#to bring the yarn through)

[crashpit]

accidentally put her in a 2000's music video

[louisdotmp3]

frogged like 6 rows to fix where i fucked up one of the sleeve joins and it looks so much better now. even though it did kill me a little to frog so many rows

[melonpond]

I friggin love arts and crafts

[fingertipsmp3]

I love having Thursdays off because I can’t get a single goddamn thing done if I tried

[stewystew]

Lost at yarn chicken 😔

[lizzy-bonnet]

Working in the yarn shop on Sundays, I have a group of regulars who come in specifically then for my advice on their knitting projects and over the years I've gotten to know a lot about them - their ailments and their spouses and their children and their careers and their mothers are all things they find themselves telling me about over the course of trying to bring forth a knitted piece. Most of them are women, most of them are over 50, and most of them have been through a lot and are trying to reclaim something for themselves through the act of creation. A while back, one of these older women opened up to me about how when she first came to this country it was just her and her daughter and they were so happy until her husband joined them, when he promptly began making her miserable. Now, decades later, all her children live far away, she spends all her time taking the husband to dialysis, her sciatic is bad and she may need heart surgery (who will take care of her, I find myself wondering), and she comes to see me once a month or so to talk about a new project and tells me it is the only thing she does for herself.

Today she came in with a smile on her face and delightedly introduced me to her son, who will soon move closer to home with his family. Then she says, as if commenting on the weather, that on Friday her husband died, and tomorrow they will hold the funeral. For a second I had tonal whiplash from the conversation and then I realized, oh, you're unburdened now. Like the relief in her face and her body were palpable. The son shows a picture of a cardigan to me and asks if it can be knitted, and we pick out yarn and a pattern. She's so excited to make it for him. She beams when she looks at him; he is tall and handsome and polite, and wants to wear something she made for him. She is proud of this man she raised.

It just made me think of the many, many women who come from cultures where leaving a crappy spouse isn't an option so they shuttle along doing their best and trying to find some beauty and joy in whatever way they can. Kids may not visit often because their spouse isn't welcoming or there is bad blood, so they are lonely. I remind her, we have our social group. She hasn't come to it much before because she is always taking him to dialysis, but now she says she will come often and meet the other women. Many of them are like her, but in the craft they find companionship that has been absent for so much of their lives. I hope there will be renewal for this dear lady and that she can learn more about herself and what brings her joy.

[fiona-fififi]

...

[manicrouge]

‘It’s cannae be that difficult,’ Soap scoffed, watching as the masked man fiddled with the pieces of string in his hand.

‘She mentioned in er letter that she’s been buying handmade bracelets from this market back in Manchester,’ Simon said, ‘thought I’d give it a shot myself.’

‘Aye, Lt. but your hands ave only ever brutalised thing… ye no bracelet maker. More of a necklace maker — ye know, like a noose—’

‘Shut it,’ he snarled, looking down at the loosely woven bracelet in his hand, ‘she wanted me to make somethin’ for er, so I am.’

‘Could’ve just asked me to draw er somethin’,’ Soap chuckled, pushing himself up off of the doorframe. ‘Or are ye scared am gonna steal ye missus?’

‘Go away,’ huffed the other, focusing back on his bracelet, ‘I swear to fuck all you ever do is give me a fuckin’ headache, go an’ bother Price.’

Soap disappeared down the hall, leaving Simon to figure out the complicated and strenuous task of making a bracelet, ‘Fucks sake,’ he sighed, finally tying the ends together, holding it in the palm of his hand in front of him.

Part of him was convinced it would have been an insult to send that to you; there was hardly any talent to be found in his creation (at least, that’s what he thought) as the plaited yarn was hardly neat. Only, he bit the bullet and added it into the envelope with the letter he had messily scribbled.

And, for the first time ever, he felt anxious… over a stupid fucking bracelet.

—

It took a while for him to hear back, counting on the fact that after making the bracelet he’d been called by Price on another mission. In fact, he’d forgotten about the entire conundrum until he sat on his bed in his room with your envelope in his hand. When he opened it, a black and white beaded bracelet fell onto his lap, as did a loose polaroid you had taken.

A smile met his face when he saw you wearing the pesky bracelet with the brightest smile on your face. Setting the photo down, he opened your letter.

I love the bracelet so much Si! I thought I’d make you one myself too so we could have matching ones. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to though, I just thought it would be a nice gift for you.

Taking the bracelet in his hand, he closed his fist around it as he continued to read through your letter.

—

‘Nice piece of jewellery you got there, Lt.,’ Soap sniggered, bringing his mug of tea to his lips before adding, ‘how much did it set ye back, ey?’

‘Shut up, Johnny.’

—

[gailyinthedark]

[sidles up to you in a dark parking lot]

Hey. Do you want elbow patches. Yeah I noticed the elbows of your sweater are worn through, I can fix that for you. I got tapestry yarn, loads of it, all different colours. Price? Depends on what you're offering. Homemade cookies? Yeah, I can work with that. Bring 'em tomorrow, same time, same place. Love you too, man. Love you too.

[inosukijiro]

𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗧

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu decides its time to tell you how he feels.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. this is part two. or not, it really doesn’t matter if you read the first part. loved this idea bc i love crochet. currently making a giyuu amigurumi doll atm, so yay me ig

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. im so sorry for being gone for almost two months. i was burnt out. but i have lots of prompts / plot ideas written down and just have to finish them. also also!! season 4 was crazy, i loved every minute of it but that ending – im so not ready for the final arc. anyways, thank you for the support as usual, luv u besties

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. fluff. use of swear words (not a lot, but they are there). giyuu-centric. modern reader in kny. mentions of crochet and amigurumi. gender-neutral reader. also very poor dialogue probably, i avoid talking irl so yk. 1.9k words.

first part (optional); giyuu has a crush

Giyuu is about to have a stroke. He’s alone in his room late at night. He should be sleeping, but he can't imagine doing so. The moon light is coming through his window and all he can do is stare at the crochet hook in his hand as his fingers remain still. He is hunched, hovering over a ball of yarn in his lap. He can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that heavily weighed on him because he really has no idea what he’s doing.

You had this habit of making him gifts. Cute little amigurumi things and it had become a habit of his waiting when you’ll show up with one just for him. They’re almost always an animal or some sea creature, maybe even a small plant that he has sitting on display in his room somewhere. They are always so adorable and tiny, always fitting in the palm of his hand. It's almost like clockwork at this point, and Giyuu is always so flattered to receive them.

He remembers the little tiny baby sea turtle you have made for him. Its flippers rested against the palms of his cupped hands; its eyes and lids sewed on so perfectly along with the rest of it. It’s so intricate, he almost thought it was real. He remembers bringing it up to his face, staring at it in its tiny face, because for some reason this time he really didn’t know how to act.

He remembers you giggling, quickly explaining that you really didn’t know what to make him this time – lies, you have so many patterns. You just care too much about his opinion and his likes. Honestly, you could make him anything you wanted and he would be happy.

❛ And then I thought, ‘well you are the Water Pillar after all’. And I thought the sea turtle was kinda cute too, so I wanted to make it for you. Now you have a little friend to keep you company on your mission! ❜

Now here he was, with little idea of what he was doing. A frustrated sigh left his lips. He began working the yarn along with the hook – all his movement completely hesitant and fumbling. It would be a lie to say that he had never been skillful with his hands; he is a swordsman after all. However, it was clear that he wasn’t as skillful as you regarding this, and it makes sense. He had never picked up any knitting or crochet hooks until tonight at this ungodly hour.

