#nobody really wants to try his gin but he’s just so excited

[brokenstarrylights]

*Peaky Blinders in the middle of a dangerous vendetta scheme*

Tommy Shelby to literally anyone: Try my gin =)

Everybody else: ???

[verstappen-cult]

OBSESSED, M. VERSTAPPEN.

✶ SUMMARY. You’ve always been a little bit obsessed with your boyfriend. Especially with his thighs.

Or, 2 times Max catches you looking at his thighs + 1 time you do something about it.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. max’s thighs. blowjobs. biting. pegging. english is not my first language.

GWEN RAMBLES — this was requested a while ago and just now had the inspo and the time to write it. i’m sorry to the person who asked for this but also big thanks because i’ve also been obsessed with max’s thighs ever since i saw pics of him in those tiny shorts. hopefully we’ll get to see more of that during this summer break. prayer circle, my house at 10pm. 🤞🏼

#1

It’s a very hot summer day and you’re spending it out at sea on Max’s yacht with some of your friends.

And Max is wearing the shortest shorts ever known to man, while also parading himself around the yacht with a gin and tonic in hand.

He’s drunk. You see it in the way he laughs at Daniel’s joke, overly excited and almost doubling down in a hysterical laugh – Max always laughs at whatever comes out of Daniel’s mouth, but when he’s drunk it’s definitely worse – and how he has to grab onto the railing to keep his balance.

His glass is empty, so he excuses himself to go pour some more of his favorite drink. But then he sees you watching him and a big smile breaks out on his face.

“Hey, baby.” He says plopping down next to you, the couch is so comfy that you’ve find yourself dozing off a few times. But the heat has made it impossible for you to catch your sleep. “What are you doing here all alone, pretty girl?”

Oh, yes. He also likes to call you all the petnames in the world when he’s drunk.

You scoff, brushing a strand of hair out of his sweaty forehead. “Jus’ watching you flirt with Daniel.”

“I was not!” He moves away, crossing his arms over his chest like a scolded child.

It is in that exact moment that your gaze is drawn to his legs. His shorts have gone up a little too much, revealing the pale skin of his thick thighs.

Your mouth waters at the sight.

Images of those thighs wrapped around your waist as you fu—

“What you looking at?” Max’s tone is teasing, a smirk dancing on his lips. He knows exactly what you’re looking at.

Your eyes snap up to his, heat going up your chest all the way to your face.

“Oh, shut up.” You bite back, forcing yourself to look away. You raise your own glass of gin and tonic to your lips just to have something to do.

Max keeps on looking at you, you can feel his blue eyes boring holes in the side of your face.

Eventually, he stands up. Right in front of you, so you have no other option than to look at him.

"See something you like?" He asks, chewing on his bottom lip.

You're about to open your mouth to say something witty when he just simply turns around and goes back to the rest of the group.

If your eyes remained fixed on his ass, nobody needs to know that.

#2

Max is training on the terrace. It's a chilly day in Monaco, so he decided to skip going to the gym and, instead, to do his daily training at home.

On one side it's good because he just got back from Italy and you've missed him. You want to spend as much time as you can with him before he needs to travel to the next country.

But on the other side, it’s torture.

You were enjoying a really good book you picked up last week, an orange juice by your side on the lounge chair when he decided it was a good idea to start training mere feet away from you in those stupid shorts of his.

Now you’re trying to make out the words in the page as he sits at the other side of the terrace, legs spread and feet planted on the floor as he does some lifting. His hair is long, so a few strands of hair fall over his eyes.

Your gaze is set in the way the muscle of his thigh tenses as he lifts the weights, then relaxing again while a groan falls from his lips. He repeats the action again. And again.

By the fourth time, you feel overwhelmed and short of breath.

"You've been reading the same page for a while now. Is it that good?" There's a glint of amusement in his eyes and a smirk gracing his lips.

"Uh?" You ask dumbly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

All the blood in your body flows to your face as thoughts of feeling his thighs tensing under your hands while doing something completely different flood your mind.

"You can at least pretend," He snorts, setting the weights aside.

Max grabs a towel to wipe the sweat off his face, his other hand brushing through his hair.

He's so unfairly hot.

You need to cool down. You need to do something.

+1

You successfully avoided your boyfriend the rest of the morning, deciding instead to go to your room to actually read the book. Being as far away as possible from him is what you needed. It’s not fair he looks so good lifting weights.

That was until Max came into the room announcing he was going to take a shower. You didn’t even raised your head, you just kept reading.

But then he emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing more than his boxers.

If you were having a hard time with his shorts before, it is so much worse now. You don’t even know how he put them on, his thighs are one second away from ripping them into pieces.

“Stop ogling me.” He’s drying his hair with a towel, drops of water falling down his naked chest.

You pout, leaving your book aside. You know you will not be reading any more pages today, not while he’s standing there like a sweet waiting to be devoured. “It’s not my fault you have such huge thighs.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t be like that,” You get out of bed, walking to him. “I know you like it when I thirst over you.”

“Yes. Because I love being perceived as nothing more than a sex symbol.” Max takes one of his hundreds Red Bull shirts out of the closet, but before he has time to put it on, you throw it across the room.

Max’s complaint dies in his throat when he sees the hunger in your eyes.

“Admit that you like it.” You plant your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until his back is against the wall.

The towel falls from his hands and he swallows with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

You shake your head, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it in front of him. “No, I want you to say it.” You maintain eye contact as you fall down on your knees, it’s almost funny the way his eyes widen.

His jaw goes slack when he feels your hands on the waistband of his underwear.

“Yes,” He sighs, closing his eyes tightly. “I like it.”

You coo, placing a hand over your heart. “See?” You feign pitying him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Max whines when you finally pull his boxers down, his already growing cock springing free.

“I don’t know,” He breathes out, looking down at you. “what you like about my thighs so much.”

You have to laugh, a finger moving up and down his left thigh. “What do you mean? Haven’t you look at how,” You grab his thighs, fingers sinking into the muscled flesh. “thick they are? You have no idea how much I want to bite them.”

“Do it.” The words are out of his mouth before he has time to think about it. Not that he doesn’t want you to do it, it’s that if he thinks too much about it he might lose his mind.

You look into his eyes, so blue and deep as the sea, before looking at what you have right in front of you.

The object of your most recent fantasies.

Max takes a sharp intake of breath as you lean in, but instead of immediately biting into the flesh, you run your tongue from the bottom all the way to the top, stopping right before you reach his pelvis. His cock twitching at having your mouth so close.

"Think of how pretty these would look with my teeth marks." Max groans, fisting his hands by his sides. "You should definitely use those tiny shorts now to show everyone what you let me do."

