#did i get more yarn? yeah

[fibrespace]

You guys will never believe what happened to me. I was walking down the street today and I just so happened to trip and fall right into my local yarn store.

Luckily for me, I came out of the ordeal mostly unscathed. They were having a 60% off sale on Rainbow Beach by Queensland collection, and I managed to score seven skeins for $7.20 each. And I mean, what could I do? They practically followed me home Campbell's soup style.

[lit-in-thy-heart]

been trying out a new writing technique recently and it's called chilling tf out and reminding myself that fic is written for fun.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

pinning to the workshop corkboard: you've heard of winston "i'm cassandra" billions clairvoyance concepts for fun & profit, hear also of winston billions sphinx concepts (you must be This understanding of what he means to proceed)

[coridallasmultipass]

Halloween costume hint:

(The stitch marker and the word that describes this colour-pattern of yarn [or fabric] are 2 more hints.)

[cashmere-caveman]

hi i just finished the first five episodes of house of the dragon and i am so so obsessed w the whole family and love as rot and sickness theme it is done so well!

also hello costume department i see the byzantine influences and i hear you. lovely. the sets are all so beautiful but i truly wish that it was not so painfully obviously green screen every time they are on a boat but what can u do! at least the dragons look mostly fine even if the sound design could be cooler and/or more creative but ig they were bound by whatever GoT did first and i havent watched that one yet so i'll ignore this.

anyway the gender of it all!!! every targaeryen ever has one (1) dream job and it is visenya but also every monarch has only ever been a king and the daughterson girlboy failchild dreamheir of it all....... so glad older rhaenyra will be played by a nonbinary actor bc yeah. yeah. exactly. but also milly alcock is so so good at the teenage defiance and the naivete and the simultaneous disillusionment with everything and the excitement about it like yes!!! yes!!!

i will not say anything abt any other characters or ny of the relationships lest this post get 3k words long but i am absolutely looking forward to watching it all unfold and unravel and also watching that old man literally fall apart. cinema <3

i WILL however say: ramin djawadi my eternal goat u managed to be my most played artist back in 2017 when i wasnt even watching GoT just bc ur music goes so fucking hard and u've done it again. idk if i correctly connected the dots but the one melody which i am p sure is rhaenyras theme is so delicious mwah. u will end up on my spotify wrapped again beloved ♡

[biblically-accurate-soup]

thinking about that one JillianEve video where she talks about the disconnect from the items around us and the growing normalization in not knowing where the things you use come from and how there are made? yeah

[loverboybitch]

hi i would just like to report that getting out of my house and being a member of society is cool and kind of rules even when its scary yeah.//.

[fingertipsmp3]

This fucking cardigan I’m making for my stepdad’s niece’s kid is going to make me tear my hair out I swear to god

[lieslab]

Youtiful

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: You're feeling insecure about different things and your boyfriend is right there to make you feel better.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Requestee, I hope I did you right by this one. I think some of these make more sense than others, but I tried my best. For the rest of you that are reading my ongoing Felix siren AU, that's getting updated soon, and then the final request in my inbox will be posted and then we'll be up to date. So if you have a request, drop it in the inbox.

_ _ _

Chan: 

When Chan came home from work, he expected you to greet him like you always did. He expected your smile and your sweet voice. He expected the twinkle in your eyes and the excitement that flowed through you as you practically skipped into his arms. 

What he wasn’t expecting was your voice without the accent. He stared at you in shock as you greeted him. With his lips turning down into a frown, a similar frown found your face. 

“Are you okay?” Your eyes scanned him. “Did something happen at work?” You couldn’t tell what was wrong and it was worrying you. 

“Your voice,” he started. 

“What about it?” 

“Why are you talking like that? What happened to your accent?” 

“My accent? Oh, right.” You stepped back and your fingers began to knot together. “Well, I’m trying to break it and stop doing it. I know the fans don’t like it, so I-” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Huh?” 

“Change yourself for the fans, don’t do that.” 

“But I-” 

“I don’t care what the fans think. You’re mine and I think your accent is cute. Don’t let them get to you, sweetheart. You have the cutest voice that I’ve ever heard.” 

“But sometimes you don’t like it either,” you objected. “Remember how I say certain things and you laugh at me?” 

“Aw, I’m not laughing at you in a bad way.” A grin lit up his face and he stepped closer. He gently cupped your cheeks. “I laugh because sometimes you pronounce things in a different way and I think it’s cute. You give me cuteness aggression sometimes.” 

He gently cupped your cheeks and continued. “It makes me feel so happy. You get a little upset because I keep laughing and it’s adorable! I could listen to your accent all day. Plus, I have an accent too, remember?” 

“Oh, right. I do love your accent and I would be upset if you tried to get rid of it.” 

“Exactly! So go back to your accent and let me love you how you are. Look at you!” He cooed and gently squished your cheeks. “What a cutie pie!” 

“Ew! Don’t call me that again!” The sound of your natural accent poked through and caused him to giggle. He squished your cheeks harder and his grin widened. Your cheeks went bright red as you tried to escape. 

You could try all you wanted, but he wasn’t going to let go until he proved his point. 

_ _ _

Minho: 

“And then he hit me! Can you believe that?” His hands went up into the air and he sighed. “Kim Seungmin, that little shithead, hit me! I nearly threw him across the room.” 

You hummed softly and continued to weave the yarn around your sticks. You had been crocheting for the past twenty minutes when Minho showed up and began to ramble. You didn’t mind it, but you hadn’t spoken once. You kept listening and nodding or occasionally humming. 

When Minho finally realized it, he stared at you with a raised eyebrow. “Are you okay over there?” You nodded without a response. “Are you mad at me?” 

You shook your head and continued. Your concentration didn’t leave the navy blue strand of yarn. You wrapped it around the hooks and continued making your scarf in peace. 

Minho sighed, walked over to the couch beside you, and dropped down. He placed his head on your thigh and glanced up at you. Feeling the warmth, you looked over and your eyes met his. 

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” 

“Because I talk a lot and I figured you should do most of the talking this time.” 

“Talk a lot?” 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that I talk a lot. I ramble a lot and it’s probably annoying for you. I’m listening, just so you’re aware. I can’t believe he hit you, that’s practically elder abuse.” 

A quip of a smile began to appear on Minho’s face until you went back to crocheting without another word. He didn’t like that you thought you talked too much. He liked your rambles and loved listening to you. 

“I don’t like it when you sit here quietly without speaking. It makes me feel like I’m talking to a statue. If I wanted to date a statue, I’d just go snog one at the art museum.” 

You didn’t respond. You were briefly distracted by fixing the yarn that had tangled around the metal hooks. Your eyebrows furrowed while your fingers worked to unloop the near knot that was forming. 

When you didn’t respond, Minho sat up. He leaned over to your ball of yarn on the ground and glanced at you. Your gaze was still set on the hooks. Without a word, he leaned down and gently grabbed the neatly wrapped ball. 

You didn’t have time to react. With a manic giggle, he took off grabbing the ball of yarn. He instantly began to unravel it while he ran. Your jaw dropped in shock. 

“Minho! Give it back!” You cried out as you stood up. 

“Talk to me!” 

“You jerk!” 

You watched as he laughed and zig-zaged through the apartment unraveling it all. You weren’t mad, you were just shocked. It caught you so off guard, you weren’t sure how to react. 

“I said talk to me! Speak! Do you want me to offer you a treat?” 

You yelled as you chased him throughout the apartment. Curse words flew out of your mouth and he kept jumping onto furniture and leaping off of it. 

By the time he collapsed, you were right beside him. Both of you were panting heavily and sheer sweat soaked your foreheads. After a few seconds, Minho finally spoke. “Have I ever said I love your voice?” 

“You could have-” You sucked in a deep breath. “You could have just said that.” 

“What’s the fun in that?” 

“I’m going to kill you.” 

“Good luck mustering up the strength after that workout.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Glad to hear your voice again, babe.” 

_ _ _

Changbin: 

Trigger warning: mentions of food, weight loss, calories, skipping a meal, and bingeing.

“Why aren’t you having a bowl of the delicious soup you made?” Changbin asked. 

You were strung over the side of the couch and hanging upside down. Your hair hung down towards the floor and your arms dangled freely. 

“Because.” 

“Because is not a good enough answer.” 

“Well you see,” you started, “I’m trying to lose weight.” 

“Oh?” 

“And before you throw a hissy fit, it’s one meal I’m missing. Don’t you dare make a big deal out of it. I know how many calories I’m supposed to have and all. I already talked to my doctor and I-” 

“So…you’re skipping out on a meal for lower calories?” 

“I want to make a specific dish for dinner, but it has a higher calorie count. I figure that if I skip this meal, I can eat more for dinner and then I-” 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but are you sure that it won’t lead to a binge?” 

“What happened to believing in me?” 

“What happened to attainable goals?” 

“This is attainable! Why can’t you believe in me for once?” 

