#pine needle dragon

[daily-dragon-drawing]

a spiky dragon made of pine needles :3

#91 - 松針 (sōngzhēn / pine needle) - Please refrain from putting ornaments on them...🌲🎄🪵

[sunset-aria]

Boughbans (Pine-Dwelling Species)

I was still riding high from my last painting when I decided to tackle this. Lots of dinosaur and pangolin inspiration reminded me that I had designed a tiny, sweet Ahnurthian dragon species a long time ago that matched those vibes! The Boughban is a tree-dwelling dragon about the size of a large dog that uses its leaf-shaped scales to camouflage among the tree branches where they live! There's something really fun about the idea of a version of Boughbans that have very fine hair-like scales that cluster together like pine needles, letting them hide in coniferous trees like their leafier relatives might. They're really sweet and shy, and some of them can learn to speak Common if they're around humans or human-dwelling dragons long enough, but it takes a while for these skittish little ones to get comfortable with others much taller than them.  I was imagining a specific Boughban pair while painting these two, named Nuus and Nays, who do know how to speak Common enough to hold conversations and ask for favors, even though they mostly refer to themselves and others in the third person and struggle with more complicated vocab. 

[gallusrostromegalus]

:3 "said" for the word game

“Okay.” Mokuba smiled this time. “One question though-  What’s with the green hair?”

Seto froze mid headpat. “...Green?”

“Yeah?” Mokuba asked, tilting his head to the side. “You did a really good job getting it to that deep of a green and the color isn’t bad on you, but I always thought if you were gonna dye your hair you’d go blue to match your Dragon-”

“...but the box said Sequoia?  It should be red-brown? Like a redwood?” Seto asked with growing alarm.

“No, they meant ‘Sequoia’ like the pine needles.” Mokuba shook his head. “I really think you need to have your eyes checked this is like the fourth time you’ve gotten red and green mixed up-”

Slowly, Seto crumpled to the floor with despair. “I must look like an idiot.” he muttered.

[the-ancient-dragons]

Meet the PineWings!

Another Fantribe, this time completely my own.

Details, explanation, and closeups below. Otherwise, next week are the CaveWings! (Genius name, I know... but I promise there's more to them than meets the eye!)

Fun fact: inspiration for the PineWings came to me when I was sitting in a tree. It wasn't a pine tree, but I used to climb spruces all the time (at least I think they were spruces. They had long needles). It took a while to arrive at this design but I had a lot of fun making them.

You may have also seen a notification called 'Meet the PineWings' last week.... I totally didn't post this by accident...

PineWings are the first native inhabitants of Ventus. They are rarely larger than a wolf, built small to navigate the cramped coniferous forests, but even small they can be deadly. Their quills, which they normally use to blend into their environments, are coated in an itchy oil. Many victims scratch themselves to death.

Ventus is a land cursed by glaciers where three quarters of the year yield heavy snowfall. 'Summers' are short and spent frantically foraging and preserving plants for the winter. During winter their diet expands to include meat - which they must hunt from the forest floor. To help their odds, their green summer scales are traded for white and brown. In the spring, males' quills gain temporary red markings.

If you like what you see and want to learn more, you're out of luck because The Five Dragons series mainly focuses on the SwiftScales. The other Ventus tribes (and even some Pyrrhian ones) do appear, but not to the extent the SwiftScales do. However, if all goes well I am planning a sequel series which will go more in-depth in the other tribes. The first book will be from a PineWing's perspective and be written in such a way that you don't have to slog through my 14-year-old self's poorly written drivel.

That's all for now, though. Next week I've got another fantribe, the creatively named CaveWings. See you then!!!

[mediumgayitalian]

“My mom is playing at Radio City.”

Nico blinks, holding out Will’s patched backpack. “I know.” He shakes it slightly. A scrap of green fabric peels off the side, fluttering to the grass. The torn threads underneath are pink. Huh. “Thus me being here, at dawn, even though it took me nineteen alarms to crawl out of bed in time.”

“Twenty,” Will corrects, grinning, “if you count me.”

“I do not count your infernal harmonica, no.”

He does not take the bag, even though Nico holds it out to him again; only looking at it, humming. Rocking back on his heels, flip-flops worn so thin he must feel every speck of dirt, every tiny pebble, every blade of grass, every fallen pine needle. Nails chipped with blue glitter paint.

“I bought you a ticket.”

Nico whips his head up.

“Or, well, you know. ‘Bought’. I didn’t really buy my ticket, either, even though that would be kind of funny, wouldn’t it? Using Ma’s money to buy a ticket to her show. Ha.” Rock rock rock. Rock. Fidget, nails on palm. Rock. “But, um. Yeah. Told her I needed two tickets and she got them.” He glances up, now, eyes pretty dawn blue and hopefully wide, sungold eyelashes fluttering, framing. “If you want to come? Maybe.”

Nico’s mouth dries, or it is dry, or it has been. Dried up at some point in time. He’s not sure when. Before the asking, maybe. Bright ringlets in burgeoning sunlight. Twisting, shaking hands. Wide grin. Or an off-key harmonica before the stars went out, even. Or big rough hands and nudging shoulders. Swinging Southern drawl and a tapping foot, arched eyebrow.

There’s a track in there somewhere. Point.

“It’s a little last minute,” he manages, finally, if four piece cracks can be considered managing. Three? Two continuous, maybe, one big break in the middle. “It’s.” He gestures, vaguely, and the charms on the backpack’s zipper chime gently. “You know. Day of, all that.”

Will inclines his head.

He still does not take the backpack.

The sun inches higher into the sky, and a beat-to-shit Toyota turns a bend down the road.

“You’re goddamn lucky I have no plans,” Nico grumbles, even though he does, and Will beams, painfully brightly; blistering, really, blinding, hastily Nico swings the backpack over his shoulders and wishes he’d thought of his sunglasses.

“Lucky I convinced you out of your pajamas,” Will adds, waving at the car as it comes closer. He links their hands together, “C’mon,” and tugs them down Half-Blood Hill, expertly weaving past patches of thistle and bubbling dragon acid, tripping over a pebble that folds his shoe.

Just before Naomi’s — and he’s sure it’s her now — car stops, as they slow to a stop by the edge of the road, Will stops them, digging through his pockets and handing Nico a thin strip of cardstock. Nico inspects the ticket, smiling at the glitter, the exclamation points, the heart on the stubs.

“You’ve been excited.”

Will turns his bright smile full-force in Nico’s direction.

“You got no clue.”

Nico glances, again, at the ticket dates; two months past the date, for a concert across the country. The worn edge where a finger has run across, over and over, the creases where it has lived in someone’s pocket.

He tucks it carefully in his pocket, slips his hand into Will’s, and matches his broad smile.

[moonstrider9904]

Never eat a furry beet and other valuable life lessons

Chapter 4 of Le Coeur

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Next chapter (coming soon!) | Previous chapter

Chapter summary: When Nea invites Steb over to her apartment for the first time, a quiet movie night results in both Nea and Blu getting tipsy.

Tags/warnings: Steb x Original Female Character, other OCs are in the fic as well. Canon divergence, flirting, pining, crushes, teasing, fluff, alcohol consumption and mild drunkenness.

Word count: 7.2k

Music: how many times, le coeur

A/N: Happy new year 2025, everyone! Sorry for taking longer with this chapter. I would have written this quicker, but I got a gigantic cold and only had so much brain space. Anyways, thank you to everyone who reads this and to the lovely people who comment. You all give me so much life 💖

To be the pastry chef of the Coffeewick meant being up considerably earlier than most of the people in Piltover. Blu was so used to it that she would often be awake that early even if it was a day off, and while most would whine about an early schedule, Blu cherished the opportunity to see the sky getting brighter with the sunrise. Her fuzzy, mouse-like ears would twitch in the direction of bird song, and her feet would carry her around in little dances in front of the oven while the pastries baked, oftentimes without her even realizing her acts. She could tell what time it was by the amount of people walking outside the coffee shop and the sounds that came from the street as well as from the Coffeewick's second story; Blu was all too familiar with the sound of water running through the pipes within the walls letting her know that Nea was already awake.

On that particular day, the water began running through the pipes about an hour sooner than it usually did, and the moment it began sounding, Blu stood completely still and stared at the spot in the wall where the pipes hid behind with her brows furrowed together like her own knitting needles. Had Nea mentioned she'd be up earlier? If so, for what? Blu could recall every detail from her century-and-a-bit-more of life, but she didn't recall Nea mentioning anything about getting up exactly one hour before she usually did on that day. Blu shrugged it off and continued her own activities, figuring she'd eventually find out the reason behind Nea's sudden change in habit.

But the next thing that caught Blu's attention was that, despite Nea having gotten up a whole hour before, she didn't head downstairs to begin prepping the Coffeewick earlier. It would seem that Nea's spare hour would be dedicated to her place, and Blu could pick up sounds of steps and shuffling from upstairs in the meantime, but it was hard to guess what Nea was doing without getting too creative or too dull. She could have been doing anything from getting a head start on cleaning to rearranging the apartment to house a dragon egg—one wouldn't know until they saw Nea's place.

There was some idle time in which her pastries would only sit in the oven and bake, and Blu decided to head up the stairs and figure out what was going on with Nea. She gave three gentle knocks on the door before opening it and letting herself in, and at first glance, Nea's apartment was unchanged. Squinting her eyes in mild suspicion, Blu stood under the doorframe and looked around, finding telltale signs of Nea's antics from furniture surfaces without a spot of dust on them to the faint scent of cinnamon-apple that filled the apartment. Finally, Nea emerged from her bedroom looking fully ready to head down to work, and she smiled brightly at Blu when she noticed the Yordle standing there.

"I'm just about to head down," Nea said.

"I heard you were up earlier," Blu stated.

"Yeah," Nea confirmed nonchalantly.

"So, what gives?" Blu put her Yordle paws on her hips. "You never clean before work, and even when you do clean, you never leave the place looking so..." Blu looked around the apartment again as she searched for the correct words. "Effortlessly perfect."

"Thanks," Nea smiled. "I was going for that."

Blu raised a brow. "But why?"

Nea's look of relaxed confidence turned into that of a puppy who'd just made a mess on the carpet and knew he was in for a spanking. "Okay, I have a confession to make."

"Oh, yay," Blu deadpanned.

"I couldn't exactly leave this cleaning for after work because, well..." Nea began as her cheeks started getting pink. "I'm gonna need the time after work to touch up my makeup, do my hair, change clothes, lay out snacks..."

Blu tilted her head. "Impromptu movie night?"

"Yes," Nea said. "But... not with you."

"Oh, just say who you invited," Blu blurted.

"Steb."

Blu's eyes widened in shock and a hint of protest. "Um... what?"

"I invited him over," Nea said. "He's coming here tonight and we're just gonna hang out."

A series of emotions ran past Blu's eyes from curiosity to distaste.

"Um... how did that happen?" Blu walked herself over to stand in front of Nea.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that despite the bird incident, your party wasn't a failure," Nea began.

"None of my parties are failures," Blu intervened. "Go on."

"And judging by the fact that he felt he needed to bring someone to a large gathering, I figured maybe something more lowkey would help Steb feel more at ease," Nea explained. "So a simple night to hang out and talk seemed alright. I was waiting for him to know when he'd be off duty so that he could hang out without any pressure, and, well, tonight's the night."

"The night for what?" Blu pressed.

"For us to finally be alone together for a bit," Nea replied calmly. "Get to know each other."

"Unchaperoned?" Blu questioned.

"Oh, unclutch your pearls," Nea snickered. "You sound like a first generation councilman."

"Look, he seems nice and I get you like him but don't you think it's a little soon for you two to...?" Blu asked, and her eyes suddenly widened in shock before she ran herself to Nea's bedroom. Nea followed after her and saw Blu was searching the top of her made bed and her bedside tables as if she were looking for clues in a crime scene.

"What are you doing now?" Nea leaned on the doorframe and crossed her arms.

"Trying to find rose petals, aphrodisiac scented candles, anything that might suggest-" Blu paused to shudder. "I don't even want to think about it."

"Okay, just stop," Nea reached for Blu on her bed and set her down on the ground, kneeling in front of the little Yordle. "I'm not planning on getting into bed with him tonight. So you can stop worrying about that. All I want is to spend some time with him. But if it makes you feel better, you're invited. I'm sure he won't have any problem with you being there, and neither will I."

"Really?" Blu frowned, but Nea could pick up on the softness hidden behind her furious mask.

"Really," Nea replied. "If he's gonna come here more often, he'll have to get used to you either way."

"Get through me first is more like it," Blu muttered.

Nea leaned in and hugged Blu tight, just enough not to squeeze the air out of the Yordle. "Thank you for looking out for me."

Blu finally softened and leaned her head on Nea's shoulder. "Can I pick the movie?"

"Only if you don't hog the potato chips," Nea replied softly.

"Deal," Blu gently pulled away from the hug. "Now, I have to get back to check the oven."

"I'll be right down," Nea replied. "And don't you worry about a thing. I'm the one who should be nervous for tonight."

Blu giggled. "Wait 'til I tell Donnie and Lily about this."

Nea chuckled. "Knock yourself out."

Feeling mildly less distaste for what the night had in store for her, Blu retreated downstairs one more time and checked on her pastries. Not long after that, Nea went downstairs to open the Coffeewick, and from that moment on, it was business as usual. Blu kept a close eye on Nea, finding that even with the plans she had for the night, Nea was fairly focused on the job. She wasn't giggling like a schoolgirl or constantly blushing, she wasn't confused or off in a daze. She was simply Nea, the trustworthy, professional barista acing every order in the queue and brewing every cup with the same intent and passion.

For a moment, Blu felt as if her best friend wasn't being taken away.

Still, the day went by quickly, and it was time to close in what felt like a blink of an eye. Surely, the hours had zoomed by as quickly as Nea had wanted them to, and with the Coffeewick closed up, Nea was ready to head back upstairs to her apartment. She changed into one of her nicest sweaters, a fitted black one that was more like a wool blouse that greatly enhanced her silhouette and had a wide outstanding neckline that nearly reached her shoulders and showed off her collarbones. She styled her short hair into curls rather than the usual waves, and she touched up her eye makeup and lipstick. She didn't add any blush to her cheeks. It was enough simply to think about Steb for her to feel the apples of her cheeks turning pink, and if she dwelled on the thought of her welcoming him into her home and sitting next to him on the couch, she'd be flustered enough to be on the verge of swooning.

Finally, Nea sprayed herself with her favorite perfume. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and feared for a moment she may have dolled herself up a little too much for a simple night watching movies on the couch, but she brushed off the thought. As simple as the encounter would be, it was worth cleaning up nice. Steb was worth it. And with a little smile at her reflection, Nea wandered from her room to the kitchen and set out all the snacks that they would need on the coffee table in front of the couch, making sure not to neglect the bowl of chips specifically meant for Blu. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, indicating that the time for the date to begin was near—was it really a date? Nea still wasn't very sure what to call it. Either way, Steb would be there soon, and Blu would probably be at Nea's doorstep in mere seconds.

When the sky outside was almost dark, Nea heard the doorbell ringing from downstairs. Coming to a brief halt, Nea looked around her apartment to make sure one last time that everything was in top shape, and in her stillness, she could feel her heart beginning to race. Finally, she let herself out the door and down the stairs, approaching the Coffeewick door. Nea couldn't help the wide grin that appeared on her lips when she opened the door for Steb, and when he smiled back at her, she let out a little giggle.

"I'm so glad you made it," Nea said as she invited him in.

"Thanks," Steb said, making the one-syllable word sound elegant in his thick accent. "I just still think it's lucky both of our days off lined up for tomorrow."

"That just means we can enjoy movie night even more," Nea said, her tone shy and hopeful as her eyes appeared to shine at Steb.

In return, Steb gave her a chivalrous smile. "I'd like that."

As Nea closed and locked the door again behind them, the two shared a gentle look in silence. It let Nea observe what he chose to wear that night, dark trousers and a gray wool sweater with a white collared shirt underneath. She could feel the words glaring behind her lips, aching to come out, but it still felt too soon to utter how handsome he looked. For that night, she'd continue keeping that fact to herself.

"You look..." Steb began, contradicting Nea's inner decisions. "You look nice."

Nea's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she smiled at him in return. "You think so?"

"Yes," Steb smiled shyly, wondering how much further it would be appropriate to take the compliment. "Curls suit you."

"It's one of my favorite styles," Nea gave her head a wiggle, and the curls crowning her head followed. "You, um... you look nice too."

Steb opted to remain silent this time, but the gentle look in his eyes spoke of gratitude and undeniable affection. The tender nature of the moment made it feel like they had lingered on each other's gazes for an age, and Nea began to feel like perhaps it was time to move things to the apartment. She gestured to Steb to begin moving deeper into the Coffeewick, and she led the way past the darkened coffee shop to the staircase until they made it to the second floor and were just outside Nea's door.

"This is it," Nea said, reaching for the doorknob.

"It felt... strange, seeing the Coffeewick empty and from the inside," Steb observed.

"Oh, I know what you mean," Nea said. "I feel it too. But the Coffeewick deserves her rest too."

"Of course," Steb agreed as Nea opened the door, and when he was granted a clear sight of the place where she lived, he found himself unable to focus on anything other than the Yordle who stood on the coffee table with her back turned on them as she reached into the bowl of chips.

"Hands up, chip thief," Nea joked.