Max can't say anything, his mind going fuzzy at the edges already. He feels like his whole body is on fire.

You keep running your tongue over his left thigh, occasionally sucking a mark. Only when you're pleased with your work, you move to the other one.

"Plea—" A moan gets ripped from his throat when you sink your teeth into his thigh, your hand brushing against his cock. The second time you do it, Max thrust his hips up at nothing.

"So fucking perfect." You moan seeing the final result. "I can't believe you're letting me mark you."

Max is about to reply when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

"Oh, fuck!"

With the help of your hand you start stroking what doesn't fit in your mouth, the taste and how big it feels against your tongue making you moan.

Max tangles his fingers in your hair. His vision going blurry as you twirl your tongue around the tip of his cock and, without warning, taking as much as you can in your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You have to stop yourself for a few seconds to breathe through your nose, before pulling back until only the head is in your mouth. Slowly, and lifting your gaze up to his, you start bobbing up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

Max's moans and pants fill the room, mixing with the slurping sounds of your mouth and tongue working on his shaft.

You drag your teeth along the sides of his cock, and Max hisses in response. "Fuck, do it again." And you do it, pulling an obscene sound from him.

When Max looks down, he finds the hand that's not on his thigh, feeling the muscles tensing under it, between your legs, moving in circles against your clit.

Max thrusts his hips up, not being able to hold back, and immediately regrets it when he hears you cough. But then you’re pull off him, a grin on your face as you wipe the saliva with the back of your hand.

"Do it again."

That's the only thing you say before taking him deeper into your throat.

Max pulls lightly on your scalp, and you moan around him. It makes him do it again as he start thrusting his hips into your mouth, the gagging sounds almost enough to send him over the edge.

"Fuck, look at you. So pretty with your mouth full of my cock."

You moan and squeeze his thighs, hearing his breathing get more ragged lets you know how close he is to his release.

So, you pull off him.

Max groans at not feeling the warmth of your mouth around him anymore. He was so close to spilling down you throat.

"On the bed." Your throat is sore and are in need of a glass of water. But it can wait.

It takes him a moment to process your words, but then he's moving and climbing into the bed.

You stand up, your knees hurting despite having the pillow underneath, and open the special drawer you two have in the closet.

Max's gasps makes you chuckle.

You take out Max's favorite harness and one of your favorite dildos. It's a little smaller than Max's huge cock. Just a little bit.

You leave it by Max's side as you climb on top of him. "Spread your legs." He does it, getting comfortable against the pillows. "More." You help him by bending his right knee, feet planted on the mattress.

You take your sweatpants and underwear off, before leaning over to grab some lube from the nightstand.

Max's blue eyes glaze over. You straddle his left thigh, a soft moan falls from your mouth when your cunt makes contact with his skin, and he flexes his thigh.

"You—," He groans, tilting his head back against the pillows. "You're already soaking my thigh." He says in a gasp, his hand finding your hip and helping you move against him. "Got turned on by sucking my cock, uh?" He teases you and all you can do is nod, at a loss of words, your clit dragging against his muscled thigh making you whimper.

You're overwhelmed by the pleasure, only able to moan his name over and over, and over again. Your eyelids fluttering shut when you grind just right against him.

But you have a plan, so without pausing the drag of your pussy, you grab the lube, popping the cap and coating two fingers.

Max looks intently as you warm your fingers before guiding them to where he needs you the most. He instinctively spreads his legs some more, giving you enough space.

Your cling onto Max's arm on your hip to keep moving against his thigh as you slip your index finger into the tight heat of Max's hole.

Max moans loudly. He doesn't know where to look, if at you bouncing on his thigh or at where your finger disappears inside of him.

"More," He grits his teeth on a whimper, closing his eyes for a second. "Please."

And who are you to say no? You slide your finger all the way in, pumping slowly until you have him moaning for more; so you add a second finger, scissoring them to open him up.

Your legs begin to shake, forcing Max to help you by tensing his muscles which makes it easier to grind against him. The angle is a little weird, but neither of you seem to care.

Max's hips thrust up to meet your fingers, which are now hitting his prostate on every stroke. He's out of breath, pre-cum pooling on his lower belly, and throws his head back, clenching around your fingers.

Seeing him so desperate only spurs you on.

Your climax takes you by surprise. White-hot pleasure erupts behind your eyelids with a broken moan. His name, Max, Max, Max echoing in the room. Head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

It takes you a moment to go back to yourself and when you do, Max has a desperate look on his face, jaw slack and eyebrows furrowed.

"You're so unfairly hot." Finally letting him know your thoughts from earlier. "You okay, baby?" You ask, teasingly. Moving your fingers slowly, staring intently down at his face.

"More." He cries out.

"You're doing so good for me, Max." You praise him, fucking your fingers in harder, making him moan louder. You love to make him moan like this.

When Max starts babbling, you know he's getting close. So, you pull your fingers out. He's shivers slightly, feeling desperate at being so close to his orgasm again but not being able to reach for it.

While Max is busy trying to control his breathing, you grab the harness to lube up the toy.

Max groans desperately when he feels you between his spread legs, the head of the dildo sliding easily into his hole.

You stare intently down at him and he grabs your hips to help you slide all the way in until your hips are pressed up against his ass. You place your hands on his thighs, and he immediately wraps them around your waist with enough force to keep you still, not letting you move.

You stare into each other's eyes, and then you're meeting halfway in a hungry and messy kiss. You feel like you can't breathe and need him to survive, and for the way he licks into your mouth you know he feels the same.

When you pull away, he nods at you to continue. You grip his hips, setting a brutal pace that has him groaning and fisting the sheets.

Max whines and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling you so deep it’s almost sucking the air out of him.

"Does it feel good?" You pant, fucking harder. The slapping of your skin against his so obscene it makes your cunt clench around nothing.

It's good, it's incredible even. But he needs more, he needs—

"I want to ride you."

Your brain buzzes, his words echoing in your head. "Yeah?" You slow down, biting your lip when you find his eyes, blue completely swallowed by black.

He helps you pull out and sit against the headboard, and you can't tear your eyes away from his bruised thighs, the love bites and teeth marked a reminder of your obsession with that specific part of him.

Max pushes himself up on his knees and straddles you, hovering over your cock. He maintains eye contact as he wraps his hands around it and slowly lowers himself.

His thighs clench as he feels the tip breaching his ring of muscles. It feels tighter, even though you've been inside of him moments ago. He manages to sink down completely, hissing at feeling so full.

"Just—give me a second." He whispers, one of his hands holding onto your shoulder.