Sure, he could have just crafted a wooden figurine. It is something he vaguely knows how to do, and seems like a more appealing thought now, plus, he knows that you would love it either way. But all he wanted to do was something special. He wanted to convey his feelings to you through what you love doing the most and give you something that he knows you would like. And for about a moment he wonders if this is a good idea. Then decides that he doesn’t care anymore. This is going to make or break him. He procrastinated this long enough.

Though hours passed and Giyuu is shocked to consider it done. He hoped it was. He glances over at his window and the sun is barely over the horizon. And as much as Giyuu loves you, he can't do this again. No, that is also a lie. He would if you asked. But he couldn’t help but feel disgruntled. He didn’t even know what he made. It is some type of plushie. It has a big body with some stubby legs. Its arms are almost the length of it too, if not longer, making them seem like large floppy paws. Its head; he is unsure if it's too big as it’s the same size as the body, but it’s a bit too late now to do anything about it. He made small ears on the top, and added some type of embroidery to make the eyes – as no buttons seemed to look right to him. There was no nose or mouth either, because Giyuu couldn’t figure out how to add them without making it look worse than it already does.

He frowned at the finished product, before hanging his head. It was done, yes. But to him, he knows that he could have done a much better job. And the pang of disappointment didn’t help. Because surely you deserve something better than this crude attempt at a gift.

However, for some reason Giyuu was oddly excited. Maybe it was the ice cold water he almost drowned himself awake to. But he really didn’t pay it any mind. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with. He was afraid, so very afraid because this was the first time he was outwardly seeking your validation. But he was also anticipating the interaction. Because you were so nice. And he shouldn’t be afraid.

So here he was now, standing in front of you. And suddenly, he can't remember why he was so afraid in the first place. You looked so delightfully happy just like he had hoped. He watched as you took the plush from his hand, your fingers just barely brushing against his. And he felt his palms get clammy again. You were so delicate with it, and honestly, if you had asked Giyuu, perhaps you were a bit too delicate. He didn’t think that it deserved such care. He watched as you brushed your thumb over the soft yarn. Your eyes staring intently at it, and Giyuu couldn’t place the look you were giving.

“Giyuu, it’s adorable!” Your eyes sparked just a little bit when you looked back up at him. The plush is pressed against your chest right now. So softly, almost protectively and Giyuu actually can't believe it. Truly, he is in disbelief. You actually liked it? You really must’ve, because you’re going on about the plush; gushing over it and completely unfazed by any of its imperfections. You asked how he made it and when he had the time. It was nice, until you asked him why. And he got all nervous again.

Well… He responds. “You make me such nice things all the time. And I wanted to make you something as well. To show my appreciation.”

Oh! You are a little taken aback by that as a light blush starts to burn on your cheeks. You were definitely feeling the appreciation. You just never really anticipated Giyuu to make you something. Not because you thought he was incapable, or anything like that. You just… liked making things, and if that happened to be for Giyuu more than others you weren’t going to deny it. It made you happy to do so. And you never really expected anything in return. But for him to make you something, the gesture kind of made you feel special. It was so sweet!

“Of course, I’m glad you like it. You… mean a lot to me you know. Um…” He stops because he's a bit flush. He wants to confess so badly and he doesn’t understand; why is it so hard. Just say it. It's like you are waiting for him to – and you are – but you are so completely and utterly patient with him that sometimes he wished you weren’t. “Ngh, don’t look at me like that.”

You giggle softly. You can’t help it. Why is he so cute? “I’m sorry,” You say sincerely, still hugging the plush to your chest. “Please continue.”

His heart is beating out of his rib cage. He feels like he is going to die. He has never expressed his feelings so openly before and as much as he wants to say that he is uncomfortable, he's only half way there and he only needs to get the words out. He's been afraid of rejection for so long that, even deep down knowing the possibility of you loving him exists, he can’t help but worry about it. The words are on his tongue and at some point, he has to come out and say it.

“I… I love you.” Finally. “I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you. You don’t have to say or do anything, I just… I just wanted you to know.”

“You love me?” You had a big, stupid smile on your face, which made the question you had asked seem hopeful to him. If you had been home, you might have thought he was pulling a joke on you, not that he would know to assume that. And you, yourself are having a good time telling the small voice in the back of your head to fuck off because – yes, Giyuu Tomioka just confessed his love for you and you were not going to let the universe take it back.

He nodded, silent. The smallest, timid, smile pulled at his lips as he waited for you to continue. “Giyuu, I love you too. Actually, I..” you stopped before you started tripping over your words and let out a deep breath. Your grasp on the plush tightened, clutching it closer to your body in an attempt to ground yourself. “I… may have been in love with you for a while, too.”

He stares at you for a moment, another dumb look on his face. It's like the gears are turning in his mind. That yes, just like you had, are realizing this is all actually happening. And if he promptly pulls you into the softest, brain melting kiss you've ever had – that's between the two of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᘡ ۫ 𖨂 𓈒 🦑 ۟ ៹ 𓂂

Of course, now it’s later and Giyuu is watching you show off the plush to the rest of the Hashira. You had grabbed his hand in a rush, so excited and happy. He let you tug him along, squeezing his hand so tight; never minding the clamminess. He watched as you shoved the crochet piece in Rengokus face, telling him with pride that Giyuu was the one that made it for you. ‘I see that,’ he says and lets out one of those joyous laughs, almost amused.

You tug him along, going from Hashira to Hashira. Giyuu vividly remembers you shouting at Shinazugawa from across the training grounds about ‘Look at what Giyuu made me! Suck it you fuck face’ before running off and taking him with you again. He remembers in the background the Wind Pillar shouting, something about how it was ‘Ugly as fuck’ and a few other things but Giyuu ignored it.

Others recognized the effort Giyuu put into it, much like Rengoku. He gets a ‘That's kinda flashy’ from Tengen, and surprisingly Shinobu didn’t really poke at him too much, but maybe that was because you were there. Mitsuri squeals about it. She thinks it’s the cutest thing she's ever seen, and Giyuu makes sure not to look at Obanai at all. Otherwise, the man might force Giyuu to teach him. Or force himself in between you and him to teach him, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he can handle that.

The afternoon passed by after that and you both ended up back at his estate, just like always. This time, you were much closer to him than usual, not that Giyuu minded. He watched from over your shoulder as you continued your own little crochet project. He had half a mind to join you, but instead opted to enjoy just being with you; resting his head near yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. Though, somewhere close by the little turtle and the plush were laying together where you had placed them. It was almost like they were watching you, like they were proud of him.

Thank you once again for reading!! ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ��∩ ˂ ꒱ྀིა

[solarmorrigan]

See, just because Steve lets Eddie and the kids play D&D at his house now doesn't mean he's really interested in the game, just the same as even though El and Max sometimes tag along, they're really there to hang out, not play. They each bring their own things to do, and one night El brings a ball of yarn and a shiny little metal hook and a vaguely rectangular yarn-thing that she focuses very hard on while the boys shout in the background.

Steve has no idea what she's doing; he'd say she's knitting, except he's almost certain that involves some kind of sticks, not a hook. But since he's not really doing anything himself, he sits down next to her and asks what she's up to.

"Joyce has been teaching me how to crochet. She says it will help with my hand-eye coordination." El holds up her project with a proud smile. "I am starting with a scarf."

It's not the world's most attractive scarf, but it's not like Steve could do better. He's still not entirely sure what crocheting is, to be perfectly honest. "Is that different from knitting?" he asks.

El nods gravely. "It is," she says, and takes to showing him how she loops the yarn over the hook and pulls it through the stitches in her scarf and adds a few more inches to the row she's working on.

When Steve's attention doesn't completely wane during her demonstration, she pulls a second ball of yarn out of her bag and presents it to Steve.

"Oh, I don't–" Steve tries to demur, but El is determined, and Steve has seen entire dimensions pale in the face of her determination.