Blu turned around on the coffee table and shoved one last handful of chips into her mouth, after which she hopped from the table to the sofa and plopped down on it. "I picked the movie."

"Good," Nea stepped inside and let Steb in as well. "I told Blu she could join us, I hope that's okay."

"Of course," Steb smiled at her. "It's nice to see you again."

Blu seemed to hesitate for a moment, a sight so rare for someone as sharp-tongued as her, but she gave Steb a cheeky little smile.

"Of course it is," Blu said. "I'm a delight."

Nea playfully rolled her eyes and started making her way toward the kitchen, but first, she gave a quick glance at Steb. "Make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure, I'll come with you," he said as he began to follow.

"'Kay," Nea smiled. "Blu, do you wanna put the movie in?"

"Yep," Blu hopped from the couch and went towards the television.

Meanwhile, Nea made her way swiftly towards her kitchen, knowing the steps all too well, but Steb inevitably lingered in his pace, observing as many details as he could. He found himself comforted by the earthy colors of the walls and the forest greens of the blankets and cushions on the living room. He found the warmth of the apartment enjoyable, and even with the snacks that had already been laid out, the place quite obviously smelled of coffee, though the scent was delicately mixed with the aroma of flowers, mainly lavender and rose. He stopped and looked, though not for too long, at the different potted plants around the apartment, each one well taken care of, and overall the cozy aura of the place was enticing, inviting him to spend his days and nights there.

Of course, the company he'd find in that apartment was very inviting as well, and when his thoughts circled back to Nea, Steb observed her as she took out a bottle of stout ale from the fridge.

"Blu, do you want a beer?" Nea called.

"You know which one I like!" Blu replied from the living room.

"What about you?" Nea asked Steb.

"I wouldn't mind one," he replied somewhat shyly, feeling out of place for a moment between these two lifelong friends.

"Light or dark?" Nea asked.

"Light, please," Steb said.

"Okay," Nea said as she took out one more bottle of dark beer and one of light.

"You and Blu drink stouts?" Steb's voice carried obvious surprise in it.

"We like our beer like we like our coffee," Nea said. "My liver's used to it by now, but don't be surprised if Blu begins asking some very forward questions halfway through the second bottle."

"Yes, fear me," Blu mumbled from the living room.

Nea giggled and acknowledged Steb again. "Would you like a glass?"

"Bottle's fine," Steb replied.

With little more, Steb and Nea made their way back to the living room, drinks in hand. As Blu finished setting up the film, Nea handed her the bottle of stout, which Blu took with a little grin.

"Why, thank you," Blu looked adoringly at the bottle. "Come to mama, my sweet, bitter little baby."

Nea chuckled when Blu began drinking from the bottle, and even Steb couldn't help but laugh softly at the sight of the little Yordle gulping down beer from the bottle angled nearly vertically as she held it in her little paws. Then, Nea and Steb sat side to side on the sofa, facing the television, and once more their gazes met, prompting a shy little smile from one another. On the screen, the film was just starting, followed by Blu pit-pattering her way around the coffee table with her beer in hand. She set it down on the coffee table and hopped on the couch, shamelessly sitting herself between Steb and Nea, and when she was fully seated, Blu made grabby hands at her beer on the table.

Steb and Nea shared another look, this one full of mischief and amusement at the Yordle's antics. Steb reached for the beer before Nea and handed it to Blu, who looked at him with a certain degree of approval.

"Hm," Blu said as she took the bottle. "Good move, officer. Pass the chips."

"Blu, say please," Nea reminded.

"I'll say thanks for the chips," Blu added.

"Here you go," Steb said as he gave her the big bowl of salty snacks.

"Thanks," Blu said and snuggled into Nea's frame.

"So, what movie did you pick?" Nea asked her.

"Only a timeless classic," Blu replied as a delicate piano melody began playing on the screen.

"Oh my," Nea giggled. "You actually picked Arrogance and Prejudgment?"

"Yes," Blu snickered. "You remember the tradition, right?"

"When it gets to the potato scene, we both quote the phrase in unison," Nea recited.

"And then we drink," Blu snuggled deeper into Nea. "I like movie night."

With a little giggle, Nea looked at Steb again. "Are you comfy?"

He nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

Nea blinked with a little grin. "Let me know if you need anything."

He gave her a quiet smile in return, and though they would have loved more conversation, both Steb and Nea felt that if they talked during the movie, Blu would have their heads. The movie played its course, and as it was with every rewatch, Nea enjoyed every bit of it the way she always did. The only difference was that Steb was present; knowing looks and lingering gazes were exchanged, and even with Blu sitting between them, Nea and Steb could feel how close they were to one another. It added a sweet variety of tension to the hours as they passed by, and even in the absence of words, it was what Nea had wanted—time spent near him, and the fortune of gazing upon him simply by looking at her side.

The movie eventually came to its end, and each one in that living room had roughly two drinks down. Even with the quantity being the same, the three were all at a different level of inspiration, with Steb being fully in his five senses, Nea with a faint sensation of lightheadedness she wasn't sure came from the ale or the extended proximity to Steb, and finally, being the worst of all, Blu quietly giggling to herself as multiple thoughts crossed her mind.

"We should watch that again," Blu slurred as she tumbled off the couch, falling with a light thud on the carpet. The sight prompted a laugh from Nea, one that brought to light just how tipsy she was.

"Oh my gosh, are you hurt?" Nea asked as Blu stood up and began a wobbly stride towards the kitchen.

"Yes," Blu mumbled. "On the inside. It needs alcohol."

Nea snickered.

"Are you sure you can handle another drink, Blu?" Steb asked when he noticed the Yordle reaching into the fridge for another three bottles.

"What, you wanna give me advice?" Blu challenged as she closed the fridge and made her way back to the sofa. She gave Nea one of the bottles and kept the other two for herself, giggling as she climbed on the coffee table and took a seat. "Fun game. Gimme advice, fishy boy, I dare you."

Steb turned towards Nea, his aquamarine eyes full of concern. In her lightheadedness, Nea suddenly wished he wasn't looking at her like that, but then again, any expression he could adopt would have the same effect on her. She wasn't fully sure she'd be able to resist him, and against her will, she grinned widely at Steb, and a dreamy sigh left her as she unconsciously stirred on the sofa and shifted her weight towards him.

"She's fine," Nea said. "She'll mumble nonsense and then pass out, but we're at home, so there's nothing to worry about."

"If you're certain," Steb told her, not at all oblivious to the change in Nea's aura.

Slowly, Nea nodded and smiled at him. "I am. But thanks for worrying. Now, please, humor her."

Steb chuckled, and he figured he'd enjoy himself as well. By logical deduction, he'd determined that the third bottle of ale was meant for him, and he reached across the coffee table in an attempt to take it only to earn himself a fluffy slap on his hand coming from Blu's hand. When he met eyes with the Yordle, she was frowning, looking about as ruthless and menacing as a marshmallow.

"Valuable piece of advice number one," Blu slurred, pausing to hiccup. "Never take a bottle from a Yordle."

"I thought—" Steb began.

"Never," Blu reiterated.

"Behave," Nea reminded her friend.

"Valuable piece of advice number two!" Blu enunciated as she attempted to stand up on the coffee table, only to quickly find out she was too woozy to properly keep balance and sat down again. "Never—hic!—ever eat a beet if it's furry."

Steb laughed softly and tilted his head. "Why?"

Blu directed an unamused look at him. "What do you mean, why? It's a beet! It's not supposed to have fur." Blu looked at Nea. "Can you believe this guy?"

Nea quietly chuckled and looked over at Steb with a little spark in her eyes. As Steb looked at her too, he felt a sensation in his chest, perhaps that of his heart swelling at the sight of her curled up on the couch hugging one of the cushions and looking up at him in adoration. He couldn't help but smile softly at her, and he found himself controlling the urge to reach out and take her in his arms—not only would it be wrong in her current state, but he didn't need Blu lunging toward him in an attempt to end him, funny as that would be.

"Valuable piece of advice number four!" Blu said as she tried to hop from the coffee table to the armchair.

"You skipped a number, genius," Nea said as she reached out and helped Blu get on the chair.

"Valuable piece of advice number five," Blu continued, unbothered, as she found a comfy seated position on the arm chair, holding her beer not unlike a child would hold their sippy cup. The Yordle looked over at Steb and, for a moment, an unavoidable seriousness peered through the tipsy cloudiness of her overall aura. "Don't you dare break this woman's heart."

In the few seconds it took for Blu's words to sink in, Nea felt herself sobering up as well. An alarming embarrassment threatened to creep up on her, and just before she could slip into overdrive and erupt in attempt after attempt to convince Steb that Blu didn't know what she was saying, the Vastaya let out a deep, soft laugh and he too straightened his posture, looking deep into Blu without a hint of hesitation.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Steb assured.

With his words, the plethora of worries that had invaded Nea vanished. Her features softened and her chest sank with the soft exhale that left her as she turned around to face him, and for a moment, she didn't know whether to thank him or to confess her feelings to him. But even in her lightheadedness, she knew that worrying or speculating, much less hiding from him, wasn't an option anymore, and with that realization, a smile curved her full lips. Steb's gaze then landed on her, smiling softly at her as well—if she had looked beautiful before, the current sight of her had Steb feeling as if he'd swallowed a box of fireworks, about to burst in the many things she made him feel.

"Then my work here—hic!—is done," Blu said and brought the beer bottle up to her snout, downing its entire content before setting it aside. With one more hiccup, she curled up on the armchair facing away from them and mumbled a few things no one else was able to make out, and in seconds, she fell asleep.

Giggling softly at the sight of her furry friend sleeping like a baby—as if she hadn't just chugged a whole beer—Nea turned around on the couch and faced Steb again. As she looked at him, she could feel her entire guard being let down, and she smiled dreamily at the man in front of her. Everything around her seemed blurry, but no less enchanting, and Nea felt her heart skip a beat when Steb shifted closer to her on the couch. His eyes held a blend of concern and affection in them, and the first thing he did was reach for the bottle in her hands when it tilted in a perilous angle that would let all the liquid drain from it, a fact that had been irrelevant to Nea before he reached to grab it. He took it from her and set it on the coffee table only to look at her again, managing a soft smile.

“Are you okay?” Steb asked.

Nea smiled and hummed in approval, feeling her body angling itself closer to Steb as his deep, rich voice allured her not unlike the song of a siren.

“Yeah,” Nea replied. She looked at him and her hopeful grin widened and a shimmer adorned her gaze. “Did you really mean that?”

Steb chuckled and found no harm in answering. “Every word.”

With another soft hum, Nea found herself ever closer to Steb. Her hand hovered over to his forearm and delicately brushed down toward her hand, lingering on the sensation of the wool beneath her fingers. The bottles of beer finally caught onto her, dimming her senses, and she was barely able to register the flash of recognition in Steb’s eyes when she leaned even closer to him and perked her lips up, intent on sealing the space between them and indulging in the perfect first kiss she’d been yearning for. But instead of feeling his lips on hers, Nea suddenly felt a force applied against her shoulders followed by the sound of Steb’s voice hazily filling her ears.

“No, darling,” Steb said as he gently kept her at bay.

“What?” Nea whimpered. “Steb…”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he stated.

“No…” Nea’s whole face dropped into disappointment, well near breaking Steb’s heart, but a kiss in those conditions was out of the question for him. Delicately, Steb took Nea in his grip and helped her up to standing, and his own resistance built tension up in him as he looked at Nea, so beautiful yet so far off in a distant world.

“Oh, dear,” Steb said so quietly, just barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’d rather you remember this when you’re sober or not.”

“You don’t want to kiss me,” Nea mumbled.

Steb felt the words she spoke burning through his skin. “I do. Believe me, I do…”

From the couch to her bedroom, the only thought Steb could register was how much he’d only wanted to kiss her since he met her, how it ached to long for her embrace, her dark brown eyes gazing into him, waking up beside her in gentle sunlight… It hurt to even think that any part of Nea might suspect he wanted anything other than that, but now wasn’t the time to prove her wrong. When they arrived at her room, Steb sat Nea down on the bed and he kneeled in front of her.

“Hey,” Steb said. “I’m gonna get you a glass of water, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Nea nodded softly, but she didn’t say anything else. Steb got up to head to the kitchen, but he stopped in his tracks when he felt Nea grabbing his hand.

“Wait,” she said, with a brief hint of desperation in her voice.

“Yes?” Steb’s whole frame softened when he looked at her again.

“Don’t go,” Nea pleaded.

“I’m just going to the kitchen,” Steb reassured her. “I’ll be right here with you until you can fall asleep, okay?”

Nea gave a soft nod and let her hand drop, letting go of Steb. Through the buzz, she could recognize the tenderness of Steb’s gaze as he looked upon her, and with a few quiet steps, he was out of her room. As he made his way through the cozy little apartment, he didn’t forget to check on Blu as she slept on the couch—she was still positioned on her side and her breathing was deep and steady, giving no reason for concern. Steb then finished his way into the kitchen and, though he didn’t love the idea of rummaging through Nea’s cupboards, he found a cup and filled it with water to take it back to her room.

When he arrived, Steb was greeted by the sight of Nea sleeping already, curled up on her side in a fetal position facing the bedside table. Of all the ways Steb had pondered on the slightest possibility of seeing her sleeping soundly near him, he didn’t think it would involve her being drunk. In fact, he would have hoped it wouldn’t be the case had he ever stopped to consider that course of events. But things were as they were, and all in all, Nea did look adorable. With a soft smile, Steb set the glass of water down on the bedside table and turned off the lamp, and he reached for the blankets on the opposite side of the bed, folding them over to cover Nea so she’d be warm. He then left the room and opted to leave the door open, making it easier for him to hear if she needed him throughout the night.

When Nea had fallen asleep, she had no recollection of what time it was, and no such conscience until the first moment she felt sunlight gleaming on her eyelids the following morning. She didn’t even remember at what point during the night she’d gotten up to drink the now empty glass of water that rested on her nightstand, but as soon as she’d remembered who’d left it there for her, all the embarrassment returned. With a grimace, Nea pulled her blanket over her face and pressed her palm to her forehead in an effort to soothe the cringe and the piercing headache, and the realization that she couldn’t do anything to undo the way she drunkenly came onto Steb plunged a void right in the middle of her chest. She hoped to avoid facing anything and anyone that day—thank goodness it was the Coffeewick’s day off—like a troll retreating to a cave for as long as the sun lit the sky.

Nea got up from her bed and decided not to open the curtains just yet. As she made her way to the door, she wondered a lot of things, mainly how she would ever make it up to Steb. Now in the living room of her apartment, Nea squinted and used one of her hands to shield her eyes from the natural light that peered in through the windows, and her feet carried her over to the armchair where Blu was still sleeping as soundly as ever. Nea remembered seeing Blu curled up on one side, but in that moment, she was splattered face down with a blanket covering only half of her body, and Nea couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the sight. Blu looked as if the three bottles of beer she’d had the night before were actually full of hard liqueur.

When Nea laughed, she quieted down instantly when she heard a deep, sleepy moan coming from the ground, and she quickly faced the direction of the sound to find Steb sleeping on the carpet, his head and lower back supported by the cushions from the couch. One of his forearms covered his eyes, shielding him from the light, and he was almost entirely scrunched—Nea feared he’d been cold all night. She then looked at the coffee table and realized it was spotless. The empty bottles had been rounded up and placed next to the trash chute, the bowls of chips had been emptied and cleaned, and whatever droplets of beer or crumbs had been lying around the furniture weren’t there.

Nea looked at Steb’s sleeping figure and it dawned on her. She realized the motivation behind all his actions, particularly—and perhaps, especially—his decision to not kiss her the night before when she wanted to. Though part of her would have wished he would have left to avoid further embarrassment, now she was happy he’d stuck around if only to thank him for tidying up when he didn’t have to. She smiled at the sight of him and controlled the urge to plant a gentle kiss of gratitude on his forehead, and instead, she turned towards Blu.

With the lightest touch, Nea lifted the blanket off of Blu and draped it over Steb, hoping to give him some sort of comfort in what clearly was not an ideal sleeping position, and then she picked Blu up from the couch and headed for the door. In little time, Nea was in Blu’s apartment setting the Yordle down on her bed for her to keep sleeping to her heart’s content, and Nea then returned to her own apartment, taking her time with each step she took. Perhaps she’d brew a pot of coffee—whether it was for the hangover or to cure a night of poor sleep, coffee was never an inadequate form of gratitude. She reached for the doorknob of her place and twisted it, pulling the door open with her gaze trailed on the living room where Steb was sleeping, and when the scene was revealed to her, she found he wasn’t there anymore.

“Good morning,” Steb’s deep, rich voice emerged from her bedroom.

She found him standing under her doorframe and smiled at him, closing the door behind her.

“I heard the door and thought Blu had gone on her own,” Steb said. “I thought I’d check in on you, but then saw you were gone.”

“Yeah, I took her,” Nea said, giggling at the memory of how she found Blu on the couch. “There’s no way Blu’s gonna move on her own.”

Steb laughed softly and walked over to Nea. “And… how are you?”

When she saw how tenderly he looked at her, Nea nearly broke into a flustered amalgamation of embarrassment and thanks. Judging by the way Steb’s eyes softened at her, she knew all the emotions must have manifested in her gaze, and Nea chose to lead with the one thing that was eating her inside, prompting her to cover her eyes with her hands.

“I am so sorry about last night,” Nea whimpered.