He walked over and plopped down beside you. “I always believe in you. Why do you need to lose weight anyway?” 

“Because I don’t feel good about my body and I want to do better.” 

“Promise you’re not going to go to super extreme lengths?” 

“Yeah, but honestly-” Using your core muscles, you jerked yourself back upright. Your eyes found his. “I’m shocked that you’re not lecturing me.” 

“Please believe that I would like to, but I’ve also cut meals for weight loss on some days. I trust that you’ll be careful with this and do it in a way that won’t damage your body. Just remember that you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” 

“I know I don’t have to, but sometimes change is good, isn’t it?” 

“I think it depends on the type of change and how it’s created.” 

Your eyes wandered over to the soup. You spent a good chunk of time chopping up vegetables and beef for the vegetable soup. It was a little cooler outside and your stomach rumbled. You finally pulled your eyes away, trying to distract yourself. 

“You know that you can have a small bowl, right? You can have a small bowl now and you can join my workout later. There’s a treadmill at the gym. I know you’re not a fan of lifting weights. You can look pretty and watch Binnie get big and strong.” 

“That is so tempting.” 

Changbin picked up his bowl, grabbed a spoonful of the soup, and began to loudly slurp it. Your glare instantly sent him into laughter. You huffed and got up. 

“Where are you going?” He called after you. 

“To get a small bowl of my soup. If you lied about the treadmills, I’m going to drop a weight on your foot.” 

“You don’t even have the strength to pick up the amount I lift.” 

“If there’s a will, there’s a way.” 

_ _ _

Hyunjin: 

For the third day in a row, you weren’t home when Hyunjin was home. He frowned and kicked off his shoes. He deposited his bag in your shared room and waited for you to get home. 

Hours later, it was pitch black outside. You fumbled with the lock and your keys. Hyunjin was on the couch, scrolling through Instagram, when the jingling caught his attention. He was up within seconds and rushing towards the door. 

When you finally got the door open, Hyunjin smiled softly at you. “Hi, baby.” 

You stumbled forward and practically collapsed in his arms. Panicked, he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you standing. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“I can’t believe your boss is making you stay over so late an-” 

“I’m choosing to stay over later.” 

His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “What? Why? Baby, you’re barely getting enough sleep and you ar-” 

“The extra money is good.” 

“You are literally unraveling at the seams. You already have plenty of money.” He gently brushed your hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to earn more money.” 

“I need more. People are speculating that I use you for your money. I have to show them that I-” 

“Woah, woah, woah. First of all, that’s nobody’s business. Second of all, you don’t do that. You already make enough and you’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up. Your body isn’t meant to only sleep for four to five hours a night.” 

“I need the money.” Your eyes slipped shut and you kept babbling half-awake. Hyunjin pulled you inside and shut the door behind you. “Just a little more,” you mumbled. 

“Baby, you know I love you, right? I’m not going to let you keep pressing yourself like this. Thank goodness it’s Friday because you need some sleep.” 

“I’m supposed to go back tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry about that right now.” He gently scooped your legs from beneath you and carried you bridal style. Your head fell onto his chest and you let out a sigh. 

“That’s it, there you go. Don’t worry about work right now, just focus on my voice. I’m going to get you ready for bed and then we’re going to cuddle and go to sleep, okay?” 

You let out a soft hum in agreement. In the bedroom, he slowly pulled you out of your work clothes and slipped your exhausted body into pajamas. You didn’t fight back against it as your head fell towards your chest. 

When he was finished, he crawled into the bed beside you and tugged you closer. He pressed his lips to your temple, leaned over, and switched off the light. “Sleep tight, I love you.” 

The only response he got was your soft snores. He chuckled and tugged you closer. As long as you were okay, he was happy. 

_ _ _

Han: 

“Okay, so I’ve got the newest anime and all of our favorite snacks. We’re going to order from your favorite restaurant later and have takeout for dinner.” 

You were calm, cool, and collected as you laid out the plan. Han blinked in shock and glanced down at all the snacks you had brought. He wasn’t expecting this, you just showed up and announced you had a surprise in tow. 

“Where are the gummies?” He asked. 

Your face fell a little as you internally panicked. “Gummies? What gummies? Did I forget to pick up some? I didn’t know you liked those I-” 

“The ones that you like? You said you got our favorite snacks. You always eat them first. They’re like the patties from SpongeBob, you love them!” 

“Oh, those.” 

“Couldn’t find them?” 

“I didn’t want them.” 

“Why?” 

You shrugged, “just didn’t feel like it.” 

“Oh?” He sat down on the couch beside you and watched as you put the movie on. “You didn’t have to do all of this for me. I feel like I’ve been spoiled.” 

“I wanted to watch the new anime too because,” your voice raised in pitch, “it looked good.” 

Your voice only changed like that when you lied. Han’s eyes narrowed at you and he glanced down at the snacks again. Something was off about your behavior, but he couldn’t place it. 

“What?” 

“Why are yo-” 

“Oh!” You forced yourself to smile. “The show is already starting!” You shoved a pack of his favorite chips into his hand and turned your attention to the screen. 

Half-way through the movie, Han noticed you weren’t paying attention. Your eyes were on the wall and you looked a little lost. Actually, you looked pretty sad. 

After realizing it, Han grabbed the remote and paused the movie. The sudden silence grabbed your attention and you glanced over. Noticing the pause symbol in the corner of the screen, you looked at Han. 

He was staring back at you with a look of confusion. Nerves began to bubble up in your gut, but you held it back. “Is something wrong?” 

“I think something is wrong with you.” 

“Why?” 

“You’re acting off.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

He snapped his fingers together and glanced back down at the snacks. “That’s it! Where are all your favorite snacks? No wonder it looked so strange. The stuff you usually snack on isn’t here.” 

“So?” 

“You don’t even like anime movies!” 

“That is no-” Your voice cracked and your eyes widened in shock. You cleared your throat and continued. “That’s not true.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“Why are you acting so differently? I don’t like it. Did something happen?” 

When your bottom lip quivered, he crawled closer. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“You’ve been distant,” you muttered weakly. “I thought you got tired of me. Maybe if I liked more of the things you liked, maybe you’d like me more and pay more attention.” 

He felt like pure shit. He tugged you into his arms and rubbed your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize it. The band is having a comeback and I’ve been stressed. I’m really sorry, I had no idea.” 

“I love you for you and I don’t want you to change who you are. I love you and I love that we have our differences. It makes for good conversations and sometimes I like arguing and bickering with you about our dislikes.” 

“These are gross,” you mumbled as you held up the pack of candy that you had been forcing yourself to eat. 

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!” 

Han pounced on you and began to tickle the sides of your torso. You screeched and the bag went flying backwards. Candy littered the carpet, but neither of you cared. As you laughed and squirmed, a grin grew on his face. 

He liked you for you and nobody was going to take that away from him. 

_ _ _

Felix: 

“Goodnight,” you mumbled as you climbed into bed beside Felix. 

“Goodnight, honey.” His eyes were glued down to his Nintendo Switch. He was saving his game when a flash of white caught his eyes. 

He glanced over with a raised eyebrow. You shifted further beneath the blankets to get comfortable. A white sock hat had slipped over your head. Confusion began to fill him as he watched you.

You let out a sigh and shut your eyes. Felix put away his device and slipped beneath the covers towards you. “Honey, why are you wearing a hat to bed?” 

“My forehead is too big.” 

“What?” 

“My hairline is receding and you can’t see it now. You don’t have to look at my five-head this way. I’m saving your precious eyes from damage.” 

“There is nothing wrong with yo-” 

“Oh, you can say that now, but you haven’t seen what the last hairstyle I did looked like. More hair fell out and I’m fucked. I should get this hat super glued to my head.” 

“That’s an awful idea, honey.” 

“I’d be doing you a favor.”

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“Yes, it can. I look like an old fuck! I’m still so young and yet it keeps falling out. I look like Megamind.” 

“Well…Megamind is cute to some people.” 

The scrunched up look on your face made him roll over and bury his face into the bed to stop from laughing. You playfully whacked his shoulder and spun around. Jerking the blanket around you tighter, you pulled away. 

“Wait!” He cried out and pulled himself up. “Where are you going? No, no, no! Don’t do that! Don’t leave me! Baby, please, I’m sorry!” He rolled closer and wrapped his arms around your back.

“You’re being mean,” you mumbled. 

“I know and I’m sorry. I wasn’t lying though. I’d love you even if you were bald. Do you know why it’s happening?” 

“I don’t know, but I feel like a failure. Maybe it’s the dying and bleaching of my hair or maybe it’s genetics. Maybe I really am getting old.” 

“No, you’re not getting old. I mean you are, but you’re making it sound like you’re ancient.” 

“I feel like it.” 

“How about this? Tomorrow I’ll talk to the stylist that does my hair. I’ll ask her if she can recommend something. If that doesn’t work, maybe we can try something else. Try not to worry too much. You’re still beautiful, I promise.” 