This is how he finds himself crocheting a little chain of stitches with just his fingers, the same way Joyce had apparently started El off. El beams at him and returns to her own project, occasionally checking on his progress. The chain is a few feet long by the time everyone needs to be driven home, and Steve decides it actually hadn't been a bad way to pass the time. Kind of relaxing.

The next time everyone is over, El sits down with her scarf, and after a short while, Steve sits down next to her. He compliments how much longer the scarf has gotten (and it does seem like the shape has evened out a bit as she's been going along). She smiles and pulls another ball of yarn out of her bag. This time, she has an extra hook and seems intent on showing Steve what to do with it.

Almost involuntarily, Steve's attention flashes to the group clustered around the table, hesitating to take the yarn from El, and she frowns.

"Joyce says these types of skills are important for everyone to have," El says firmly, and, well– Steve's not really going to argue.

He learns how to crochet a chain with the hook. It feels odd in his hands at first—the shape too small, the metal a little too slick, the yarn not wrapping naturally around his fingers the way it does El's—but he gets the hang of it. When El is pleased with his progress, she shows him the stitch she's been using: a simple single crochet. It's tougher than it looks, and Steve understands immediately why El's scarf is so uneven; neither of them have ever done anything like this before.

Still, he doesn't hate it.

In fact, he really kind of enjoys it.

He enjoys it enough that he asks El to show him more the next time she's over. She's still new herself and is really only working with pretty much the same couple of stitches, but she proudly teaches him what she knows, and Steve picks it up as fast as she's able to lay it down.

Steve goes out and buys his own supplies, no longer content with mooching off of El's. He hadn't realized there were so many different kinds of yarn, and resigns himself to awkwardly asking one of the craft store employees what type might be best for beginners.

The employee—a woman about his mother’s age with a much warmer smile and far less judgement in her eyes—explains with great enthusiasm what all those different types of yarn might be used for, and how the size of the hook affects the outcome of the project, and shows him so many different pattern books his head spins. He realizes that she probably upsells him on a lot of shit, but he leaves with a few different sizes of hooks, some new yarn, and more excitement for a hobby than he's felt probably since high school.

El and Robin are the only ones who know about his new hobby, of course. It's not really that he's ashamed to tell the others, he just knows how teenage boys work and he's not keen on giving a bunch of fifteen-year-olds another reason to bully him. Maybe in a few months. In the meantime, he crochets at home while he's listening to the radio or watching TV, and he crochets at work during down times. Robin finds his newfound hobby morbidly fascinating, but vehemently denies any and all offers to teach her.

("I will find a way to damage myself with that hook and I think we both know that," she says. "It's just kind of wild to see you with a grandma hobby."

Steve threatens to tell El she called it that, and Robin shortly finds a new label for it.)

Fall rolls around and the air acquires a chill sometime in mid-October. Steve's been making practice scarves for a little while now (largely because he really only knows how to make rectangles at this point, but he doesn’t have the attention span for a whole blanket just yet), and he even considers wearing his least heinous attempt despite the fact he's never really wanted for good winter clothes. Then he notices Eddie.

Most of their little group has begun dressing appropriately for the weather, but Eddie doesn't do much more than add a pair of fingerless black gloves and maybe a heavier leather jacket to his ensemble. Steve's not even sure it's because he can't afford it – he's pretty sure it's because Eddie is committed to his aesthetic. Nancy had tried to force an extra scarf on him one day after a little cold snap, when they'd woken to frost on the ground (the scarf is blue, patterned with white snowflakes; it's actually Mike’s, but Mike is also refusing to wear it and Steve suspects Nancy doesn’t want to hold it, but also doesn’t want to get in trouble for letting Mike lose it), but Eddie had declined, insisting it doesn't match his vibe.

Steve can respect this. He himself has a certain aesthetic going on. However, he can also see that Eddie is definitely cold, and that just won't do.

He picks through the scarves and other various wooly things he's accumulated so far, but decides none of them would suit Eddie and, besides that, none of them are really warm enough. If he's going to make Eddie a scarf, it ought to be a good one.

So Steve sucks it up and heads into Melvald's one day when he knows Joyce will be on shift, hoping she won't be too busy for a quick chat.

When he catches her, Steve explains that El had shown him the basics of crocheting but that his ambitions have outgrown his skills and maybe if she isn't too busy sometime, Joyce would be willing to show him a little more?

Joyce, because she’s a saint, says she would be delighted, and invites Steve to come over on their next shared day off.

When he gets there, she tries to ask him who he's making the scarf for, and the best he manages is, "...someone."

Joyce bites down on a smile. "Someone?"

"It's a surprise," Steve finally declares.

"For everyone?"

"Yes."

Joyce bravely manages to not laugh at Steve and instead asks him what kind of scarf he thinks Someone would like.

Steve decides that it needs to be thick, but it should also be soft. It should also be textured, because Ed– because Someone really likes fiddling with things. He can't get too ambitious with colors or patterns, but he decides that black and grey stripes will be perfectly suitable.

(He doesn't kid himself into thinking that by the time their brainstorming session is over, Joyce hasn't figured out exactly who he's talking about, but she's kind enough not to say it out loud.)

Steve's always been good with repetition and patterns—it's probably one of the reasons he’d found crocheting so relaxing in the first place—and he picks up the new stitches with ease under Joyce's deft instruction. She sends him home with the practice piece he'd made with some of her scrap yarn, and after a quick stopover at the craft store on his way home (he briefly gets stuck between shades of grey, but eventually decides on the silvery one over the steely one), he's ready to begin.

He expects making the scarf to be tougher, but once he gets into the rhythm of it, he sails right through. It takes him less than a week (albeit devoting a few solid hours to it every day, possibly more on his days off) to end up with what is, if he may say so himself, a pretty fine scarf.

The challenge comes in actually giving it to Eddie.

Christmas would be an excellent excuse for presenting it to him, except that's a little over a month away, and Steve doesn't want Eddie to go cold until then. Instead, he takes to keeping the scarf in his glove compartment just in case the perfect occasion for giving Eddie a scarf arises.

And much to Steve's surprise, one actually does.

It's right after the first real snow, and Steve has insisted on driving to pick Eddie up so they can hang out (Steve has nightmares about Eddie's driving when road conditions are optimal, never mind when the roads may be icy). He can see Eddie shivering under his jacket, blowing warm air into his cupped hands (Steve wonders if he could learn how to crochet gloves at some point, too. Ones with full fingers), so he ever-so-casually gestures to the glove box and tells Eddie, "Hey, if you're cold, I've got an extra scarf in there."

He's possibly not as casual as he hopes he is (or maybe Eddie just sees through him, like he always seems to), because Eddie gives him a look. "You do, huh?"

"Yep."

Steve concentrates very hard on the road in order to avoid Eddie's eyes. It doesn't stop him from hearing the little laugh Eddie lets out before popping open the glove compartment.

"Oh," Eddie says quietly as he pulls the scarf out, likely having been expecting another castoff piece of outerwear. "This is... actually really nice."

For a moment, Steve can't help but glance over to see the way Eddie is fingering the crocheted ridges of the scarf, running a thumb over the bright silver stripes picked out of the black, and he immediately looks back up at the road.

"Yeah. You should– you can, uh. Keep it. If you want," he says, and wonders what happened to the days when he was smooth.

"No, man, this is, like, for real nice. I couldn't take this," Eddie says, though he's still holding the scarf in his lap.

Steve draws a breath in. "I mean, I was kind of hoping you would, since it's for you."

"Seriously?"

They have unfortunately arrived at Steve's house at this point, and there will be no avoiding the conversation now.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I, uh. Made it for you. So you should take it. Don't let my hard work go to waste, yeah?"