“Hey, come on,” Steb comforted. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I put you in a difficult position, and I shouldn’t have…” Nea uncovered her eyes and looked at him again. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m sorry for letting myself go like that.”

“You had a couple beers in your own home,” Steb reassured. “Don’t apologize for that.”

“I tried to kiss you!” Nea blurted.

Steb chuckled softly, his ears giving a faint wiggle. “I’m… honestly flattered by that.”

“Don’t tease me,” Nea looked away from him.

“I’m not,” Steb reached, albeit without thinking, for her hand and squeezed it gently. The gesture instantly brought her eyes to look at him again, and though he considered for a moment swatting her hand away in regret, he kept it there and his ocean eyes softened as he continued to look deep into her.

“I mean…” Nea began. “It’s not like you don’t know how I feel…”

Her words abandoned her mid sentence, but she didn’t need them. Steb knew what she was trying to say, and the only thing that would pain him was for her confession to be clouded by remorse. He’d turn that around if he could, and in his eyes, he still had the chance. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at her, gesturing with his eyes toward the kitchen.

“You need to eat,” Steb said. “And hydrate.”

Still holding her hand, Steb led her toward the kitchen and stood in front of her fridge. “Mind if I make us some breakfast?”

Nea smiled at Steb with mild disbelief and she gave a soft nod. With her approval, Steb opened the fridge and looked around before taking out eggs, ham, and cheese.

“Here,” Nea went to the pantry and took out oil for the pan Steb was already putting on the stove, as well as a spatula and a whisk.

“Let me,” Steb smiled at her. “I wanna spoil you a bit.”

Nea felt herself blushing furiously. “Steb, you really don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he emphasized. “Scrambled?”

“What?” Nea asked.

“Are scrambled eggs okay?”

She chuckled and let him take the lead. “Yes, that sounds perfect.”

With that confirmation, Steb ignited the stove top and got to cooking, and in no time, the kitchen smelled amazing. Nea paused for a few moments to watch him move around the kitchen, until she moved on her own and prepped the coffee maker to brew a whole pot.

“So, you also brew coffee on your days off?” Steb asked her, still focusing on the eggs frying on the pan.

“Of course I do!” Nea beamed, walking up to him when she was able to leave the coffee maker to its own devices. “Coffee’s something I love.”

Steb could feel her proximity, and when he noticed the way she was looking at him, he turned off the stove so he could focus fully on her, his eyes beckoning her to speak up in the gentlest manner. Nea smiled softly at him, and her own gaze continued to hold an apologetic tone to it.

“Thank you,” she said, looking around the apartment for a couple seconds before looking at him again. “You didn’t have to clean up, by the way. But… thank you. For everything.”

Steb smiled at her and angled his body to face her. As he looked at Nea, he could see her anticipation growing when her eyes sparkled up at him again and her chest began to heave in soft pants.

“Steb?” She pronounced his name so endearingly, full of hope.

“Yes?”

“I…” Nea blushed. “I can think straight now.”

Steb gave a soft chuckle. “I’m sure you can.”

Nea’s smile widened. “So… Can I kiss you?”

The frills around Steb’s eyes flared in subtle waves as his own smile widened at her, and with a delicate grip, Steb rested his hands cupping Nea’s neck, his thumbs gently brushing the bases of her jaw. The adoration in his aquamarine gaze faded into something quieter, but no less adoring, slowly leaning down closer to her.

“Can I?” Steb asked her quietly.

Nea giggled. “Yes.”

No more barriers were placed, and beaming with joy, Steb leaned down to close the space between them. The initial contact of their lips was warm and unprecedentedly soft, both moving in tandem like waves dancing on a shore. Steb smiled into the kiss when he felt Nea’s chest rising with a deep inhale infused with soft surprise and a tender shyness that faded when she let her hands brush up his shoulders, resting on his broad frame. In turn, Steb took one of his hands to the back of Nea’s head, pressing her closer to him as he kissed with more strength, prompting her to wrap her arms around him. She also began to kiss with greater strength, letting everything—the yearning, the uncertainty, the many beats skipped by her heart whenever she thought of him—rest in that much anticipated kiss. Now that she was with him, she knew she wouldn’t want to let go; she was ready to give herself to him just as she could feel the same from him.

When the time was right, the kiss relented, but neither of them were quick to pull away. With little space between their lips, Nea looked up at Steb, who smiled lovingly at her blushing figure, a sight so endearing it prompted another flare of the frills on his eyes, tickling Nea’s cheekbones and drawing a soft giggle from her. She made no attempt to resist the desire to kiss him again and, wrapping her arms around his back, she kissed him with equal strength and he embraced her waist, gently spinning her away from the stove and swaying her gently to the sides until he pulled away with a final peck to her forehead.

“Sit down,” Steb whispered. “You need to eat.”

Nea felt her cheeks starting to ache from grinning so widely and, enamored by his selflessness, she resolved to let him finish what he started. But instead of sitting down, Nea wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, hearing his soft laughter rumbling deep in his torso.

“I’m not letting you go now,” Nea whispered, not necessarily intending for him to hear her.

Still, Steb eventually turned around with two plates ready to be served, leaning down to gently kiss Nea’s lips again before leading her to the table.

“I should hope not,” he whispered and took the plates down to the table. “Should I pour the coffee?”

His words slid Nea out of her trance, suddenly rendering her able to stand in the real world where, next to Steb, everything looked far more beautiful.

“No, that’s my job,” Nea smiled.

Like he’d done many times already, Steb watched as Nea expertly poured the cups of coffee, finally for the two of them to sit down and enjoy together. As she made her way back to the table, he took the cups from her hands and set them down, pulling her close one more time to kiss her, and what he’d initially meant to be a quick kiss before breakfast evolved into Nea leading Steb to the couch where they continued, shy yet loving, without any need for fire or rush, merely adoring one another for as long as they’d wanted to since that first encounter, and long enough for the coffee to go cold and the sun to continue its way across the sky.

Thanks so much for reading! Please reblog to help me get out there!

Next chapter -> (coming soon!)

[luveline]

Hi Jade! First of all thank you for bringing back the zombie au, it is my absolute fave! Second, if you are taking requests for it currently, maybe r (with Robin maybe?) goes and finds a gift for Steve just to make him smile (which may or may not make him break into tears with how vulnerable and emotional he's been with all the stuff he's been through?) Thank you for all your lovely writing!

thank you anon! fem!reader, 8k —You, Steve and Robin make a risky trip for non-essentials to improve your quality of life at the camp. Steve's feeling stressed, you try to make it better, and Robin finds a cat in the display section of the mattress store. 

tw for zombie apocalypse typical implied violence and gore, food insecurity, injury

"We'll call it something really cool," Robin says, "like Y/N and Robin's ultimate quest for cleanliness." 

Robin is a little dirty today. She's scraped her hair back into a tiny ponytail, and it flicks out at the back of her head like a feather duster. You think it's adorable, and you lean around her shoulders to try and touch it. Steve pulls you back bodily. 

"Stop touching her," he says. 

"Just her hair," you say. 

"No, because you know how ansty she is, it's like poking a sleeping dragon." 

"Shut up! Shut up, loser, I haven't been antsy at all, I'm planning a girl's trip as we speak." 

You laugh and fall back into Steve's arms, the kind of laugh that makes your chest feel tight and your eyes scrunch closed. A girl's trip is definitely one way to put it. 

"I'm just saying," Steve says, not just saying at all, "that you're dangerous right now. Next time I'll let her touch your hair and you can bite her hand off." 

"She can touch my hair. I don't know if you've noticed, Harrington, but that right there is my very best friend."

And okay, it's not true, Steve and Robin have the strongest friendship you've ever seen, but there is a truth behind it —you and Robin get along well. It would be difficult not to love her, she's a gem, and she cares about the person you care about most in the world at the same level (though in a different calibre). 

You worm out of Steve's arms to give her a quick hug. Steve steals you away again and you laugh as you go, flopping your weight onto him and almost knocking him flat onto his back. 

You, Robin and Steve are sitting around the campfire in the centre of camp. It's rather big and blissfully hot, the sky a velvet black that hides the smoke. Children sit with droopy eyes to the left, some with parents and most without, though the community is full of good people with great hearts who've swooped in to help look after them. Already, an older woman named Matildhe seems to have gathered a brood of six children, all young, and all wanting cuddles. To the right, Jeremy Livingstone and Joyce Byers plan the unplannable, a map of Michigan at their feet held down by stones. Jonathan sits by his mother's legs with a baby in his lap, her sleeping face pressed to his chest. He taps her back absent-mindedly. "What about here?" he asks, drawing a circle with his finger. Will, his younger brother, moves the flashlight beam to follow his direction. 

Despite the fire, the wind bites at your backs, a nippy chill. Steve has solved this by becoming your windbreaker, or so he claims. 

"She loves me," you murmur. 

"I love her," Robin agrees. 

"That's why you can't come on our girl's trip," you say. 

"Girls," Steve says, measured, "I'm unsure, but I'm starting to think that you think you're going somewhere without me." 

"No, we know you'll crash the party. But we're going to pretend you aren't there," Robin says. 

Her chipper attitude makes you laugh for the millionth time tonight. Steve laughs in tandem behind you, his breath fanning warmly over the shell of your ear. 

It smells like woodsmoke and pine needles meshed together here, two smells that alone are nice but together give you a headache. You wrinkle your nose and sit up properly, worried about squashing Steve or hurting his bad knee. "The smell is so strong out here," you say. 

"Shit, this guy bothering you?" Steve asks, pointing his thumb at the fire. 

"Kick his ass, Steve," Robin says. 

"Are you losers drunk?" Dustin asks. 

You twist on your butt to face him, Steve's favourite sixteen year old standing in the dark wearing two coats and three scarfs. 

"Are you cold?" Steve asks. "Come and sit with us." 

"We aren't drunk, just happy," you say, gesturing for him to do as Steve said. 

Dustin sits by the fire with you, groaning. "What is there to be happy about?" 

You bite your top lip. Dustin is so young, and he's lost a lot. More than he ever should've had to lose, twice, his sense of normalcy destroyed. You don't blame him for being depressed over what is possibly the most traumatic thing he will ever have to experience. You don't want to offer him empty platitudes or tell him how to feel, and Steve doesn't want to either, but he can't watch him mope. He loves him too much. 

"Dusty," he teases, "don't be so down. Haven't you seen this glorious and ridiculously enormous bonfire we have going on?" 

"I see it," Dustin says from behind gritted teeth. 

"Hey, do you want to sleep in our tent tonight?" Steve asks, a tad more seriously. "It's warmer with more people, and it's not as crowded as you think it'll be." 

"No, thanks." 

"You could drag your tent closer," you say, quieter, trying not to smother him or embarrass him with parenting he never asked for. 

"I don't like being near the boundary. You guys might be okay with ending up as geek chow but the rest of us have common sense." 

"Well, we didn't really have a choice there," Robin says. 

Which is true. The kids all get to sleep in tents close to the fire, and the adults are a row behind. You guys aged out of the kids category a long time ago, so you're the ones who'll be eaten first, but you're also the ones who'll hear the can alarms when they ring on the tripwires first. 

Steve sleeps with his baseball bat anyhow. 

You disentangle yourself from Steve's grips and meet his eyes. He doesn't need you to tell him, but you give him a look that hopefully says, Maybe you should talk to him. Eyebrows raised gently, lips pursed. 

Steve sighs like he's preparing himself and shuffles around you. He doesn't begrudge Dustin needing cheering up, you know that. He probably just wishes he could offer Dustin more than, "We have food and water and a place to pee." 

Robin crawls right to your side and sets back on her haunches. "Here's what I think we should do." 

"Wait, you don't wanna wait for Steve to explain?" 

"Nope, he'll say no. Me and you have to find the best way to sell it so we can actually go."

"You aren't kidding about the girl's trip?" 

"Nope. Look, the situation is dire. We know where the mall is, we've been there tons of times. The whole group can't go and we don't trust most people to keep us alive anyways, so me, you and Steve will go. We'll sleep there or something too, so there's no pressure on us to rush back and stress out Steve." 

"Wouldn't it be safer to hurry back?" you ask. 

Robin hums. "Maybe. Uh, if we travel at night like I've been thinking about doing I don't think we could hurry back." 

"At night?" 

"We're basically nocturnal at this point." You dip your head toward her mildly. She drops the slight facade she'd had, "I would feel better. If we went at night." 

The College, the community you and your group had inhabited until recently, was attacked and destroyed by raiders. They were likely drawn by the black smoke of the small bonfire in the quad of the campus, lit to celebrate a quasi-thanksgiving. It wasn't supposed to end up the way it had. 

Robin got attacked. Steve was there to help her get away uninjured, earning himself a black eye. She can't sleep if she's by herself anymore. You hate yourself for not being there to protect them. 

She's afraid of being attacked by people rather than geeks now. Travelling at night increases the likelihood of dying via geek (you can't see them, they can smell you), but it vastly decreases the chance of meeting other people. It makes sense that a night time excursion is her preference. 

You just don't know how you feel about it, and you have no clue how you might convince Steve to go along with it.  

"So you want us to hike to the mall at night. Is it on the map? Where even is it?" 

"I don't remember the name, Steve'll know it 'cos we've been there, but what matters is that I know for a fact there's a fancy soap store. I need soap, Y/N. I can't take this anymore. And if I don't brush my teeth soon I'm going to scream, my finger can only do so much." 

Occasionally three of you take a pea sized dollop of paste and rub it over your teeth in an effort to feel less disgusting, the same way that you wash with a rag and cold water behind the treeline, and dunk your clothes in the river without detergent. Water is a good cleaner, but eventually there's a funk in the clothes that can't be washed out without soap, or Robin's current issue: oily hair.

Without soap and toothbrushes, you feel about as disgusting as a person can feel. If you don't make this trip soon, you'll be in the exact same boat as Robin, one bad stain away from screaming. 

"And the fancy soap shop definitely has soap?" 

"Definitely. And there's a department store with blankets, too. We could really improve the quality of our miserable lives." 

"You don't have to convince me," you say, though it might not hurt in actuality. You're hesitant to leave the camp, but if Robin's leaving she can't go without Steve (who would never let her go alone), or you, because you refuse to be separated from Steve (or her, honestly). "It's Grim Fandango who needs greasing." Grim being Steve. 

Steve has managed to wrap an arm around Dustin. You're half-expecting Dustin to be wriggling under his touch, desperate for an escape, a teenage boy allergic to both sincerity and affection, but Dustin's dissolved like jello powder in boiling water, totally slouched into Steve's side. Steve's hand runs the younger boy's upper arm briskly.

"It'll be okay, dude, I promise. We've come this far," Steve says. 

"I'm just tired," Dustin says quietly. 

"Maybe we should sell it, as uh, an enrichment trip," you suggest to Robin. "We can get stuff for the kids, some board games or something." They need an escape. 

"I miss my books," Robin says. 

"Holy shit, me too. Steve says you can tell the plot of every Agatha Christie novel from memory, is that true?" you ask. 

"Only the good ones. Can I lie down on you?" 

You let Robin lie down with her head on your thigh. It can't be comfortable but maybe it's better than the floor, or maybe it's just nice to be close to someone. You like having Robin with you. You'd been so apprehensive of her when you met, not because she was Steve's best friend —though that did worry you to some extent— but because you had trust issues to the neck and she was the first person beside Steve to be nice to you without motivation. In this world, that doesn't check out. 

"What ones do you know?" 

"Murder on the Orient Express?" she offers. 

"Okay. Set the scene, Buckley." 

Steve returns just after the detective finds out that Ratchet has been murdered. "I love this part," he says. 

"Then let me tell it." 

Robin spins for a while, but you peel away from the fire before you're too tired to stand and retreat to your makeshift tent. It's a tarp held up by two sticks and a blanket on the floor, but it works to keep away the rain and most bugs. There's not quite enough room for you three, but there's also literally no other option, and none of you mind. You squeeze in like tinned sardines, sleeping in your coats and shoes. 

In the morning, you and Robin attempt to sell your idea to Steve over lukewarm oxtail soup. You and Steve share. Robin had to tip half into a bowl for someone else. The rationing is going okay. 

You could've ended up with a can of garden peas, or chopped tomatoes.

"It's actually better if it's only us, you see, because we can sneak around and it'll be much quieter. And they don't need us here right now, everything's settled. And me and Y/N want to so we should." 

Steve wraps your hand around the can of soup so you don't touch the hot bottom. He doesn't look like he's even remotely listening to Robin, his eyes on your face and his hands not far behind. He neatens you up, so to speak, scratching a little dirt speck from your cheek and folding the rolled collar of your shirt. "This," he says finally, his hand curling behind your neck, "sounds like a very bad idea." 

You shudder happily as he starts to scratch your neck down to your shoulders. "Steve, what's bad about it? We'll be like the Three Musketeers, travelling in darkness, a mission for the people." 

"Did you ever read that book?" Steve asks, his hand dropping to your shoulder, where it stays for a reverent second. You look gross and he still wants to squeeze you. 

"No," you admit, lips on the sharp edge of your soup. You take a careful sip. 

"We get there quickly, spend a night on the mattresses at the department store, and… Hey, why don't we go live in the mall?" Robin asks. 

The idea of a real mattress is seductive, but not that much. 

"Because we don't want to paint a huge target on our backs?" you ask. 

"I'm kidding." Robin peers down at her soup unhappily. "I really hate oxtail." 