“Seungmin would laugh at me and compare me to Chan.” 

“But you’re not dating Seungmin, you’re dating me and I love you just the way you are.” He reached back, flipped off the light, slipped his hand down, and gently pulled off your hat. 

“I can’t see you in the dark, but I know that can’t be too comfortable. Plus, it might pull on your hair and make it worse. Focus on my cuddles instead.” 

“You’re like a koala.” 

He laughed and curled his body tighter around yours. “Yeah, but you love me and my koala cuddles.” 

“Always.” 

_ _ _

Seungmin: 

He didn’t mean to catch you in the bathroom, but he did. You smiled and then frowned. Your mouth contoured in another way and then you frowned again. Over and over it went and it happened. 

“Hey you, what are you doing?” He stepped further into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around your waist. His chin rested on top of your head. 

“Do I smile funny to you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“A trio of girls asked me for a photo earlier since I’m your significant other. As they were walking away, one of them said that I smiled funny.” 

“You look funny too.” 

Hurt flashed in your eyes and Seungmin’s grip around you constricted. “Baby, I’m kidding. You know I love how you look and I love your smile.” 

“My teeth could be straighter.” 

“Don’t do that. Who cares? Plenty of people have crooked teeth. They make you unique and-” 

“That didn’t make me feel any better.” 

“I could always shove my tongue in your mouth via french kissing.” 

“Seungmin!” 

“If I’ve learned to like my smile, you have to learn to like yours. We have cute smiles and the next time I hear you say something bad, you can choke on my tongue.” 

“When you put it like that, that’s disgusting.” 

“And so is self-hatred. We’re hot and sexy and people wish they were us.” He stood up straighter, kept his arm around the front of your waist, and pulled out his phone. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

He pulled up his camera and pointed it at the mirror. “Smile big for me, baby. I’m gonna send this to the group chat and remind the guys what they’re missing out on.” 

_ _ _

I.N: 

An eagle screech and a loud crash came from the kitchen. It jerked I.N out of the livestream that he was in. He quickly apologized to the fans, insisted he’d be back soon, and ended the live. Rushing into the kitchen, he called your name worriedly. 

He stopped once he got in the kitchen. You were in tears and standing on top of the counter top. Your bare arms and legs were speckled bright red. He was worried he was bleeding until he realized that the scent of tomatoes hung in the air. 

Glancing down, a jar of pasta sauce sat shattered all over the floor. It was everywhere too. It was on the floor and slathered the hardwood. It dotted the fridge and a large puddle mapped out in every direction. 

“What happened?” 

“I couldn’t reach the stupid sauce! I hate being short! I hate it!” 

“Oh, you poor thing.” He walked around the mess and came over to you. 

Since you reached adulthood, you’ve always been short for your age. Due to genetics, you barely made it past five feet. Everything was a struggle when you were short. 

I.N naturally put things on the shelf and you couldn’t reach them. The two of you had a taller fridge and you could reach the bottom freezer just fine. The upper shelf that the milk and bottled drinks went on was another story. 

When you went out with I.N on a busy day, you always had to cling tight to his hand. You were always afraid you’d get lost in the crowds. You hated being so short. In your eyes, there was nothing good about it. 

“Are you injured?” 

“My height has been injured since birth.” 

“I’m being serious. Were you cut by the glass? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” 

“I should sue my parents for emotional distress.” 

“Come here, baby.” He carefully lifted you up and off the counter. 

“You’re going to get sauce on you.” 

“I don’t care. Let me get sauced up, I can always shower. Let’s go get you cleaned up and out of these tomato covered clothes.” 

You felt like crying again. You were having one of those days where it felt like everything had been going wrong. Too many things had built up and this was your breaking point. Frustration and annoyance had built up and now you were left defeated. 

“There’s nothing good about being short,” you mumbled. 

“I don’t think that’s true. Just because you’re short, it doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Changbin is short too, remember? A lot of the band is short and-” 

“They’re all taller than me.” 

“But for our group, we’re pretty short. You don’t think we get intimidated when we see our taller seniors? How about award ceremonies? Imagine talking to a reporter that’s multiple inches taller. I feel short sometimes too, but you know what?” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to let your height define you. Sure, you might be short, but I bet tall people wish they were your size sometimes. When you’re super tall, you get noticed a lot.” 

“But I could be average height.” 

“And I’m glad you’re not. It makes it easier to find you in crowds. I’m always looking down and I’m forced to remember what your shoes look like. I get to notice things, like your clothes, that I might not pay too much attention to if you were taller.” 

“Plus, you’re good at hide and seek. In cars, airplanes, and trains, you have more room to spread out because you’re shorter. It’s better than being taller and feeling like you have little room.” 

“I guess I didn’t think of that.” 

“Plus, you have a shorter range of motion. If you ever get violent with someone, you don’t have to hit very far. Taller people tend to have longer limbs.” 

“I see your points.” 

“I already know that you shop in the kids section for your jeans. Technically, you get to save money because that stuff is cheaper.” 

“Oh, yeah!” You smiled. “How does it feel to pay full price for jeans?” 

“It makes me feel broke afterwards.” 

“You have so much money!” 

“So? Doesn’t mean I like paying so much on a good pair of jeans! If you can complain about being short, I can complain about the price of jeans. They’re outrageous!” 

He continued rambling on and on while leading you to the bathroom. By the time he got there, he was angry and out of breath. He put you down and huffed. 

“Innie?” 

“What?” 

“I love you.” 

He blinked and a smile began to fill his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too or whatever.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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[empress-simps]

Tulips & Moony

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Sirius and Remus' banter and language (around 700 words) Summary: Remus tries to crochet you a tulip. Note: Hi darlings! I hope you like this mini fic; I love to crochet so why not make a fic out of it, right? Also, my uni's third term is about to end so I'll have more time to finish my WIPs! Hope you enjoy!

Remus loves knitted things— he considers the “unfashionable” grandpa sweaters that Sirius always complains about to be his prized possessions, not forgetting to mention how he’s got every neutral and earthy tones of cardigans arranged neatly in his trunk.

Yes, Remus is an avid fan of those things, but he doesn't really express any interest in making them from scratch.

So, imagine Sirius' surprise walking in on Remus who’s red in the face as he fumbles with a ball of yarn.

“Now Moony, when did you suddenly become a grandma?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow at the poor bloke who’s struggling looping a yarn.

“Since he learned Y/n loves to crochet.” James quipped from his bed, eating a chocolate frog that he most likely stole from Remus’ stash who was too busy to notice.

“He’s been at it for a good hm… three hours or so?” Peter shrugs, working on his charms essay in the corner of the room and trying to block out the strings of curses Remus grumbles out every now and then.

“Can you all be quiet? I’m trying to concentrate, you sods.” The werewolf grumbled, furrowing his brows and sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration. The sight was quite amusing. James lets out a laugh, getting off his bed. “Alright then, I’m getting quite tired watching you fail miserably,” Remus grunted, “Yeah, go bother someone else.”

Sirius plopped next to Remus, looking closely at his creation. “That’s a nice square you got there, Moony.” He hummed, nodding in approval at the wonky shape.

“It’s a bloody circle, you git.”

Sirius didn’t even try to stifle his laugh, “What are you trying to make anyway?”

“A tulip.”

“Doesn’t look like one though.”

“Thanks Pads, really. You’re such a great friend.” Remus rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he repeats a certain stitch a couple of times. “Geez Moony, that’s alright now.”

“No, it’s not, the stitch looks weird and much looser than the others,” Remus complained.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “You call that a stitch? Doesn’t look like it.”

"Yeah, the next time you'll see Poppy is because of the stitches you're gonna get because of me-"

Safe to say they both were kicked out to the common room by a very annoyed Wormtail.

It took about a week full of wonky, weirdly shaped tulips, and sleepless nights for Remus to successfully make a single red tulip.

Remus gripped the wrapped tulip tightly, the familiar feeling of nervousness eating up his system seeing you with your friend hanging out in the corner of the common room. He was pulled out of his thoughts by James showing him lightly.

“Look, now’s your chance, Moony.”

Sure enough, your friend left you on one of the couches to go Godric knows where, Remus didn’t really care that much if he’s honest. He even silently thanked your friend as his feet lead him to where you’re sitting. “Oh, Remus!” You looked up to see his tall frame, standing quickly as you could and offering him a smile. “Hi.” He grinned nervously before stretching his arm out that’s holding the crocheted Tulip to you, albeit a bit awkwardly but you on the other hand, find it endearing. “Erm… Is it for me?” You asked, chuckling nervously. “Ah, yeah! I made it, I heard you like to crochet so…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck as blush dusted his cheeks. He saw how your eyes lit up, and your smile widening as you gently took it from his hand. “Woah…” You let out a soft gasp, examining the flower carefully. “Since when did you learn how to crochet?” “Just last week,” “Just last week?! Remus, you are gifted. I couldn’t even make something remotely similar when I was a month in crocheting.” You told him, hugging it close to your cheeks. “Thank you, Remus.” You smiled shyly, going on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek before waving shyly to him and heading off to girls’ dormitory, leaving Remus who was still trying to process what just happened.

