š¦¹ jean kirstein doesn't let you peel your own oranges.
the moment he smells that delightful smell of fresh citrus, he comes running from wherever and whatever he was doing to take care of it for you.
he'll come up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and slipping his grip on the knife from you. jean stays pressed up against your back as he begins to peel off the skin from the orange. it feels like he's a puppy who can't be alone for more than five seconds.
as you enjoy this moment together, he'll hum or talk to you as your heartbeat pounds through your chest. once he's done he'll give you a peck on the cheek, pop one of the pieces into his mouth, and walk away as if nothing even happened.
you know he loves you more than anything, but a part of you can't help but think that maybe he's doing it for the slice he claims for himself.
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Hello hello! I'm maxine ^^ also known as clem ! Abt my blog, this is a personal SIDE BLOG! dont be confused if @/orangewsunglasses follows and likes ur posts; thats just my main! im not too active there.
im a minor and have struggled with disordered eating, self harm, and suicidal tendencies, so talk about all of this will be on my blog occasionally. im doing much better now but yknow, shit happens
moving onnn
Interests!
I have A LOT of interests, but I'll only name a few !
-Deltarune/Undertale
-Silent Hill (two specifically), FNAF
-Heartcatch Precure, Madoka Magica, magical girl anime in general, BSD, Lucky Star
-Project Sekai, Hello Charlotte, Fear and Hunger Termina, Omori, Ace Attorney, FNAF, NSO, Dialtown
-All Ghibli movies, I Saw the TV Glow, Electric Dreams, 2001 A Space Odyssey, Over the Garden Wall, The Passenger 2023, But I'm a Cheerleader, FNAF movies, Scott Pilgrim
-Classic lit in general, but my favorite authors are Franz Kafka and James Baldwin.
-Fiona Apple. I love her music she's genuinely my favorite artist ever
I have a ton of other stuff I love but you'll have to stick around my blog ^_^
Blinkies & Stamps !
Blog Tags! And Strawpages <3
peeledoranges's strawpage
maxscollection's strawpage
Blabberš¤: abt my interests and daily happenings
Friendsš: my moots ^^
Peeling oranges: vents
Oodles of doodlesāļø: drawings that may or may not be doodles
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Like any / unloved thing, I donāt know if Iām real /
when Iām not being touched.
little beast - richard siken // i want to hold your hand - the beatles // temple of horus // francis forever - mitski // portrait of a lady on fire // holding hands feel so intimate - claudia barbs // like real people do - hozier // fade into you - mazzy star // show me how - men i trust // our bodies & other fine machines - natalie wee
Rating: General
CW: None apply for this one!
Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Sharing Food, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Peeling Oranges, Tooth Rotting Fluff
For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is sharing food."
šāāāāāš
Eddie hated peeling his oranges. Didnāt like jabbing his thumbs into the peel. Or the juice that sprayed out. Because then he was sticky. And he didnāt do sticky as a textureānot on his skin. It was gross to him. Usually, heād have Uncle Wayne peel his oranges for him. But, he doesnāt live in Indiana anymore, doesnāt live with Uncle Wayne.
He lives with Steve Harrington in Chicago, Illinois. In a little apartment with two windows that donāt open fully, a fridge door that has to be shut with their hips, and the air conditioner that always gave out mid-way through July. But it was theirs and it was snug and they loved being away from the past that haunted them.
The fun thing about Steve, his wonderful and beautiful Steve, is that he absolutely adores oranges. Always has one for his work lunch. Eats one with his breakfast. Has an orange ready for his study sessions and an hour before he sleeps. Heās very intricate in the way he peels his oranges. And, the thing Eddie never thought to do, he uses a little pocket knife.
Thatās something Eddie likes watching. Steve will grab fruit from their fruit bowl on the counter. Heāll hold it out in front of him. And lift the pocket knife to its skin, slicing it away from his body. Sometimes, depending on the fruit, heāll eat the slices off the blade of the knife. It made Eddie think about somebody rugged like Indiana Jones. And, he wonāt deny it, Harrison Ford had been one of his first celebrity crushes. So that says something, heās sure.
But thatās not the point. Eddie hates peeling his oranges. Steve loves doing so.
Theyāre sitting at their dining table the next time either of them wants an orange. Steveās got the newspaper folded over to the crossword puzzle, a mug of steaming coffee to the left, and his pocket knife and orange dutifully staring up at him from the table. Eddie simply has a plate of toast, a mug of coffee, and his orange. His stupid, vicious, sticky orange.
He watches Steve peel his. All intricate, delicate, and juice free. Eddie slumps in his chair, orange between his palms, thumb gliding over the textured skin. He wants his so bad. But he will not put himself through the torture of having sticky fingers. Not when he has other stuff to eat and things to do this morning. Yes, absolutely, he could wash his hands afterwards. But even when he does so, itās like the sticky feeling resonates with him, it quite literally sticks to him.
He resigns himself to having a banana instead. Though, just as heās passing by Steve to get to their kitchen, Steveās palm shoots out and lands in the center of Eddieās stomach. Effectively stopping him. He hums at the contact, orange in his grip, the citrus of Steveās own filling his nose.
Steveās hand travels south to Eddieās fruit. He sets it in front of him, where heās still leaning over the crossword puzzle, and gestures to Eddie for him to sit back down. So, Eddie sits down, intrigued. Until, wonderfully, Steve begins to peel Eddieās orange, too.
Away from himself. The skin in long stripes. Barely any juice trickling down his fingertips. He reaches across the table for Eddieās plate of toast, rearranging them, and setting the orange in the middle. And then he just slides it back over.
All without saying a single damn word. Eddie wonders how he just always knows.
āI donāt know how you do that,ā he says in awe.
āDo what?ā Steve murmurs, nose to his newspaper.
āJust peeling my orange. Like itās no problem.ā
Steve, the bastard, just shrugs. Nose down, glasses perched on his nose, tongue poking out between his lips, filling out the paper. Free hand gripped to his mug. Surrounded by stripes of orange peel. But noticeably, there are no slices of oranges.
Eddie picks his own up. Twisting it around in his hands.
Now, Eddie doesnāt like the juice dripping down his fingers. But Steve doesnāt like the white pulp. So, Eddie does the only logical thing. He gets up from the table, wanders into the kitchen, and sits back down with a fork in hand. And he peels as much pulp off as he feasibly can.
And when heās done, he reaches across the table, unwrapping Steveās hand from his mug, and plops down the pulp free slices in his hand. Half the orange in Steveās beautiful palm.
Steve looks up to Eddie. His eyes wide and his mouth agape.
āThank you for helping me, baby,ā Eddie whispers.
The view from across the table could be compared to every painted sunset. Steve smiles softly, his eyes crinkling with it, smile lines deepening, his nose crinkling. He sets a slice of orange on his tongue. And he wiggles in place in his seat. Heās such a dork, Eddie canāt help himself from thinking.
āYouāre cute, sweetheart,ā Eddie mutters, going back to his food.