"You're shitting me," Eddie unfolds the scarf and holds it up in delighted scrutiny. "You made this?"

(Distantly, Steve appreciates that the emphasis isn't on "you made this?" Like Eddie doesn't immediately doubt he's capable, only that he's holding a handmade item at all.)

"Yeah. No big deal." Steve shrugs.

"You made this for me." Eddie looks at Steve, and it sounds like that had been meant as a question, though it comes out in flat uncertainty.

"Yeah. Just noticed you were cold, but you won't wear anything that doesn't match your aesthetic," Steve tries to tease, wiggling his fingers at Eddie's outfit, but Eddie doesn't say anything in return.

He doesn't say anything for just long enough that Steve gets insecure all over again, reaching hesitantly for the scarf.

"But, I mean, if that's weird, or whatever, you don't have to-"

"Nope. Fuck off, I'm wearing this forever." Eddie loops the scarf quickly around his neck and squeezes the ends in his hands. "Jesus, this is soft."

Steve grins. "I'm not sure it'll last forever, but I can make you another after than one wears out."

"You'd better," Eddie says, and he's grinning too. "So, what, you knit?"

Steve points a very serious finger into Eddie's face. "Crochet. There's a difference," he says sternly.

Then, because he can't help it, he bops the end of Eddie's nose before getting out of the car, leaving Eddie to scramble out behind him, laughing and calling him a dork as he goes.

(The kids, incidentally, don't tease Steve nearly as much as he'd thought they would when they find out.

This is possibly because they're more mature than he gave them credit for, but more likely it’s because El is standing beside him and daring them to say anything unfavorable about their shared hobby.

Mostly they just let it slide, though Dustin demands to know why Eddie got a scarf and he didn't. Then Lucas wants one, too, because Mike and Max have already received various bits of outerwear from El, and he's not about to be left out. And then Robin, of course, will want to know why Steve hasn’t made her anything, once she finds out that he’s making things for the kids.

Steve resigns himself to a busy winter spent under a pile of yarn.

It's not really a hardship.)

[Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue | Ao3]

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 29: sweater | T | wc: 1,394

“It was meant to be for your birthday, but I didn't get it done in time… obviously.” he tacks on at the end.

Just like how crochet was meant to be a hobby, a relaxing one at that, but all Steve’s been is stressed about trying to make something for Eddie’s birthday… then about how it was late… and then about how the vision he had of it in his head was nothing like how it was coming out.

The thing was horrid. Absolutely wretched. Steve had no clue why he was even still giving it to Eddie, newfound crush on the long-haired dork besides the point.

Eddie just stares at it. The sad lump of yarn Steve dared to call a sweater.

“You can— Look, I’ll just take it out back and put it out of its misery.” Steve grimaces, reaching for the Thing with one hand and gesturing back toward the backyard where the fire in Hopper’s fire pit was still steadily blazing.

Eddie unfreezes and snatches It out of reach, “Fuck off with that, I’m gonna wear this sweater every damn day.” Then, as if to prove his point, tries to put it on over his already bulky hoodie/leather jacket/battle vest (a new one, since his old one was lost somewhere in the aftermath of Spring Break) combo.

“Waitwaitwaitwait—“ Steve hurries to pull Eddie's arms back down, “It barely fit me when I tried it on, you’ll end up ripping it if you try putting it on over all that.”

Eddie lowers his arms, squinting suspiciously at Steve as he does. Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to take it back if you really want it that damn much.”

“Yeah you better not.” Eddie sniffs, folding the sweater up then shoving it safely under his hoodie. Steve barely has enough time to think about the implications of that, about how scratchy that must be, let alone voice how that ugly lump of granny stitches is going to end up on the ground if it stays there, before Eddie is pulling him in for a hug.

“Thanks Stevie,”

Steve lets out a sigh, and wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist. “You’re welcome Eddie.”

- - - - -

Even with how ungodly lumpy and disfigured the crochet sweater was, Steve was still bummed he didn’t see Eddie wearing it the next time he saw him. Or the next time. Or the third.

One week after the Hopper Halloween Hbonfire, when Steve is feeling particularly mopey and planning on tossing all his crochet hooks when he got home from work that night, Eddie waltzes into Family Video an hour before close… still sans sweater.

Kicking himself for having so many big feelings about a sweater that no one should be caught dead in, he manages a smile. “Hey Eddie, what’s up?”

He leans onto the counter in front of Eddie, feeling his face tingle slightly when the other man does the same, his face coming in close to Steve’s.

Thank god it’s nearly midnight.

”Nothin’ much Stevie Darling,” Eddie grins, “What’s going on with you? You seem a little bummed.”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, say something random that has nothing to do with the sweater (or lack thereof), when his eyes flick briefly down to Eddie’s torso.

”Just ready to go home, I guess.”

Eddie grins wider, his eyes crinkle up at the corners. God, if Steve hadn’t already been head over heels..

”You sure, big boy? Sure it’s got nothing to do with the lack of lovingly twisted yarn upon my person?”

“… Well yeah. But did you have to say it like that?”

Eddie laughs, his eyes sparkling. “I knew it, “You don’t have to wear it..” my ass.”

Steve sighs, hangs his head momentarily, then picks it back up to meet Eddie’s mischievous eyes. “At least it’ll bring some color to the dump.”

There’s a moment’s pause, then Eddie says, “I didn’t throw it out.” In a tone that implies that should’ve been obvious.

”Well I haven’t seen you wearing it.” Steve grumbles, then kicks himself internally again. “Wait, sorry, forget I said anything.”

He stands straight, nervously running a hand through his hair. Eddie looks up at him from his spot at the counter for a breath, then stands up to meet Steve’s gaze.

”I didn’t throw it out.” he repeats, firmer this time.

”That’s good, I guess, not up to me what you do with it, right?”

”Well, I did try it as a sweater first.”

”…It fell apart, didn’t it?”

”It did indeed.”

Steve huffs another sigh, this one resigned. “I’m already planning on throwing away all my hooks,” he laughs. It comes out strained. “No need to inflict my piss poor crochet on other people, right?”

Eddie smirks, “I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Eddie smirks, then fixes Steve with a look, “And don’t piss on the poor, Steve, we don’t like it very much.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, and Eddie continues. “The boys saw your work and would really appreciate some of their own for Christmas,” He reaches forward and takes both Steve’s hands in his. "If you’d be so kind as to put those beautiful hands of yours to work again.”

Steve wants to laugh at the gesture, initially, but there’s something serious in Eddie’s face.

”You’re— you’re serious? The first thing I crochet falls apart as soon as you try to put it on, and you want me to make more for your friends.. Is this some kind of prank you’re trying to pull on them? Because I’d be all in with you normally, but that just seems like you’re making fun of m—“

The gentle press of a finger to his lips cuts off his rant.

”You gonna let me explain, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, and for a moment, feeling like someone stuffed his head with yarn.

Eddie takes his finger away, and his hands too, Steve clenches his own at his sides to keep from reaching back for Eddie’s.

”Yes, most of the sweater you so lovingly crafted for me did, in fact, fall all the way apart BUT!” he emphasizes, holding up a finger to stop Steve from saying the nothing he was going to. “Some of it did not.”

Before Steve can ask what survived, Eddie spins on his heel and holds his arms out.

The back panel of his vest, the spot that big Dio patch had been on the old one, had been cut away completely. 

Two squares of Eddie’s sweater have been stitched into the space.

Steve even recognizes them, two of the last granny squares he’d done for the right sleeve, one blue and green, and one red and black.

He reaches out to poke at the center of the bottom one, not believing what he’s seeing, but no. They’ve been stretched a bit to fit correctly, but they’re there.

