#tree hugger shirt

[rmjetdesigns]

Tree Hugger - Original Art - Unisex Heavy Cotton Tee (source: ETSY)

[swimmingruinsdream]

Tree Hugger Board Feet Estimator T-Shirt

This shirt is perfect for nature lovers who enjoy the great outdoors! The design features the text "If You See Me Hugging A Tree I'm Estimating Board Feet," which is a humorous way to express your love for trees and your passion for woodworking. With this shirt, you can show off your unique personality and let others know that you're proud to be a tree hugger and an expert in estimating board feet. It's a fun and lighthearted way to express your love for nature and woodworking!

[vigilante-3073]

Tree-hugger

Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

PART 2

Summary: Daryl managed to convince Y/N to move closer to the prison. He keeps true to his promise of visiting her.

TW: Flirting, fluff, nervous Daryl

Y/N lived in the forest just outside the fences of the prison. Daryl tried to convince her to come inside, but she refused. Y/N operated on her own schedule, moving to different areas around the perimeter every few days. Daryl tended to think of her as an outdoor cat, only coming around when she wanted attention or food.

Daryl gave her a radio to keep in touch, checking up on her when he hadn't seen her in a few days. She had managed to survive this long without any assistance and Daryl couldn't deny that he was impressed.

Daryl invited her on scavenging missions, providing her with the opportunity to help out and get some more supplies for herself at the same time. Y/N waited for him outside the gates whenever they were going to go on a run, never going inside.

She trusted Daryl implicitly and he felt the same way. It was both the strangest and longest lasting friendship that Daryl ever had.

...

Daryl and Y/N sat around the fire in silence, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers as he watched her cook a rabbit. Life in the prison had finally settled and things were starting to function as they should.

Crops had started to grow in the yard and they had running water for the first time in a long time. They were safe and life was good.

Y/N deserved that too. She deserved to have an actual bed and a stable place to call home, even for a few days.

"You can trust them, y'know?" Daryl said, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing smoke up into the air.

"Trust who?" Y/N questioned, eyes not moving from the fire as she rotated the meat in the flame.

"My group... Or Rick, at least," Daryl said, flicking the ashes from the end of his cigarette.

"I trust you. That's enough for me," Y/N stated, eyes finding his over the fire and shooting him a small smile, "Besides, groups make me nervous and I work better on my own anyway," She shrugged.

"What about me?" Daryl asked.

"If you're willing to drag that beautifully sculpted body of yours up a tree, I would be more than happy to turn this into a two man operation," Y/N said, eyes running over him appreciatively.

"I can't climb for shit," He said with a smile, flicking the ashes from the end of his cigarette.

"I could teach you," Y/N offered.

"Nah, you just want an excuse to stare at my ass all day," Daryl said, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"It is a nice ass," She smiled.

Daryl didn't push the subject of meeting the group. He knew that she would come around in due time.

...

Daryl made his way through the forest, crossbow held close to himself as he stared up into the trees. He knew that Y/N had moved into this area since the last time he saw her.

Daryl would never understand how she managed to blend in so well.

Y/N watched him walk by with a smile, lounging on a high branch that was concealed by leaves. She reached over and plucked an acorn from one of the leafy branches above her. Y/N threw the acorn, laughing as it hit the archer square in the center of his back.

"Booyah!" She yelled.

Daryl spun around, squinting up at the trees as he scanned the branches for her, "Where the hell are you?" He called.

"Over here, handsome!" Y/N yelled.

Daryl shook his head as he made his way over, staring up at her from the ground. He could just barely see her through the lush greenery.

"Why'd you go so high up?" Daryl asked.

"To watch you wander around aimlessly while I throw things at you," She smiled.

"Get your ass down here. I brought dinner," He said, holding up a string of squirrels.

Y/N untied herself and climbed down from the tree quickly. Daryl hovered at the base, ready to catch her if she slipped.

Y/N dropped down onto the ground, dusting her hands on her pants, "Is that a new shirt?" She asked, eyes running over him.

Daryl nodded, "Found it yesterday," He stated.

"Looks good on you. Plus, it shows off those big arms that I love so much," She said with a wink.

Daryl smiled slightly, cheeks flushing, "Shut up," He muttered.

"About how gorgeous you are? Never," She smirked, "There's a clearing over this way," She added.

Daryl shook his head before following her through the trees. She went to work building the fire as he prepared the squirrels.

"Rick wants to go on another run tomorrow," Daryl said.

"Are you going?" Y/N asked, blowing carefully at the base of her fire before adding more tinder.

"You got a crush on me or somethin'?" He asked.

"Of course I do. Have you seen yourself? I'd have your sexy redneck ass wifed up in a minute if marriage was still a thing" She replied casually, adding small pieces of wood to the fire.

Daryl smiled, even when he flirted back Y/N still managed to leave him speechless. He looked up as she sat back on her haunches, looking over at him.

"I'm goin' with Rick tomorrow," He said.

"Fantastic, so am I," She replied.

...

Daryl made his way out into the forest with a flashlight, it was the latest he had ever gone out and he hoped Y/N was still awake.

Daryl and Rick had gone off on a scouting mission that kept them away for a few days. Rick needed to collect medical supplies and some items for the baby.

Daryl smiled slightly when he saw firelight in the distance. He made his way towards it, turning off his flashlight as he approached.

"Howdy, stranger. I thought you forgot about me," Y/N said with a smile.

"Went out with Rick for a few days," Daryl said, sitting down on the ground beside her with his back leaned against the fallen tree trunk.

"Rabbit?" She asked, holding up the stick of cooked meat.

Daryl nodded, taking the stick from her outstretched hand and pulling some meat off the bone.

Y/N watched him eat for a moment before turning her attention back to the fire, "I missed you," She said.

"Missed you too," Daryl replied gruffly.

"You gonna stay out here tonight?" She asked.

He nodded, "I'm not climbing a tree though," Daryl said.

"You're going to sleep on the ground like a-" "Normal person? Yeah," Daryl said.

"Oh, so you think I'm abnormal?" Y/N questioned.

"Yeah," He stated.

"Don't insult me, Daryl, I'll fall in love with you," Y/N said.

He huffed a laugh, "Would that be a bad thing?" Daryl asked with a smile.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any hotter," Y/N smirked.