Steve noticeably flickers. He meets your eyes, and you think he's speaking to you in his head. Fucking hell, I can't believe what I'm about to agree to. 

"If you can convince Mrs. Byers to delegate us an actual weapon, then okay, fine, we can go to the mall." He stretches out his mostly healed knee and rubs it with both hands. "Fuck. A knife. Actually, I want each of us to have a weapon. So if you can somehow magic that into being, we can go." 

"I don't see why we even had to ask permission," Robin jokes, "like it's the sixties or something." She springs up to her feet, forces her oxtail soup into the hands of one of the preteens by the fire, and beelines for the small crowd of kids surrounding one much taller Joyce. 

"You'd still come with us even if you didn't want to," you say. 

"Yeah, obviously. Robin's right, this isn't the sixties. That being said, if it was a worse plan, I'd tie you to a tree." 

"I could be into that," you tease, pleased when he scoffs through a laugh. His elbow drives into your side. "Stop, fiend." 

"No, fiend. Take the force of my elbow." He nudges you. 

You elbow back. He elbows harder. You potentially give him a bruise and feel extremely bad when he "Oofs," aloud. 

"Sorry," you say, climbing up on your knees to put your arms on his shoulders. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." 

He shoves you away from him and you're evil, you're selfish, you want him to dote. You fall flat on your back in the dirt and grass, covering your smile with the crook of your elbow so he doesn't immediately know you're fine. 

"Shit," he cusses, kneeling between your legs, moving to hover over you. "I didn't mean to knock you down…" He sees your smile. "You lying conniving trickster." 

You smile harder, lips pressed together and your chest light as a feather for the first time in days, until suddenly he's squished on top of you and pressing down. "Ow," you fake, wriggling away from him. "I think there's a twig in my brain." 

He wriggles with you. "You suck, you made me think I hurt you." 

"Don't be a wuss, I get hurt all the time, how do you even know I'm not hurt?" 

He sighs all quiet and lifts your head off of the grass. "I can't see through your hair," he says, "did it actually hurt?" 

You take his face into your hands. Your fingers are very cold, but he doesn't flinch. 

"I'm messing with you, H." 

"When did that nickname catch on?" 

You rub his cheeks with your thumbs. Fingers behind his ears, you smooth over his short scratchy stubble affectionately. Quick, you lift your chin and touch your lips to his. It's hardly a kiss. 

He leans down slowly and makes it a better one. 

"Stop," Robin says, kicking you in the ribs. She isn't cruel about it, more of a toe touch. 

"Oh, hi, that was a quick rejection," you say, frowning. 

Robin beams. "Actually, we've been approved. One knife apiece and a request for children's clothes. Get packing!" 

She whizzes off in another direction, seemingly to pack and gather the allocated weaponry. 

Steve drops his chin back down to you. 

"Does she have secret things we don't know about?" he asks. 

You scratch his scalp, "Mm… I'm not supposed to tell you." 

He sits up. You frown.

"She really has a secret stash?"

"No, Steve," you laugh. "No, of course she doesn't. Where would she hide them?" 

Steve yanks you up by the arm playfully. You pretend to fight him, but it's no use. You'll do anything he wants you to. 

—

Steve didn't necessarily think that a hike through the outskirts of an infested city would be easy, but he also hadn't realised it would be this boring. Especially a trip he's already made in the past. Boring and kind of hard. 

It's not because you aren't capable —you might've taken a hit when The College collapsed, but you've mostly recovered, and your endurance is good. You have the best survival skills you've ever had, and Robin is similarly ready for whatever it is that might get thrown at you. Too bad preparation doesn't make you a ninja. 

He isn't at his peak and he was no man of steel beforehand, and although he was good enough to keep you both alive, he's not sure if it's still true. Plus, he wasn't expecting to feel so moody. 

You're marching on like a true warrior next to him, your hand around his wrist and swinging gently, your eyes on the ground. Steve's flashlight carves a weak path through the dusk. Soon, it'll be completely dark, and that's when he imagines his worrying will reach a fever pitch. 

For now, he tries to be chill. 

"Is my hand not good enough for you?" he asks. 

"I figure you can pull away from me quicker if you need to if we're not, like, sewed together." 

"You have weird hands," Robin interjects. "They're big. I wouldn’t hold them either.” 

"That's why they're nice hands, Robin," you say. "Well, maybe they're just nice because I love him."

"I love him. Mostly. He still has weird hands," she says. 

"You don't get it," you say. 

You wrap your arms around his bicep and hug it quickly before backing away again. He thinks you kiss his coat, but he really can't tell. 

"I don't think I want to get it," Robin says.

You're quieter when you ask, "Is that really true? You don't want to be in love?" 

In the dark, and at night, it's quiet. It's nearly always quiet everywhere you go nowadays, but it feels immense this far from the camp. Steve is on edge. Too distracted for heart to hearts. But he wants to know the answer too, so he stays nice and quiet. 

"I love that you're in love," Robin says lightly. "And I love you both. But I've seen you guys when you think you're going to lose each other, and surviving is hard enough without… that." 

You let your hand slide down to his hand, your palm flat to the top, not holding it but holding him. 

Steve clears his throat. "It's worth losing my mind every time she decides to wander off because of the peace she gives me when we're together." 

"The peace?" Robin asks. She sounds like she wants to be incredulous but his sincerity has tripped her up. 

"I'm with her and…" He can see the side of your face in the flashlight. You're smiling shyly, your gaze on the grass beneath your shoes. Footsteps rustle in the gap of his words. "I don't want to be anywhere else as long as she's there." 

"It sounds like a toothache," Robin says. 

"You know, I used to get bad toothaches all the time before we found you, and Steve made me a teeth guard out of a leather armchair with a pen knife and a needle and thread." 

"Did you just make that up? Trying to convince me about the magic of love?" Robin asks. 

"No, he really made it for me, I used to keep it in my nightstand," you say. He can hear your smile.

He made it because watching you cry from toothache left him feeling powerless. A guy who'd never even held a needle and thread before bent over his lap with a flashlight in the hours while you slept until his eyes burned because watching you sniffle made him feel sick. He can't describe the ache of it, loving you but not having kissed you, or even really told you, his girl so stressed at night your jaw had locked tight and you were reduced to whimpers each morning. Having to watch you pretend it wasn't happening until you couldn't, until you broke down crying with your hand wrapped around his wrist like it is now. Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Steve, I just– I want– I don't know– I can't– 

He was useless. He was stupid. He could barely bring himself to rub your back because he thought another touch might knock you over. 

Calm down, honey, he'd murmured. Just calm down.

He never could've imagined seeing you cry like that before he did. You couldn't move. You explained it like a headache when words became feasible again, which, Steve's had headaches; concussive migraines that were white hot and everywhere. So he could imagine it even if he'd never felt it, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. Willing to try anything, he'd even wondered if he could pull your tooth out himself. Mouth surgery is prone to infection, and he couldn't face levelling that amount of pain onto you personally. So rather than fix the tooth, he'd have to fix the stress. He couldn't fix the stress, so he looked for anything at all to ease the pain. Ibuprofen, codeine, even a course of antibiotics. And then, finally, the leather mouth guard. Leather stacked and sewed with sanitised, loving hands. 

"It's weird what that kind of love can bring out of you," Steve says quietly, matching the surroundings. "I did a great job. I'm a seamstress." 

Robin pretends to throw up generously and noisily. Steve shushes her. You, in a very good mood with no signs of calming down, laugh behind your hand. 

"I can make you another one," he offers. He hadn't thought about it yet, but of course you don't have it anymore. Anything in your nightstand is lost forever. 

"You might need to. I'll be a stressed mess all over again if we don't find some socks, I can feel my ankle bone piercing the back of my shoes," you say. No socks either. 

Robin's flashlight turns quickly to the right. You and Steve flinch at the same time to guard the other, peering in the exposed direction. There aren't many trees around here, so all to be seen is yellow-green grass and empty air. 

"Sorry, I got the heebies," Robin says. "Maybe it was your disgusting declarations of love." 

"Hardy-har. Where the fuck do you think we are right now?" Steve asks. 

"Wait, you don't know?" you ask. 

"You have the map," he says back. 

"Oh, right. But how do we navigate in the dark? We don't have a compass." 

"I have the compass!" Robin announces. 

"From where?" you ask. 

"How did you think we'd get there in the dark, angel?" Steve asks you genuinely. 

He doesn't have time to wonder if it's okay to call you angel. He's never done it before, but it felt right in the moment. You're kind of like an angel, protective and sweet and a symbol for goodness. 

"I thought because you guys already knew where it was– we– we set off while it was still light! I assumed we'd just walk straight." 

Steve and Robin laugh at you, but not without love. 

You pretend to sulk for a while, though you shine your flashlight at the map when he asks, your arm threaded through his and face leaning on his shoulder. "I'm so confused," you mumble. 

"Don't worry. I know where we are now," he says.

"No, I know where we are too, but I'm confused as to why I thought this was a good idea." 

"This is a good idea because I've had greasy hair for two weeks and I feel like a worm," Robin says. "And we need blankets, and moisturiser, and to feel like real people."

Steve has a better list than that. He needs moisturisers for your cracked hands, antiseptic for the healing cut on your thigh. He needs shaving foam or at the least a goddamn razor, a new shirt, you both need underwear and you're in dire need of shoes that fit. He wouldn't mind a compression support for his knee, a pair of scissors, and most of all a box of cigarettes —a quick trip to the pharmacy would fix a lot of problems. 

"I feel pretty real." 

"You're real pretty," Steve says quickly. 

"Yes! Oh, yes! Kiss?" you cheer, delighted at his swift wit. 

Steve knows —he knows— you're putting on a brave face for him. He cried on your shoulder and you haven't cried since. You're being the strong one. You're trying to make it work. 

You've always been the strong one. Steve has taken care of you so many times; held your hand in torrential rain when you were too tired to go on; scrambled through rotten floorboards to find you on your back and unconscious, fed you water in your sleep half-worried you were dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He's fought for you, the dead and the living —he would do worse for you. But you've done the impossible, surviving every ache and pain, coming back from things he didn't think you would. You crawled through glass for him. You stumbled in the dark bleeding and exhausted to do as he asked, to meet him at the end of an endless day. 

He gives you the kiss you asked for. There's only one clue that you aren't as happy as you seem. Your breath catches as he leans down, like you thought he might not give you one after all. 

It takes you hours to get there and way longer than you thought. You don't realise you're upon it until the grass turns to roads under your feet, and the road turns to parking lot. There's a shattering of glass spread over the floor like a spilled bag of salt that crunches under your shoes. Steve grips your elbow and the three of you creep inside past the doors. They're open, which is bad and good. Bad because someone's been here since the last time, and might still be inside. Good, because Steve's not sure any of you have the energy to open them. 

"I don't think I have to say this, but please, let's whisper from here," Steve suggests. 

"Damn, do we have to?" Robin whispers. "I was just about to start my rendition of Singing in the Rain." 

You laugh through your nose. 

"We'll go up to the bedding store, okay? And we'll grab some blankets, and then we'll find a storage room and barricade ourselves in."

"Steve, I wanna sleep on a mattress," Robin whines. 

"But we don't know who's here," he says. "Buckley, I swear, I'll carry a mattress back to camp for you if that's what you want, but we have to live to see the morning first." 

"It's not like we haven't done it before," you say, nudging her gently. "Can we go back to whispering? I'm really nervous. I don't want to attract anything." 

"Sorry," Robin whispers. 

Being outside in the dark had felt horrifying but mostly manageable. Being inside is terrifying too, and though your flashlights make it easy to navigate now that there's walls for the light to reflect off of, it's scarier knowing this is an enclosed space. You can only run so far in either direction. 

Your fingers twist in the corner of his hoodie. He doesn't say anything. For a split second, he remembers you doing it in the past, before he'd even thought about kissing you, when you were scared and he was more angry than anything else (though not usually at you). He'd pretend he didn't feel it. He was a bitch but he was never cruel, and if you needed to scrunch the hem of his jacket in your hand to feel better then that was alright. 

"You okay?" he murmurs. 

"I'm okay. I think my cut is weeping." 

"What?" he asks, head clicking as he turns to you. "Since when?"

"Not sure, it just feels weird, like it's wet." 

"This is the kind of thing I'd love to know." Steve sighs. "The bedding place is up here somewhere. You can let me take a look at it." 

You, Steve and Robin walk up the frozen escalators, your footsteps making banging metal sounds that echo through what feels like the entire mall. Hackles raised, Steve ushers you both into the bedding store, pulling Robin by the sleeve before she can stop to deliberate over blankets to the very back of the store where a door demarcates the Staff Only room. 

"Listen," he whispers, "we are going to go in there back to back, just like we always do. Robs, I promise, as soon as I've checked her leg, I'll help you do whatever you want. Cool?" 

"My leg is fine." 

"If it gets infected, I know for a fact there aren't any antibiotics here," he says. They've looked. "We have to stay in front of it. Are you ready?" 

"Steve, we're not amateurs," Robin says. She hums. "Okay, I might be, but you owe Y/N some respect." 

"No, I'm an amateur." 

"You're not an amateur," Steve says. "Girls, please." 

"Can we veto 'girls'? I want to be dudes," Robin says. 

"Robin–" 

"Okay, okay! Let's do it." 

—

You wake up with the driest mouth in the world, your head bumping from hunger and bad sleep —the floor still feels like the floor, no matter how many pillows you have— to sounds just outside of the door. 

You hike up on elbows and feel your heart climb into your mouth. Steve's hand is on your neck, and Robin's foot is over your calf, and this is a very bad time to be locked in, especially weighed down as you are by fleece blankets. 

"Steve," you whisper, blindly reaching out with your own hand. You accidentally smack him in the face with the base of your thumb. "Oh, shit, sorry. Steve, there's something outside." 

He's impressively alert when he opens his eyes. He couldn't have been sleeping deeply. "What kind of something?" he whispers back, sitting up. 

He pushes the blankets away and climbs onto his knees. The noise happens again, quickly followed by a smash and a third sound like a thump. 

Robin flinches awake next to you. You put your hand on her shoulder, hoping it says, Hey, it's fine, you're fine.

"Where's your bag?" Steve asks you, standing up tall.

It's disgusting, but you're holed up in the employee bathroom. As far from the toilet and sinks as physically possible but with a buffer from the door. Staying in a storage closet hadn't been possible, the staff room door hanging off the hinges enough to not close, and the storage room a medium space crammed to bursting with mattresses and shelves of sheets that wobbled threateningly when touched. 

Your bag is somewhere under the blankets. You scramble onto your knees and search for it. You'd put your things away for the sake of neatness. Silly move.  

"Here," you say, pulling out a flashlight for Steve. He takes it into one hand, pen knife in the other unsheathed. "It's probably a geek." 

"Yeah. Can you put your shoes on?" he asks, not unkindly. 

You shake yourself and do as he asks you to. Robin helps you up. Steve creeps to the door, waiting for you both before he opens it into the main floor. 

"I don't think we need the torch," Robin says. 

Daylight illuminates the room through the windows set in the west wall. You all squint and step out, arms in defensive positions, treading softly so as not to be heard. 

Another thump. You can't hear footsteps, exactly, just the occasional, irregular thump. Geeks are usually noisier. Dragging steps. They'll walk into walls if they're following a specific scent. 

Steve turns to you both and raises his eyebrows. Brace yourselves. 

He hits the butt of the knife into the wall three times. 

Nothing shows itself. You stand frozen for a few minutes anyways, even when Steve and Robin decide they want to venture further into the room and scope out the place. You watch their backs, heart still pounding and with no signs of stopping. 

“Oh, fuck,” Steve curses. 

“What?” you and Robin hiss at the same time. 

“Come here. Y/N, come over here,” he says, like you aren’t already half-way across the floor to meet them. 

Steve gestures at a showcase bed with velvet purple sheets. They’re not even dusty, no signs of time or wear, nothing to speak of a different age. Nothing, that is, beside the dead bird on the pillowcases, and the carpeting of fur surrounding it. It's odd for Steve to point you towards any gore, and you're a tad shocked, until he takes your forearm in his hand and pulls you in front of him. "See?" he murmurs. 

He points to the pillow. You follow his finger. 

Robin speaks first. Correction, Robin squeaks first. 

"Is that a cat?" she asks, all the excitement of her discovery squashed tightly into a frankly impressive whisper-shout. 

Robin refuses to move after that. She begs Steve for some of the dried jerky (of unknown origin and animal) from the rucksack and lays down on her stomach when the tugged tabby you've found flees beneath the bed frame. "Here, kitty," she murmurs, her gentlest tones. "Come on, killer, I need your help." 

Steve nudges you.

"Oh, you're talking to me?" you ask Robin.

"I need your help," Robin insists, looking at you from over her shoulder. Her hair is limp around her face, her cheeks flushed red with excitement. "She has to know we're all friends."

"Watch my back?" you ask Steve. 

He sits on the end of the bed, "Don't have to ask." 

You set down carefully next to Robin and peer under the bed for the tabby. Your arrival has scared her half to death. 

"Maybe she's only used to seeing geeks," you say. 

"Maybe she thinks we're geeks," Robin says agreeably. 

"Me and Steve found a dog once, but he wouldn't let us touch. He begged for food and then he ran away," you say. 

"The dog wouldn't let you touch him, or Steve wouldn't let you touch the dog?" Robin asks, waving the jerky around.

"A bit of both." 

"Kitty," Robin sings. 