Max lifts himself up, your cock almost slipping out, only the tip still inside, before letting himself fall down. He keeps that rhythm for a few minutes, adjusting to the feeling of you inside of him.

When he starts bouncing on your cock with a little more force, you start to thrust your hips up to meet him, ripping moan after moan from his throat.

"You feel so, shit, so good." He sighs, leaning in to connect your lips.

You moan into each other's mouths, your cock hitting that particular spot inside of him.

Max breaks the kiss and places his hands on your legs behind him, bracing himself as he rolls his hips, the new angle making his mind shut down completely.

"Good boy," You praise him, gaze flicking from his leaking cock to his bruised thighs clenching every time he pushes himself up. "Taking my cock so well. Look at you, so pretty."

You know you hit his prostate when he sobs, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

His movements become sloppy, his thighs clenching with more force as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm.

A few more thrust with your fingers digging into his hips, and he's shooting a huge load of his cum across his stomach and even chest. He sees stars behind his eyes, his climax so intense he feels like passing out. He keeps on riding you through his orgasm, letting his head fall forward against your forehead. He only stops when starts to feel overstimulated.

Both of you stay silent for a few moments, trying to catch your breath. Only when Max feels like he's not going to pass out, he opens his eyes to see you already looking at him, a soft smile on your lips.

He kisses you softly. "So, what about my thighs? Really, I need to know because it's a little weird."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "It's not weird."

Max laughs, cupping your cheek. "Of course not."

"It is not!" You say indignantly, your thumbs drawing patterns on his hips. "It's like you being obsessed with my tits. I don't tell you it's weird."

"I have teeth marks all over my thighs. I won't be able to wear shorts for weeks."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I was on my knees." You shrug as Max gests comfortable on top of you, the toy still sitting inside of him.

"Shut up, you weirdo." He jokes.

"You love me."

He looks at you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. "I do."

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[nextdoor-neighbors]

Sweet Revenge

Request: hi babes! ur writing is amazing! i was wondering if i could request a fred x reader where reader and fred get into a fight over fred being flirty with other girls and the next morning reader is in a very revealing outfit and makes all the boys (harry ron george neville and even draco if you’d like) jealous all day and ignores fred and u can choose how it ends!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Some sexual content near the end

“Nice one, Y/N!”

“Yeah, that was awesome!”

You smile proudly at your patronus. It was the first time, after hours upon hours of trying both during and after Dumbledore’s Army meetings, that you were able to successfully produce your patronus. You stand with Ginny and Hermione, who are as excited as you are. You turn to see if Fred, your boyfriend, had seen your success. After all, he was the one you’d been complaining to about not being able to do it, so you hope that he saw you finally succeed.

Instead, you’re met with Fred standing across the room, surrounded by the Gryffindor Chasers and a few other girls, who are all giggling at something he said. You watch, your heart dropping, as he sends a wink in Angelina Johnson’s direction before going back to whatever story he was animatedly telling them.

You can’t believe him. There’s no way you’re going to be able to produce your patronus again - at least not now, with anger building in your chest. Fred is a very friendly, very flirty person, and you’ve known that, since before you started dating. And it’s not that you ever expect his attention all the time, but to flirt openly with other girls with you in the same room?

You turn back to Hermione and Ginny, who noticed, too. Both girls have a scowl on their faces.

“That git,” Ginny grumbles, “I’ll hex him, if you want. Actually, I don’t care if you want me to or not. I’ll do it anyway.”

“No, no, Gin, it’s fine,” you say, “I’ll talk to him after the meeting.”

“Let me know when you’re done. I still want to hex him for being an idiot.”

Ginny’s protectiveness of you, despite you being a year older than her, makes you laugh a little. The two of you were friends before Fred and you started dating, so naturally, the relationship came with lots of threats and warnings from Ginny to Fred about what she’d do to him if he ever hurt you. But still, you want to approach this situation on your own.

The meeting ends soon afterwards, and you go to leave the room without waiting for Fred, the image of him flirting with the group of girls burned in your memory.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

You keep walking, your stomach twisting as you hear his footsteps growing closer.

“Hey,” Fred repeats as he reaches you, his tone breathy after his run down the hall. You don’t even look over at him.

“Hi,” you say shortly.

“Are you upset?” he asks, “Were you not able to produce your patronus again? You’ll get it one of these days, I know-“

“No, I did it,” you interrupt, your tone still flat and uninterested.

“Y/N, that’s great! Then why are you-“

“You were just too busy flirting with other girls to notice,” you finish, cutting him off again.

He goes silent, and you risk a glance over at him. You know that he knows exactly what he was doing, and that’s what makes you so upset. But now, he looks slightly dumbfounded, as if he didn’t think it would affect you.

“And so what?” he finally says, turning to look at you, a hard look in his eyes. “It’s not like... It’s not like I was doing anything wrong, y’know, like, like... like cheating-“

“Really?” you ask, stopping in your tracks in the middle of the hallway. The two of you took the longer path back to Gryffindor Tower, so you really hoped that nobody was going to come down this way, too.

“We are in a relationship, Fred, in case you forgot!” you continue, your voice growing louder as your anger spills out, both at the initial flirting and now, at his horrible response. “You can’t just flirt with other girls! It’s still shitty to do!”

Fred just looks at you for a minute, his face mirroring your anger, before turning to walk away.

“I was just telling them a story,” he says, defensively, “And I’m sorry I missed your patronus, but I can’t be paying attention to you every second, okay? I have other friends to talk to.”

“I’m aware, Fred. I’m glad you have plenty of friends to talk to, but talking to them is different than openly flirting with them! And with me in the same room? Why would you do that?”

He doesn’t respond as you approach the common room. He grumbles the password to the Fat Lady, and you follow him silently into the common room. It’s mostly quiet besides a few younger girls sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace and giggling to each other.

“Look,” Fred says, quietly, turning around to face you. “I’m sorry I made you upset. I just think that you overreacted-“

“No, Fred,” you reply, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible so that the girls on the couch don’t overhear, but in your anger, it’s extremely hard. “You should’ve thought about what you were doing first. Now, I’m tired, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

You walk past him, up to your room, not bothering to stay and hear him say goodnight in return or turn around to look at him over your shoulder. You’re too frustrated with him right now, and you already have a plan for tomorrow to get back at him. You know you shouldn’t, and that it’s petty, but if you’re completely honest with yourself, you think it’ll be a little fun.

Once you’re up to your room, you give a very short rundown of the situation to Hermione before going to bed. It takes you a while to fall asleep as you toss and turn, thoughts of Fred flirting with the other girls and then defending himself with that firey look in his eyes filling your head as you drift off

-

You wake up early the next morning to properly choose your outfit. Unfortunately, it’s a schoolday, but you can work with that.