[leighsartworks216]

A Spawn Could Get Used To This

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this on 1 hour of sleep. I did proofread it. I am so so sleepy. I'm going back to bed after this

Warnings: embarrassment

Word Count: 1,163

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

In the few weeks he’d been traveling along with this not-so-merry band of weirdos, Astarion got used to a lot of things very quickly. Gale loudly explaining anything at the drop of a hat, Lae’zel and Shadowheart fighting, the smells. Some things were positive, too. The sun was always nice and warm, and the odd sort of comfort being with a group of weirdos brought was nice. And, of course, some things were neutral.

One of the neutrals he’d adjusted to came in the form of you, their leader, and in fact the forms you could take on. He wasn’t sold on the whole druid thing before - all of them were tree huggers who cried over a crushed blade of grass - but, well, being romantically involved with one came with some quirks.

Quite often, almost any time you weren’t busy exploring or risking their lives, you would transform into a cat and go about the camp. If Scratch and the owlbear cub were any indicators, small fluffy things raised morale. Most everyone would scratch along your spine or behind your ears, all their woes forgotten for even a brief moment. It became rather commonplace. Mundane. What an odd thing to be called mundane.

Along with this came another little quirk.

After you did your rounds, getting pets and listening to their smaller issues, you’d come back around and rub against his leg. This very quickly became a way of asking for him to pick you up. You rather enjoyed being close to his chest and purring as loudly as possible.

Today was just like any other. You’d come back with a sack of stolen goods and bloody armor, drop everything unceremoniously in a pile, and transform to make your rounds. Well, he assumed that’s what you did. He was a little preoccupied when you disappeared, but he didn’t think much of it when a cat started wandering around the tents.

So he stood and flipped through his book and busied himself, waiting to drop the act and pick you up and cuddle. It was a rather good act, he thought. He’d furrow his brow or lightly chuckle, and become so engrossed in pretending to read he stopped noticing the passage of time, until something small and fluffy rubbed against his leg.

He closed the book carelessly as he looked down at his feet. Sure enough, a cat rubbed its cheek against him, already starting to purr. He grinned, though not too wide, lest the others begin to think he went soft. “Hello, my love,” he cood. “Want me to hold you?”

The cat meowed, head butting him. He chuckled and tossed his book onto a pillow, before bending down and lifting the darling creature - his darling creature - into his arms. It flipped to its back to be cradled like a baby in the crook of his elbow, paws stretching out and claws latching lightly to the fabric of his shirt. It purred so loud he was sure everyone else for a mile could hear it.

Unusually, it didn’t seem to like when he tried stroking its belly. He thought, perhaps, you just didn’t want that kind of contact today. He’d been getting used to the boundaries touch should have, and the fact you would respect them. It was only natural to have the same grace in return.

“Awe, you got yourself a little friend!”

Astarion startled at the voice, jostling the cat slightly, who mrowled at the movement. Sure enough, standing beside his tent toweling their hair dry was his beloved druid. Not in cat form. He gaped in confusion and awe.

“Darling, don’t take this the wrong way but, where the Hells were you?” The cat rolled to its side to knead biscuits into his chest. He barely felt the pinpricks of nails.

You gave him an odd look. “I went for a wash. Our battles were a bit bloodier today, and while you may like the smell of blood, I, personally, don’t. Especially when it’s up my nose.” You scowled, rubbing your nose at the memory. “Why? Did something happen?”

His frown didn’t disappear as he slowly replied, “No, nothing at all.”

You gave him another odd look. “Are you alright?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of his dumbfounded stupor. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but…” He looked down at the cat in his arms that seemed to settle down and prepare for a nap. “Well, dear, I thought this was you.”

The laugh bursts out of you unbidden, and Astarion glares embarrassed at you. You try to bite down the giggles trying to escape. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just,” you giggle and step forward to pet the cat. You have a bubbly sort of mischief in your eyes. He prepares himself for the worst. “You can’t tell the difference between us?”

“I didn’t think I had to memorize the precise hairs, no,” he bit. “It looked like you - why would I have any reason to believe it wasn’t?”

“You don’t need to be defensive,” you assure sweetly. “It’s cute! And it seems to like you.”

He huffed and looked down at the creature. The points of its fangs peeked out as it drifted off into sleep. The purring persisted, now almost reminding him of snoring. He pouted, though he hated when you called it that. He preferred the term brooding. “Yes, well, I was rather hoping it was my darling druid come to join me for a lazy evening.”

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I can do that. But I don’t think your new friend is going to want to leave you alone.”

He peeked at you from the corner of his eye. “I could be persuaded to share myself with both of you.”

“What if I turned into a cat and purred, too?”

He hummed, pretending to consider the deal, but the slight lift of his mouth gave it away. “I don’t know, darling. You know how much I simply loathe sharing. I think you can do better than that.”

You smile. “Okay, what if I throw a kiss into the mix?”

He grinned, the points of his fangs peeking out just like the cat’s in his arms. “That might even it out.”

You do your best to avoid disturbing the cat as you lean in to catch his lips. You taste of fresh spring water and the barest hint of a health potion. And he loves it. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before you pull away and kiss his cheek. “Get comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I’ll count the seconds,” he teases, though there’s no hint of a lie in his voice.

You chuckle and walk away, back to the pile of stuff that Wyll and Gale are already sorting through, counting 1, 2, 3, 4… And 97 seconds later, when you and this stranger cat are both laying atop him, purring incessantly, he finds he could get used to it.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

[fatallyfalling]

Strawberry Wine ~ 𖤓

“ safe & sound “

{{ Peeta Mellark Headcanons }}

warnings: mentions of alcohol, canon Hunger Games violence/trauma, wholesome fluff, etc.

{{ word count }} 487

{{ prompt }} fluffy headcanons for our beloved bread boy !!

{{ a/n }} this is short & sweet while i test out Peeta’s character! I’m not sure what i exactly want to write with him since i’ve adored everlark for forever but for now please enjoy my silly happy thoughts! Some of these i’ve heard around the internet i think but i can’t remember where :[

Peeta Mellark, the ashy blonde from District 12 who stole the hearts of the Capital with his charms and sweet, boyish nature while also managing to tame a stubborn Mockingjay - Katniss Everdeen, and poured out his heart and soul to get back to her any way he could.

- Peeta is a morning person. He'll get up early and have breakfast ready by the time Katniss pulls out of bed (she learns to sleep in post-rebellion).

- His favorite type of bread/pastry is croissants. The tedious labor of laminating the cold butter block into the fluffy dough is cathartic in a way.