“Another one? I’ve already told you leather is much better!” Sirius threw his hands up in the air, entering their room to see Remus smiling to himself as he wore the cardigan you crocheted for him. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you, Pads.” Peter looked up from his and James’ game of exploding snap. “Why? It’s not fashionable!” “It’s made by Y/N, you wanker. Now shut your mouth before I hex you out of this room.”

[lovebugism]

OMG BUG I READ YOUR FICTOBER EVENT AND GOT SO EXCITED!!!

"I’ve been crocheting this throw blanket for four years and it’s finally finished. Please pretend it’s big enough and cuddle under it with me." I read this prompt and I think it would be amazing with sunshine/dizty reader x steve, its totally ok if you dont feel inspired so don't feel pressured to write it, ok love you, bye!! ♡

ty for requesting lovie :D — you make steve an anniversary present and the big softy almost cries (ditzy!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

“Happy anniversary!” you squeal, clutching an ambiguously wrapped gift in your hand. 

It’s not actually your anniversary today. You can’t be sure when it is, really. You and Steve were already four months deep before you realized how official things had gotten, without either of you outright making them that way. So you both just decided to celebrate the day you first met, which you thought was pretty fitting. It feels right to acknowledge the day your lives changed forever.

You stand in front of Steve where he sits on the couch and plop the present into his waiting hands. The red glitter from the sparkly hearts gets all over his golden palms. It’s rather sloppily wrapped, like there’s no real shape to whatever you had gotten him.

He thinks it might be a blanket, or maybe a beach towel you liked so much you had to wrap.

Steve holds it up to his ear and shakes it anyway. “Is it a puppy?” he jokes with a crooked grin and sparkling honey eyes.

You pout, a frown pinching your brows. “No. There’s no airholes, Steve— that’d be so dangerous.”

Steve nods. He tries to be as serious as you are, but you’re so damn cute it’s impossible not to smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he concurs with a squint. 

He tears through the pink wrapping paper with glitter coating his fingers. He’s not surprised to find a blanket inside, but the fact that it’s handmade takes him for a loop.

It’s made of rainbow-colored square patches with different colored hearts on the front of each one. Some look more like blobs and bits of yarn straggle from a few rounded corners, but it’s the prettiest thing Steve’s ever seen. Mostly because he knows it was made by your hands.

He loves it so much he could cry.

“Holy hell, babe,” he scoffs out a laugh as unshed tears burn the backs of his eyes.

Unsure of how to gauge the reaction, you shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. “Do you like it?" you wonder with brows furrowed in muted concern.

He drags his eyes away from the fuzzy blanket in his hands and up to you. His honey gaze glitters when it finds your own. “I love it, babe— what the hell? How long did it take you to make this?”

You shrug, innocent and sparkling. “I don’t know… ‘Bout a year, I guess.”

Steve gapes at you, eyes wide and pink mouth softly open. “You’ve been making this since we started dating?” he wonders when the words finally catch up to his reeling brain.

“Yeah…” you waver with a scrunched nose. “Is that weird?”

Too overwhelmed with a billion emotions, Steve just laughs. 

He figures he must look insane, getting all emotional like he’s never seen a blanket before. One hasn’t meant this much to him before now. Nothing has, really — ‘cause it wasn’t made completely and utterly by you.

He shrugs and beams at you, wider than you’ve ever seen. “Only if it’s weird that I wanna kiss you stupid right now,” he teases, only half-joking.

“That’s very weird,” you nod, then purse your lips to the side in a futile attempt to hide the smile threatening to take over.

“Get over here, weirdo,” the boy laughs, sitting the blanket beside him and reaching for you. 

His palms spread across the backs of your laughs when he’s close enough to touch you — a wide, warm, and all-consuming touch. You brace yourself on his shoulders when you lean in to kiss him, giggling against his smiling mouth when he drags you onto the couch beside him.

He smacks a more intentional kiss to your lips before pulling away from you completely. He keeps one arm around your back while his other reaches for the blanket. He shakes it out to unfold it entirely, then tries to wrap the two of you in it. 

The crocheted thing only covers half of you.

Steve’s eyes are light-heartedly wide as they flit to you. “I hate to say it, babe…”

“What?” you waver, made unsure by his feigned seriousness.

“I don’t think we’re both gonna fit underneath it…”

“Yeah, we can!” you argue with a scoff, shifting closer to him. “We just gotta get real close, see?”

It doesn’t fit until you’re halfway sitting on his lap — arms wrapped around his neck, chest pressed to his. It doesn’t change how tiny the blanket is, but he’s certainly not complaining. If Steve had it his way, you’d be this close to him all the time.

“Ah, I see,” the boy nods with a poorly hidden grin. You’re so close, the tip of his nose traces up and down the bridge of yours.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask him in a whisper. Your smile is quieter now, bordering on serious, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in your eye he doesn’t miss. Steve nods again with raised brows, and you continue. “What if I told you that this was all intentional?”

“…Making the blanket three feet too small?”

You nod.

Steve thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Then I’d say that you’re an evil genius. Or a total poet. One of the two, definitely— but both are equally hot.”

“Well, I was lying. It wasn’t intentional,” you confess to a crime he already knew you were innocent of. You light up again a second later, eyes sparkling just like your smile does. “But at least we get to snuggle, though, right?”

Steve laughs, high and boyish. It fills the living room with sun rays and makes your chest feel all warm. It’s like he put sunshine where your heart’s supposed to be. 

He just nods and holds you closer. He’d tell you that he hopes he has a lifetime of snuggling with you if he could find the words to say it. You’ve got him tripping head over heels for you that he’d stutter too horribly for you to understand him.

But you get it, though, without him having to say a single word.

‘Cause if you could have a lifetime with him, cuddling under this exact blanket (that you accidentally knit way too small), you’d die the happiest person that’s ever walked the goddamn planet.

[sovksluv]

Eurydice

𖤐 . pairing - death cure!Minho x fem!reader

𖤐 . summary - someone dies basically so yeah

𖤐 . content includes - um major character death !

𖤐 . word count - 493

𖤐 . taglist - @sluttysammyy @delilahandfiction

𖤐 . a/n - sorry this is so short, but i also randomly got this idea (instead of working on all the asks i have 🧍🏻 ) (also thank you for all the asks i have <3 ) REPOST BECAUSE EURYDICE DID NOT DESERVE TO FLOP LIKE IT DID

"no, no, no, no, no. hey-hey. you're okay. c'mon you're okay." he stuttered, inevitable tears leaving burning streaks down his face, though he ignored them. "hey, hey. baby you- you're okay. just-" he inhaled shakily, his breath getting caught in his throat. "look at me, baby. just look at me. you're okay."

he was beginning to believe that the repeating chants were more for him rather than you, the rational side of his brain rapidly failing, eyes constantly blurring and glossing over. Minho held your body close in his arms, his left arm gently cradling your head, which was shaking with his own nerves.

"Minho," you whispered out, barely audible with a sickly paleness to your face, small sticky streaks of blood seeping through the corner of your mouth. there were bullets firing, screaming, shouting, bombs going off, flames exploding from every corner, but the booming sound of his own heartbeat in his head overthrew all other noises.

Minho quivered, mouth dry, empty, despite his head running with thoughts moving thousands of miles a second, quickly flooding in one after the other. he allowed his eyes to droop down to your torso, the metallic crimson already engulfing most of your white undershirt, taunting him with its intensity.

it was unfair. your being had plagued his mind, being the only thing that kept him going. you kept him company in his dreams, distracting him from what they really were - nightmares. but nothing could distract him from this one. this very real nightmare. after six long months of torture, nothing had compared to this. finally being able to hold you in his arms again, only for it to be the last time.

from the moment you reunited, the two of you had yet to lose physical contact, swearing you would never let each other go again. that is why the moment Minho felt your hand abruptly pull from his, he knew it was time. he knew it was over. the ghost of your warmth lingered deep in his soul as the coldness drowned yours, your body succumbing to the inevitable darkness the moment the two of you were presented with the brightest of lights.

your path to forever freedom had been carved, ready for you, yet here you were, on an unexpected secret passage suddenly disrupting your long journey, where your story was coming to an end. the yells of anguish and silent sobs from your friends had no place in Minho's crazed mind, being too occupied yet utterly empty, despite everything he longed to say.

you were so close. one step away from the life you were destined to live together. but fate had been decided, your string had already been cut. and now the small threads of your yarn of life pooled on the ground as the blood seeped from your wound, the shattered body of your lover left to wash away the pieces and walk away without you by his side.