Eddie turns back around to face him, and gone is the cool calm he’d been holding to since walking into the store. Instead, he looks a little wary, like Steve’s going to be mad at him for doing this.

”You— Ed— Wh—“ Steve looks around the store, empty. Has been for the last two hours too. “You know what-“ 

Steve spins around, flicks the lights off, hops the counter, locks the door and flips the sign, then is grabbing hold of Eddie and pulling him across the store to Keith's office.

He tucks Eddie into the small space, closes the door, and leans back against it for good measure.

Somehow, Eddie’s taken this worse. He stands with his back to the dingy filing cabinet and picks absently at a nail while he watches Steve with all the wariness of a feral cat.

And that just won’t do.

Steve surges forward and catches Eddie’s face in his hands, kissing him soundly. Purposefully. 

He pulls back before Eddie can react.

”I can’t believe you did that to your vest.” he kisses him again, this time Eddie’s ready for it.

Steve pulls back again, Eddie cuts in with “I can’t believe you tried making me a sweater.” before Steve can say anything.

Eddie pulls him in this time, and Steve pulls back almost immediately, “Hey, I did make you a sweater. It’s not my fault it fell apart.”

Eddie just laughs and pulls him in again.

family video is open until midnight on fridays and halloween was on a friday in 1986 :o)

divider from @saradika-graphics!

[sexilene]

MORE 80s SLASHER JOHN B!! PLEASE I BEG

YESSS OFC!!! (sorry about any misspellings, ignore em lol!)

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - pinv, slight gaslighting, violence, death, spanking, drowning, dark!john b but also kinda sweet john b in a concerning way lol- ₊˚⊹

john b watched you from afar, sitting on a picnic table in the shade making yarn bracelets with some of the kids in his group, his eyes never leaving your figure for more than a few seconds. you were chatting away with one of the other counselors and a few of the little girls in your group. the little girls were teasing you and the guy, richie, by asking if you were boyfriend and girlfriend and to "kissss" each other.

"no way am i kissin' him! i happen to think that boys are pretty gross don't you think?" you smile playfully, placing your hands on your hips.

"awwe come on! i'm not gross am i?" richie pretends to be offended and places his hand over his heart, making the little girls giggle.

"mm hmm, you sure are!"

you squeal when richie suddenly lifts you over his shoulder and walks towards the shore of lake like he's going to throw you in. john b decides that's enough and jogs over before richie can throw you in. 

"hey man, put her down…wouldn't want any accidents right? the nearest emergency room isn't for a few miles, and the camp hasn't got the best first aid." john b warns, squinting his eyes and tilting his head, almost like he's implying something else.

"we were just kiddin' around johnny!" richie laughs as he sets you down, your feet touching the sand again.  john b clenches his jaw at the nickname and nods like he understands.

"s'alright johnbee, got him just in time!" you smile, trying to relieve the tension between the clearly upset brunette and the cocky red head.

"alright girls! how about we go see if we can use the finger paints now?" you ask the group of little girls who nod and agree, two of the girls taking your hands and leading you back up the hill, leaving john b and richie there.

the next morning, the older kid group and their counselor decide to use the canoes for a morning activity. as they make it out onto the lake one of the kid's ores smacks against something causing all the kids to look at the water. the boy in the front then points to the object, yelling out a loud "HOLY SHIT!". there, floating face up, is richie's blue, dead body, with some froth present around his nostrils and mouth. 

you stand outside with the other counselors in pajamas after keeping all the kids away from the area and doing activities elsewhere. the paramedics take richie away in a body bag and your heart sinks, john b stands behind you, the warmth of his body and just the smell of him somehow calming you down a bit.

"what do you think could have happened to him?" you look up at john b with wide teary puppy eyes, worried he might have something to do with it since the…incident. 

"i dunno sweetheart, he must have gone out for a late night swim, probably accidentally drowned…" he wraps his arm around your front and you bring your hand up to place over his.

"let's hope we can get through the summer without the parents pulling their kids out," he whispers. 

"johnbee?"

"hmm?"

"you didn't- you know…" he just sighs and attempts to pull you back into his embrace, but you won't get any closer until he answers your question. when he only looks at you and doesn't say a word you start to walk away from him, and back to your cabin, confused and frustrated. but of course that doesn't go well with him, he won't tolerate you walking away from him like that, so he follows you and enters your cabin room behind you and shuts the door.

"lisetn to me, hey hey, look at me. i know you might still be a little scared of me but you don't need to be. okay?" he starts off gently, trying to level with you as calmly as he can be.

"ohkay…" you sigh and turn to look at him, you really don't want to have this conversation with him right now after being overwhelmed with so many things happening at once.

"i'd never do anything to hurt you, m'just trying to keep you safe that's all."

"i know…" you whisper

"good. that's why i do the things i do…i have a responsibility to watch out for these kids and when i think someone is dangerous then-"

"i don't want to hear you say it…" you interrupt him and shake your head with tears springing at your waterline. john b knows how you get when you feel conflicted or rather overwhelmed, he's seen it before when you get stressed while dealing with the kids.

"okay, alright…hey c'mere," he pulls you into a hug, his bulky body effectively enveloping you as you press your cheek to his chest.

"you really scared me that night-"

"didn't mean to bub, i promise not to do that again." he sighs, shaking his head though you can't see him.

"i really liked you."

"liked?"

"i- still do, s'just that-" you ramble.

"hey hey stop, breaaathe…breathe for me. let's do something okay? something to calm you down a little, y'gonna let me do that for you?" he soothes, bending down to meet your teary eyes. the minute you make eye contact with him you nod.

"words." he chides, needing to hear you confirm that you wanted it.

"yes, yes john b.." you whisper shyly.

"'m gonna take these off, aaand these pretty panties," he whispers gently, taking you through what he is currently doing. sliding down your little pink sleep shorts and white cotton panties, the fabrics pooling around your feet. john b then takes off his loose-fitted cropped sleep shirt and tosses it to the side, nodding his head over to your bed. he takes your hand and guides you over, taking a seat and lifting you up onto his meaty thigh.

"just gonna sit you on it and its gonna relax you alright?"

"its not gonna fit,"

"fit last time." he laughs through his nose and pulls himself out of his plaid pajama pants, you looked down at his dick, much bigger than you remembered and your cunt already began to clench around nothing. picking you up like nothing, you wrap your arms around his neck, john b impales your drippy wet cunt on his huge cock. the stretch making your eyes roll back momentarily and muffle you your cries on the skin between his shoulder and neck

"shshsh, its in, its in…" he coos, rubbing your back. "just turn your brain off bubba."

as soon as he can feel that you've relaxed and adjusted to his size he starts to move your hips back in forth with a gentle grip of his huge hands.

"i did kill riche, i had to do it to protect you baby…it's my job." you mewl at his confession and clench around his dick, earning a low groan out of him. he knew you wouldn't really register what he was telling you but at least he wouldn't feel guilty since he did just tell you the truth.

"jus' don't want you to hurt me," you whine.

"never, never…love you so much," he assures you, now using his strength to bounce you up and down slightly.

"don't gotta think about anything bub, just let me do all the work." he looks down and the bulge that presses against your lower stomach, making him hiss and squeeze the meat of your ass roughly.

"reall-really like you jombee…" you cry, tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, trying to keep yourself grounded as he bounces you on his fat cock.

"need to hear you say you love me, baby." he grunts, smacking your ass cheek harshly.

"love you, love you somuch, i really wanna cum please!" you squeal as he continues to use your sloppy wet pussy.

"i know bub, whenever you want, m'right there." john b stops bouncing you and lets you sink back down on him fully, then presses his thumb down hard on your clit. you mewl out pathetically as you cum and pulse all over him until he fills you up from just feeling you cum on him.

