sanemi's lips.

"Pussy," Sanemi snarls quietly.

The heat in his chest won't go away.

"What's in a name?" Akihiko counters, then surges forward to press his lips to Sanemi's.

Sanemi's grip on Akihiko's leg tightens.

- in the end, it doesn't matter if akihiko is nobility, royalty or commoner. kuge or not, he still finds himself ensnared in douma's grasp, and he still falls to his younger sister's blade.

- sanemi finds another person to grieve. another thing to fuel his anger against onis. they take and take - and they always take from him.

- "What's in a name?" Sanemi says to Akihiko's younger sister, years later.

Higuchi Ayame pauses. Her blue eyes are almost the exact copy of Akihiko's, although the corners of them are harsher. She had always glared much more than Akihiko ever did.

"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet," Ayame completes slowly. "Akihiko-nii's favourite quote."

"Quote?"

"From Shakespeare. He was an English poet in the sixteenth century. Or seventeenth. I always forget."

Sanemi knows now that he and Akihiko would have never worked out. He knows more about kuge and buke than he did as a sixteen-year-old. The way Akihiko held himself - the way Ayame holds herself now - makes so much sense.

Not just nobility, no.

Royalty.

Akihiko was royalty, and he still recited poetry to him. Still kissed him like Sanemi was precious and important.

His old scars had never faded, but this particular unseen scar ached fiercer today.

Sanemi runs an absentminded hand through his hair. "Do kuge ever marry commoners?"

Ayame blinks. It's such an innocent expression that the mirage of Akihiko shatters in an instant.

She isn't Akihiko. Akihiko is gone. Permanently this time.

"No," she answers honestly, "but Akihiko-nii wasn't kuge when he joined the Kisatsutai. It's just a title anyway."

Her words and her actions don't match up. If the rumours are to be believed, then that Kamado brat is buke. That makes him more Ayame's equal than Sanemi had ever been to Akihiko.

And still they dance around each other like two nitwits.

"It's just a title," Sanemi echoes.

He tells himself it isn't for her benefit. (He knows he's lying.)

#anonnie #me as a writer #fog in the summertime asks #fits asks #fog in the summertime #fits #sanekihiko #higuchi akihiko #shinazugawa sanemi #ask n answer!#this pairing is so dear to me #i can't really explain it #sorry this took me so long to get to!#i love this idea so much u have no idea

4 notes · View notes

stevebabey · 1 year

Text

no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away.

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

—

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus

#OBLIVIOUS STEVE IS MY FAVOURITE!!!!#idiots in love #they're so important to me ur honour #on god am i gonna make them KISS #but steve's gotta figure it out first lol #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #i think i can call it a fic now lol each part is 3k+ i think #steddie fic #IF U WANTED TO BE TAGGED AND I DIDNT IM SORRY #lest i come off terribly egotistical i need direct instructions to tag lmao #even then i tagged sum people that just said 'can't wait for part 2!' which? isn't?#I DUNNO #i went off vibes someone said they were vibrating so i was like get over here the next part is here #one of these tags is just a steddie blog i love.... and they reblogged part 1 #corrodedcoughin <3 i love u hehe #the stobin bestie love SHINES in this #i love them so much they are BEST FRIENDS!!!#if u have any ideas... i do love reading the tags and seeing what people want to see next ! im fuckin making it up as i go lol

4K notes · View notes