"Oh, god, this is comfy as fuck," Steve mumbles, laying down in bed. "Robin, you have to get up and watch your six, babe." 

You and Robin laugh in sync and aloud at his 'babe'. It's you who stands and continues taking mild guard. You're not worried about intruders anymore, thinking that any company would have presented itself already, but you like keeping them safe. You take check of every corner of the room, spinning in the world's slowest circle. Robin baby talks to the cat under the bed while offering scraps of jerky. Steve, having curled away from the bird, lets his fingertips brush your thigh each time you turn. 

"Getting dizzy?" he asks. 

"Yes. And hungry, too, which is a weird feeling together. Can I have some of the jerky?" 

Steve offers the bag. "If you're hungry, eat what you want, but if you can keep it to a little portion just in case we can't find anything else, honey…" 

You stop spinning so much to eat jerky. You eat more than you should, you hunger a cruel, sharpened thing that jabs from your stomach and up into your diaphragm. You hand Steve back the bag before you can eat someone else's share and decide to focus on the other negatives in your life, like your shoes. 

"Can we look for shoes soon?" you ask. 

"Yeah, honey," Steve says. Honey, honey. His voice is soft with an ever-present fatigue. 

"I don't think this cat likes me very much," Robin says, still singing. 

"She's just scared. Maybe if we leave and come back again she'll realise we're friendly," Steve says. 

"Yes sir." Robin stands, brushing herself down. "Oh, ew, Steven, how can you lie there? You know the cat's probably spayed all over that bed, right?" 

Steve springs up. "Okay, ew." 

“It’s okay,” she says. “Let’s go get some new clothes.”

It’s harder than it should be. The three of you move from store to store on high alert for what has to be an hour, searching for practical, fitting clothes. The time for modesty is over, and you take turns changing in front of one another while the others make sure you aren’t about to become naked geek feed. You’re so unclean that putting clean clothes on feels wrong, but you do it anyhow. You double back to the store with suitcases and bags and fill a suitcase to bursting point with the clothes that Joyce requested for the children. You sit yourselves down at some point, always exhausted, to try on sneakers. The relief of finding and changing into a pair that fits cannot be understated. When you’re sure there’s at least pants and a sweater for every child, you pack up and head for the fancy soap shop. 

Robin is ecstatic. Ideally, you can all carry one bag on your shoulders and pull one suitcase, so you each fill a bag with soaps and brushes and powders, figuring that if you find food or medication worth carrying you can empty one of the bags rather than double back. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t actually sleep on a mattress,” Steve says. 

Robin shrugs nonchalantly, kicking aside an empty helium tank with her foot as you pass by a card and gift store. She’s grown less happy as time goes on, unsatisfied with the day's events. Finding nice soap hadn’t felt important with no water around to use it. The cat was rabid, you’re all living off of jerky and river water, and now you have to hike home again in the dark, hours of fear and tenseness. 

“I miss your car,” Robin says. 

You hadn’t ever been in Steve’s car, but you say, “Me too.”

“Maybe we should find a real tent,” Steve says, apparently not listening. 

“Isn’t that kind of mean?” Robin asks. 

“I mean, if the others wanted a tent, they could’ve come.”

“I don’t think it's mean,” you say. “But I don’t see how we can carry it.”

“I can carry it,” Steve says. “Just a small one. Big enough for us.”

“Does us include me?” Robin asks. 

Steve laughs. “Duh, it includes you. It’s Y/N that’s gonna have to sleep outside.”

“Or me and her can have the tent and you can be our watchdog.”

“We can’t, um, stay outside forever, right?” you ask quietly. 

Steve puts his arm over your shoulder for a quick squeeze. “No, we can’t. We’ll find somewhere permanent soon. There’s barely any geeks the more we get into Michigan, who knows. Maybe there's none at all up top. But…" He lets you go. "I'll find somewhere." 

"Steve, you sound ridiculous," Robin says. "'I'll find somewhere,'" she quotes, voice deepened. 

Robin might joke, but you feel reassured by Steve's promise. You keep your head up for the rest of the day. 

— 

Later, much later, when you've travelled back to the camp with aching everythings and taken the world's coldest bath in the river nearby, you, Robin and Steve pitch your brand new tent and near collapse. It was night when you finally reached the camp that day, and so it was morning by the time you laid down. Steve has to admit that bathing and building a tent in the dark had been fun, annoying and indicative of the situation but a pleasure anyhow, to hear his favourite people in the whole world trying not to shriek at the cold water, overjoyed and laughing as you finally washed your face with real soap, and terrified that the river would knock you down. 

You're shaking with the cold now in his arms, practically sitting on his thigh as you brush his still damp hair back from his eyes. 

"I can't believe you're still cold," he says, kissing the line of your jaw affectionately. 

Robin, despite hours without sleep, had volunteered to help Sarah corral the younger kids for some early breakfast. Steve thinks it's because she likes Sarah. Your theory was that she's generous enough to give you a half hour of privacy. She's good like that. 

Whatever it is, you're alone for the first time in days. It's no different than when you're with friends, only you're touchier and Steve's an honest fool. 

You wrap one of your new blankets tighter around your shoulders and shift. "Am I hurting you?" 

"Nope." He squeezes you tightly to his front. "You're shivering. Put your hands under my shirt." 

You do it quickly, smiling like he's given you the world. "'Member when you'd let me do this? Even when we weren't really dating?" 

"We were dating," he says. 

"What, before or after the taco truck incident?" 

"Before," he says sharply. He pauses. "Alright, maybe not then. But we were definitely dating when you'd put your hands in my shirt. You don't do that for just anyone, I'm not a run around." 

"Steve, you used to let me sleep in your lap. Like, a month after we met." 

"'Cos you get so damn cold," he says. You're still shivering. He rests his cheek against your neck. "If I didn't let you, you'd spend the whole night shivering and making these really sad sounds." 

He's not even teasing. Just being honest. 

"I'm sensitive," you say. 

"You're used to sleeping indoors like a normal person." 

You ease off of his lap. He doesn't want you to; he'd keep you close forever. Plus, he feels guilty cuddling you in front of Robin because he knows public displays are uncomfortable, so he wants to really take you in while he can. 

"I have something to tell you," you say. 

"Oh?" 

"Or, something to give you. But I can tell you something if that matters." 

"Tell me anything." Everything. He wants to know everything you have to say. 

"Well… well, before this happened…" You rummage through the bag you'd brought home with you, the tip of your tongue peaking out. "You know, before the world half ended, I wasn't– I don't know if I can say it." 

"Please?" he asks. 

You pull something into your hand. "Alright. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love. And then the world ended, and I really didn't think I would, but you found me and I love you, so it wasn't true." 

He thinks about it. You, years ago, when he'd see you in the halls at school or walking home. He doesn't have much recollection of you beyond that, but it aches in a weird way to think you'd been walking around feeling like you wouldn't be loved. 

Steve licks his lips. "I get it, because I kind of worried the same thing. Like I'd keep loving people more than they loved me." 

"And then you met Robin?" 

"Exactly. She taught me more about love as my best friend than any of the girlfriends I had." 

"Well, I didn't get a Robin back then, but I have you now, and I guess I want you to know it's important to me," you say. "I know things are so hard right now, I know," —you clear your throat as emotion creeps in to your tone— "you put on a brave face for me. I know you're tired. But I keep going for you, and you keep going for me, and I want you to have something so you remember that even if I'm… not around." 

Steve sits up straight. "Hey, you're not going anywhere." 

You blink rapidly.

"Where is it that you think you're going without me?" he asks, softer. 

"Nowhere. But I just need you to know how much I loved you." 

"Love," he corrects. 

"How much I love you," you agree, sniffling. You look around at the tent floor, your shoulders raised just so. "Sorry, I'm not gonna cry or anything, I just hate thinking about it." 

You hand him something wrapped in a new sock. He bites his lip to stop from laughing at the wrapping and unpeels his gift. 

It's a watch. Silver, heavy, glass unscathed and hands tick tick ticking. Steve doesn't know if the time is accurate. His old watch broke a long time ago, but this one looks vaguely similar. 

"You gave me a necklace, once, with a little diamond. I know I don't have it anymore, I shouldn't have taken it off. But you gave it to me when I was miserable, and I know you're not miserable, but–" 

"I am," he says, rubbing his thumb over the watch. There's a tiny diamond set at the bottom of the clock face. He has no idea why, but the idea that you saw it and remembered his gift that long ago, that you wanted him to know you love him, that pays for some truth. "I'm miserable. I'm so scared for us." He breathes out hard. "Sorry." 

Steve's eyes tear up. He tries not to let it show, but he's looking down at the watch and his vision is blurring, and he's thinking Fuck, fuck, I'm crying in front of her again. 

You shuffle across the plastic floor toward him and clutch his hand. He's shaking minutely. You must feel it.

"It's okay, baby," you murmur. 

He ducks his head. 

"It's okay. I know," you say. 

"I know that you know," he says. 

"But it's hard," you prompt. 

"Yeah." 

You needle your arm behind his neck and him close. He can't hold back anymore, throwing his arms around your waist because why would you say that stuff to him? You're so evil, you're horrible, you're the very best thing that's ever happened to him and he loves you and what if you do die? Nobody will ever, ever be like you. There's no one out there with your smile, nobody who turns at the sound of his voice as you do, happy before you've set eyes on him and ecstatic when you have. 

And if you live (please, God, if you live), Steve wants to give you a better life than this. He's constantly panicking because he doesn't know how. 

But you don't mind. You don't love him less for the situation. 

"I don't even know what to tell you," you say, stroking the hair at the back of his neck tenderly, "cos I tell you I love you so much it doesn't feel like what I mean. I love you. I love you, Steve." 

He hugs you until he's not crying, wishing his cheeks would dry themselves when he finally raises his head and kisses your cheek. "Thank you," he says roughly. 

Steve sits back and wipes his nose. You offer the sock. He laughs and bats it away. 

"I love you, too," he says. He thrusts his wrist at you. "Strap me in?" 

You fasten Steve's watch and, in what's becoming a theme, you kiss his pulse. 

"Sorry things have been so hard," you say, adjusting the watch until it's sat comfortably.

"You make it easier." 

"Guys!" Robin says, forcing her way into the tent with an exuberant smile on her face. There's something in her arms, a wriggling mass of matted fur. "Look! The cat followed us home! I'm gonna name him Stinkyboy! Or Shark. Get up, I need help catching a fish!" She waves the cat's paw at you both. "I knew he liked me!" 

—-

the Steve zombie au

[llondonfog]

for the anon who asked for brought back wrong silver, you have my undying gratitude <3 i hope you enjoy

The animals refuse to approach anymore.

The birds shriek amongst themselves and ruffle their puffed-up feathers high up in the trees, their screeching cries high-pitched and harrowing, while the squirrels and rabbits keep to the protective shadows of a forest more ancient than Malleus himself, bellies low to the cool loam. There is condemnation in their dark, liquid eyes as Malleus skirts the edge of the trees, a judgment placed heavy and irredeemable upon his shoulders that he feels the leaden weight of more and more with every step— he has betrayed them as their lord and protector, and for that, there is no recourse. 

He has betrayed the natural laws of magic— and for that, the valley itself knows no forgiveness.

There is nothing but penance in the way that he crouches to his knees in the moss and dirt, spoiling the utilitarian nature of his robes with smears of mud and crushed pine needles. It’s a cruel act of self-inflicted guilt that drives him back to this place, a sick resignation that he cannot escape from that which his very hands helped to destroy. 

For it is not him that the animals refuse to approach, but the child that kneels beside him, a child who has been kneeling for hours in that same position, stoic and with the passive interest of someone watching an ant amble aimlessly over the ground as the woodland creatures before him reel away in horror. 

“Father said they would come back to play if I kept still,” and that sweet, clear voice scrapes over Malleus’ ears like metal on bone, his skin and scales crawling over themselves in a desperate bid to flee. “He said that I just had to allow them to become reacquainted with me, but I think he might have been wrong.” 

Malleus can feel the weight of those eyes turn to him, pinning him in place like iron— he doesn’t think even iron would sear his soul as deeply, and it takes every ounce of palatial training to keep from visibly shuddering. 

He is a dragon, and dragons do not fear. But what sits beside him is something greater than fear, something worse than even a dragon. 

“I hope that he does not feel sad when I tell him that it did not work,” the little voice beside him continues, melodic and wretched in its siren intensity. Malleus would claw off his own ears just to keep from hearing it speak, and yet he would break his own horns to hear those lips form his name. It’s madness and love, and he fears each passing second may bring him closer to the breaking point— a point where Lilia has long since arrived. “He seems to be sad a lot lately, but seeing you will surely cheer him up. Isn’t that why you’ve come, Malleus-sama?”

His name in that mouth feels like a death sentence, a curse being etched into his very being by the way that tongue glides over the vowels of his name and those teeth hiss into the consonants. It binds him, keeps him silent when he wishes to bellow and roar and rage at the child beside him— each second in its presence feels like hell on earth, and he cannot imagine what it is like for Lilia. 

Malleus can’t imagine that his own presence would grant the old fae any solace either, only perhaps the stone cold comfort that there is another who bears half the blame.

No words rise in his dried, shriveled throat, and Malleus only nods stiffly while Silver beams at him, the animals crouched and silent in the forest swiftly forgotten. It is impossible to escape Silver’s smile, with the perfect scrunch of his nose and the rosy dimples in his cheeks, and Malleus finds himself struck by the violent urge to sink his talons into the soft, pillowy flesh and pullriptear until that disgusting expression is marred to pieces and crushed under his heel. His chest tightens with useless anticipation and he’s almost dizzy with both desire and despair for what he knows that he cannot, will not do. 

It would be a more noble endeavor to sink his claws into his own heart, offer it up bloody and bare in atonement, but the person most deserving of it no longer exists. 

“Yes, of course I shall come,” he rasps instead, and the thing that wears Silver’s body like a costume, the thing that Malleus stuffed inside that cold, sad little corpse to save what was left of Lilia Vanrouge’s collapsing spirit, claps its hands with glee.

Even in death, Malleus could never refuse him.

[illumiera]

WIP Wednesday

thank you so much for the tag, @theoneandonlysemla! 💖 I thought I'd join in on the WIP Wednesday train and share an excerpt from the in-progress ninth chapter of i fear no fate (for you are my fate), especially since said chapter made it to 1, 000 words yesterday! so, here's Miraak admiring his new manicure courtesy of Elentari:

Miraak blinks. He blinks once, twice, thrice. Then, so slowly he could still be wrapped up in the web of a dream, he turns his trembling hand over and over and over again, palm-back-palm-back in a blur of ink-stained fingertips and scarred, sun-starved skin. This time, his gaze is fixed, hunting for the tell-tale flicker of something that would break the spell and betray the illusion, because the part of him that has not yet escaped Apocrypha is certain that this must be one final trick of the mind from the Prince who’d sought to claim him forevermore. After all, he remembers it all too well, the way he’d once stood by and watched as those already half-maddened from decades lost pacing the same paths through Mora’s realm had exclaimed aloud and gripped a tome like a treasure, and the way their shouts of victory had sharpened to screams as the knowledge for which they’d damned themselves twisted before their scouring eyes. The way it must have felt almost like a relief after that, to give in to the inevitable. And still the sight before him refuses to alter. Still he remembers the warmth—the light—that had flooded him the moment his same-soul had granted him the sound of his truest name ringing from her lips like a golden bell hung in the very heart of her. His claws are gone. His claws are gone, and the woman whose healer’s touch had purged them from him— Elentari is still elsewhere, neither here with him nor lingering behind in their shared dream of his homeland. Her eyes are wide and unseeing, staring straight past him as though he truly has become the ghost the seer had foretold, and try as he might, he does not recognise the strange light within them. Her eyes are full of sunshine, he has always thought, sunshine on pine needles, on young spring leaves, on all the green growing things of the world—but they’re nothing like that now, not while they’re aglow with a sheen of unearthly silver like moonrays spilling into a forest pool.

and as a bonus, a very messy rough sketch WIP of my two silly dragons, because we all need to draw our OTP as a classic painting at least once:

now, I tag @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @bostoniangirl21 @madam-whim @pinessydr @lilarus and you, reader, if there's something you'd like to share, too! ✨

[talon-dragonbeast]

today i want to talk about my hearthome, the coniferous forest, and how i lived there as a dragon. ill be using the words "memory", "remember", and the past tense a lot as an aid, despite me not having a past life. this is because they are noemata, things that never really happened but which i know to be true and are as important as any past life memory. this gets pretty long, so lets begin already.

i dont know how or when I found my forest. i was not born there, and although i know there mustve been other dragons somewhere, none ever visited my forest. if i had to guess, im pretty sure i was born among other dragons, but left them once i reached adulthood. im a pretty solitary dragon, as ive talked about before on this blog, and i have a pretty strong protective instinct. so once i left my fellow dragons, its no wonder i would choose a territory of my own that i could defend from others. and ive always preferred colder climates, so the coniferous forest was perfect for me.

my forest was not huge, but not too small either. it took several hours to walk from one corner to another, so i spent all my day patrolling it. my den was located right in the center, in a cave with a hidden entrance where i had my nest made of moss and my hoard of found objects and shiny things. the cave was tall but small, not uncomfortably so (i could stretch out comfortably without ever touching the walls), but just enough so that it made me feel cooped up and safe. right outside my den was a river that led to the mountains surrounding the forest, and marked the end of my territory. the mountains were a vantage point from which I could see any approaching enemies, so they greatly aided in my territory's defense.

the weather was not great, but for me it was just perfect. a dense fog in the morning that blocked the first rays of sunshine, the air always humid and heavy on the tongue, so cold it stinged the back of your mouth and made breathing difficult. light rain fell almost constantly from the gray skies, turning to snow in winter and thunderstorm in spring. the ground was always slightly damp, covered with brown pine needles and green moss, the soil underneath so dark it was almost black. the trees were tall and intimidating, all coniferous with a rich mix of pine, larch, spruce and fir, silent guardians much as I was. sometimes, the rain would stop and turn the forest into a nearly dreamlike place, with the sky a blue so intense it hurt the eyes, the sun shining with a strange energy that seemed to cool instead of warm. on those days, the air seemed to stand still, everything becoming so quiet you could almost hear the silence, as if the whole forest was holding its breath.

there were animals in my forest, of course. deer and fish and mice and elk and, most importantly, crows. i held a close relationship with the local murder that was similar to the symbiotic relationship between wolves and crows in the wild. they helped me locate prey, informed me of intruders and accompanied me on my patrols, and in return i gave them part of the kill, protected their nests and helped them with any trouble they might get into (you wouldnt believe the kinds of shenanigans the little buggers would manage to find themselves in!). i was at the top of the food chain, and was in charge of maintaining the balance of the ecosystem. i helped the forest, and the forest helped me.

there isnt really a conclusion to this. today im feeling a bit nostalgic, probably because the weather is getting colder and colder and it reminds me of home. my forest, the home of my heart, to which i can never return. writing this has made me feel a bit better, but the pain is still there. the truth is, i still miss it terribly. i miss my den, how safe it made me feel. i miss the crows, my murder, my only companions. i miss feeling the ground beneath my claws, the crunching of pine needles and the soft cold dirt underneath. i miss the emotion of the hunt, the long naps under the sun, the stargazing of an infinite night sky.

but what i miss the most i think, is the feeling of belonging. of being part of the ecosystem, not detached from but actively participating in it. in this human life, its too easy to forget i am an animal too; humans seem so keen to separate themselves from the natural world that they have forgotten that they are part of it like any other living being. i guess what i really miss is simply being able to leave my mark somewhere. feeling that i am doing something. feeling important, needed. but again, dont we all?