"fuck, so pretty, my pretty puppy." he smiles and presses a wet kiss to your cheek and wipes away the tears that happen to fall down your face.

"y'feel better now? hmm?"

"mm hmm…" still seated on him, leaking cum around the base of his dick, you hazily drop your cheek on his shoulder.

[moopiter]

What Do You Get the Man Who Has Everything?

Homelander hates his birthday, fake pleasantries and gifts, but he loves his secret significant other. Homelander X GN Reader, 1.4K little drabble.

Ao3

---♡︎---

Cheers and applause ring out from the TV.

It’s Homelander’s birthday.

Even if it’s a day Vought handpicked for ultimate viewership, at the very least it’s still his day.

You’d watched the celebration cross-legged in front of the TV, taking in every detail of his expression. It was dark now, of course. Normally he would’ve snuck off to your apartment by now, but these were peak viewership hours. Your heart clenched, trying to will some semblance of happiness into him across the city, wishing you could tell him he wasn’t alone.

He knew you were watching. His little secret he kept hidden away, tucked inside an unsuspecting apartment in Manhattan.

He’d smile, wave, and say his little lines like the good poster boy he was. Well, until he could sneak away to his little slice of heaven and get away from it all.

You tied off the last bit of yarn in your nimble fingers. It was plush and soft.

The little stuffed eagle you’d been pouring your heart into momentarily blocked your line of sight of the TV as you held its delicate body in front of your eyes.

What do you get the man who has everything at his fingertips, and nothing at the same time?

Do you get him something one of his assistants could bring him in a second? Soap or cologne he’d only pretend to like? Another nonsensical book he wouldn’t really read? There wasn't any good options, nothing truly heartfelt. 

It took weeks to crochet, and learning how to do it was no easy feat.

“Thank you again, everyone, for the birthday wishes! But I want all of you to remember—you're the real heroes!”

Your eyes glanced behind the plush creature you’d made to the TV.

His eyes were sad even though he smiled so brightly.

He hated today; he always did. But it was attention, and he’d take it, even if it only rubbed salt farther into his wounds.

Never knowing his real birthday, and never getting to have a genuine, sincere celebration made it hard to put on a fake one.

It was his first one since he’d taken a liking to you, and you’d fix that. Looking back on all the stupid televised celebrations they'd put on for him for years, it made you sick thinking about how truly alone he must've felt all those years before you'd met him.

You sighed as you grabbed the doll needle, threading it with ease. It slid past the soft yarn like nothing and hooked through the little black eyes you’d picked out. You worked gingerly, love in each stitch.

The little crochet eagle came to life in your hands.

His charismatic voice brought the show back to the forefront of your mind. “-Goodnight everyone!” He fake smiled and waved as he finally walked off stage, but it quickly turned into a scowl just before the camera panned back to center.

Yep. That guy was totally fired.

You hugged the little eagle close to your chest as you stood, smiling quietly to yourself.

It fit inside the little box you’d picked out snuggly.

You set the package on the little table in front of the couch, turning to fluff the pillows and blankets you’d set out to make the night as comfortable as possible.

The program behind you switched to Cameron Coleman. Homelander’s birthday special was officially over.

You absentmindedly turn off the TV off with a click.

It took a lot to keep your fluttering heart under control. Butterflies.

He’d be home soon; his real home.

This wasn’t somewhere he had to be someone else. It took a long time to get it through to him, but he didn’t put the fake smile on for you anymore. He came to you vulnerable, jealous, angry. It didn't matter if he was soaked in blood or soaked from the rain, you’d always understand.

The unmistakable ruffle of his cape caught your attention. You looked up just as his red boots graced the concrete balcony on the other side of the glass.

He was smiling, but those blue eyes of his were still sad.

You hurried over to the door, you’d fix that.

The dull throb in his chest eased as he smiled back at you earnestly.

You smiled brightly as you flung the door open, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside the little sanctuary you loved sharing with him. “Happy Birthday!”

The weight of the world left his shoulders as he crossed the threshold, letting you drag him along.

He always loved your forwardness about things.

You gave him understanding eyes as you led him over to the soft space you’d made for him. “How was it? Did you have fun today?”

“You know it’s not really for me.” He sighed as he gathered his cape to the side and sat down. It really wasn’t, none of it was.

You smiled, gently cupping his face for a moment to gaze into his eyes. “I know, I know.”  

The rest of the world would never see the suffering he hid so carefully. He’d shown his pain and loneliness to you alone, the only one who’d ever hold him like this. He loved attention, but the care and compassion you always showed him was beyond any of that. For you, he was a gentle giant, pliant in your hands.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your fingertips left his jaw, moving to grab the little gift from the table to lighten things up a little. “But I am! Aaaaaand-” You held the modest box out happily. “So is this!”

He smiled genuinely. You’d even lined the box with cheap sheets of zinc. Good thinking.

“Why are you so nervous?” He chuckled as he took the fragile thing in his hands, setting it in his lap.

Of course he could tell; he could read people better than they could read themselves.

You sighed as you sat down beside him. “I just really hope you like it.”

He scoffed. “You don’t have to be nervous! I’ll love it. And the zinc—now that was a good touch. I haven’t gotten a surprise gift like this since... well, that wasn’t exactly a gift."

His thoughts would go anywhere but where either of you wanted them to.

“Stop thinking! Open it!” You gestured to the box with a laugh, glancing back and forth between his expression and the box excitedly.

Your heart beating faster in anticipation was music to his ears.

He’d play nice and give you what you wanted. Besides, he wanted to know why on earth you could possibly be so nervous about something so trivial.

He lifted the little cardboard lid, the little box slipping out from underneath it and landing back down in his lap ceremoniously.

A little pair of black eyes stared back up at him.

Your little heart was pattering away like a rabbit as you waited for his reaction.

He scrunched his brows and smirked, gently pulling the little guy from the box and holding it awkwardly, turning it in his hands. “Where’d you get this little guy?”

You shifted a bit, twiddling with your thumbs. “I made it for you.”

He paused for a moment, still holding it out in front of him.

“You—you made this?” He smiled, looking over the bundle of soft yarn and stuffing with a newfound appreciation as he looked over the loops of yarn.

You nodded happily.

His eyes weren’t so sad, but he still seemed wary. “You really made this just for me?”

You laughed as you nodded again. He always needed reassurance, but you were always ready to give. Your heart wasn’t hammering anymore, just beating sweetly as you looked at him with those caring eyes like always. “Just for you. Do you like it?”

He seemed so taken aback it was almost funny.

“Like it? I love it! I-I don’t even know what to say. This is… perfect.” He smiled as his eyes finally met yours. He’d never had a stuffed animal, let alone one so special. “Thank you.”

You smiled ear to ear as you practically jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “I’m so happy you love it so much!”

He laughed lightheartedly. “This is the best gift I think I’ve ever been given.”

You laughed sweetly, snuggling against him just a little tighter.

He leaned back, pulling you against him with one arm and holding the little stuffed eagle protectively in the other, matching your genuine smile as you both relaxed into the couch.

“I’ll cherish it forever. Just like you.”

[iamthemain-character]

Estel

astarion x reader

gender neutral pronouns

TW: you are sad :(

estel

 noun. hope, trust, *faith

The night was quiet as Astarion laid on his bedroll, the rough off-white canvas of the tent reflecting the glow of the small lantern. The simple blankets weren’t nearly comfortable without the presence of his beloved, the person who had captured the entirety of his cold heart. Without meaning to, he smiled as he thought of you, your own smile that brought spring, the body that brought summer. He loved your personality that was as thrilling as autumn, bringing about the idea of change and good things to come in his wintery soul. 