- Once, he tried to teach Katniss to paint. Once. Her attempt at trees looked more like crazy brown and green spiders but he still kissed her temple and had the painting framed, much to the girl on fire's dismay.

- Peeta doesn't like hard liquor - he never did. Effie hooks him on a strawberry wine made special in what used to be District 11, he's gifted at least one bottle every birthday or holiday.

- He's such a housewife no questions asked, hands down. Hungry? He'll cook. Thirsty? Anything you want. This man has to be physically removed from the kitchen during friendly gatherings so he can actually relax and enjoy the company.

- Also, his Dad lore is insane.

(speaking to his kids when they're older) "Oh yeah, your Mom tried to kill me once. but it's okay I made it even the next year so we're good now."

"One time I almost got eaten by a monkey in a fight to the death."

"Another time I took a spontaneous road trip, got held hostage, and then led a rebellion to victory alongside your Mom."

- Peeta teaches himself guitar so he can play along while Katniss sings. His chords are wildly out of tune at first, but he gets it eventually.

- Peeta doesn't like store-bought bread, saying his homemade loaves taste better (they do).

- He's a hugger, every hello and goodbye is met by a bear hug. His hugs are amazing as well, nice and tight but also comforting and warm.

- For a while after the war Peeta kept a journal on his nightstand to record his dreams/nightmares. Even if the text turns out to be chicken scratch in the morning Katniss still helps him decipher and work through it to solidify reality.

“What does that say ?”

“Uh… I think… no - wait, I have no idea,”

- Effie and Peeta definitely have wine nights to talk about their scary guard dog partners and how much they love them.

- Speaking of paint - it’s everywhere, all the time, mainly his hands. Oil paint is next to impossible to clean so almost all of Peeta’s shirts have some amount of color speckled on the sleeves or the thighs of his pants.

- Peeta also keeps a cookie jar of homemade cookies in the kitchen, they’re replenished every week with regular flavor swaps.

{{ tags }}

[demilypyro]

Man, I need a shirt with something like that. I mean that’s a nice line, tree hugger, it fits her whole thing, it’s tongue in cheek but also kinda cute. 

What would be the equivalent for me... something with horns?... or... demons?... I dunno, I’ll think of something

[hunterssm00n]

Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not?

Tommy and 'Nae's first kiss ~ | Tommy Hewitt/OC |

also on my ao3: here

*cw size difference, making out, mild groping, au-ish, caught kissing, ogling, mutual pining*

౨ৎ

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

Renae walked up the gravel road towards the Hewitt house, hearing a peculiar sound. It was like something whizzing through the air before thunking against a solid object - almost like someone was chopping wood? As she neared the dirt driveway to the house, she confirmed that it was definitely someone chopping wood, and it was exactly who she'd hoped it would be. 

Of course it would be Tommy. Naturally he was by far, the strongest, and that seemed to help him with this task a lot. As she neared him, she noted the clean split down the middle of each log, and the sure heave of his overhead swing as he brought the axe down on each piece of wood. He didn't yet see her, she noticed, as she was enshrouded in the thick trees and shrubbery that surrounded their open field, but she could see him clearly. And she didn't regret spying on him for a moment. 

Tommy was wearing a tight, sweaty grey t-shirt that perfectly showcased the rippling muscles that adorned his arms and torso. His broad, sinewy shoulders strained at the material, and she had to lean on a nearby tree for support. Holy shit. He wore distressed, oil-stained jeans, and had his earbuds in while he swung away. Once he would cut through the wood, he'd lean down, holding the axe handle with one hand while the other would reach down to pull the wood apart. The bulging muscles in his back bunched and constricted with every movement, and she was practically drooling. Wow. Undoubtedly the sexiest thing she'd ever see; his six foot five frame, sweaty and lumberjack-y while he was chopping firewood. 

Then, as if that wasn't hot enough, he stuck the axe in the tree stump that he was chopping the wood on, and promptly pulled his shirt over his head. Oh. My. God.

She wondered if she should reveal that she was watching him - she doubted he would've done that if he knew she was there. At the same time, she didn't want him to stop. You lecher, get out there, she mentally chided herself. 

Renae didn't want to walk behind him while he was swinging, and she didn't want to startle him by walking around on his side. She settled for walking a little farther down in the shadows of the trees, and then stepping out into the light a few meters away. Tommy raised his head at the movement, just as he brought the axe down on another piece of wood. It was like he was cutting through something as soft as butter. 

Lifting a hand, she waved at him as he straightened up to his full height, "Hey big guy," 

Tommy smiled sweetly at her, his eyes alight with excitement that she was there. He left the axe imbedded in the tree stump, wiping his hands off on his jeans as they neared each other.

"What's u-" She didn't even have time to get the sentiment out before she was crushed against his big, barrel chest in a sweaty hug. Oh. My. God.

Heart thudding deliciously in her chest (and elsewhere), she wrapped her arms around his waist, tightly pressing herself against him. No doubt, there would be sweat - stains from his body on her grey New York City Starbucks t-shirt, but frankly she couldn't have cared less. She could feel her body trembling with a mixture of joy and arousal, and she let out a shaky sigh against his chest as he nuzzled his face into her hair. There was no way he couldn't feel how hard her heart was banging in her chest, but it made her feel a little better that his was thudding equally hard against her face. She had to admit: if she didn't know him, she wouldn't have pegged him for a hugger. This man was the epitome of teddy bear - six feet and five inches of softie. 

After a few moments, she attempted to pull back, but Tommy squeezed his arms tighter around her to prevent her from moving. She snickered, rising up on her tiptoes to lightly kiss his neck. She felt the movement of his face lifting from her hair, his masked chin lightly brushing her forehead. Heart pounding, breath caught in her throat, she leaned her head back, sensing him looking at her. A lot happened in that moment in that one moment: She felt his chin brush her nose. They locked eyes momentarily. And then they were kissing. Whoa. 

To anyone else it probably looked strange considering the height difference, as well as the fact that they were both sweaty and Tommy was shirtless. It was fucking amazing. While the kiss itself was soft and fairly timid, at first, that didn't at all diminish the utter fireworks/sexy feeling. Tommy's big hands pressed against her back, holding her close to his chest. He had even less experience that she did, but that didn't mean at all that he wasn't doing the job right. She opened her mouth to lightly lick his bottom lip, then gently sucked on it. His reaction was instantaneous - he lifted her to his height level, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Her reaction was to wrap her legs around his waist. He didn't seem to mind, parting his own mouth so their tongues could meet. She slid her hands up the back of his neck to tangle them in his hair.