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 25 Epilogue

Part 26/26 | Ao3

[Thank you all so much for your words of kindness and support while I wrote and posted this fic. As someone new to writing, having you here with me was everything. Your interactions mean the world to me, and I hope you all loved Tilly and Eris as much as I do. The art is from the absolutely incredible @VFisch on IG. She is open for commissions and absolutely LOVELY. ] Epilogue

Four Years Later

“Kieran, wait please!”

The boy was off like a shot, tearing wildly out of the front doors of the Forest House and out into the lawn, the troupe of dogs bursting out behind him like a cloud of smoke and fur. Eris trotted after him, Tilly following slightly behind. The sun was bright, and the air was warm for Autumn, the scent of sun-warmed pine needles permeating the air as the leaves swirled on the wind around them.

“Dada! I can climb!” Kieran was already scaling up the stone wall near the training rings, taking careful but quick steps as he danced around the half circle, his mop of bright red curls flopping into his eyes. Eris was transported to a similar scene in his mind of another small redhead dancing around a crumbling stone wall once upon a time. He couldn’t help his smile as Tilly snaked her hand around his arm and leaned her head against him.

“You climb so well, buddy!” Eris shielded his eyes from the sun with his other hand, then said lower to Tilly, “He makes me so nervous when he does this, but I don’t want to keep him from doing fun things.” She patted his arm, laughing.

“I know, love. I know.” She took a few steps forward towards the wall and their son. “If we stop letting your brothers watch him, perhaps he’d be a bit less rowdy.” She shot him a grin over her shoulder.

“He’s got enough practice swords. I thought he’d be safe with Bray, but do you know I caught him scaling the library shelves the other day? The very top. And every time Azriel visits he just ends up taking him flying. Do you know how stressful it is to walk outside and see that great bat toting our baby through the air?” Tilly just sighed.

“Yes, yes, my dear. Very frightening.” She feigned a pout at him, but couldn’t keep the smirk from her face as he huffed indignantly. “Kieran, love, would you like to go on a special trip?” His sweet hazel eyes widened comically, his nodding so violent that Tilly couldn’t help but smile. He loved surprises and adventures and dragons, and he demanded lots of books and stories and playtime revolving around them. Tilly and Eris were both enamored with their son, finding very little fault in anything he did. He was always running circles around everyone in the Forest House, and Alanna liked to point out frequently that it was like seeing a small Lucien running around all over again. Ironically enough, Lucien and Elain’s daughter, Sirene, often reminded Alanna of a young Eris, brooding and quiet and full of fiery temper. Helion liked to joke that perhaps they’d been switched at birth, much to Eris and Lucien’s collective irritation and violent eye rolling. Kyra balanced the two out–a quiet and silly girl who loved climbing trees and painting, and who loved to herd the two younger cousins around the Forest House property.

Sirene, Kieran, and Kyra, despite their differences, were inseparable when the families got together. Lucien and Eris had been tentatively rebuilding a relationship and long-overdue conversations had been had. While there was some lingering awkwardness between all the brothers, apologies had been given and tensions had eased greatly in the past few years. They knew it did Alanna’s heart good to see them overcoming the walls Beron had tried so hard to build between them, so they tried to make an honest effort. To everyone’s surprise, the relationship with the Night Court and their children had evolved as well, the children and parents getting together multiple times a year to catch up on less-than-official business. Ever since Gwyn and Azriel began making more regular trips to Autumn, the hatchet had been buried, and everyone had done their best to move forward. Strangely enough, in the aftermath of war, they’d found themselves becoming less allies and more friends.

“Come on, Mama. Surprise!” He tugged her hand as he jumped off the high wall, and Tilly could practically hear Eris’ heart rate spike behind her. The male had seen centuries of war, torture, and horrors, but nothing gave him more fear than the safety of his rambunctious child. She didn’t think she’d ever loved him more than she did seeing him care so deeply about their son. She’d been right from the very beginning–he was the most wonderful father. She held her hand out to Eris and he took it, winnowing them all through the world to a quiet spot in the deep woods, another wall of stone standing proud against the forest background.

“Ooh, where are we?” Kieran looked around in wonder, the massive trunks of overturned trees and moss-covered rocks an entirely new world to him.

“This is where I first saw your mother.” Eris was smiling, looking at Tilly with love that only seemed to grow over the years sparkling in his eyes.

“Mama was here?”

“Yes, I used to come here to practice my portals when I was a bit older than you. One day, I had an audience.” She shot a smile at him while Kieran climbed the crumbling rock wall, resuming his antics.

“Portals, mama. Like this!” He threw an arm out, casting a circle of flame, jumping into it before they even had a chance to shout, and then dropping out of the sky into Eris’ panicked arms. “Portals!”

Eris and Tilly’s wide eyes found each other immediately while Kieran giggled wildly in Eris’ arms, flailing so he’d drop him back to the ground. Eris obliged, jaw still agape, and Kieran ran back to the wall to play again.

“Well…things certainly won’t be dull now, will they?” Tilly leaned in and kissed Eris on the cheek, then rested her head on his shoulder as he wound his arm around her and placed his hand on her growing belly.

“Things have never been and will never be dull with you, love.”

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd @queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

[almighty-letu]

Eddsworld as Wings of fire dragons

Edd is a RainWing named Guarana (in brazil it's a rival soda to cola made from the fruit with the same name) and Ringo would be his pet sloth

Matt is a SandWing named Sunstroke

Tom is a NightWing/SeaWing hybrid animus dragon named Oddity

Tord is a SkyWing named Red

Paul is a MudWing named Caiman

Patrick is a SeaWing named Starfish

Eduardo is a LeafWing named Pine Needle

Mark is an IceWing named Sub Zero

Jon is a SilkWing named Papillon

And Reagan is a HiveWing named Parasite

Bonus round:

Ella is a SilkWing named Jade

Dante is a NightWing named Empath

and Vlamis is a IceWing named Ghost

[citrineandrosmarin]

🦉Athena Masterpost: Offerings🦉

🐍 Masterpost Link 🐍

Last updated: Date of Publishing

A mix of UPG, SPG and Historical associations, please share your own in the comments or let me know if you share a UPG!

Gemstones & Metals:

H: Gold, Bronze, Silver, Iron

SPG: Lapis Lazuli, Onyx, Iolite

UPG: Rainbow Fluorite, Sodalite, Obsidian, Smoky Quartz, Kyanite, Bronzite, Tiger’s Eye (Any color), Tiger Iron, Blue Aventurine, Blue Calcite, Red Jasper, Flame Jasper, Lepidolite, Moonstones, Zoisite

Plants: 

H: Olive, Ivy, Thyme

SPG: Rosemary, Cypress, Peppermint, Orange

UPG: Oak, Pine, Oregano, Peppers, Basil, Marigold, Dandelion, Yarrow, Geranium, Tiger Lily, Mint, Rose, Hellebore, Bay Laurel

Incense and Fragrances: 

H: Frankincense, Thyme, Bay Laurel, Amber, Myrrh, Dragon’s Blood

SPG: Orange/Orange Blossom/Blood Orange, Citrus, Cedarwood, Cinnamon, Cypress, Bergamot & Sage 

UPG: Pine, Musk, Oakmoss & Amber, Clove, Nutmeg, Pomegranate, French Vanilla, Sandalwood, Mint, Patchouli, Mint, The incenses “Pagan Spell,” “Celestial Bliss,” and “Tree of Life”

Food & Drink: 

H: Olives and Olive Oil, Honey, Milk, Cheese, Cereal Grains, Diluted Wine, Bread, Baked Goods, Fish, Meat, Fruit (e.g. pomegranates, grapes, raspberries, pears)

SPG: Water, Fruit juice

UPG: Mint Icecream or tea, Rooibos (Redbush) Tea, Black Tea, Chocolate, Apple Cider, Coffee

Items & Miscellaneous (Almost all SPG and UPG): 

Historical: 

Miniature votive shields, helmets, swords, spears, or arrowheads, Pottery, Hymns, Poems, Jewelry, Animal figurines, Glass beads, Libation bowls, Terracotta figurines, Statues, Coins

SPG and UPG: 

Music playlist, Mood boards, Perfumes, Candles, Books, Acorns, Bay leaves, Snake skin, Animal figurines, Owl feathers, Gull feathers, Horse Hair, Any helmet, spear, shield or sword imagery, Gorgoneions, Depictions of her favorite heroes.

Trophies, Medals, Diplomas, Good grades, Essays or other academic writing you’ve written, Study Tools, Graduation Caps

Any kind of handmade craft, Craft tools, Pottery, Yarn, Knitting or crochet needles, Polymer clay sculptures, Art, Origami, Wool

Devotional Acts (All SPG and UPG): 

Using olive oil, Reading her myths, Donating to charity or doing some volunteering, Learning Ancient Greek, Learning about the history and culture of Ancient Greece

Playing strategy or puzzle games, Playing Escape Rooms, Any exercise that combines logic and creativity, World-building, Using your skills and learning new ones, taking classes to learn a skill.

Developing your intellect, Reading non-fiction, Doing research, Learning to think critically, Studying, Tutoring, Learning to code or any computer skills, Reading up on current science, Watching TEDtalks, Listening to educational podcasts or videos.

Doing any kind of hands-on craft like knitting, crochet, sculpting, etc. or learning a new crafty skill.

Exercise, Learning/Practicing self-defense or a martial art

Donating to charities for military veterans, Donating to those suffering from war, Learning about the Geneva Conventions, Staying educated on current wars and past wars

Being politically aware/active, Activism, Playing colony sims e.g. Civilization series, Getting involved in your community.

[plutoccult]

HAIKYUU X THE OFFICE AU — EPISODE FOUR: OFFICE CHRISTMAS PARTY

pairing: sugawara koushi x female reader

description: it’s the holidays, and that means it’s time for the annual office christmas party where everyone participates in secret santa. much to sugawara’s delight, he has picked your name for secret santa this year and plans to make it count.

word count: 5.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hello and happy holidays! i will admit i’ve been struggling to stay motivated with this series, but i have to remind myself that i’m mainly writing this for MY enjoyment at the end of the day. i’m the ultimate sugawara warrior and it shall stay that way. anyway, it’s christmastime, so of course i’m writing a christmas episode! i strayed away from parts of the episode quite a bit. this definitely has more focus on sugawara than the reader this time around, but i’m not mad about it. it’s nice to see an angsty, pining suga 🤭 i almost thought this would have to be split into two parts, but i’d rather keep it as one. i also made a playlist for sugawara and the reader a good bit ago, so here’s the link here (i am very much open to song suggestions)! i’m so excited to get closer to my favorite episode ever, and i hope you guys enjoy!

tags: @toorubobatea @cowgirlikets @dragon-slayer5 (ily ty for hyping me up) @femme-lune @kazuchaos @bakagun1312 @beingbrokenfitsus @mumblepingu @daedaep69 @darthferbert @intheewrld @msbyomimi @sukxma @akari-fujikawa

taglist form here

christmas was always the best time of year for the office. the holiday spirit was at its peak, everyone loved being a part of it, especially your boss, ukai. he took christmas more seriously than everyone else, even kiyoko who primarily handled planning the annual office christmas party each year. ukai took it so seriously that he chopped his own tree and brought it to the office building, dragging tanaka along in his shenanigans towards festive greatness.

tanaka huffed and puffed as he let go of the bottom half of the tree, ukai holding the top half. “ukai, i don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

“that’s what she said.” ukai joked, resisting the urge to snicker. it was like he was a child in a grown man’s body. plus, that joke aged like milk. only he found it funny.

“no, like, it’s really not gonna fit.” tanaka said.

“again, that’s what she—”

“WE CAN’T FIT THE GODDAMN TREE THROUGH THE DOOR, UKAI!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, completely frustrated with his boss. you could hear tanaka from your desk inside the office, but it came out muffled, so you couldn’t quite make out what was being said. you assumed it was idiotic activities as always.

“i’ll make it fit.” ukai insisted, the spirit of christmas granting him all the determination he needed.

“lemme guess, you’re gonna say that’s what she said, right?” tanaka let out a sigh.

“don’t make me fire you, tanaka.” ukai threatened.

“should’ve just got a fake tree.” tanaka rolled his eyes. yeah, that definitely would’ve worked just fine, but this was ukai here. the man was crazy. he would never do anything the normal way.

“i guess that would’ve worked…” ukai said as he pondered over how he would get this tree through the door, quickly thinking of his idea of the best way to do it. “alright, on three, we’re gonna shove this through and hope for the best. got it?”

“i guess?” no. tanaka didn’t get it, but he had no choice.

“too bad. one… two… THREE!”

with one big push, ukai and tanaka burst through the doors of the office. the tree toppled to the floor, bringing them along with it. the sound startled just about everyone, having been doing their typical duties. to you, it just felt like any other day, and you didn’t bother to help the two men.

tanaka fell face first into the pile of pine, aggressively coughing as he wiped any pine needles off his face. “i think i swallowed a pine needle.”

“well, merry fucking christmas.” ukai said enthusiastically. he seriously needed to be scolded over his cursing.

“ukai!”

•••

in the first time in, well, ever, suga was actually excited to be doing an interview for the documentary crew. why? because of this year’s secret santa.

“so this year, for the first time ever, i got finally y/n for secret santa. i’m pretty excited about it, and i really wanted to do something special for her, so i got her this teapot. as much coffee as she drinks here, y/n is way more of a tea person—i would know—so with this she can make tea at her desk.” suga said excitedly, showing off your gift for the camera.

“but i also stuffed it with some inside jokes, that’s what makes it so special, you know.” he continued, carefully digging through the teapot to show off said inside jokes. “like, this is my high school volleyball photo. she saw it fall out of my wallet on my first day here, and it really made her laugh. not sure why, but i’m letting her have it now.”

with the biggest grin on his face, suga dug through the teapot for more, pulling out a wasabi packet, but it wasn’t just any ordinary packet of wasabi. this had a story behind it, one that had meaning for suga.

“ooh. this is a wasabi packet. she put this on a hot dog a couple years ago because she thought it was relish.” he explained. “i thought it was really funny, so i kept the other two.”

after telling the wasabi story, suga held up a mini toy of a chili pepper with a kawaii face, but made a squeaking noise when someone squished it. poor sound guy jumped when it almost blasted his eardrums.

“this is actually a toy for dogs or babies or something, i don’t know.” suga shrugged. “but i saw it, it was cute, and it reminded me of awards night, so i thought; why not?”

but the most important gift of all—one that outsold everything in that teapot—was a card suga wrote just for you, detailing his feelings towards you all on paper. “and then, uh, this is a special card i wrote for y/n… because christmas is the time to tell people how you feel.”

oh, the documentary crew was going to eat this up.

•••

kiyoko and yachi were put up with the task of decorating for the party, forcing many of their coworkers to partake. they also had to deal with ukai’s hack job of a christmas tree. the two girls tried their best to salvage it, throwing as many ornaments and tinsel on it as possible, but it was a losing battle. it was just going to be an ugly tree, so they put the rest of their effort into decorating the conference room.

when it seemed like they were done with everything, kiyoko made her rounds, examining each decoration, but by the end, she wasn’t a fan. “i don’t like it.”