He gazed around his empty tent, a little frustrated that his lover wasn’t there with him in the moment. While he didn’t really need sleep, he craved the rest that he only found when he was tucked in the bed with the one person who saw him as he was. It was strange still to allow himself to be so vulnerable, to allow himself to want another person. At any moment, he expected you to suddenly disappear, to be whisked away, simply a mirage of the love and affection that he so desperately yearned for. 

As if needing the reassurance, Astarion pushed himself up from the blankets, walking towards the small sliver of light peeking through the flaps of the tent. His ruby eyes followed the flickering flames, watching their glow until it melted over your form. You sat, looking pensive as you stared at nothing at all. You looked so small, one knee hugged close to your chest, as if you could be your own comforter. Though, as Astarion considered it, that might have been your intention; you were just as dodgy with your emotions, shying away from anything that might so much as make your eyes sting  from vulnerability. The vampire elf never could understand how you were so well equipped at drawing out his emotions, untangling the yarn of his trauma and crafting it into a beautiful work of art. Yet you seemed unwilling–or perhaps even unable– to do so for yourself. 

If it had been any other person, Astarion would have turned away, would have resigned himself to a night alone and restless. After all, he didn’t really exude an aura of comfort or trust. But for you...his heart longed to do that. To be the kind of person you needed, that you deserved to have and love. For a moment, he pitied that he wasn’t that kind of person, that his tongue would never use its silver to soothe your wounded heart. As he continued looking at your forlorn expression, however, he realized that even if he wasn’t that person, he would try. He steeled himself, and he left the safety of his tent, allowing the cool night air to draw him towards the fire. You didn’t look up as he approached, seeming completely out of the present, and in a world entirely your own. From the looks of it, Astarion didn’t like whatever sphere was currently tying you down. 

“Hello darling.” The gentleness of his tone surprised even him, a sound that had not often been allowed past his lips. This seemed to stir you from your melancholy trance a little, your eyes flicking upwards to look at him as he approached. His long legs folded under him as he sat down beside you, and after only a moment’s hesitation, he draped his arm around your shoulders. He tucked your bent head under his chin, stray wisps of hair brushing his face as he settled in. He felt a little guilty from how much he benefited from the position; your warmth seeped through your clothes and into his skin, your mere presence providing a soothing sensation to his lonely heart. He could only hope that his cold skin acted as some sort of balm for your internal wounds. 

“Hi.” Your tone was even smaller than your form had appeared, tired and dejected. It nearly broke him to hear you sound so, your personality usually so full of life and light. 

“What are you doing out here, my love?” Despite the gravity of the situation, Astarion still felt nearly giddy that he could call you those two precious words. His fingertips mapped the folds of your sleeve, trasping its peaks and valleys in an effort to find your skin. He nearly preened as he felt you burrow deeper into his hold, your tense shoulders dropping as you relaxed. 

“Just...thinking.” Your vague response barely brushed his ears, and his eyebrows furrowed in reply. Astarion knew that if your “thinking” was anything like his, the thoughts weren’t going to pave a path to enlightenment. 

“That’s dangerous.” He said lightly, falling back on his sense of humor as he attempted to be an ally in your internal struggle. He was rewarded with an appreciative exhale of air from you, just a ghost of your usually musical laugh. Worry twisted in his stomach, as he reminded himself that he was going to do a lot more than share a lighthearted joke or give a physical support. “Care to share any with me? I have a lot of ear to lend.” 

That produced another small huff of laughter from you, and he smiled to himself, pleased at least he could provide amusement. Still, you were too silent, your emotions just beyond his grasp. 

“I’m fine, Astartion, honestly. Just tired.” Your voice broke the silence, but somehow those six words were worse. The elf had lived long enough to know that no one who said they were fine was ever truly fine. 

Yet he wondered whether or not he should push; there was a fine line between a crack and shattering, and he didn’t want to break something he wasn’t sure he could fix. Still, he hated the idea of you suffering alone. “Is that truly what is troubling you darling?”

You stiffened, leaning away from his side a little. “It's nothing, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I said I’m fine, just drop it!” You snap, your tone harsh. You push yourself up from the ground, preparing to leave Astarion and his inquisitive nature behind. Astarion, however, had just as stubborn a nature as you. 

His cool fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back into him, your chest meeting his. He slipped his other hand around your back, resting it up between your shoulder blades, his forearm lining your spine in an effort to keep you close. 

“My love…” Astarion’s voice comes out as a murmur, soft and overflowing with affection. His crimson eyes swam with emotion, the concern and earnest care evident as he gazed into your eyes. 

The simple phrase breaks you, the stone walls around your heart cracking, and you feel your eyes well with tears. Words fail you, and you just shake your head, dropping it as the tears turn into waterfalls. 

“Oh, darling..” He coos, and he wraps both arms around you, holding you together as you fall apart. 

Astarion guides you over to your tent, getting you settled into a space that he knows will provide more comfort to you. He keeps his hands on you, reminding you of his presence as he takes off your shoes and your heavy outerwear. Occasionally, your tears renew in their vigor, and he has to stop to cradle you, murmuring reassuring whispers in your ear. 

Hours later, the two of you lay in bed together, your body comfortably tucked against his, assuringly locked in by his arms and legs. Your face finds safety in the neckline of his shirt, hiding your swollen face and red-rimmed eyes from unseen eyes that seem to weigh on you so heavily. Your tears have dried, your aching heart set out bare before Astarion. But he hasn’t run, he didn’t take advantage of your vulnerability. Instead, he now lays, his hands carding through your hair. 

His fingers curl the ends of your tresses, feeling the silky sensation. Once again, he finds himself lucky that he is able to be here in this moment, holding you in a way no one else could. It broke his heart to see you so distraught, to hear all the burdens that lay on your shoulders. Yet he feels a change in his heart, as if your own vulnerability has allowed him to do so too. As he hears your breathing even, your body relaxing against his, he realizes that perhaps he didn’t need to be some miraculous support or expert comforter. Perhaps, it was simply enough for him to murmur, 

“I love you.” 

And hold you through the night. 

[mariclerc]

Nerd is good (pt.2) | cl16

Warnings: none, just fluff, youtuber reader, Charles being such a simp.

fc: adelaladoll on pinterest & ig.

Part 1

Sunlight streams through the window, illuminating the cozy living room. You are dressed in a comfy sweater and some jeans, you're sitting at your desk, setting up your camera and knitting supplies for a tutorial, you have a basket of colorful yarn beside you. With trembling hands, you're setting up your camera, a playful smile on your face.

You love making little videos, it's your way of connecting with other people and while you have hobbies in common, you are characterized by your somewhat spontaneous and chill vids, some vlogs and, since you love knitting, the occasional knitting tutorial.

“Hey everyone! Welcome back to my channel! Today we're making a super fun and easy project… a cute scarf! Which is perfect for this fall season!” you hold up a colorful ball of yarn while smiling at the camera, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, grab your yarn and needles, and let’s get started!”

You started explaining the basic knitting techniques and steps, your voice is soft and gentle. You're clearly passionate about your craft, your fingers moving with practiced ease with every step, you're completely absorbed in your cute little project.

“Okay, this stitch is called the "gather stitch", and it's perfect for beginners.” you say in a soft voice as you show how you are making the scarf.

Charles, with a book in hand, walks past the camera, a soft smile on his face while he looks at you. He can’t help but admire you, your focus on the craft, your hands moving with such effortless grace. He’s a little bit in awe of you, this shy, innocent girl who brings such warmth, love and joy to his life. He loves your quiet passion, the way your eyes lights up when you talk about your knitting or about the things you like.

“Okay, so now we're going to turn the work.” you say to the camera.