You choose your shortest skirt and tighest shirt, making sure to leave the top few buttons undone. You’ll fix yourself up before class, but you have all of breakfast to work on your plan. Next, you sit yourself down on your bed, pulling up your knee-high socks. You then let your undone tie rest over your shoulders and pull on your robe, letting it hang open to display your outfit choice. You actually look pretty good, if you do say so yourself. You’re normally so careful to wear your uniform properly at all times, and even on weekends, you usually still wear outfits that cover you up a good amount, so you’re sure to catch some eyes today.

“Good mor-... Oh. Wow.”

Hermione looks you up and down a few times before meeting your eyes with a slight smirk.

“You’re trying to get a reaction out of Fred, aren’t you?”

You smile. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“Absolutely.” Hermione looks you over once again. “You’re going to drive him mad. Let me get ready and I’ll walk down to breakfast with you. I want to see this.”

You know that most of the boys would be down at breakfast by the time you and Hermione got there, because that’s how it usually goes, which works perfectly for your plan.

Once Hermione is dressed and ready, books tucked under her arm per usual, the two of you head down to the common room. Ginny sits, perched on the armrest of one of the chairs, waiting. When she sees you and Hermione approaching, she hops off the armrest. Her eyes widen at you and she whistles.

“Something tells me this new look has to do with Fred? I’m not complaining at all, but you better fill me in.”

You explain the situation to Ginny as the three of you make your way to the Great Hall.

“Hermione’s right,” she says, “Fred’s gonna go crazy with all the boys who are gonna be checking you out today. Girls, too.” She winks at you, which makes both you and Hermione laugh.

Your eyes go right to the Gryffindor table as you walk into the Great Hall, where you see Fred, sitting between George and Ron, with Harry next to Ron, and Lee Jordan next to George. It’s a perfect setup, because there’s three spots waiting across from them for you, Hermione, and Ginny, between Neville and Dean Thomas.

The only one from that group who looks up as you walk in is Harry. His eyes widen as he looks at you, and some water drips down his chin from the goblet he was drinking from. You can’t help but laugh.

“Might have to take a few notes from you to get Harry’s attention like that,” Ginny teases quietly as the three of you approach the table. You take the middle seat, across from Fred, and Hermione and Ginny take the seats on either side of you.

“Good morning, boys,” Ginny says, loudly, interrupting their conversation.

All eyes turn to Ginny, but immediately drift over to you. You watch as Ron’s eyes drop to your chest, and he blushes deeply before looking up to your face again.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N,” Lee says, loudly, to which George elbows him, probably because he can already feel the anger radiating off of his twin.

You look at Fred, finally, who has his jaw set as he looks you over, but he stays silent.

“Thank you, Lee.” You smile sweetly at him before dropping your eyes to grab some food.

As you bite into a muffin, you look back up to George, who’s already looking at you. He raises his eyebrows at you when Fred isn’t looking, as if to say, what the hell are you doing?

You simply wink at him in return, just as Fred glances over at you. But you avoid Fred’s eyes, looking back down to your breakfast.

Once you finish eating, you stand up.

“I have to head back to my room to get my things before class. I’ll see you guys later.” You smile at everyone, again avoiding looking at Fred. You know that you’re pissing him off, especially by ignoring him, but it’s almost like a game now.

“Y/L/N-“

You turn towards the voice as you leave the Gryffindor table to see Draco Malfoy walking towards you. Now that’s a surprise, and if there’s anything that’s going to make Fred completely lose it, it’s Malfoy talking to you.

Draco looks you up and down as he approaches, and you keep walking out of the Great Hall, nonverbally telling him that if he wants to talk to you, he’ll have to follow, which is exactly what he does.

“You still dating Weasley?” he asks, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, I am, and if you’ve just come to insult my boyfriend to me, I’ll hex you. Again.”

Panic flits across Draco’s face momentarily as he, no doubt, remembers an incident between the two of you a few months prior. Soon enough, it’s gone, and his smirk is back as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets.

“No, I just came to say that when you inevitably get sick of him and all of his equally annoying siblings, you can come find me.”

“You just insulted him. Not only him, but his siblings, who happen to be some of my best friends,” you point out, more annoyed than anything. You’re not actually going to hex him (this time), but it’s fun to see his reaction when you threaten it.

Draco scoffs. “Considering what I could say about them, annoying is practically a compliment. I’m just saying-“ He looks you up and down once again- “I’m sure I could show you a much better time than Weasley.”

You roll your eyes again as you approach the stairs that will lead you up to your common room. “Keep dreaming, Malfoy.”

You part ways from him, heading back to your room and grabbing your books for your first few classes. You look at yourself in the mirror as you fix up your uniform. As much fun as you’re having, you also don’t want house points taken away.

When you head back down to the common room, you’re surprised to see that Fred isn’t there. You’d been expecting him to follow you and give you some sort of reaction, and you were slightly disappointed that he didn’t. Although, that’s probably because Ginny is chewing him out at the breakfast table. You wouldn’t put it past her to call him out in front of everyone, which was something you’d always admired about your best friend.

You know you won’t see Fred again really until lunch, so the morning drags by. You sit by Neville in Transfiguration, and he gets slightly flustered when you strike up a conversation with him.

Surprisingly, Fred isn’t at lunch, which worries you a bit. You ask George where he is, and he just shrugs and says he had something to do, which is completely unlike him.

The afternoon drags by just as the morning did, and instead of going straight to dinner after last period, you make a beeline for the common room, hoping to catch Fred. After not talking to him all day and getting attention from every boy except for him, your anger at him has subsided for the most part, and now, you just miss him. Of course, you’re not going to let his actions from yesterday slide, but you want to talk it through with him.

Thankfully, he’s in the common room with George. They’re on the couch, talking amongst themselves about products for their shop. Fred looks up at you as you walk over, but you can’t read his expression very well past the furrow of his eyebrows. George glances up and quickly closes up the suitcase they’d been holding between them, whispering something to Fred before leaving.

“Hi,” you say - the first thing you’ve said directly to him all day.

“Hey.” He looks extremely good: he’s in his school shirt still, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying his freckled forearms. His hair is messy, just like it always is after he runs his fingers through it when he’s stressed. He chews on his lip as his eyes scan your body. Your robe hangs over your arm, so you’re left in your tight shirt and short skirt.

“I know what you were doing today. It’s because of what I did yesterday, right?”