© sovksluv 2024, please do not repost or translate my work! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT ! ASKS/REQS WELCOME

[crybaby-bkg]

“I thought I was supposed to be the old person in this relationship,” Toji’s voice rings out in the previously quiet atmosphere, makes your head whip up in surprise. your concentration is broken from your prior engagement, hands slowing as you can’t help the smile that grows on your face at his teasing.

“Crocheting is for any and all ages,” you snark back at him, taking in how he watches the way your hands still move rhythmically—yarn over, pull through two loops, yarn over, pull through the last two, chain four, repeat. “You weren’t talking shit when I made you that sweater for your birthday.”

“Yeah I did, cause it itched like all hell.” He teases, makes you stick your tongue out at him playfully. he wore that sweater everywhere, to the point you damn near had to rip it off of him to put it in the wash. (the only times he didn’t wear it was when he knew he’d get it dirty while doing his…business ventures, which you didn’t mind. you’d rather he go a day without wearing it than googling how to wash blood out of a crocheted sweater that took you weeks to make.)

by the time you snap back to reality, Toji has already crossed the room, standing in front of where you sit cross legged in the comfy recliner he brought just for when you crocheted. it takes you aback by how quickly he moved, so silently, face suddenly warm as you look up at him from under your lashes. his eyes are dark, shadowed by his fringe, his hands in his pockets, his head cocked to the side. he looks devious.

“What are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours?” you ask him, finally pausing your hands as you rest them in your lap. but Toji doesn’t let you, no. instead, he holds them back up in front of your face as he sinks to his knees in front of you, his smile wide and evil, pulling your legs from under you as he settles them on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he croons to you, kissing the inner part of your knee, eyes still glued to your burning face. “Just keep doing your little old lady hobby while I busy myself.” without warning, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, grinning when he’s met with the bare beauty that is your pussy. you shudder at the air that breezes past you, try to focus on chaining when he squeezes at your thighs with warm, veiny hands.

“But I can’t focus on counting my stitches when your face is between my legs.” you pout to him, hoping it’ll sway him to eat you out and then let you continue your project. but he doesn’t put his mouth on you until you start again, rewards you with a single wet, smacking kiss where you need it most.

“Guess you’re gonna have to learn how to multitask, sweetheart.” Toji grins before he licks a long stripe from taint to clit, your hands hiccuping in their movements. you can feel his smile more than see it, and come to the realization that he’s an evil, evil man. (you have to recount your stitches more than once, and even after you’re fucked out from euphoria and bliss, you still think you’re missing a few.)

[formosusiniquis]

inspired by this post by @ruelogy

ao3

Eddie knows he got to Hawkins a little later than everyone else. He wasn't born and raised in the six miles of town with the same eight people his whole life. There was a whole social services kerfuffle that meant he didn't land in this small town hell hole until he was the ancient age of thirteen. He knows he's destined to forever be the freaky new kid with the shaved head and the group home eyes who joined in the eighth grade. But even without all that he is fucking positive that there was no Henderson in any of his three graduating classes.

Yet here Henderson the supposed younger sits painting him a mystery week after week. Steve said this, Steve did that, Steve may very well be a delusion if the way the others giggle and sigh every time he gets brought up is any indication. Cause it goes like this: Henderson comma Dustin is a fellow Hawkins transplant. Son of a single mother -- divorced or widowed, Eddie knows enough now to be sure that fueled the Hawkins gossip mill for weeks -- who brought her young son with her. Son, singular. Dustin joined the first grade class of Michael Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and William Byers and that is as they say history. If there had been sons, plural, this mysterious older brother should have by all of Eddie's figurings joined Hawkins junior high right around the same time as a miserable Eddie. There should have been whispers about two new kids, there should have been someone for him to commiserate with, befriend.

Yet week after week young Dustin sits at Hellfire spinning yarns of a brother who was, what, homeschooled? Sent to a private military academy? Boarding school? Stayed at home with the mysterious father that Dustin doesn't mention -- and Eddie knows enough about fathers that go unmentioned not to break the silence -- but suddenly decided after he graduated to come join his mother and brother in Hawkins? Cause the thing is, Hawkins isn't that big. If pressed he's pretty sure he could name at least 90% of both of the classes he was supposed to graduate with and at least 75% of the group he's stuck with this year. He'd at the very least recognize them on sight, and not just cause he's dealt to the greater portion of the high school. Eddie pays attention, there are only like 400 students at the high school at any time, he should by all accounts be able to say, "Oh yeah that scrawny, bespectacled loser is Steve Henderson."

Except maybe there is no Steve Henderson, he's already faintly sure there's no Suzie so what's one more fictional friend from Dustin Henderson. Maybe this Steve is just the product of a fractured mind brought on by too much hands on parenting. Eddie knows people think all of his bad behavior is the product of underparenting, but if the opposite causes imaginary siblings he'll take the hand he got thank you very much.

Cause, sure he's doing his best to be third time lucky with this whole high school thing. He does know that compared to the should be starry eyed, but actually unsettlingly wary freshmen he is an ancient being of chaos. Yes, he feels every ounce of the five year gap between 19 and 14 when he speaks to them. But beyond all of that, he is still young. Still capable of swooning now and then; and the now is when Dustin describes his big brother and the then was all the other times Henderson the older has been detailed.

"Well that's cause I'm not really sorry, Mike," Henderson is on a tear already when he makes it to Hellfire, "I told you I have plans already."

"It's not that big a deal," Lucas placates, "we can do it another day."

"My parents won't be out of town another day," Mike sneers, "Will, you wouldn't ditch out on an all night Nintendo marathon for a date with Steve would you?" He says it like Will is the voice of the populace or something.

Maybe he is, and going by the way Will flushes a bright pink up to his bowlcut the voice of the people would in fact rather go out with Steve Henderson than hang out in a basement playing video games.

"It's not a date, he's my brother, and yeah dude I'm gonna skip out on watching you scream at Mario to go to an all night Stephen King movie marathon." Dustin says.

And swoon. That sounds like a dream.

"Like Steve would ever do something that cool, you can just say your mom won't let you come over cause my parents aren't gonna be home." Mike is surlier than usual, a trait he has noticed happens a lot when Henderson the elder gets broached. Eddie's theories range from misplaced sibling jealousy to repressed queer crush on Steve.

"C'mon kiddies save the tantrums for your mommies," he doesn't have a taste for it regardless of the answer, puberty is a bitch he's glad to be seeing the back of and Wheeler can go from being an angel to the kind of brat you do want to narc on just a little. "The rest of us have hoards to slay, maidens to save, things that don't involve listening to your play date fall apart."

He desperately wants to ask Henderson where they're movie night is taking place, because it sounds amazing and not at all because he wants to finally see this mysterious brother.

“It wasn’t even mine!” Henderson is moaning by the time Eddie makes it from O’Donnells to the cafeteria. He wasn’t that late, five minutes to plead his case for his grade at most, but Henderson could monologue with the best of them and it took about as much to get the kid going as it did Eddie, which was saying something.

“And you and Erica made fun of what was under my bed.” Lucas says with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

“What was under your bed?” Will asks.

“We are not going to let Dustin get out of the fact that his Mom found his Star Trek porn that easily,” Mike shrieks, he sounds like he’s trying to mind his volume but it’s still too loud for a public venue, “You gave me shit for weeks about that Penthouse you found under my bed.”

“We gave you shit because you stole it from your dad,” Lucas corrects, not that anyone but Eddie hears it.

Cause as Lucas speaks Dustin is shouting, “It wasn’t fucking mine! It has to be Steve’s but try telling my mom anything about her favorite son.”

Three sets of disbeliving eyes look over at Dustin, but it’s Mike who says, “There’s no fucking way anyone is gonna believe it was Steve’s dude, just give it up.”

“I don’t even like Star Trek that much!”

Eddie has been having dreams of a mystery boy with a gorgeous head of hair and Dustin’s sweet smile. He likes horror but will pretend to get scared so he has a reason to hide his face in Eddie’s neck, and when he gets there he’s a biter. “Now, now Henderson, what kind of self-respecting nerd doesn’t enjoy the dulcet tones of Mr. Spock.”

Henderson wrinkles his little nose, what a twerp or maybe he’s thinking of his brother’s zine again, “It’s okay, but who goes to sci-fi for philosophy when you could watch space battles and deathstars.”

Eddie spares a prayer for Dustin’s English grade. “Well at least one Henderson has taste.”

He’s never had a younger sibling in Hellfire before, Gareth and Joey are only children and Jeff is way older than his miracle baby sister, so it is a treat to watch the way Henderson goes red, white, and then green as he cycles through a series of emotions surrounding his brother so fast it gives Eddie a headache.

“Dude, he probably bought it for you not knowing what it was,” Mike says, “it’s not like Steve is watching Star Trek.”

"You didn't see it."

"Maybe it was a prank?"