The kiss deepened, their collective breathing grew heavier. Tommy groaned as she pulled on his hair, a chill ran down her spine, she squeezed his waist with her legs, his one hand traveled down, down- 

A car horn honking scared them both out of their lovestruck stupor, and immediately they practically jumped apart. Tommy, to his credit, didn't drop her, but they did pull their faces apart quite quickly. The sound of tires on gravel followed the noise, and they both turned towards the sound to see Uncle Hoyt's truck barreling up the driveway. He leaned his head out the window and wolf whistled at them, and then cackled as he drove the rest of the way towards the farm house. 

Tommy finally set her down, gently, and she smoothed her hair away from her face with an embarrassed laugh. "Well, we should probably go explain that one, huh?" Tommy looked just as embarrassed, but also, he had a dreaminess to his eyes that made her laugh. "C'mon Tommy, I'll race ya back!" She took off running with a peal of laughter, and Tommy could only stare at her for a moment, marvel at her beauty and carefree nature, before he took off after her with his own grin.  

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise or any of it's characters, but Renae is my own OC.

The above pictures are from pinterest, and attached to each pic is a link to the original post.

[demonsfate]

I'M SORRY GUYS - i don't wanna make too many ooc posts, but I have A LOT on my mind rn. But I just wanted to point out why I love these differences between father and son.

As I mentioned on last post, Kazuya's hair is very slicked back. Notice not many stands are poking out. They all touch each other on the sides. Yet, Jin's hair is more wild - it goes everywhere. You can definitely see how his strands are parting from the side. This really shows the differences between them - Kazuya seems to take care of his hair, whilst Jin lets his hair do whatever.

When Kazuya wears dress shirts, he wears them properly by tucking them in.

Meanwhile, how does Jin wear dress shirts? HE doesn't tuck them in, he wears them very sloppily with his cleavage showing. It looks as though he just threw the shirt on. (Not counting that he wears one properly in TK6 because we ALL know that TK6 didn't understand Jin at all and wrote him completely different)

I feel like this shows their different upbringings in design alone. Kazuya was raised by a prestige and wealthy family, therefore - he dresses properly, he takes care of his hair properly. Meanwhile, Jin was raised by a (likely) middle class woman who wasn't rich or fancy. He was also a tree hugger along with her, so his hair is more wild, he's a bit more of a punk. Jin doesn't care to dress or look all fancy. He's no head of a big company.

I just thought these were really clever differences between them.

[teaandsconeswrites]

Blame It on the Fire-Water (TartaLi/ZhongChi/ZhongChiLi)

A short oneshot based on the prompt request from my Twitter ‘A Drunken Kiss’

*   *   *

"Another one, Zhongli!" Childe slurs, waving his glass of Snezhnayan fire-water over Zhongli's sofa in a worrying manner. "Or do you finally give up?" He punctuates his sentence with a hiccup, swaying like the willowy branches of a sandbearer tree in the breeze.

It's the first time Childe has returned to Liyue since the Osial mission, and after leaping from his ship and marching up to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, he'd challenged Zhongli to a duel to first blood.

Zhongli had no intention of drawing any blood, especially not on his tailored and freshly pressed shirt, and so had promptly declined.

In place of a duel, with a charming smile and a roguish wink, Childe had managed to drag him into a fire-water drinking contest, and a near-empty bottle now sits on the table next to them.

The drink isn’t terrible, not too strong on the taste buds yet leaving a pleasant after-warmth, and Zhongli could enjoy several more glasses tonight.

The same cannot be said for Childe who, attempting to place his glass on the table, ends up spilling half of it over the intricately-woven rug a Sumerian scholar had gifted him during a visit.

Zhongli winces. His poor rug doesn't deserve this treatment.

"My present glass satisfies me currently," he says, nodding to his notably upright glass on the table.

"Alright, but you better drink that. I'm watching you." Childe stares at him seriously before throwing his head back in a raucous cackle. "Ah, Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli… You know, I was kinda mad about that whole scheme you pulled off before. But now"—he pauses to refill his glass—"I must say I'm impressed."

Childe grips the fire water, flailing the cup ominously over the rug again, and Zhongli pries it from his grasp and sets it down. Childe doesn't seem to notice.

"It is pleasing to hear that our relationship need not be soured by the event," says Zhongli. "Your company can be replaced by no other."

"Huh, me too." Childe leans back, folding his hands behind his head. "You must be the only person who'd say that in this whole damn city right now."

"Your slander of my nation aside, I am glad that you deemed my company desirable enough to be worth returning to, despite the current hostilities."

"Ha, I guess you can say that."

"Hm, then I shall consider it a compliment to be treasured. It is good to see you again, Childe."

Zhongli is not drunk—he does *not* get drunk—but the room seems warmer than before and his body thrums with a certain eagerness at Childe's words. The heat around his collar intensifies further as Childe leans in, resting his hand atop Zhongli's.

"By the way," Childe drops his voice to a dramatic whisper, "there's something you've always made me want to do with you."

"I have no intention of duelling you."

"Nooo, not that. Come here." Without waiting for a response Childe leans in, hiccuping into Zhongli's ear. "I'll tell you, but it's a secret, between you and me."

"Very well. You have me intrigued."

Childe chuckles, cheeks reddening more than the alcohol can be held accountable for and, hand wrapping around to brush Zhongli's nape, he presses his lips to Zhongli's.

It's soft, surprisingly tender, and a little sloppy, but not at all unwelcome, and Zhongli reciprocates, the taste of fire water and light citrus on his tongue as they sink into each other, unspoken apologies and long-held regrets woven into the interlocking of their lips.

Zhongli's heart pounds as Childe pulls back, grinning wider than Zhongli has ever seen him. "I'm glad we met again, xiansheng," he says, then slides his arms around Zhongli's back, face collapsing into Zhongli's neck.

Ah. It would appear he is a hugger.

Not quite used to these human gestures of affection, Zhongli pats Childe's back fondly. "The feeling is entirely mutual."

Childe doesn't answer, his weight slumped entirely into Zhongli.

"Childe? Are you feeling well?"

Two muffled snores answer him.

With a chuckle, Zhongli takes a moment to enjoy the quiet intimacy of Childe's body against his.

They can speak more on this when the morning comes.