He doesn’t sound defensive, as you expected him to. Instead, he sounds... defeated, almost. You walk around the couch to sit next to him, taking the spot where George was. Fred immediately reaches out, resting his hand on your knee.

“Yeah,” you admit, “I wanted to make you jealous.”

He waits to respond as a group of fourth year boys walks through the common room to leave. Once they’re gone, he says,

“Well, it definitely worked. Nobody could keep their eyes off of you. And it made me realize...” He lets out a deep sigh. “How stupid I was yesterday. You were right. You, and George, and Ginny, and everyone else who called me out on it. I’m really sorry, princess. I hope you can forgive me.”

You know Fred well enough to know that he really means it. And while you forgive him, you can’t help but want to rile him up again, just for fun.

“I forgive you,” you reply. “Does this mean you’re not mad about Malfoy flirting with me and telling me that he can show me a better time than you can?”

Fred reacts instantly, sitting up straighter and his hand tightening on your knee. There’s a glint in his eye that you recognize very well.

“He did what now? That little-“

He cuts himself off, and instead, a smirk forms on his lips as he grabs you, and in one swift movement, pulls you on to his lap. Once you’re on his lap, your skirt hiking up your thighs, he grabs your hips tightly and leans towards you, lips against your ear.

“As if he - or anyone who was checking you out today - could make you feel better than I do.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and at his body pressed against yours. He may piss you off sometimes, and you may piss him off in return, but at the end of the day, he’s yours and you’re his. And you wouldn’t want it to be any other way.

“Oh yeah?” You grind down against his growing bulge, and he lets out a low groan. Everyone else is definitely at dinner by this time, so the two of you are safe with the common room to yourselves. You smirk at him.

“Then show me.”

[strawberryjamsara]

Idea for a yttd no death game au that I may or may not write

-Joe is dying and Sara is frantically pushing at the button trying to stop him from succumbing. Everything seems bleak. Then she wakes up with the reveal it was a dream. Gin is shaking her awake yelling that Kai made chocolate chip pancakes and to go downstairs.

-Keiji is also down there, looking like he just woke up. Sara makes a snide comment about his eyebags, and he retorts that she doesn’t have much room to talk after she just refused to go to bed last night. Kai just serves breakfast with several one liners and Gin makes a comment about how he’s glad Kai is around because Mr Policeman and Muscle Gorilla can’t cook. Keiji takes offense to this and offers to try and make a side dish and about ten seconds in cuts himself on the knife. He gets the shit roasted out of him. Qtaro comes down looking pretty good and proceeds to see all the food is gone and gets roasted. All is well and good but something is bothering Sara.

-She meets up on the school path with Joe, Ranmaru and Anzu and they all begin teasing Ranmaru and pointing out his crush on Sara. At one point Anzu and Joe walk ahead and Ranmaru asks Sara if he can talk to her in private some time soon. Sara agrees then goes up to Joe and Anzu to loudly tell them that Ranmaru is gonna confess. Ranmaru protests loudly.

-She has a good day at school. Professor Mishima has always been her favorite teacher. However he says the old assignment Sara was working on got lost so she’ll have to start again. Sara agrees and accepts his apology, as well as his offer for an extension, and begins trying to recreate her old painting but comes to the realization she doesn’t remember what her last painting was.

-To amend this, she tries calling up Nao after school, since she remembers doing a lot of the piece with her. But strangely, Nao doesn’t seem to remember either. Nao offers to come up with a new painting if Sara comes over though, and Sara agrees. But before that her meeting with Ranmaru.

-She meets Ranmaru behind the school where he asks if she had a weird dream last night. She’s surprised and is about to say yes, but a sinking feeling arrives in her stomach at the idea of acknowledging it. She tells him no. So he says okay and tells her she can leave.

-She comes to Nao’s house and finds the usual scene. Reko is keeping to herself, Alice is lounging around before loudly announcing her presence when she comes in, and Nao is excited to see her! When coming up with a theme they toss ideas back and forth before Sara just suggests… a button pressing. She doesn’t know why. She just wants to. Nao doesn’t see a problem. Sara goes to give Reko a wave out before she leaves but she seems to be in a crabby mood. Alice explains it’s because of Samurai Yaibas concert getting cancelled due to an unexpected meltdown whatever that means. Sara offers to go shopping downtown with them on the promised day to make up for it. They agree and Sara is on her way.

-Sara is trying to go to sleep at night but the lights down the hall are still on so she storms to Keiji’s room to tell him to go the fuck to sleep it’s 1 in the morning. Good night Keiji.

-The next day, her and Joe are being sent together to babysit Kanna and Hinako after school. During school, Anzu asks Sara about her confession from Ranmaru and Sara just informs her of the conversation from yesterday. Anzu gasps and makes cries of Ranmaru playing with Sara’s heart, and Ranmaru tells her to calm down and more shenanigans ensue as they make a bigger and bigger scene.

-Joe is sent to pick up Hinako while Sara is out in charge of going to the Tsukimi’s and waiting on Kanna. Shin is pretty much already halfway out the door trying to get to work when she gets there, and she makes a few jokes at his expense but then feels a need to back off at how hard he recoils- usually he claps back twice as hard. Maybe she caught him on a bad day- and Joe comes in with Hinako who seems to have a new habit of writing everything that happens down. They watch She ra and play pretend well into the night and Shin comes back, thanks Sara and Joe profusely, and they even play a quick game of Mario Kart together, Sara taking note of how squeamish Shin is.

-Sara wakes up to see the lights are on again. She stomps to Keiji’s room again but this time she sees him hurriedly putting away a theory board when she comes in. She doesn’t know and she’s too tired to care. Goodnight Keiji.

-Ranmaru is absent from school the next day. Anzu and Joe are complaining loudly, but Sara for some reason feels a deep pit of dread in her stomach. She excuses herself trying to call him but gets no response. So she pulls Joe aside and tells him she had a dream he died and the last one on one conversation she had with Ranmaru was him asking her if she had a weird dream. Joe agrees that’s kinda weird and they decide to go around looking for answers.

-But first Reko Alice and Sara hangout! They go shopping downtown, and eventually stop at Mai’s bakery to sit down and eat. Throughout the trip Sara notices Reko being uncharacteristically mean to people they run into. Sara questions this before Alice replies that she’s always been like this and Sara must be remembering wrong. Sara can’t help but feel like she’s had this conversation before. On the bright side, Samurai Yaiba got rescheduled and Sara is invited. She gets 4 tickets, one for her, one for Anzu, one for Joe, and one for Ranmaru. She goes back home and tries to speculate on the personality shifts between Reko and Shin.