Eddie tunes them out, returning to the Steve in his imagination. They're slipping out of the movie they just finished, the one they bought tickets for, Steve giggles -- Eddie thinks he'd have a nice laugh, thinks he makes his brother laugh a lot -- and tugs him into The Voyage Home. "You gonna think of your favorite captain while we hide in the back row, Stevie?"

"Kirk is an Admiral now, he has been for three movies. Some fan you are."

He wonders if it’s creepy, this mental file he’s compiling on Henderson’s brother. It’s not like he knows the guy, truly a backwards fucking miracle in this two stoplight nothing of a town, but Eddies’ always liked something that he can sink his teeth into and pull apart. That’s what Steve Henderson feels like to him, like if a rubix cube was also a steak. He’s lost track of the metaphor in his own head, it’s whatever.

Cause Steve Henderson loves horror movies, but watches sappy romance flicks with his mom when they both have the same day off. Steve Henderson’s favorite color is yellow, but he only wears it on days that he can barely get out of bed; Dustin says that like it’s a warning sign for the others “Steve has his yellow sweater on today,” explaining away his absence at the arcade that afternoon. Steve Henderson could have any girl he wants -- this factoid Eddie takes with a salt, lime, and tequila -- but he never goes on dates anymore and only hangs out with his best friend and coworker. Steve Henderson baked a brownie so good Jeff moaned in the middle of Hellfire but can only over or undercook pasta when he tries.

Dustin loves his brother. Dustin thinks he’s the worst person to ever grace this side of the planet.

That Eddie thinks is at least typical for siblings, barring the Byers who seem to be so close knit they’d put the Bradys to shame.

“Henderson, my man, why the long face? We’re about to begin the most dangerous leg of your quest yet!” Hellfire was getting a delayed start -- the drama club was actually using their prop closet, go figure -- it was just him and Henderson lurking outside so Eddie did have to find his fun where he could get it.

“Steve and Robin went up to Indianapolis and they’re gonna be gone the whole weekend.” And yeah, he probably could have guessed it was about big brother Henderson. Dusty has the cutest case of hero worship when he wasn’t wishing big brother dead. “They say they aren’t dating, and it’s just for her birthday, but a weekend trip seriously it screams romance.”

“And you’re mad they didn’t bring you?”

“I could have been out of the way! Do you know the kind of specialty tech shops they have up there? I need some things you can't get in Hawkins to improve Cerebro and it's twice as much to get them mail order. I could make myself scarce for a couple hours so they can get it on.

He smacks the bill of Dustin’s cap, knocking it down over his eyes, but nobly refrains from giving him a noogie, “Dusty if you ever want to pop your little Mormon girl’s cherry, maybe don’t say shit like ‘get it on.’”

“Suzie is an angel, don’t be crude, man.” Dustin’s hands are quick as they smack him away, that must be another little brother trait.

“An angel, huh, another point in the ‘girlfriend isn’t real’ category. How many imaginary friends do you have, kid? A girlfriend in Utah and a brother that no one but your party has seen.”

The rest of Hellfire starts to trickle in, having used their time waiting for their table more wisely than Eddie has. Dustin’s comment is delayed only momentarily as he says hi to the rest of the freshmen that he definitely saw only a few minutes ago. “For the record, Suzie is very real. And you…” It’s the way he trails off that makes Eddie nervous, the way a light goes on in his eyes that sets the hair at the back of his neck on end. His danger instincts are finely honed and that's the same, 'I'm smarter than you look' Henderson was wearing when he managed to sniff out half the traps Eddie had laid out last session. "You should meet Steve, I bet I could get him to pick us up next week instead of Nancy."

He thinks this must be what the raccoons behind the trailer park feel like. The obvious trap of the shiny silver cage that's been baited so sweet it's hard to resist walking in anyway. "Sure, Henderson, tell the mysterious brother to stop by. Have him bring one of those zines that definitely belongs to him."

Dustin is especially vicious as dispatches with every creature that Eddie throws at him that day. It’s hard to be that upset, he’s feeling pretty fat and happy sitting in whatever animal control rodent trap Henderson thinks he’s got him in.

The next week’s session comes in a haze of vague daydreams and intense session prep. He’s had Steve Henderson on the brain for so long that he all but forgot about his little tête-à-tête with Dustin the week before. Forgot if not for the way that Baby Henderson is vibrating at the Hellfire lunch table when Eddie arrives.

“Steve is coming to get us from Hellfire today!” Eddie personally thinks this doesn’t quite deserve the level of reaction that it’s getting, but Henderson is so worked up no one even needs to prompt him to keep him going. “He had to leave right after his weekend trip to go deal with lawyers and shit.”

“Are they still..?” Lucas trails off, he’s clearly concerned but for all that Eddie hates that the kid is looking down the barrel of jock life he is extremely emotionally adept.

“Mom and Steve both said it was handled now. They won’t answer me when I ask any questions.”

Ominous, everything about Steve Henderson was so fucking weird. A kid who didn’t exist all through high school, that he’s never seen in town, who has lawyers now?

“Maybe Hop could,” the kid started to ask, hopeful.

“Mom says that it’s Steve’s business and we should all stay out of it unless he asks for our help.” Will responds by rote, something he’s clearly already tried before.

“So the infamous Steve Henderson is going to grace us with his presence today?” Eddie knows the answer already, but like most of his vices he can't resist indulging.

"He's taking us all out for ice cream after," Dustin agrees, "you could come too Eddie, I'm sure Steve wouldn't mind!"

"Steve minds everything," Mike grouses.

"Steve always buys your triple scoop sundae."

Eddie thinks Steve Henderson would have elegant fingers. He thinks about how they might toy with the straw of his milkshake while he smiles, coy and teasing, at Eddie, who he's charmed by. This Steve lets Eddie snatch the cherry from his drink, blushes when he gets his stem returned tied in a knot by Eddie's tongue.

"Well if Steve is buying, who am I to refuse an invitation?"

He does not end Hellfire early because Steve Henderson is coming. 

He does, by pure coincidence, need to piss 15 minutes before things are set to wrap up. If that gives him enough time to clean himself up a bit that's just luck. This isn't for Steve Henderson.

His bathroom break, and definitely not pre-date primp session, puts him at the back of the pack when Steve Harrington's maroon beemer pulls into the lot. It feels a little bit like sophomore year again. When his hair was in another awkward stage of growing out and curled around his ears, he didn't have his mom to help him with the curls anymore and he didn't know what to do with them now that they seemed to twist and turn in new directions post-buzz. He caught the sweetest looking boy with puppy dog eyes staring and he'd been so embarrassed about getting caught he'd touched his own locks. Hairsprayed into oblivion and locked firmly into place the touch was ripped away and a shy, 'what can you do' smile was shared between the two of them. It feels a bit like junior year when Steve Harrington broke the keg stand record as a sophomore. Rounding the corner from tipsy into drunk or maybe bypassing it altogether for blackout, he wandered over into Eddie's domain. He had that same shy little wave, but a stronger confidence. He sidled up to Eddie and wrapped a curl around a finger. He tugged, just a bit, the way kids do when they want to see if it'll bounce back. "Yknow you'd be pretty if you were a girl." The slip slide of his definitely drunk tone didn't take Eddie out at the knees any less.

The car curves up closer to the front steps and Henderson is shaking like a rocket leaving Canaveral. He actually starts to take a step toward the still moving car when four hands clamp down on him saving Steve last-name-to-be-determined from a vehicular manslaughter charge. Eddie is the last to release him when he hears that car slide into park. The engine has barely had time to rumble to a stop before Steve Harrington is out of it. A toothy smile splits his face and, hidden behind Byers and Wheeler, Eddie watches as Steve Harrington proceeds to engage in the nerdiest fucking handshake he's ever seen. Steve Harrington finishes dying by what seems to be lethal lightsaber disembowelment and waves at the other three teens. 

"Alright let's rock n roll if you twerps want ice cream before I drop you off. Joyce will kill me if you're late."

"Steve, can Eddie come with us?"

As Henderson asks Eddie now sees the exact size and shape of the trap he is in. The actually dweeby, dungeon master and drug dealer forced to watch the hot, once cool older brother bow to the obligation of Midwestern courtesy now that he's been ambushed with Eddie's existence. Or worse he'll have to stand there and pretend to be unbothered while King Steve shoots both Hendersons hopes and Eddie's dreams in the face with one curled lip.

He never could have imagined the furrow of confusion between his brows. The way lips wrap themselves around his name, tasting it. He hadn't, in his many fantasies, pictured golden brown eyes though he often thought of them snapping up to him like they were now.

A rosy blush blooms across Steve's face. He has the same shy finger wave he did as a freshman. "Depends, Dust, are you gonna give up your shotgun dibs or are you gonna make your troop leader sit in the back with the rest of the Party.” 