*   *   *

Idk how many of my zhongchili people are still active here as I abandoned this blog for so long, but if people are interested for me to open prompt lists for requests here too, let me know and I can definitely cross post whenever I do them from Twitter. If not I’ll just keep cross posting the ones I get from Twitter here instead. 😊

[never-surrender]

( Halsin ) Halsin had that tree hugger shirt for a few months by now. Astarion decided to do something about it. Made himself one that read: I’m Trees. He hoped the man got his point loud and clear. “Oh dear we match. How pedestrian of us.”

It admittedly takes Halsin a moment to figure out what in the world Astarion meant, and what the implications of the shirt meant as well. Though once it clicks, a small smile rises to his features, wickedness shimmering in his eyes as he closes the distance between them. "It would seem as if we do, my heart... and who am I to deny what you clearly wish for," arms opening, he doesn't hesitate to enwrap Astarion into a tight embrace, lowering his head to nuzzle his nose against the side of Astarion's head in a clear show of affection

[choptopsbigstinkyslut]

I like to imagine that Nubbins gives the best hugs and would hold you for a long time when he knows you’re feeling down.

Oh my god he totally would.

I like to believe Nubbins is the best hugger in the family. I know what you’re thinking, “wouldn’t Bubba be?”

Well,,, okay yes but no.

See, Bubba may physically give better hugs but Nubbins emotionally gives better hugs.

Bubba is all big and squishy and will give you the squeeze type hugs and if you’re into the little pick you up and wiggle your feet kinda hug he’s definitely the guy for that BUT NUBBINS???

look, i get it, cannibal. psycho. whatever. but like,,, he cares about you man. He cares a lot. You’re like his whole life and world and moon and sun and grass and ocean and trees and— you get the idea so if you’re not feeling up to causing Chaos, something is definitely wrong with you and Nubbins can tell.

—-

“Hey, Y/N?! you’ve been weird lately! you didn’t even wanna come make bone art with me last night!” he’d exclaim “Was Drayton a prick to ya?! i’ll go kick his ass right here right now!!”

You’d shake your head. “No Nubs, I’m just kinda…bleh…like, in theory bone art sounds fun but physically getting up to do it sound—“

You weren’t able to finish as he threw his arms around you tightly. He smelled horrendous and the blood on his shirt was definitely transferring to yours…but you didn’t care. the feeling of his hands wrapped around your body was comforting.

“I gotcha..don’t worry Y/N. Ain’t gonna let go till ya ready for me to…okay?”

—-

also hi! Hello! how r u guys? found this little number in my inbox and figured ;3

Xx Vee

[theawesomeaki-kun]

Arlo (Number Days) cosplay

Arlo watching over the gang

This was a photoshoot I did last 2021 on time for Earth Day + in support of Pacthesis’ release of Number Days t-shirts (Specifically, Arlo “Tree Hugger” prints) for charity on Arbor Day. 

My country has unfortunate international shipping rates and couldn’t really afford one myself, so I hoped a tiny cosplay shoot of everyone’s favorite tree boi could help bump some attention to it instead. 

On the plus side, the fundraiser was successful! Thanks to the Tree Hugger tees, there’s also now an official Pacthesis merch shop. I unfortunately still can’t afford the rates, but a good friend of mine luckily gave me a Cashy Tally ho, mofos coaster haha

Then years later I found more photos that ...I think I forgot from being too nervous about everything. So, here’s the rest of it! enjoi

And now, Cashy!!!

He is a box with typewriting paper. But I did end up making vertical slashes on the outlet, so it can actually hold up chargers. The back can also store things!

trying to take a picture of Bryce with his phone

And, finally...

oh

wait hang on

There we go.

[snekthedemonnoodle]

tyler’s shirt in the choker video says “tree huggers make better lovers”!

thank you!!

[sukipershipper]

Sweet Dreams...? (Punch-Out!! Oneshot)

Had to write out this scenario cause it lives rent free in my head and I can’t make it leave. Help me-

SWEET DREAMS? (A Punch-Out!! Oneshot)

The night was cold and the winds blew strong. A storm was brewing. Lightning flashed every now and again, but for the most part, the sky remained dark.

Hondo stood in his room, lit up only through his lamp (Shaped like a Cherry blossom tree, a gift from Hugger) wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer shorts. He was trying to make his bed (he accidentally fell on top of it, causing the sheets to become strewn), however, every so often his eyes were drawn to the large sliding door that lead out to the balcony. The door itself was closed, but he couldn’t help but feel like every time he looked at it, it opened every so slightly and then closed when he looked away. 

He finished setting his pillow back in place before standing up at the bed's side and looking it over. In case he missed a spot. It was then he heard a light tapping sound. He looked around, turning his attention to the sliding door. He stared at it for a few seconds before shrugging and turning his attention to his bedside drawer. He pulled out a plain, red t-shirt and slipped it on top, tidying up his hair once the shirt was pulled over his face.

Then he heard the tap again. 

He looked back at the sliding door to see a misty handprint on its surface. His eyes widened. When did that get there? He hesitantly made his way to the door, grabbing the handle. It was cold. Not the usual cold either. It was like touching ice. Had it been raining that hard?

Hondo took a deep breath, slowly sliding the door open. The loud winds rushed passed. Drops of rain slowly began hitting the railing of the balcony. He looked outside but found nothing out of place. His little tree was in its place by the corner of the balcony, next to a small table and a chair. “Hello?” he asked, trying to speak above the rushing winds. 

Nothing responded. Nothing showed itself. Hondo sighed, holding his head in his free hand. “I must be tired…I need coffee…” he mumbled to himself. He quickly shut the sliding door and locked it. He stared down at the glass, his eyes widening once again when he saw the handprint was gone. He stared in shock for a few seconds before grabbing the curtains that were tucked to each side of the door and yanking them together, covering the sliding door.

Hondo felt his heart begin to race and his breath becoming quicker and quicker as he slowly stepped back from the curtains. He looked around the room and gave an exasperated sigh, “I REALLY need coffee” he said, a little more loudly. 

He turned to his bedside and leaned in to turn his lamp off. He wasn’t one to waste electricity after all. As the room turned darker, Hondo looked up to the left corner of his room to see…a figure, standing in the corner of the room, with bright, white eyes staring at Hondo from its place in the dark. 

It had a similar build to Disco Kid. Tall, and somewhat slim, but definitely had muscle. Hondo stared. His eyes were wide in shock and horror, while his body trembled slightly at the sight. He gave a nervous chuckle and looked around, “H-Ha! Very F-F-Funny Vihaan!” he proclaimed, looking around the room, “You sure….you sure got me! Heh…y-you can tell Ahaan to go away now!...” 