-It’s Sunday and time for Sara and Joe’s investigation! They meet up at her house, where they play with Gin and chat with Qtaro and Kai, then go off looking for leads, starting with Ranmaru’s apartment which is completely vacant. They track a few leads that go nowhere the final being that they know he would sometimes try to go and start shit with Kurumada so they go ask him and see him talking with Shin and Kanna, so they ask him and Shin for information. They don’t really have anything, and Shin actually says he’s looking for Hinako since she got a little far from him in a crowd. They agree and track her down writing notes again, and explain the situation, but Sara picks up one of the notes. “‘The case for Ranmaru Kageyama’? ‘A non-termination request’? What is thi-“ then she feels a shock at her back and falls over. “Sorry Sara senpai. I’m doing what I can.”

-Sara wakes up back in her room the next day. Was that a dream? She eats breakfast again tuning everything out, remembering how the scene went last week and then she remembers what bothered her so much about last weeks breakfast.

-Keiji didn’t bleed when he cut himself.

-Ranmaru is back in class the next day. Sara runs up to him trying to get answers out of him only to realize he hardly knows her and thinks she’s just a random classmate he’s never talked too. She yells to Joe and Anzu to snap him out of it but they seem to share a similar sentiment. She’s totally lost.

-She goes up to Mishima and asks what her previous art piece she was working on was. He says he doesn’t remember. That’s between her Nao and her own teacher not remembering. What is going on? How could they just forget? Did someone just erase it? Mishima asks if she’d like to see the nurse and she agrees.

-Until she sees the nurse. It’s her. She looks meek and quiet but the second Sara sees her her stomach drops to her shoes. She has to get out of there.

-She runs home- Keiji- Keiji had that theory board, he was saying something about her refusing to go to bed for some reason, and he went cooking to show her he didn’t bleed- he must know something-

-She finds the house empty. She calls for Kai and Gin and Qtaro and Keiji but nobody comes. The theory board- she runs to Keiji’s room and finds it- dolls- AIs- wait what? Everyone here was dolls and AIs? Was she…? She takes a pin from the board and pricks herself but she bleeds… so was everyone else… was this a box meant for her? Why?

-Then suddenly it slams into her brain like a freight train. She remembers what the previous version of the painting was.

-A sea of death. A pool of crimson with her standing above it, like she was somehow walking on top of it.

-“Ah… that’s another attempt miserably failed.”

-She turns around. She sees him. She doesn’t know him and yet she despises this person like mad. “Midori!”

-“You winning the game wasn’t supposed to be so much of a pain. Putting you in this glorified simulation for therapy is so much more trouble than it’s worth, but you were so hysterical otherwise we didn’t have a choice! And Hinako insisting we keep in people who keep cracking the code… we might have to do something about her too… but that’s nothing for you to worry about! Now go to sleep Ms Sara! When you wake up, everything will be fine again.”

[aqricus]

he really would tho 😒 getting all close n personal with you under the excuse of ‘wanting to be closer to you’ when w both know that’s false. and he just barely hides his excitement when he hears you gasp a little when you feel his hand tracing up your outer thigh and stopping to hold your hip. but you can’t say anything, especially when you’re in a fucking meeting. but your mind melts at the feeling of him grabbing and fondling your thighs and ass and whatever akutagawa was saying in response to the conversation just passes through in muffled speech as your brain zones into chuuya finally moving his hand down your panties and oh so gently rubbing your clit, which is just enough to get you even more hot n bothered, hips squirming to meet his touch. “are you alright?” gin asks, luckily on the other side of the table and unable to see what’s going on. “you look sick.” she says, concerned both out the fact that you might be unwell, but also because you might slow down the explanation. “n-no! of course not, i just need to probably just take a breather. lots of info, ya know?” you blab out as you try to ignore chuuya’s fingers prodding at your sweet spot, forcing your eyes to not cross. “alright.” she finishes, clearly unconvinced with what you had to say. but it didn’t matter, you were so close, soclosesoclosesoclose- but then it stopped. you couldn’t give your boyfriend the evil eye while you’re supposed to be focusing on this plan, so you decided to ignore it for now. but little did you know, chuuya just wanted to make you feel how he feels right now, desperate for some well-deserved pleasure. too bad you’ll both have to wait till this thing ends. - 💋

HE WOULDDD HE’S SUCH A LITTLE SHIT

nobody would be able to tell, either. he’d look so nonchalant, zero emotion on his face as he squeezes slowly at your thighs and hip and traces his fingers over your ass. whole time, he’d be partially bricked up, eyebrows twitching when his dick continues to harden at the feeling of your clit throbbing under his fingertips and your arousal beginning to seep into your panties. he’d think it isn’t fair for you to be so oblivious, so at peace while his professional thoughts are gradually being invaded by ideas of bending you over the counter at home and spreading you open on the table to devour you whole. but, it’s not all horrible, because when he finally gets you alone, you’ll be so sensitive and worked-up that you’ll be cumming real easy on his cock.

[naoreco]

ruby naoreco's YTTD research log

i have played yttd chapter 3 part 1B almost five times and each time it has chipped off more of my mental wellbeing. here are a lot of tidbits i’ve found along the way! 

(BE WARNED, THIS IS LONG. it’s also written under the assumption that readers have played at least once)

SPOILERS FOR YOUR TURN TO DIE: CHAPTER 3, PART 1-B!!! 

FIRST, SOME MYTHBUSTING:

the yabusames always die when you’re on shin’s route, sadly! even if you fail the conduit puzzle that gets ranmaru killed, his collar only goes off right after he’s killed your sibling of choice

kurumada is always saveable provided you don’t take too long to reconcile with maple! the route will progress pretty the same if you mess it up; it’s just when the dolls are about to go back in their coffins that his body finally gives in, and even then it’s said that he could still be saved

notably, these are the only two dolls with delayed deaths! the other dolls you can kill across 3-1 as a whole just die instantly

NEXT, THE BANQUET AND WHAT IT MEANS FOR THE DOLLS:

depending on your choices of coffin: hayasaka, kurumada or mai can be your surviving doll! namely:

hayasaka if you pick a coffin without a hint on your first shot, and a coffin without a hint on your second shot

kurumada if you pick the coffin with the hint on your first shot, and a coffin without a hint on your second shot

mai if you pick a coffin without a hint on your first shot, and then go back to the first hinted coffin on your second.