He watches as if in slow motion as Henderson lunges for Steve, the elder is laughing as the younger wraps his arms around his neck. There is something very intensely attractive about the lingering jock of it all. How Steve is still upright even as his teenage brother dangles from his neck. “You know it’s Dungeon Master, you get it right with Erica!”

“I have a lot of respect for Erica, the things she does with goblins and kobolds is masterful. You asked me about the lead up to a trap so obvious it felt like an eagle scout showing his little cubbies poison ivy." It's bitchy and nerdy in all the best ways, and then Steve H- Steve looks up at him and winks, "No offense, Munson."

"None taken, Stevie." That seems to catch them both by surprise, the lack of a certain last name to fall back to -- and weeks of imagining what it might be like to interact with the guy who is and isn't right in front of him -- has Eddie overly familiar. "I drove here though." His van stands like a monolith alone in the middle of an empty parking lot.

"Oh."

"But I could meet you there? Are you going to the Dairy Queen by the library or the haunted one?"

"It's not actually haunted," Byers pipes in with frightening sincerity.

"But yeah, the haunted one," Steve says with a boy next door grin.

"Then I will meet you and your charges there Sir Henderson." He bows and only immediately regrets it, now that the once Harrington lord of the school is out of his line of sight. His brain feels like it could short out, faulty wires sparking against memories and daydreams and general hormones.

A sheepie he saved from the slaughter snorts, another - probably Mike - whispers "Gross." There's a grunt that Eddie hopes is the traitor catching an elbow from one of the others. 

But it doesn't. fucking. matter because Steve Whatever laughs, practically giggles at Eddie and his antics.

And Dustin's rocket has come in for a rough landing, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Steve's hand envelopes the top of Dustin's head, he nearly palms it. It's not quite a noogie, more like he shakes his head for him. "Dusty-bun, why would you regret introducing me to your Dork Mother?"

"I'm gonna tell Ma you're being a bitch again."

"She won't believe you, I'm her favorite." He shoots another wink toward Eddie, a joke he's being allowed in on.

Level headed Dustin Henderson, who explained to him, in depth, how getting overly emotional impairs higher level critical thinking, stomps his foot. "You're so full of shit."

"I am. She chose me, she got stuck with you."

"Steve!"

He laughs at the despair he's caused, ruffling cap covered hair again until Dustin stomps out of reaching distance to climb in the Beemer with the other boys. Brown eyes are bright with mischief when he looks to Eddie, and he's struck by a thought. He was right, he hadn't ever met Steve Henderson before today. This is not the same boy who sat in the cafeteria with a closed mouth smile listening to Tommy H. and Carol. "Let me walk you to your car?" He asks.

"It's right there, Stevie, and do you really want to leave that band of miscreants alone with your car?" He's playing with fire, but the fear of getting burned has never stopped him before. He leans in close, whispers, "They might steal it."

Steve pales, a haunted look in his eye. He shakes it off, squeezing his eyes shut tight,  and that soft smile slips across his face again. "Let me watch you leave then." That smile slides into a smirk, as he looks Eddie up and down.

He was right about getting burned, his face feels like it's on fire as he flees the scene. His tail is definitely not tucked between his legs because Steve is absolutely staring at his ass right now. He doesn't remember how walking is supposed to feel, but it's probably not like this. It would be embarrassing, the fact that he probably looks like a baby deer discovering he has knees for the first time, if it weren't more important that he makes sure each foot is planted so he doesn't acquaint himself with the ground below him. Safely encased in the van, he chances a look through the windshield and confirms that Steve is watching him.

He waves, and yeah it is gratifying to see the guy who at one point had half the girls in school fawning over him duck his head like he's embarrassed at getting caught staring. Sinclair leans up from the back seat, Eddie watches him clap Steve on the shoulder and make a comment on… something, probably him. It makes the rest of the car laugh and Steve thunk his head down on the steering wheel. The horn sounds, an echoing burst of noise that cuts off just as quickly as it starts when Steve jumps in his seat. The seat belt stops his jump short, and he sends another flustered wave Eddie's way when he notices him still watching.

Maybe he'll mention this to Little Red, his new neighbor has mentioned stealing young Henderson's brother and making him a Mayfield instead. A joke that makes a little more sense now. Sinclair has been making moon eyes at her and baby Hopper at lunch for the last week. That will be a better punishment than anything Eddie could do to him at the table.

He waves back at Steve, gives him his most winning smile -- the one he practiced in the mirror for charming pretty boys if he ever got out of the armpit of Indiana. Mimes driving like he's in a bad movie. Across twenty feet and two windows, he can't hear Steve laugh, needs to get to somewhere where he can. He can see the smile though, the dorky thumbs up.

He lets the Beemer pull out in front of him, watches it for just a moment as reality sets in. Reality. He's going to meet Steve Henderson for soft serve. It's a dream come true.

Arwen shifts into gear, and he slides out behind Steve and the sheepies. A whole new world of daydreaming unlocked.

Maybe next week Steve Henderson will let Nancy pick the kids up next week. He'll slip in the back doors of the school, unnoticed by everyone. Stealth bonus obscene for a fighter class. Eddie is moving slow as he moves minis and graph paper maps into the tackle box Wayne gave him, back to the door he misses his rogue slip through the door until he's already grappled.

"Was it a good game, Munson? You win?"

"It's not like one of your sports, Henderson, the wins aren't as clear cut."

Hands start to wander, "Isn't any time you pull one over on the Party kind of a victory?"

"In which case I do stand victorious, your sweet baby brother lost his brand new axe to a mimic."

"Hmm, you know what we used to do after a victory in my 'sports?'"

A hand has migrated to an especially interesting place. "What?"

"We'd hit the showers."

Eddie shakes himself out of the daydream, easing just the smallest bit harder onto the accelerator. He needs something to cool himself off with. He also really wants to see Steve again, to make up for lost time.

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: You were enjoying a peaceful moment in the cafe when a man came to sit across from you at the table. Something in you changed. Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader Tropes: meet cute, nonidol au, strangers to something more Genre: fluff Rating: PG Warnings: language Word Count: 794 Note: for @cultofdionysus language of flowers event! Thank you to @anyamaris for proof/beta reading! Prompt: Magnolia - Natural

This is one of your favorite places. Being in this small little hole-in-the-wall cafe, peacefully crocheting while enjoying the low, peaceful music. Not many people know about this place. The Magnolia isn’t a known place, even by locals, even if it is on a rather busy street. That being the case, there isn’t much seating. You’re sat in the back corner of the establishment, and the lull of the employees talking and the music easily puts you into the zone with your current project. 

“Excuse me?” Someone calls.

Looking up, you see a young man, probably about your age, with a soft smile on his lips. You lower your project into your lap and give him your full attention.

“Hmm?” You hum in response.

“Is this seat taken?” He questions, gesturing to the chair across from you.

You shake your head, “No, it’s all yours.”

The chair scrapes against the hardwood flooring as he pulls it out. You go back to your project, fully ready to get lost in your work again. Then, in your peripheral vision, you see him pull out a book along with a pencil. The book isn’t academic, though; it’s a copy of the first Harry Potter book.

“First reading?” You question, not looking up from the yarn in your hands.

“Hmm?” He hums back, “Oh, no, it’s not I just wanted to reread it and annotate this time. What are you making?”

“Just a scarf. Nice and straightforward. I know it’s almost summer but I might as well get ahead of schedule with making things my family are bound to ask me for in a few months.”

“I like the yarn color. Baby blue is a good color, especially for winter.” He comments, “I’m Yunho.”

You look up from the yarn and smile at him, telling him your name in return. You start humming to the song as you crochet again. Yunho mumbles lightly when he places the book down and starts underlining a large section of the page. Giggling, you look up from the yarn again.

“Something you didn’t notice before?”

“No, I just fucking hate the Dursleys.” He grumbles, jotting down a little comment in the margins of the book.

“They had their reasons, though.” You comment.

He sighs, “I suppose so, but they did abuse the poor kid.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “but when you realize they did the things they did overcompensate the wish to protect Harry, it makes more sense. It doesn’t excuse their behavior in any way, but it does make sense.”

Yunho sits back in his chair and sighs, “You read the whole series?”

“Of course,” you chuckle, starting to work on your scarf more, “I read it when I was little, and I read it as an adult, too.”

“Any commentary on how useless Dumbledore was?”

“At first, he was useful…” you start, still crocheting as you speak, “By the end of the series… I’m still trying to figure out why he was letting kids and teenagers do his bidding. That doesn’t make any sense at all. There are plenty of adults who are more trained in magic, and he was literally the wielder of the elder wand… he could’ve done so much to prevent things.”

You and Yunho continue to chat about the book series and the gripes you each have with it. From there, your conversations branch off into other books and further into topics outside of literature. Speaking with this man you just met seems so natural, as if you were in your own novel and were destined to meet this man on a random day in a small little cafe. By the time you finish your scarf, you realize that it’s drawing close to evening. Looking at the time, you let out a puff of air. Yunho seems to have noticed your slightly upset state.