The figure still remained. 

Hondo’s nervous smile slowly began to drop. “O-or is it…It’s Divij! Right? C-can you get him?” No response from Tiger, and the figure still remained. It continued to stare at Hondo, causing the latter's smile to soon drop altogether. “Vihaan?” Hondo asked, his voice beginning to tremble. He felt his breath become more ragged and quick, jolting around to turn the lamp back on.

Just as the room lit up, the figure disappeared. Hondo blinked, staring at the corner where the figure stood, trying to grasp what happened. He was confused, he was scared. He DEFINITELY needed coffee now. He gripped the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning the light of the lamp off once again. He turned back to the corner…and that’s when he saw it.

A mass of black ooze piled in the corner and reached out towards him, soulless eyes on its head. Hondo let out a terrified scream as he stumbled backwards, hitting himself on his bed and tumbling to the floor. The creature continued to loom closer and closer, but Hondo couldn’t move quickly enough as the shadow soon engulfed him on the other side. Hondo felt himself holding back tears as the shadowy masses connected in the middle, right above him, with two white lights slowly emerging from the mass in the middle.

The creature's soulless, white eyes stared down at the man pinned beneath it in terror. Hondo could only look in pure fear at the beast. His body was trembling, his mouth quivering, but he couldn't move. He was frozen. Tears quickly began to pour and desperate whimpers and sobs for help were all he could manage to get out. The mouth of the beast slowly opened, revealing a hand-like goop making its way to Hondo's face. The creature's shadowy ooze dribbled from its body onto Hondo beneath, the man staring, paralyzed with fear. In a single second, he managed to finally stammer a sentence between his sobs.

“H-Help…me….”

Just as the hand grazed the top of his face, the door to the room slammed open. Hondo’s eyes were shut tight, and being beneath the creature, he couldn’t see who had come in. But in an instant, the oozing creature reared upwards and wailed in agony, feeling a sharp pain in its pack. Hondo finally managed to scamper backwards to see the blade of an axe welded deeply into the back of the creature.

“GET OFF OF ‘IM, YA CUNT!” Hugger screamed, yanking his axe out of the creature and going in for another blow. The creature swiftly managed to dodge the attack but felt a powerful blast from the side knock it over to where Hondo lay. The latter quickly moved out of the way and flopped onto the bed as the creature landed on the floor, turning his head to see Tiger, eyes and hands glowing a bright yellow, and Don, wielding a broomstick. 

Tiger flicked his hands down beside him and leaned over the creature. “Leave…” he growled. The creature was panting in pain, holding what one could assume to be his head as it screeched out incoherent words amongst its blabbering, reaching out for Tiger but the latter slapped the ooze away, rather fiercely. The creature recoiled and soon fled the room, opening the sliding door and flying out and over the balcony, the curtains flapping with the wind. 

The three other men stood there, still on guard for an attack, but eventually set their defences down. Tensions soon dropping. “Ay dios mio…What the hell was that?” Don asked quietly. Tiger shook his head, “Something I thought we wouldn’t have to deal with anymore…but it seems he hasn’t quite left yet…” he explained in a dry tone. “Makes ya wonder if he ever left at all…” Hugger grumbled, setting his axe down on the floor and slowly making his way towards Hondo, being sure to turn the lamp back on as he sat down on the bed. Hondo was still staring out of the sliding door, rapid breathing and gripping at the sheets tighter than he had ever gripped anything before. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, and tears stained his cheeks. 

The quiet whimpers that escaped him broke Hugger’s heart and the latter felt himself instinctively stretch his arms out, offering a hug in a way that words couldn’t. Hondo looked at his friend and in less than a second he grabbed Hugger tightly. Burying his face into his friend’s shoulder he let out a series of terrified sobs and gasps as if he had seen his last minutes on earth. 

Hugger gently wrapped his arms around Hondo, holding him tightly and rubbing his friend’s back in reassurance. “It’s okay…” he whispered, “It’s okay…he’s gone…he won’t hurt you…”

“...I-I…” Hondo stammered, his voice quavering, “...I was s-so scared…! I thought I…I was gonna-”

“I know…” Hugger said, “...he ain’t gonna do that again…I promise…”

“You can’t promise that,” Tiger said bluntly, “No one can promise that! Desire reassured us this wouldn’t happen! That he was gone! That these strange occurrences would not affect us!... He lied…” he trailed off, looking down at the ground and his own hands. In seconds, his gem began flashing furiously before Tiger gave out a frustrated groan and threw his hands to his sides, causing a gust of wind to appear below him and wisp through the room. 

He grabbed at his head and teleported away, leaving the others alone in Hondo’s room. 

Don didn’t say much. He simply sighed and made his way to the other side of Hondo’s bed. He sat down and lay his head on Hondo’s back, petting his shoulders and humming a soft song to hopefully ease the nerves.

That night, Tiger was desperately searching for answers, Don lay in his bed fretting about the creature coming to him next, and Hugger kept watch over the rooms, patrolling their entire apartment. All the while, Hondo lay in his room, light on, coffee on his bedside drawer…and eyes glued to the sliding door.

He couldn’t take his eyes off it

He lay there…waiting for the creature to rear its ugly face again…

None of them went to sleep that night.

[spaceghostcornertocorner]

A short story that I wrote based on a series me and a good friend of mine are working on!

Doctor's Visit

The night was quiet. Serene, actually.

Constantine preferred it this way. The small buzzing of the bright, fluorescent lights bought him a sense of calm. The squeaky-clean tile floors and cabinets pleased him. The examination table was unoccupied and, importantly, clean from the blood of former patients. Everything was laid out in front of him: Bloody needles, scalpels, tweezers, cotton swabs, and among other medical essentials. After a long day's worth of work, Constantine attends to his nightly ritual. He makes it a priority to clean, sterilize, and organize each and every one of his tools. The doctor likes to keep a container of wipes and a bottle of alcohol and hydrogen-peroxide nearby during the process; also a priority. He requires that everything must be a certain way. Tasks are given and must be done diligently with precision, just as he likes it.

With a satisfied inhale and exhale, he pushed up his glasses and he got to work. As he was about to grab the scalpels, a heavy set of footsteps approached the door.