(if mai survives, qtaro will show relief in his doll reveal that both gin and mai got out. in the same vein, if she dies in the second maple fight, her final words are her apologizing to qtaro. what a fatal stabbing will do to a mf!)

anyways, the other dolls have no such privileges: hinako has to die for it to be revealed that she’s a human, midori always kills anzu when you bargain for more time to save gin, and you always shoot ranmaru’s coffin after

therefore, it’s possible to have a run where you kill every single doll. for the dead ones, their bodies are just placed in the coffin! (note that anzu and hayasaka are alive by default if you start a save by part, so you’d need an existing save where they died.)

the less characters are alive, the easier the banquet is, as important statements just get passed on to other survivors and there are less to sift through! but it’s pretty lonely. no doll says goodbye if there’s nobody left :(

SOME OTHER BANQUET OBSERVATIONS:

alice is the one who points out what his first trial was (only on an alice+kanna route, obviously). he’s very regretful about killing the real hinako, as he had just walked out of the room without thinking about it, and calls himself “the worst” because of it </3

idk if anyone had the heart to try but i forced myself for science: you physically can't kill gin when you have the final choice between him and midori, keiji tells you not to do it

generally if you make a choice that's not advisable you're forced to change your decision to something specific! so don’t worry if you’re not keeping track of choices for the most part

GAME OVERS:

as most of your minigame failures kill dolls instead of sara, there are only two you can get in this part! they are:

if you take too long to get the ID out of maple before you have to reconcile as a team, she unleashes an attack that causes some debris to fall on sara’s head and then she dies.

if you have too many gravity increases in the locker lantern puzzle, sara is pulled to the ceiling as she tries to reach for gin and she dies. (it’s unclear if gin does too, but...)

both of these have a special CG, which you can find on the wiki if you’re curious

and now for some less important but still fun tidbits!

THE SHIN AI:

if anyone was too suspicious to try midori’s fake ID, that’s alright! all it does is show you screen upon screen of shin smiling towards the camera because midori’s a freak

this embarrasses both shin and the shin AI greatly, and on his route you can point out that they’re good pictures. he goes “...gh...” if you do he’s very embarrassed.

kanna is just relieved that it’s a good trap. which it technically is that time, as nobody is in the locker room, and also those pictures are really cute

YANDERES RUINED MY LIFE:

if ranmaru dies by explosion on shin's route, his last words are about how he wanted to win with sara; on kanna's route it's him being confused and horrified and trying to explain that he didn’t betray them... before it blows his sheepy head into smithereens

did you know the fucked up and evil ransara scene doesn’t happen on kanna’s route and there’s a cg of sara crying instead? did you know there’s a fucked up evil ransara scene on the shin route? i just think that difference is interesting because it sets up what ranmaru does after he locks keiji up

i also think it's interesting how in kanna's route, it's ranmaru who points out that keiji escaped from the coffin after sara signs the consent form, but in shin's route he objects enough where shin asks why he doesn't want sara to have hope

LITERALLY USELESS INFO BUT THESE ARE FUNNY:

if you say maple has bad taste while you’re trying to get info out of her, maple chides you because there are some stuff you shouldn’t say and then ranmaru tries to save the situation by saying “s-so what if others don’t understand?! love, uh... it’s just like that... right...? ᶦ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ...ˀ”

each person has a unique line for if they pass out during the conduit puzzle; i assume sara’s is a little more in-depth given she’s the one you play as, but i’ve only tested it with her and hinako

there are seven different lines of ranmaru struggling if you select to not press the switch while he’s hoisting sara up. his last one “sara...! hurry...!”, repeats after you hear it the first time

if you wait it out enough when you’re going up the elevator to floor 5 with keiji, he starts to fall asleep, wonders what he’s waiting for, and then your only option is to go up

if you say you want to get miso soup from the drink machine with shin, he gets excited, and then gets angry when he finds out there isn’t any. he’s like “i’m gonna get corn potage you can have hot water or something :/”

with kanna, if you say not to get drinks, sara says it isn’t the time and kanna is like :’( “r-right... ᶜᵒᶜᵒᵃ...” and sara relents

anzu’s coffin goes through so much. if it isn’t crushed by her death in 3-1A it gets crushed when maple explodes on it

on a kanna route, both alice and reko can sing the song they used to sing together as kids at kurumada’s request! it’s so 💖💖💖💖

[djmarinizelablog]

Levihan, Fluff 11? Please, again? Lol

#11.) Levihan, Fluff: “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…” I think I was drunk when I wrote this draft, so, uhm, my apologies.

Summary: Levi is dead, dead, dead, and he is very, very confused. Crack fic, beware.

Rating: M

Only the Good Stories Remain

Levi thinks he’s a goner; his butt has been kicked by that stupid monkey because Zeke—fucking—Yeager pulled the pin of the thunderspear. Waiting sure makes revenge more satisfying. He wants to say, “A shithead like you has no one on your side.” He wants to chop him up with the Executioner from Hell and feed him to the dogs of Marley. Like bad boys with their bad toys, because sticks and stones may break his bones but whips and chains excite him. Zackley is in the corner, using his torture device on Pixis and Nile. Once he’s done, the Prime Commander sets them all on fire, and Levi thinks this is okay. Hands off, Chief. If Zackley ever touches his face, Levi’s gonna break his bones. He almost had it all, but what they gave him was his angst. He is just the right kind of lost, like a sour, wrinkly grape waiting to rot. It’s him, a painful death, and all the heroic stories in between. But heroism is also a deadly flaw. Like hubris or vanity or snorting soap suds to calm him down. That’s why he thinks he should do away with it. There is something wrong about him so he looks down and sees himself naked. His nose twitches. Somebody comes up to him and grunts, “Fancy, huh?” He glances to the side and sees Farlan and Isabel. They’re cleaning and scrubbing every inch of him. “The fuck you’re doing?” Isabel laughs and splashes an entire bucket of tea onto him, upset that he’s held it the wrong way all these years. He stares down the cup and sees his reflection: it’s a sad blob of smoke and blood. The handle is more fragile than his ego. Behind him, his horse is whinnying; it’s wild and free and the next thing it does is a somersault in the air with his ODM gear. It spins in the air, just like what he does when he’s slashing at Titans in full rage. And then the horse transforms into Erwin without notice. There's no mistaking that blond hair, blue eyes and eyebrows thick as worms. “Erwin, what the hell?” The Commander is running to him with a huge pastry the size of his thigh. “I’m here to keep you high.” He turns around and sees Erwin covered in cream and chocolate. “Surprise, I’m the pastry.” Levi is disgusted and his face does not hide it. But he still wants to bite it even though he might choke on that. It probably tastes like wild berries and bratwurst. Or beef jerky. And all that Levi does is imagine. Pretend he’s not a 30-year-old man who hangs out with teenagers because all his friends are dead. It’s like when they say the history is written by the winners—stories don’t grow in Paradis; they come out of Marley’s ass. Put that on loop and you’ll get a new season. Out of nowhere, Mike keeps on sniffing him; he doesn’t know why but he knows he smells of grapefruit and mint. The next thing he knows is Mike sneezing like it’s the end of the world. He keeps wheezing until Wall Maria falls once again, and then it topples over Sina and Rose. “Oh my god,” Sina blurts out from the afterlife. “Did you mean goddesses?” Rose flips her hair and winks. Oh my us, indeed. Next to him, Nanaba is laughing out loud. She’s a blonde version of Levi, but her hair makes her look like a banana. Maybe that’s why her name is like that. He believes blondies on board do the trick; they’ve all developed a kink for napes. It’s an awkward question if he asks her to confirm that. But he’s waiting for secrets to come out. Blondies should die their hair a different color so people don’t think they’re dumb. And now Levi’s tired because all of his rabid fangirls are trying to ship him with anyone and everyone; he doesn't have enough holes for that. He wants to strangle them all with his cravat. But nobody really dies a virgin because life fucks them all. He’d rather break their bones because they have 213 of those. Nothing here makes sense, he says, seeing Kenny and Kuchel run around chasing knives. His mother is angry at Kenny for raising Levi like a homeless rabbit. So she skins her own brother alive with a backhand grip. And now they’re even, his Ackerman clan. Maybe it’s all about riding out the pain. Or just getting high. It’s a shit show. “Heya, midget!