“you… don’t?” yachi questioned.

honestly, it was the perfect scene; red and green decorations perfectly put together, all strategically placed, but if kiyoko didn’t like it, then it simply meant that more work needed to be done.

“we need more lights.” kiyoko said. “i need someone tall.”

“count me out.” tsukishima, who sat down while drinking a soda, spoke up. he had been put through enough, he was tired of decorating.

“i wasn’t asking you, tsukki.” kiyoko rolled her eyes.

“only yamaguchi is allowed to call me that.” tsukishima said.

“whatever.” she scoffed. “uh, who’s super tall and buff…?”

kiyoko and yachi share a look. they instantly knew exactly who to find.

“asahi.” they say in unison.

not only were the two girls on the same page, they knew exactly how to rope asahi into this mess, and it was all up to yachi to get the job done. “asahi, help! i’m dying!”

“dying?! who’s dying?!” asahi bolted into the conference room, only to find no one was actually in trouble.

“i’m dying… for you to hang up these lights for us.” yachi said with a grin as she held up a roll of christmas lights.

he didn’t have much choice, so asahi let out a sigh before ultimately giving in. “okay…”

•••

“i found that asahi will do pretty much anything for me because he’s afraid i’ll be a scaredy cat around him again.” yachi spoke confidently to the camera while the party preparations were happening behind her. “he’d probably commit murder for me, who knows?”

asahi, who overheard her, yelled out in defense for himself. “that is NOT true!”

“keep hanging up those lights!” she yelled at asahi, who immediately went back to work, further solidifying her point. “see? he totally would. he’s the best.”

•••

right before the party was about to start, ukai exited his office dressed like santa. you immediately laugh and try to mask it with a cough, but ukai caught you anyways. “something funny, y/n?”

“yeah, you look ridiculous.” you snort, covering your mouth to muffle out your laughter.

“that’s the point. this party is supposed to be fun.” ukai said sassily. “i want everyone to let loose. i want this party to be reminiscent of my frat boy days.”

“you were in a frat? what was it called?” you ask him, intrigued to hear his answer.

“beta schmeta—” yeah, he wasn’t actually in a frat. “whatever. all i’m trying to say is i want everyone to get lit!”

you cringe at ukai’s use of outdated slang. “that is so seven years ago…”

“yeah, and i want it to happen anyway.” he said.

“your way of getting lit is drinking, and we’re not allowed to have liquor in the office, so...” you reply. you were always one to follow rules. well, for the most part, at least. it was hard to have any sort of structure at an office ran by someone like ukai.

“don’t… don’t remind me, dammit.” ukai cursed. “stupid corporate losers. like booze ever killed anybody.”

you always found your boss was painfully stupid at times, and this was definitely one of those times. but even so, you tried to combat it every time, always failing no matter what.

“but booze has killed—” you began to say.

“anyway!” he cut you off, tired of this conversation and ready to party. ukai then waved tanaka over to him so they could get the party started. “tanaka, let’s get this show on the road! announcement, everybody! listen to tanaka because he’s a better at yelling than me, as shown earlier when he yelled in my face!”

“yes, everybody listen up!” tanaka yelled out. “you better have your presents wrapped up and ready to go under the tree because we will not wait for you and you will be disqualified from secret santa! don’t be that guy! nobody likes to be that guy, so don’t be him!”

you let out a groan as you grab your present for secret santa from under your desk, eyeing the camera on your way to put it under the tree.

“please, don’t let this party suck ass.” you whisper to yourself. you hear tsukishima snicker behind you, an “ow!” soon following, assuming it was yamaguchi smacking him on the back of his head.

•••

“i love christmas. christmas is fun. it’s the best time of the year besides my birthday.” ukai said, still dressed like santa, knowing this would be seen on television one day. “why do i love christmas, you may ask? because i get free stuff, and who doesn’t love free stuff?”

•••

everyone gathered around the tree, placing their presents underneath. one could compare it to christmas morning with your family. some may argue that this office is like a family, while some may think otherwise, but regardless, it was nice for everyone to be together in harmony.

after daichi and tanaka argued over who would light up the tree—mainly because daichi didn’t trust him with outlets—tanaka was finally given the rein, or, well, extension cord.

“everybody ready?” he asked, a mix of nods and “uh-huh” in response.

“okay, and…” the tree is lit up, but it’s quite dim. “yikes.”

silence plagued the room. no one expected the lighting of the tree to be so anti-climatic, especially since the office makes such a big deal out of christmas every year. kiyoko practically wanted to die of embarrassment given she was responsible for the decorations, even if yachi was the one who brought in the lights from her apartment.

while no one said a word, you were the one to speak up, praising the tree for kiyoko and yachi’s sake. “well, i think the tree looks quite nice.”

“thanks, y/n, but you don’t have to lie.” yachi frowned.

“no, it’s a lovely tree.” ukai insisted. “let’s do secret santa now, okay? tanaka, pick who gets the first present.”

tanaka walked over to the tree and picked up a random present, reading who its intended for. “and it’s… tsukishima.”

“oh?” once handed the gift, tsukishima ripped away the wrapping paper to unveil a dinosaur plushie. much to everyone’s surprise, he was delighted by the gift. “aw, this is actually really nice.”

“oh, thank god.” nishinoya let out the biggest sigh of relief one could take. “that was from me.”

“wow, thanks, nishinoya.” tsukishima said with a smile. someone may as well pass out from shock now. christmas truly brought all types of miracles.

•••

“that is literally the nicest thing tsukishima will ever say to me!” nishinoya exclaimed. “i’m serious! i’ve officially peaked at life!”

•••

secret santa rolled along smoothly so far. suga ended up getting a card, which contained a twenty dollar bill inside, the limit for this year’s secret santa. kageyama claimed he didn’t know what to get, but suga wasn’t all too phased by it. who doesn’t like free money? besides, he was too eager for it to be your turn. luckily for him, it was happening right now.

“y/n, you’re next.” suga perked up once he heard your name, knowing your present would be from him.

you take the box from tanaka with a grin before opening up your gift. inside was the teapot suga spoke of to the documentary crew earlier, although you weren’t aware of its secret contents inside just yet, especially the card. you show off the teapot to your coworkers, and suga was notably the only one excited to see it in your hands. it made you wonder who your secret santa happened to be…

“wow, thank you very much, santa.” you say slyly. “whoever you are, you did good.”

“there’s a little more to it.” suga leaned over and said to you quietly.

oh. so your inkling of a suspicion was right, after all. now you were itching to see what was inside, but the office had to keep the show rolling, which completely distracted you from the anticipation.

“alright, next. asahi.” tanaka threw the present to asahi, which made ukai freak out.

“jesus, tanaka!” he yelled out. such a reaction instantly gave away that ukai was the one to get a gift for asahi. “easy, easy!”

moving on from ukai’s sudden outburst, asahi unwrapped his gift, shocked to see what was inside. “an ipad?”

yeah, ukai got asahi an ipad. asahi was just as shocked as everyone else, and he was the one to receive such a gift. clearly ukai felt he could bend the rules, but no one was happy about it, and it would surely be known soon enough.

“woah. wow. jeez. somebody really got carried away with the spirit of christmas...” ukai said, acting all nonchalant before he revealed himself as asahi’s secret santa, but everyone figures it out anyway. “that was me, i got a little carried away.”

“i don’t even know what to do with this…” asahi said to himself.

“ukai, you got way more than carried away.” you scolded your boss. “you spent god knows what on that thing! we had a limit!”

“okay, well, who cares?” ukai shrugged. “it doesn't matter what i spent. what matters is that christmas is fun, right?”

“it’s kind of unfair.” you cross your arms, but ukai could care less about your irritation, although everyone else was in agreement with you.

“whatever.” he rolled his eyes. “who’s next?”

“you are, ukai.” tanaka said.

“i am? great.” ukai was handed a small bag, opening it up and finding mittens inside, which he wasn’t happy about whatsoever. “really?”

“i knitted them myself…” yachi said shyly. she knew she should’ve knitted a scarf instead.

“mittens? pft, okay.” ukai then proceeded to walk out, confusing everyone.

“uh… did he just leave?”

•••

“these mittens? pathetic. i gave asahi an ipad for christ’s sake. i spent my hard earned money while yachi just did some fucking knitting.” ukai complained, unbothered by his cursing for the umpteenth time. “censor me, i don’t care!”

•••

left to their own devices, the employees of japan pulp and paper weren’t sure if they should continue secret santa without their boss. thankfully, ukai returned with a solution, although not a great one.

“i got it!” he burst through the office doors as if nothing happened. “we are going to turn secret santa into yankee swap.”

“what’s yankee swap?” suga questioned.

“one person chooses a gift, then the next person can either choose a gift or steal that person's gift. if your gift gets stolen, then you can steal somebody else's gift or choose a new gift.” ukai explained. it was confusing coming out of his mouth, but you were just going to roll with it anyway.

“yuck, why are we doing this?” tsukishima questioned, wanting absolutely no parts of ukai’s typical nonsense.

“because it's better, more special.” ukai replied. “duh.”

tsukishima wasn’t the only one who didn’t like this idea. kiyoko was practically fuming about it, especially since it spawned from ukai’s strong dislike towards yachi’s gift. “it’s mean, ukai. that’s what it is.”

“it’s not mean.” he said. kiyoko couldn’t believe how much of an ass he was being right now.

“yes, it is.” she argued. “you’re only doing this because you hate your present and you’re bitter yachi didn’t ball out for you like you did for asahi, which no one asked you to do, by the way.”

“no, it’s not.” ukai argued back. “just give it a shot.”

“i’d rather not, actually. i’ll be taking my present, which is…” kiyoko picked up a card with her name on it and opened it up. “a gift card for coffee. thanks, takeda. and whoever doesn’t want any part of this nonsense can take their gifts and hang with me in the conference room. yachi and i made sugar cookies and they’re very delicious.”

as kiyoko and yachi went to the conference for some real fun, suga followed, much to ukai’s surprise, including yours, although your boss was more vocal about it. “really, suga?”

“yeah, you guys have fun.” suga said before disappearing into the conference room.

“i’m coming too.” tsukishima stood up, clutching onto his new plushie. he couldn’t believe he and suga were on the same page for once. “for the sugar cookies, obviously.”

“yeah, okay.” suga snickered. well, not totally on the same page.

“shut up, sugawara.” tsukishima scoffed before dragging yamaguchi with him to the conference room.

as you watched suga leave with the others, part of you felt guilty. you wanted to follow him, but at the same time, you didn’t want to seem like a little puppy dog following its owner. besides, you were itching to get that ipad too. the teapot is just a teapot, right? you didn’t think there could be anything that special about it, but you couldn’t be more wrong right now.

•••

“why didn’t you opt out of yankee swap?” one of the crew members asked you, stirring the pot—or teapot—for the sake of the drama with suga.

“i don’t know. i thought it’d be fun.” you lie with a little shrug before revealing the whole truth. “plus, i kind of want to get the ipad. i can binge watch my shows with it while ryo hogs up the tv.”

this was totally ruining the crew’s spicy plans right now.

•••

while ukai’s yankee swap commenced, suga obsessively watched the events unravel from the conference room. he didn’t even try one of kiyoko and yachi’s sugar cookies yet. the man was a mess, hoping and praying that teapot wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. it was meant for you and only you, why would you chance giving it up? suga knew it had to be the ipad. he never hated ukai more than he did right now for buying that stupid thing.

the others sat around quietly playing christmas music, snacking on cookies and chatting in the midst of suga’s lovelorn crisis. kiyoko decided to go talk to him and figure out what was up with him, but she had to do a bit of warming up first.

“hey, suga.” she said, forcing him out of his trance. “who did you get for secret santa?”

“oh, um, i got y/n.” suga replied.

to be honest, kiyoko was shocked that suga was capable was picking out something so sweet, but then again, this was suga. of course he would do that. “aw, cute. i really like that teapot.”

“i put little inside jokes inside the teapot.” he added. “plus, um, a really personal card.”

“saying…?” she raised an eyebrow.

“nothing. it’s not important.” suga shook his head. such a terrible lie.

“i think it is, sugawara.” kiyoko said.

suga hated how kiyoko was catching up to him. why did he have to mention that the card was really personal? it was more than just personal, the poor sap poured his feelings out to you in that card. he read it over a dozen times, making sure there were no spelling or grammar mistakes whatsoever. his brain felt like mush by the time he felt the card had reached its best version. this gift had to be perfect, but it never stood a chance at being that way, it seemed.

he had to get the attention off his back before kiyoko fully got the picture of the gift’s important, and thankfully, he knew exactly where to push her buttons. as suga once said, manipulation at its finest.

“shouldn’t you be worried about tanaka giving up the gift you got him?” he questioned. yeah, he heard a little bit from the grapevine about that.

“how did you know?” kiyoko gasped. she knew someone had to snitch. “yachi, was it you?!”

“no, never!” yachi exclaimed.

“actually, daichi told me.” suga smirked.

“that bitch.” kiyoko cursed. it was one more reason to want to slap the shit out of daichi. “whatever. i don’t care what he does with my gift anyway…”

suga let out a chuckle knowing kiyoko was playing off her crush on tanaka—one that was much more innocent than how he felt about you, an engaged woman—but his laughter quickly faded when he looked back at what was going on outside. “oh no.”

“oh no, what?” kiyoko questioned.

“hinata has the teapot.” suga replied. he then let out a loud groan, one that caught the attention of tsukishima who was trying to figure out why suga was acting more of a weirdo than usual.

“oh god, he’ll break it.” yachi said with a quiet gasp.

“i can’t watch.” suga turned away, covering his face with his hands. this was too painful for him to bear.

“y/n took the ipad.” kiyoko spoke up. as if hearing that made this any better.

“please don’t commentate like it’s a football game, kiyoko.” suga whined.

“sorry…”

tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows as he watched suga wail in agony, then gave a look to the camera. he had a weird feeling about this.

•••

“i’m just going to throw a theory out there.” tsukishima said plainly. “you don’t have to say anything, but i can read your faces. sugawara has feelings for y/n, doesn’t he?”

the documentary crew was unsure how to respond, but tsukishima guessed it right instantly. they knew, one by one, slowly but surely, the whole office would figure it out.

“that’s what i thought.”

•••

yankee swap continued, and it only got worse from there. your teapot was passed around like a hot potato, and it was torturous for suga to watch it all unfold. the sparkling cider kiyoko brought just wasn’t sparkling enough for him to dull this soul-sucking ache in his heart.

“i have to get that teapot back.” suga said. “if y/n doesn’t want it, then no one else should have it…”

it’s true. not even because of the card, but because it was specifically catered for you. outside it was just a teapot, but inside was a plethora of memories from your years of friendship. suga may be hopelessly in love with you, but your friendship meant the world to him at the end of the day.

“that’s…” yamaguchi paused. there was only one way to describe this. “really depressing.”

“it’s cause he has feelings for her.” tsukishima blurted out. everyone turned and looked at him in shock. did he really just say that right now?

“do not!” suga protested.

this was suga’s worst nightmare. was it always obvious? did anyone else know? did you know already? the questions swirled in his head a mile a minute. he was absolutely freaking out. from you giving up the teapot to this fiasco, the holidays simply couldn’t get any worse for suga. he just couldn’t catch a break, it seemed.

“ha, you so do! i figured you out, sugawara. you’re in love with y/n.” tsukishima smirked, almost finding joy in his suffering. actually, he found joy in everyone’s suffering, so this wasn’t much different, but since it was suga, he found it much more thrilling.

“what do you want? money?” suga asked desperately. it was the only solution he could think of so this secret wouldn’t spill anywhere else.

and since he mentioned it, tsukishima wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. “yeah, gimme that twenty kageyama gave you.”

“suga, wait.” kiyoko stopped him. “do you really have feelings for y/n?”

ignoring her question, suga quickly handed the money to tsukishima. kiyoko couldn’t believe it. he really did have feelings for you, and now everyone in the room knew it. “oh my god…”

“this secret doesn’t leave this room.” suga demanded. he bought tsukishima’s silence, but luckily for him, everyone else didn’t need to be convinced with money. at least he hoped so...

now that he got that out of the way, suga checked in to see what was going on at the party, and it seemed like yankee swap had ended. worst of all, your teapot was nowhere in his sight. “wait, they’re dispersing. why are they dispersing?”

“ukai probably did something stupid and ruined the party even more.” tsukishima scoffed.

“who has the teapot? who has it?!” suga asked frantically like a madman.

“i think i see tanaka with it.” yachi said, pointing to him with what seemed like the teapot in his possession. it was worse than hinata having it, honestly, and suga needed it back now.

“NO!”

suga bolted out of the conference room, scanning the office floor to find tanaka. however, you walk up to him, holding the ipad in your hands. “hey! ukai left to get booze. he said screw the rules, i guess.”

“oh, really?” he asked. “great. i’ll need it.”

“yankee swap was kinda chaotic, but look who came out on top?” you say excitedly, showing him your new gift.

“that’s nice.” suga said quickly so he could get back to his mission. “uh, where’s tanaka?”

“break room.” you reply.

“great, thanks.” suga swiftly walked past you, abruptly ending your conversation. you found it a little odd, but ended up shrugging it off and heading back to your desk.

in a flash, suga walked into the break room, finding tanaka right where he needed him. “hey, tanaka. i need to talk to you. it’s about the teapot.”