The metal door swung open, revealing Jax. One of his eyes was bruised and puffy, his shirt torn to shreds, and blood soaked parts of his tee. He clutched the side of his abdomen. More blood seeped through his hand and dripped onto the floor. Jax gave Constantine his signature cheeky smile, "The doctor's in, I see."

Constantine shot him a look, "Who kicked your ass this time?"

The muscle-head shot back, "Oi, not all of this is my blood, luv! No need to piss your pants, alright?"

Constantine's face remained the same as he sighs, "Give me a moment to clean up. And, get on the damn table, will you? It's no secret how I feel about blood on the floor."

"Aye, aye.", Jax replied as he limped towards the table and plopped himself down. "So, any other visitors stopped by for a checkup? Give out any lollipops?"

Constantine switched out his old pair of gloves for new ones and came over to Jax. No amusement showed on his face, "No lollipops. But, had a few visitors tonight. None as fucked up as you are."

Jax gave a cocky smile, "Hehe. Don't I feel honored?"

Constantine rolled his eyes as he donned his stethoscope and began examining Jax, "Mind telling me what kind of trouble you got yourself into?"

"Straight to the point, as always, I see…", Jax sighed, "As you may or may not be aware, the turf wars gettin' heated up there. The boss is wantin' everyone to be on the prowl for more territory. Fortunately, I found some, unfortunately, it was occupied by some members of the Vitum. You know 'em, right? Those glorified tree-hugger bastards."

"Mm.", replied Constantine.

Jax continues, "Anyway, I walk into this pub owned by Angus, the big 'ol teddy bear. Had some lass with 'em. I demanded he go and kick rocks, right? The fuzzy bugger attacks first. I attack-Oww!"

Jax lets out a scream of pain. Constantine pokes into his wound. It was a bloody mess of three scars left behind by a clawed-creature.

"The fock was that for, doc!", Jax screamed in outrage.

Constantine didn't blink twice, "Hm? Oh, nothing. It's not like I'm a doctor or anything trying to do my job. Sorry to interrupt your story. Want me to heal you now or continue your drabble?"

"Arsehole…", Jax murmured. Constantine, with a "I-thought-so" expression on his face, removed his gloves. He applied his bare hands onto the wound.

He allows incantations to flow from his lips. His eyes turned an inky-black as black vein-like tendrils flowed from his arms to his hands and down to his fingertips. An amber-colored glow traced the lines of the scars. Jax hissed with clenched teeth. The fleshy gaps started to fill in from the inside until the skin closed with lines of the scars vanishing seamlessly. Constantine removed his hands off of Jax's abdomen to reveal a patch of smooth skin. It's as if the scar had never been there.

Jax smiled from ear to ear. He ran his hand over where the scar used to be, "Haha! Fockin' hell, doc! I could just kiss ya!"

Constantine held up a hand, "No need."

"Aww, one of these days, luv.", Jax teased.

Constantine walked over to the sink and began washing his hands, "Angus did quite the number on you."

Jax laughed, "Me? Oh no, ya should've seen him. I say, it's one of my best pieces of work. Best believe that piece of territory will be ours."

[lost-or-dead]

Baby, it's cold outside

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Word count: 1988

Tags: xCharacter study ×Winter ×Christmas ×Cold ×Sharing Clothes ×Taking care ×Soft ×Cosy ×Fluff ×Secret santa

Read on AO3

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Steve hates the winter.

The day the temperature first drops under 50°F, his mood is guaranteed to join the downward arc and stay low until the bleak and gloomy season is over. If it were up to him it would be summer, always, no matter how sweltering the Indiana air got.

He experienced enough coldness from his parents to last a lifetime.

Even aside from the emotional factor their house was never particularly warm (or, God forbid, comfortable) which had been partly due to the open rooms and high ceilings and partly courtesy of the child safety locks on the radiators his parents installed for money saving purposes (ridiculously unnecessary, really) and that Steve now at 19 still hasn’t figured out how to get past.

There were times he wore his winter coat, two scarves and mittens (bonus point: there was no way to hold a pen with those so they effectively kept him from doing his homework) in his bedroom because the stupidly thin and scratchy brand-name pullovers (which were the only halfway warm clothes his mother got him) barely prevented frostbite.

So he would layer a silken undershirt he had nicked from his mother’s closet, his slightly-too-tight basketball jersey from junior high, a polo shirt, two of the unfortunate pullovers and his knee-long white (Who buys anything white for a teenager?) winter coat until he looked like ‘a fat-ass Michelin Man’ as Tommy H so eloquently put it.

Of course, Steve was too vain back then to just let that slide. He realised that he even cared about Tommy’s opinion more than others. He decided not to put too much thought into the why. It didn’t matter anyway. The point was: no more layering - he would have to find other ways to stay warm.

It turned out the magic happened in the bathroom. No, not like that! Okay, yes, sometimes like that, but not right now…

Steve learned quickly that long, hot showers didn’t just help him warm up but also substituted for hugs. Sad, yes, but effective. (And a small triumph when he caught a glimpse of the high number on his parents’ water bill.) He still dreaded the inevitable moment he would have to step out of the shower and onto the ice-cold tiles though.

Later he inhaled warmth through smoke, found liquid comfort in alcohol and physical touch in thrown punches. Tommy wasn’t much the hugger so obviously Steve couldn’t be either.

When he was finally old enough to drive, his license was the first thing he ever properly studied for. It stood for freedom and independence and was - most notably - a small space only he had control over. Of course, the car was a given - paid for with his father’s credit card. He spent hours driving around aimlessly with the heater at max, exploring most of Indiana and half of Illinois in comfortable warmth.

But he still didn’t feel comfortable.

Steve’s first sample of hominess was Christmas at the Wheelers’ three years ago. They had a real Christmas tree beautifully decorated with red baubles and fairy lights that gave off a warm glow (and still kind of gave him the chills, considering where he had last seen some), candles everywhere Holly couldn’t reach them and home-cooked dinner, complete with Christmas crackers that sprinkled the empty plates. And it was so. warm.

But even then Karen was always fussing around, Ted fell asleep in his armchair halfway through ‘A Christmas Carol’, Nancy already seemed absent-minded and Mike kept sending him dirty looks.

He still missed it the year after, when he dropped Dustin off at his mom’s, trying not to feel a pang of jealousy at the prospect of his Christmas Eve alone at his parents’ house with neatly wrapped guilt presents (e.g. scratchy, thin pullovers) under the waist-high two-dimensional tree made from surgical steel because God forbid some actual plant found its way into this house - “Imagine, if the tree shed its needles, Steve. Needles on the floor! It would be grotesque.”