He passes by the camera once again, this time pausing for a moment to observe you closely, you doesn’t even seem to notice his presence behind you. He raises his eyebrows playfully while smiling, then ducks out of view, disappearing into the bedroom.

“And then we’re going to repeat the pattern… We can add some nice and cute figure to it, it could be a star, a flower or a cute little bow, but it is up to each person.” you say giggling a little. “In my case, I'm going to add a star!”

Charles loves the way you focus on your work, your entire being absorbed in the process of creating. He loves that you never seem to be aware of his presence behind you, because you're completely lost in your own little world, and he adores that.

“And... We're done guys! It's so easy to make, you can also make it for yourself or as a gift, since it is a cute and nice gesture.” you say with a light blush on your cheeks and you put on the scarf to show how it looks. “And that's it! Now we have a cute scarf with an adorable detail.” you say excitedly to the camera, and then you end the video and turn off the camera.

“Whoa! You were so so good babe!” Charles says and you jump a little, he giggled at your reaction. “My cute little knitter.”

“Charlie! I thought you went to the library with Lando or Logan!” you say in a whisper. “I didn’t even notice you were here.”

He smiled. “It’s okay sweetie, I was enjoying the show, you’re a natural!” he leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Your videos are so calming and soft! I just love the way you explain everything so clearly, it's wonderful.”

You blushed. “Oh, thank you baby boy!”

He sits next to you and he reaches for a strand of yarn, gently running it gently through his fingers, he looks so good, so domestic and soft.

“You know babe, you’re incredibly talented... I mean, I can’t believe you can make something so beautiful out of this simple… yarn.” he smiles, a touch of wonder in his eyes.

You blush slightly. “It’s really not that hard, honey.”

He smiled again. “Oh, I don’t know babe, you make it look effortless, it's amazing!” he looks at you, his eyes filled with admiration.

You giggled. “You're so sweet.” you whispered.

“You're so so beautiful.” he whispered back.

***

Later that night, you're checking some stats of your video, which did pretty well, it's nice to see that people like what you do. Suddenly you check the comments and you find good ones talking about your work and some rather curious ones, so to speak.

"Girl who's that cute guy in the background?"

"OMG! I’m so in love with this scarf! And… who is that cute guy who keeps walking behind you? 😍"

"He was so cute! I think he was watching you the whole time, so sweet."

"That boy walking behind you looked so so in love with you, it's adorable!"

"I'm totally distracted by the guy in the background. Can we see more of him?"

"Is that our daddy, mommy? 🫣🫣"

You blush when you see the comments, you didn't think that Charles had passed behind you while you were recording your video, and even while you were editing you didn't notice that small detail. Still, that doesn't bother you because he loves seeing you in your element, doing what you like and you do the same with him.

“Oh my gosh, I didn't even notice he was there.” you muttered to yourself, you turn to Charles, who is sitting beside you on the couch, reading a book. “Babes, I can't believe people are asking about you!” you say while giggling a little bit.

He looks up at you. “Hm? Really? What did they say, honey?” he says softly.

“Well, they think that you're so cute and adorable, and they want to see more of you!” you whispered.

You smile at him, your heart full of warmth because you've never been so happy! It’s amazing how much you're falling for Charles every single day. I mean, he’s smart, funny, cute, kind, and… well, kind of a nerd. And you love and adore every single bit of him.

“Oh, well, I'm glad they like me darling! But I think that you're the real star of the show.” he smiled and blushed.

You blushed too. “Aw, you are so cute, and very modest!” you give him a kiss on his cheeks, he blushed.

He giggled. “No, seriously honey, you are the star of the show.” he comes closer to you to hug you. “My precious girl.” he says in a soft whisper and then gives you a kiss on the lips. “So cute and creative!”

You just sigh and feel a flutter in your heart, being with him is something so precious, because it's such a cute, innocent love and you've never felt that way before.

He leans in. “Hey, remember that time you tried to make a soufflé and it exploded?”

You blushed at his words. “Oh my, please don't remind me that.”

“It was hilarious honey. You looked like a little flour-covered chef.” he smiled softly.

“Okay, okay, I admit it was a disaster.” you giggled.

He chuckled while taking off his glasses. “But that's what makes it fun!”

You lean closer to him too. “Hey babe, do you remember that time you tried to fix the printer and ended up breaking it?”

He groans. “Please don't remind me, baby. It was a huge mess!”

“But you looked so frustrated, it was adorable and cute.” you say softly while smiling at him.

“Yeah, well, you know I'm not the best at fixing things, but at least I try.” he said while chuckling.

“But you're the best at making me laugh.” you whispered and he giggled.

“And you're the best at making me smile and feel all fluffy inside.” he said while taking your hand.

You smile at him and give him a little kiss on the tip of his nose while he closes his eyes, you can't help but feel so happy and fluffy with him.

“So, what do you want to do tonight smarty-pants?” you asked him.

“Hmm... How about we order in pizza and watch a movie?” he says softly and you nodded. “Perfect! I'll order the pizza amour.” (love)

While he is waiting to place the pizza order, Charles starts calling you cute nicknames, something that is very common between you two, giving each other cute and adorable nicknames, it's like a kind of secret and comfort and cute language between you two.

“Hey, little cupcake, what kind of pizza do you want?” he asked softly and shyly at you, you smiled at the cute nickname.

“Ehm... I don't know, maybe pepperoni?” you say softly.

He fixes his glasses. “Pepperoni? That's so boring and basic, chérie... How about a Hawaiian?” (darling)

You make a face. “Ew, absolutely not, Charlie. Pineapple on pizza is a crime and it's so gross!”

He laughs. “A crime against humanity, you would say?” you nodded.

You laugh too. “Exactly! That's what it is.”

After ordering the pizza, Charles leans in and kisses you softly on the lips, you giggle between the kiss and he smiled softly.

He sighed softly. “Oh, I love you, little cupcake! You're such a cutie pie.”

You smiled at him while caressing his rosy cheeks. “I love you too, smarty-pants!” you kiss one of his cheeks. “You're such a cutie pie too!” you say while giggling and blushing a little bit.

The love and affection you feel towards Charles is immense, it's so nice to feel that way for someone as special and unique as him... And he and you complement each other a lot, and that is something very precious.

itsynusername

liked by carmenmmundt, logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others.

tagged charles_leclerc

itsynusername new video up besties! 🩷🐇🧶 (ft a cute little background star 🫶🏻🫶🏻)

see comments

user4 OMGGGGGGG HE WAS SO CUTE LOOKING AT YOU THE WHOLE VIDEO 🥺😭😭😭

carmenmmundt ahhhhh my time has come, it's time to knit <3

itsynusername heheh, i hope you like the tutorial bby 🤍🤍

georgerussell63 now you created a monster itsynusername

itsynusername it's not my fault that pretty girls want to knit 😋😋🤭 georgerussell63

user5 omg i loved the tut bestie, and your bf looked so cute behind you the whole vid 🥺🥺🥺 he looks so madly in love with you

liked by creator

lilymhe yassss, finallyyy bestie 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

user6 omgggg you and your bf are so cute 🥹🥰 my new fav couple

landonorris hahah, charles looked like a total simp

itsynusername lando shut up, please

charles_leclerc and what if i'm a simp of my girl? landonorris

user7 the best tut ever!!! Now I can wear cute scarfs this fall 🤎🍂

liked by creator

charles_leclerc my cute creative girl 🩷🧶

itsynusername hehe, love you baby 😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

charles_leclerc i love you too, my sweet girl 🤍🤍 i'm gonna need a scarf too, love 👉🏻👈🏻

itsynusername coming right up baby, don't worry about it sweetie 🤍🤍🤍