“You okay?”

“They’ll be closing soon… Probably means we should both be heading out.”

Yunho sighed, pursing his lips, “You know about the little restaurant downtown?”

“Which one?”

“It’s small. Not many people know about it. Kinda like this place. It’s called Lavender Forget-Me-Not…” He chuckles, “This town really loves flower-named establishments, huh?”

“I suppose they do.” you match his sentiment, “Is that an offer to go together?” You tease slightly.

Yunho chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Is it too presumptuous to offer that?”

You shake your head, “Absolutely not. It’s a date.”

You put your yarn and finished project in your tote bag before standing up. Yunho follows suit, tucking his book under his arm. Even if you met this man a few hours ago, it all feels so natural to be around him and spend time with him. This could go somewhere, and you can’t wait to find out.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa @northerngalaxy @jwnghyuns

[ambrozjas]

reader x gang request 🫶

Reader that can crochet making a sweater for the gang? (separate)

You don’t have to do and if you do, thanks 💓

the gang x reader that can crochet ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

sorry i haven’t been posting as fast lately, this one took some time and i put MUCH LOVE into these blurbs, so i hope you guys enjoy xoxo 💕

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, alcohol, a mention of a threading needle, let me know if i missed anything though !!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“what’s this?” DARRY asked, holding up a maroon crocheted sweater that he found in a box under your bed.

your head snapped to the sweater, remembering the night you spent hunched over a table, weaving a needle delicately through the yarn, sewing them together.

“oh, uh.. it’s a sweater?” you mentally facepalmed, of course it was a sweater.

darry just chuckled and turned it around, analyzing it and every little fiber of its material.

“i mean, did you make it?” he asked, blue eyes gazing at you. your face heated up under his stare, darry always seemed to hold this forward eye contact that nobody could beat.

“yeah, made it f’you actually.” you said, continuing to iron darry’s work shirt and directing your attention to cleaning.

a silence passed between you two for maybe ten seconds before darry let out a small, “ain’t that somethin’?”

“shut up.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“hey SODAPOP, let me talk to you for a sec.” you said, walking in front of him with your hands behind your back. he was on the couch, his attention now on you rather than the television.

“what is it, darlin’?” he inquired, a smile being brought on his face just from the sight of you. the corner of your eyes crinkled as you grinned, “made’cha something.” you said.

“that so? what is it?”

you brought your hands out in front of you, only to reveal in your hands a small crocheted pony, it had a golden brown yarn for its coat and black for its mane and tail, resembling sodapop’s old horse mickey mouse.

you knew how much he loved that horse, and how devastated he was when it got sold. even if it was definitely an ornery horse. so you crocheted him a little version of his old stable pony, so they could meet again.

soda’s eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his lips downturned a bit, before he looked back up at you. “you made this?” he asked. you nodded and rolled back and forth on the balls of your feet, anticipating his reaction.

“do you.. like it?” and before you could say more, soda pulled you down onto the couch to hug you.

“‘course i like it, thank you.” he said, rubbing your back when you hugged him back.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you groaned as you rested your head on PONYBOY’s bed. you were sitting on the floor, already starting to work on a sweater for your him (although, he didn’t have to know that part), but couldn’t settle on a design.

“hey pony, can you do something for me?” you asked, craning your head to look back at your boyfriend who was laying down with a book in his hands, as usual.

“yeah sure, what is it?” he said, his head bobbing from the movement of mouth moving while his chin was on his chest.

all you did was hand him a pencil and throw him a sheepish smile, cocking your head. “what?” he asked, setting the book down and taking the pencil. “what do you want me to do with this?” he asked.

“need you to draw somethin’ for me hun.” you turn to his desk, opening one of its drawers and finding a blank sketchbook before unceremoniously tossing it to him.

“what do i draw?”

“anything.”

“well cant you—,” he paused, taking a second to look at you batting your eyelashes and pouting at him, “—fine.” he mutters, leaning over the book and sketching away.

you smiled brightly, watching him work. he glanced up at you, unable to hold back a small smile himself. because even if you didn’t realize it, he knew that you had him wrapped about your finger.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had met up with JOHNNY in the lot again, him still frazzled about his home life. it was getting too much at this point, and all he wanted to do was seek comfort in you.

you held him as his shoulder shook with silent sobs, his hand covering his mouth in order to muffle most of them, but your heart still broke as one or two came through.

“i just—,” another cry, “i just can’t anymore.” he said. johnny’s arm were wrapped around you tightly, like you’d let go at any moment and leave him.

your hand rubbed his back soothingly, occasionally coming up to his head and cradling it as if he was a baby. until he cried himself out.

after a while, you both ended up on your backs just facing the stars. you talked about stuff, dreams of moving away from tulsa or a better life. but then you remembered something.

“oh! shit..” you mumbled, sitting upright and reaching over for your bag. johnny sat up onto his elbow, looking at you in confusion. you rummaged through your bag, tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth in focus before you finally found it with a little ‘aha!’ leaving your lips.

“what’s that?” he asked, watching you pull out a knitted sweater.

“it’s a sweater i made for you.” you shuffled over and handed it to him, neatly folded and smelling pretty like your house.

“if you don’t like it—“

“no.” said johnny. “i like it.” he looked up at you. god, he looked perfect. the moonlight hitting his face just right, giving him a blue hue where the light shined on him and his hair.

you did what any reasonable person would be. you grabbed johnny’s face, giving him enough space to pull away, and leaned in to kiss johnny under the moonlight.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had spent all night working on this sweater for DALLAS. you were sat at your desk with only a small dull lamp illuminating your work for you. your hands were starting to shake and you growing antsy with how long you were sat for.

dallas, as per usual, was bumming it at your house. he was next to you, laying on your bed arrogantly with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and an arm behind his head.

dally watched you work, his head turned slightly where he could watch you and look around the rest of the room from his peripheral. the way you were just so focused was satisfying to him.

you tapped your foot, you wanted to take a break and lay with dallas but you knew that if you didn’t continue with the sweater, you wouldn’t wanna do it later.

finally, you sighed and smile, holding up the sweater so dally could see.

“y’know i’m not gonna wear that, right?” he said, in the middle of trying to blow a smoke ring.

you just hummed, attention mostly on putting all your supplies away instead.

“yeah you will. i know you will.”

“and how d’ya know that?” he said, turning his head all the way in your direction.

“because i speak dallas winston.” and to that, dallas scoffed and looked away, because he knew it too. he’d wear that sweater in private, but he’d never admit to anybody.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

TWO-BIT took another swig of his booze, watching mickey mouse on television. the grainy audio traveling to the hallway where you were walking into the living room from.

“hey, look at this.” you told him, sliding up next to him on the couch. he looked at you for moment, alternating between watching the tv and you.

you showed him the crocheted sweater, hoping he would like it. his eyes were glued to your tv for a while, before you nudged him in his ribs. he shifted away and giggled a little bit, before looking down at the sweater, his lips parting in shock.

“oh m’glory baby, this is amazin’.” he slurred, taking it into his own hands and staring at it, setting down his bottle.

you leaned forward and looked at how many bottles were on the ground.

“how many drinks have you had?—“

“nevermind that! i’m looking at a masterpiece darlin’..” he said, you didn’t miss how his voice broke a little at the end.

“are you cryin’, keith?” you chuckled, putting your hand on his shoulder. he must’ve gotten a bit emotional with how many drinks he’s had.

“no! i’m just—..” he hunched over and and buried his face into the sweater, taking in the scent of your lotion faint on the yarn.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“awh, hell naw! i’m not wearin’ that!”

“yes you are! get over ‘ere!” you yelled, running after STEVE with the sweater in your hands.

he scurried away, sliding around all the hallways in order to get away from you. you two both laughed as you tried to catch him, and finally you had him cornered.

he was stuck in the corner of your room, eyes darting for any possible way out. you carefully stepped towards him, holding the sweater up by its neck. “nowhere else to go, baby. it’s time.” you grinned, before running at him.

but before you could grab him, steve charged and picked you up, throwing you onto the bed.

you squealed as he blew raspberries in your neck, laughing loudly along with you too.

“just—! just put the goddamn sweater on, will you?” you asked, trying to get through one sentence without giggling. steve held his face in your neck as he thought for a sec.

“can i get a kiss in return?” he lifted his head to look at you, flashing you those beady brown eyes and batting his eyelashes dramatically.

you placed a quick peck on his lips and did your best to push him off of you, throwing the sweater so it’d land on his face. “now put it on.” you laughed softly, and with that laugh, steve would’ve done anything.

when soda came over later that day though, he definitely took notice.

“wow steve, very fashionable today.”

“shut th’fuck up, man!”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ eeek!!! sorry this took so long, all the of gang hcs take me a bit, love :( but i like how this turned out! sorry that sodapop was the only one that didn’t involve a sweater, i just thought it’d be a cute idea 😭🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