So, in Steve’s opinion, the winter can go hang.

But now there’s Eddie.

And for some reason, he seems to have made it his personal mission to rescue Steve from Winter’s icy claws.

Since their similar near-death experiences in the Upside Down the two of them have been virtually inseparable. In Dustin’s humble opinion he couldn’t have planned it out better himself. During Eddie’s healing process that confined him to bed all summer, Steve (with the help of the kids of course) took care of him and helped Wayne around the trailer.

Now that their wounds developed into matching scars and the days grow shorter the tables are turning.

Steve still hangs around the trailer all the time - or at least whenever he is not hosting an event for the whole Party which is just more convenient at his parents’ house - but now it’s Eddie’s turn to take care of him.

When he first saw the faintest goosebumps on Steve’s arms, having already heard him complaining about winter approaching, he immediately wrapped him in a cuddly blanket which earned him a surprised but grateful “Thank you!” half muffled by the fleece.

The next time it happened he ordered the kids to the trailer for a dance party. Or - well… Uncoordinated jumping and bumping to Judas Priest’s ‘Breaking the Law’. Steve was certainly warmed up by the end of that.

Eddie is used to keeping himself warm. Lacking proper insulation the trailer gets really cold in the winter months and every year the heating finds a new way to give out somehow. Wayne (and later Eddie too) used to be able to at least temporarily fix it, but after the clash with another dimension, it’s completely wrecked.

So Eddie supplies Steve with whatever he found helpful, including but not limited to gingerbread cookies (Mrs Henderson’s recipe), freshly out of the oven, hot chocolate and wild berry tea in turns, homemade chicken soup and of course the odd spliff.

When he suggests a pillow fort in his bedroom he is afraid that Steve will think it childish but the other boy is immediately hooked and is even the one who decorates it with tiny fairy lights he got from Joyce (as Eddie understands it she has plenty) in the end to “make it cosier”.

They spend many an hour in that fort (blanketed feet usually left out because maybe they are a bit too big for this after all) and earn many a fond head shake from Wayne whenever he calls ‘his boys’ for dinner.

They share dreams and fears and hopes and secrets and of course, Eddie also uses this appropriate location to let Steve in on some of his favourite ghost stories, eliciting goosebumps of another kind.

When Eddie is a bit absent towards the end of November, Steve tries not to be too disappointed. He knows that Eddie has other friends too and that he can’t occupy him all the time. He would hate for him to get sick of it.

But then, on the first of December, rather than an advent calendar, Eddie gifts Steve a bright yellow hand-knitted (and therefore slightly wonky) hat, complete with fluffy lining, so that he would not suffer a gruesome death from freezing during the ‘real winter’.

And Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, who accidentally created his iconic mane by haphazardly blow-drying his hair once after showering because he hated the cold air against the wetness and has never worn anything on his head ever since, happily takes the hat and immediately puts it on, effectively ruining his hair and pushing some strands of it down into his smiling face.

Eddie all but dies.

As the month goes on it’s not just Steve’s ears that get cold, so he takes on stealing sweaters from Eddie’s closet. As it turns out Eddie has the best sweaters. They’re mostly hand-me-downs from Wayne mixed with some band merch Eddie had scavenged at the big Indianapolis second-hand store and they are all well-worn and soft and comfortable and Steve loves them to bits.

Eddie tends to wear them oversized so some of them are even baggy on Steve and he loves to pull the sleeves over his hands and fiddle with the holes in the seams before bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep breath in when nobody’s looking. They smell great. Must be the laundry detergent.

When Christmas Eve comes along Steve doesn’t feel anxious for once. Joyce and Hopper have invited them all over for dinner and the exchange of their Secret Santa presents and if the tree decorating session (including El helping out with the high branches no one else could reach) two weeks ago was any indicator, it would be a hell of a lot of fun.

Eddie and Steve have been relieved of their chauffeur duties for the night because they would have to try Murray’s self-distilled vodka (He insisted.) and although Nancy passed on that and offered to pick them up too when she made the drive to the trailer park to get Max, they decided to walk.

It’s a beautiful day even if freezing cold, but Steve of course has his hat on and wears his favourite stolen Iron Maiden sweater under the coat, with the holey sleeves peeking out, so it’s not that bad.

As he feels his fingers slowly going numb though, he starts rubbing them together to generate some heat. Eddie has a better idea. He grabs one of Steve’s hands, interlocks their fingers and tucks them into his jacket pocket with a grin. This works for heating up Steve’s cheeks as well.

As they arrive at the Byers-Hopper residence, much to Steve’s dismay, Eddie releases his hand to take off his jacket and greet everyone. Robin, who saw their joint hands, shoots Steve a meaningful look.

After an exquisite dinner and Eggos for dessert, they move on to the gift exchange by drawing lots. Steve gets matching mittens and a scarf in a colour that suspiciously resembles his new hat. As it turns out Robin is a knitting professional who was taught by her favourite grandma and decided to pass the gift on to Eddie when he came to her in dire need of help.

When Dustin makes the joke Steve himself bit back about how it would have been more of a help if Robin just knitted the hat herself instead of letting Eddie wreak havoc on the wool, the metalhead protest and Steve has to agree with him: He loves his wonky hat.

Eddie quickly forgives the kid again as he gets him his Christmas present. It’s a new patch for Eddie’s vest and even Steve recognizes the band logo on it: Black Sabbath. The guy with the bat.

Steve’s gift is a success as well. He got Will custom DnD dice at Eddie’s suggestion from a special store he had to drive to Chicago for. But seeing how over the moon with excitement Will is and even earning an appreciative nod from Mike was well worth the trip.

As the evening turns into night, Hopper repeatedly curses Murray’s vodka before retiring early and the kids ride their sugar high, Steve notices how Robin, Max and El keep looking over at him and Eddie while whispering conspiratorially. The explanation follows not long after.

Steve’s eyes widen as the decorative mistletoe from the window sill suddenly hovers towards them until its tips graze Eddie’s hair. He looks up, grins at the concentrated El and then finally at Steve where his smile falters a bit.

“Is this okay?” he whispers. Steve can only nod.

Eddie beams at him and slowly inches closer until Steve can feel his hot breath against his skin. It smells like chocolate and vodka. Eddie nudges his cold nose with his own sillily before finally connecting their lips.

Maybe Steve doesn’t hate the winter so much anymore.