“nuh-uh.” tanaka shook his head. he knew exactly what suga was up to, but he didn’t quite know the reason why, he just knew suga wanted that teapot. “don’t even, suga. this is mine.”

“really?” suga sighed. he had to get it back, someway, somehow. “look, it has sentimental value, tanaka. can i buy it from you? i’m willing to pay a lot.”

“no. i want it. i'm going to use it.” tanaka held it close to his chest like it was a baby.

“you don't even drink tea.” suga said.

“true.” tanaka shrugged. “but it lowkey looks like i could make a bong out of it.”

oh god. this was definitely way worse than hinata having the teapot.

•••

“to think that my gift for y/n will be used for that…” suga began to say, taking a deep breath, almost overcome with emotion. “it’s just too much for me.”

•••

suga walked out of the break room, absolutely defeated he couldn’t get the teapot back. even worse, he found you showing off your new gift to ryo, crushing him even more. despite the pang in his heart, suga couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.

“this is awesome.” he heard ryo say.

“i know.” you reply. “look at the quality on this thing. i can watch stuff in 4k on this.”

“yeah, i was gonna get you one of these for christmas, but now i don't have to since you got one for free.” he said happily, thrilled at the thought of not having to spend that much money on you. it made suga want to barf. “i'm gonna save a ton of money.”

“so what are you going to get me instead?” you ask him.

“i don't know. probably like, an ugly sweater or something.” ryo shrugged.

you look to the camera in disgust before their attention turned to ukai coming back to the office with bottles of alcohol. as if you needed more of that in your life after what happened last time you drank.

“ho, ho, ho!” ukai greeted everyone, on theme with his silly outfit. “santa has come with spirits, as in booze.”

“we’re really not supposed to serve alcohol, ukai…” takeda said, trying to keep his job by the end of the day.

“no one cares, specs.” ukai scoffed, typical when it came to talking to takeda. “it’s a party and it’s christmas! if i can't throw a good party for my employees, then i’m the worst boss ever, and that contradicts with my world’s best boss awards! so, who wants a drink?”

practically everyone raised their hands instantly.

•••

“if i’ve learned anything from my time at japan pulp and paper, it’s that alcohol solves all your problems.” ukai grinned. what terrible advice, the crew thought. “everyone’s having a good time, and why is that? alcohol. i’m such a good influence!”

•••

despite the whole secret santa fiasco, everyone seemed to be having a good time. at least now you could all have fun, even if it was with the help of alcohol. well, plus the food too. that too always helped.

while christmas music blared and many of your coworkers danced on the office floor, suga found you sitting behind your desk, wondering why you weren’t partaking in the festive shenanigans.

“you know, you don't have to answer calls during a party.” he said cheekily. “just thought you should know.”

“oh, i know.” you say, revealing the teapot to suga, showing that it was now yours once again. “i was just checking out my new teapot here.”

“what?” suga gasped. “but how?”

“well, it ended up with nishinoya after tanaka traded it for kiyoko’s gift, so i didn’t have to do much convincing to get it back.” you explained to him. “i figured, you know, letting it go was really stupid of me because what should matter most is that the gift is from you, so i went to get it back. i hope you’re not mad at me...”

it was a christmas miracle for suga, even if you simply just made a trade with nishinoya. of course he would give it up for the ipad. thank god he did, and thank god you were willing to let go of such a lucrative gift for one made with love instead. words couldn’t describe the relief suga felt right now.

“i’m glad, actually. and not to be totally biased right now, but this is an amazing gift because it comes with bonus gifts.” suga said. “look inside.”

suga’s reassurance put you at ease, and as directed, you look inside the teapot, pulling out his infamous volleyball photo. you had never been so happy to have that teapot. if only you knew before. “oh my god. no way.”

•••

you proudly hold up your teapot for the documentary crew, a huge grin on your face, one that only suga could bring out of you. “yeah, i think i made the right choice.”

•••

you looked through the rest of the contents in the teapot, and while you weren’t looking, suga stole the card he wrote back and shoved it in his pocket. he just couldn’t bring himself to let you read it. maybe someday, but not today. the timing is just wrong.

“is this a chili pepper?” you ask as you hold up the toy.

“yeah, cause you’re banned from chili’s. look, it makes noises.” suga squeezed the chili pepper, accidentally ghosting his fingers over yours, and you jump from the squeaking sound coming out of the chili pepper toy. totally not from his soft touch either.

you felt like an idiot for giving this up before. it helped you learn to not judge a book by its cover. you knew that’s something you learn as a kid, but sometimes you have to learn something all over again as an adult. at least you came to your senses. there was still so much for you to figure out.

“you’ve outdone yourself, suga.” you smile and look into suga’s eyes.

“it’s about time i got you for secret santa.” suga replied. god, why did you have to be so beautiful?

“yeah, it really has.“ you say, holding your gaze before gulping when you think you’ve been staring at him for too long. little did you know, he wouldn’t have minded looking into your eyes a little longer. “merry christmas, suga.”

if suga has learned anything about christmas, it’s that it’s definitely not the time to tell people how you feel. he knew that now, no matter how much it hurt. in his eyes, if you had to take some time to come around to fully accepting the teapot, then you had to take your time accepting a life without ryo, potentially in favor for a life with him instead. the only question now was when? it was only a matter of time before suga will grow impatient.

sometimes suga felt like he was better off shoving his feelings down his throat, and you felt the same way. what you have is beautifully complicated, but suga swore that one day he’d tell you how he felt. it just had to be the perfect time.

“merry christmas, y/n.”

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[1atalante1]

By the way, a take on the "Dungeons and Dragons" movie I haven't seen yet:

Chris Pine can knit, or at least fake it good enough that it looks real.

Usually you get "poking knitting needles into a piece of crochet" accuracy, but this one looks real!

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

The Jade Viper #2

Pairing: John Wick x !F!Reader

Summary: Loyalty goes far for Y/n, she proves over and over again to John that she'll do anything for him and his honor. Even rescuing him from a kidnapping; she's always going to be right behind him through thick and thin. But John begins to catch feelings for his loyal ninja assassin.

Warnings: adult language, blood, guns, beatings, wounds, torture, abuse, character past history, child death, nightmare, sexual tension, mutual pining, flirting, fluff.

Minors DNI 🔞

Part I, Part III

--

John could taste the copper inside his mouth, his sides aching from the growing bruises. His hands being cut into by zip ties around the arms of the chair; two men standing close by as the leader cleaned his knuckles of blood with a rag. He started to speak about how great John was supposed to be, but the leader just grew more agitated.

"You are no Bogeyman, the Baba Yaga I've once heard of is nothing but a weak man." He growled, he pulled back his fist to punch John once more. "Speak your last words, Mr. Wick." John grunted as he clenched his fists.

"Have you ever heard of the Jade Viper?" asked John as he closed his eyes to take in a heavy breath. The leader held back his laugh as he let John's tie go, "Are you really trying to spook me with a fake story to avoid your death?" He chuckled. John shook his head as he looked at the man again.

"It's real. . . I've seen it, I've seen her." John then snapped his fingers; the man rolled his eyes and attempted to grab John's throat, only to suddenly choke—John saw the silver thin yet long needle pierce through the leader's neck—sending him into a paralyzed state and collapsing onto the ground. John heard the two men in a scuffle behind him—a bone was heard being snapped as one of them was thrown beside John before being quickly dragged backwards into the shadows and one of them screamed with agony until a sound of a knife being pierced through someone's body was heard.

John listened to the clicking heels coming towards him, gentle hands being placed atop his wrist as her kunai sliced through the zip tie. "Y'know, when you said you'd find the Blood Dragons yourself, I didn't think you'd let them catch you in a way." Y/n sighed, "It pained me seeing them hurt you. I'm glad I knocked the main one out for now."

John winced as he rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing to his fingers. He looked at the dead man's body as she picked up a clean rag—tilting his face to look at her while she gently cleaned around his bruises and cuts on his cheek and head. "He's dead." He commented.

"Awh, John, you doubt me so much. He isn't dead. Not yet anyways. These are metal needles with a point at both ends. . . They're often used for medical purposes in my clan, being used to strike acupuncture points. Anyone with great proper medical knowledge can effectively use these in battle to incapacitate or even kill their target should you aim for vital spots. I aimed to incapacitate him." She smirked, "He's just asleep for now."

"You know a lot of techniques." He said, "How were you able to learn all of this?" That made her grow a smile on her face as she let go of his head. "I'll tell you once we get out of here." The incapacitated man was stuffed into the trunk, hands and feet were tied. Y/n was driving and John was resting in his seat as Bones jumped into the backseat, "Good girl." She cooed while tossing her pet a treat.

She had started to drive and watch the view of lights being blurred by the raindrops. John sighed as he relaxed, "So. . . are you going to tell me?" Y/n nodded with a grin. Her fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel.

"You already know that I'm not just an assassin, but, also a ninja, John. Something you'd hear in one of those dumb movies. But it's true. Even I want to laugh at it myself. When I was born, the Grandmaster took his pick of the litter. Each son and daughter in his clan wasn't there by choice, only by force. I was chosen by him and dragged into his training. I remember how ruthless his training was, he trained us in many ways. Those scars you saw my chest, my legs, the bottoms of my feet were all from him." She said.

John was listening while he watched her, her eyes glistening with pain as she remembered her childhood. "He beat the martial arts into us, branded it in our brains, burned it into our bodies, and carved it into our souls. To test who truly were the strongest out of the weakest, he'd match us against each other. A fight to the death. I remember beating one of my sister's, his eyes were on me and I knew what I had to do to prove that I was worthy to keep living. . . So I broke her neck."

John's eyes grew wide with sorrow and shock as he looked at her. "Her death was quick, and full of mercy. I released her from years of torment, John. I didn't want to, but I had to. We had these death tournaments once a year until we turned eighteen, the year we mastered everything. When I was twelve, he had me wear blindfold for an entire year. He said that we must fight no matter what, even without our gift of sight." John saw her hands beginning to tremble as she pulled into his garage.

"What he told us during our punishment has always stuck in my mind. . . Pain breeds weakness. Suffering exists because weakness exists." She muttered, "I had to practice to walk and run in silence. If I made a noise, he strike my feet with a bamboo rod, that's why I have permanent scars on them. . . I have scars on my body from his punishments. You must understand, John, I now do this to protect you. You only. You gave me a chance to change, and I plan to only use my skills to do whatever it takes to protect you."

John felt his heart break at her promise. He'd gone through his own training to become an assassin, it was cruel, and it was painful. But hearing just a tiny tale from her own experience sounded like hell compared to his own. He found her hand and held it in his own, her head slowly turned to look at their connection as John glanced at her.

"I'm sorry for what you've gone through, Y/n." She shook her head and placed her other hand on top his. "Don't be sorry for me, John. . ." Her eyes flickered to his and remained there for a minute. Time seemed to have slowed down, both their hands grew warmer. She shut her eyes and shook her head lightly before releasing her hand from his.

"Let's head inside, I need to take care of your wounds." With that, she exited the car and helped John inside of the house. Once settled in, she removed his shirt and coat. Seeing the bruises and scars on his body, it made her smile warmly before she attended to his cuts. "Why are you smiling?" John questioned, he heard her giggle to herself as she shook her head.

"It's just funny to see you injured like this, I've seen worse but, it's just funny when it's you." He grunted feeling the rubbing alcohol brush against his open cut, "Does it hurt?" "Not as bad as before." He replied. Y/n finished her work and handed him a glass of water, "Is he still alive?" John questioned. "He's settled in the garage for now. I'll move him to the basement after-"

"Not him. . . Your Grandmaster." John corrected. Y/n paused while washing her hands—she turned off the water and turned to look at John who was sitting on the couch. "John. . . Why do you want to know?" She asked.

"Just tell me." He said, a sigh left her as she walked back to the couch to sit down beside him. "I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I escaped. . . I left my clan, attacked the Grandmaster, and they've been after me ever since." Y/n said, "When you asked me where I lived, I said nowhere. . . Because I'm always running from them, I kill threats to keep them distracted."

"Your siblings?" John asked.

"The ones who still remain by his side. . . But, now with you. I get to stop running, now I have a purpose to stay where I am and fight for something that matters. The Grandmaster told us that we are his blood, no more than that. "Wherever you are, wherever you may. go, you must never forget who you are. You are part of me, as I am part of you. This is the truth of your lives, and it will remain true after death." Weakness compels strength. Betrayal begets blood. This is the law of the Seven Clans. . ." Y/n lifted her head and looked at John with guilty eyes.

Her foot lightly tapping on the ground as she spoke, "I betrayed my clan, scarred the Grandmaster's face so bad, I believe he lost an eye. . . It's been years since I've last saw him, but I've seen many of my siblings come and go." John saw the tears beginning to grow in her eyes as she looked down. "You took a shower when you first got here. . . Who's blood was it?" John inquired.

". . . One of my brothers, we seemed to have crossed paths when we were hunting you down for fun. . . I just overwhelmed him and got the upper hand."

"Why am I such a big target?"

"Come on, the Bogeyman? Sounds like a scary name, scary name equals scary threat." She smirked. John couldn't help but grin at her words, Y/n laid back on the couch and stretched her arms and legs. "How far does your loyalty go?"

Y/n smiled again as she sighed, "As far as it needs to go, John. You go anywhere, I'll be there making sure you're safe. Unless you need privacy with a lady." She answered—standing up and beginning to walk to the garage. "I'm gonna fetch our friend in the car, I'll have him tied and prepared for your questioning."

He nodded his head and Y/n disappeared into the garage. John gently traced the back of his hand with his other, Bubba approached and rested his head on his thigh. "I don't know what I'm thinking. . ." He muttered to his dog.

Later at night, after dealing with the leader's body and interrogation—John had dinner with Y/n, she cooked spaghetti, garlic bread, and made a fresh salad for them to eat; John took a shower and gotten dressed for bed. He got in bed and Bubba was in his dog bed with Bones in the living room, Y/n was elsewhere.

John didn't know where she had went, but he knew she was close by. He fell asleep and started to drift off into his dreams—when he did, he expected to see Daisy, or his wife, anything but woman wearing a large sunhat. She was kneeling by a row of potted flowers, she wore gloves and a beautiful green and white flower dress, her hair blew with elegance in the wind while the sun shined on her.

John felt his heart pick up speed when she turned to smile at him, Y/n was smiling at him. Her eyes were bright and innocent, full of life and glee; three puppies tumbled over her feet, Bubba and Bones both sniffing them and pushing them onwards. Y/n slid off her gloves and giggled as she lifted the large sunhat to peek at whoever was behind him. John froze when he heard, "Daddy!"

A child's voice piped up with happiness, John looked behind him to see a young girl with short black hair, similar to his own. Her eyes full of adoration for him as she smiled, she held his hand and dragged him forward towards Y/n. It was only then that had John saw Y/n's body. Her dress perfectly brought out her baby bump: she was pregnant. Beautiful, and pregnant?!

John then saw his entire fantasy become a nightmare when thunder had struck, lighting had blinded him for only a minute. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw blood everywhere. Bubba and Bones were gone, the little girl was gone, Y/n wasn't. She was there. . .

Only. . . She was standing in a pool of blood, and the little girl lying right beside her feet. Bleeding out with empty eyes. Y/n's face and hands coated with blood, behind her, shadows began to emerge from the depths of the garden. Carrying katanas, blades, and even the heads of John's old enemies.

Y/n lifted her face and stared at John with an empty expression. As if she wasn't there anymore, just a shell of her remained. The shadows then leapt at John and he had woken up in a cold sweat. His heart thumping harder and faster than ever before, he looked at his window to see the night sky still there.

He lifted his hand and held his head to calm himself down, taking in slow and deep breaths. "John?" Y/n whispered from somewhere in the room, he looked around in the dark and looked towards the closed door.

"Y/n?" He mumbled—the floor slightly creaked and he looked to the left side of the room, the corner that was filled with nothing but shadows—Y/n slowly emerged from the darkness with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a soft voice. He leaned against the headboard and sighed. ". . . Where you here the entire time?" He wondered. She let out a halfhearted giggle as she sat on the edge of his bed.

"No, I wasn't actually. I heard you shuffling around in here, I thought you were being attacked at first so I came in. . . Then I saw that you were being attacked by yourself. . . And I wasn't sure to wake you up or not, until you did five seconds later." She explained, "Are you okay?"

He nodded his head and glanced at the clock instead of Y/n, still unsure of what his dream had really meant. His eyes found her again as she stood up and walked to the door, "I'll be out here." She added. "Don't you sleep?" said John. "Not until you have proper rest, once you're taken care of and healed up, only then can I sleep."

With that, she shut the door and left John alone. He ran his fingers through his raven locks as he rethought of the dream again. Why did he think of that? Better yet, why was she pregnant? Why was that little girl there? . . . Why was Y/n covered in all that blood? . . .

John could only wonder as he laid back in his bed, feeling cold and unsure but most definitely, alone. As if he somewhat wanted Y/n to stay in the same room with him, but also didn't. What was this feeling he was sensing? He could only shut his eyes and sleep on it.

From afar, outside hidden within the trees—watching as Y/n walked down the stairs and freeze in place as she felt a pair of eyes piercing at her. She snapped her eyes towards the shadows of the forest, seeing nothing there but a squirrel scurry up the tree. She clenched her fists as she smelled the pine trees.

"Run, run, little sister." whispered the shadow from the darkness.

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Pt. 3 is coming soon!!