Shit happens, right?” Kenny spits out the apple seeds from his mouth. “Don’t listen to him, baby.” His mother puts a finger on her lips, but Levi says, "I'm not a baby anymore." He might be growing old but he refuses to grow up and the dead just keep popping out of the dark like daisies. Lynne and Henning are beside Gelgar chugging mugs and mugs of beer. Bizarre and off the wall. He’s mad because nobody gave him an invitation to drink. And now the drinks are on him. Somebody’s throwing up in the back, it might be Kenny or his mother. But it’s actually Sasha, who choked on an entire potato because it wouldn’t fit inside her mouth. She throws up and all kinds of titans come out of her mouth. But they don’t eat anyone; instead they just crawl to the ground with their faces flat in the mud like Rod Reiss did. Even Rod Reiss says hi but Levi doesn’t give a shit. He can keep his face down in shit for all he cares. It’s like dreaming that he’s Historia and Eren is the person who got her pregnant. There’s too much riding and moaning for horny kids and he’s only got sore joints and eyebags from being a veteran. Petra is spanking Oluo for imitating him again. Watch her back; it might break again. The girl acts like a wife to this copycat avocado. Everything is like fish sauce and gin; they don’t make sauce but you still want to hear about it. Gunther is doing bondage with the harnesses, and it excites him, but now he doesn’t know how to free himself from it. “O Captain, My Captain,” Eld says, as if he’s reciting some lines out of a play or a poem. But that does not stop him because Levi cannot appreciate art. He thinks art is for fuckers who think they’ve achieved something good in life. Why be normal when he can be fab? He’d rather be something than nothing. Erwin’s voice is booming. “Do you believe in it?” His bolo tie is slipping. “Do you, do you, do you?” Erwin’s voice keeps repeating: do you, do you, do you, do you, until Levi himself finally has had enough and says, “Fuck this, get out of my head.”

“...Levi?”

Hange is looking at him. There’s no one else around. It’s just them, a bonfire, a tent, splintered wood, and a cart of supplies in the forest, and he’s fucking naked and there are bandages around his face.

Oh, and his fingers are missing.

“We’re all good here, right?”

Hange nods, slowly. “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

“What?”

“...Maybe rest some more?” Hange puts their hands on his shoulders and gently pushes him down the mat.

It’s like camping. In the midst of war. And they’re out here, roasting marshmallows with his hand that has two less fingers. But he’ll be fine, who knows?

Then the cart explodes right behind them.

[t0sshii]

Thank you, Gintama. For everything.

Under the cut are just my personal feelings and experiences with the show.

I really wanted to post something somewhere in celebration for the release of Gintama: The Final. I’m not so good at making edits but I decided to whip this up for this particular post. 

Gintama has affected me in a way no series has done in a very long time. During my time in college, I sort of drifted away from watching anime (which I had been doing since I was 10) just from not having enough time because of school, work, and trying to become a somewhat functioning adult. And by the time I graduated, I sort of thought I outgrew it. 

I mentioned this in my blog once before, but I am currently a nurse working in a hospital. This is my first nursing job, which started in March. I moved out of my home state, got an apartment by myself, and–like many of the graduates at the time–was excited to start my new life as a “working adult.” Then COVID-19 hit and everything just kind of went down the drain. I knew nobody here prior to moving out so quarantine was really difficult for me (I quickly found out the difference between being alone and being lonely). 

Work was hard. Work was stressful. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had (and still struggle with) imposter syndrome at work. I felt like an idiot, like trash, like I didn’t deserve to be there, wallowing in guilt as I thought I stole a spot from some other nurse more deserving of this position than me. I looked like—and I’m not exaggerating—complete garbage because I was sobbing in my car after work every day. I felt—for the first time in a very long time—completely and utterly alone. I could still talk to friends and family over the phone (which without that, I would have gone completely off the deep end) but when the calls ended, I was left with just me and my thoughts. 

And then I stumbled across a video on Youtube. 

I laughed so hard there were tears. Genuine smiles. Genuine laughter and joy (Joui)…just happiness and distraction. I had to have more. I had to watch this. I needed more of this. 

I found myself rushing home to watch the show, staying up late just so I can laugh as Mayora 13 made his action debut on the small screen (A.K.A. my laptop screen lol). I was escaping to Edo…where there was no COVID-19, no feelings of inadequacy, no tearful sobs heard only by my car’s engine. The wetness on my cheeks dried as I watched a silver-permed samurai did all he could just to live a life where he could goof off with his friends. The quietness of my once slightly melancholy, lonely apartment was broken by giggles that turned into loud laughter as I saw Gin-san and co. get into the wildest situations. Everything about the series–the funny parts, the sentimental parts, the drama, the action–had me hooked. 

It was nice having something to look forward to after work and slowly everything fell into place. I actually sought professional mental help. I continued to watch Gintama and I finished it by the end of my residency. Long story short, things are a lot better now and while I still struggle with my imposter syndrome at work, I don’t cry anymore. And it’s weird, but new hires keep asking me questions and I answer them… but on the inside I’m always like “Is this allowed? Should you really be asking me?” And I’m less lonely now. 

So anyway… 

Thank you, Sorachi-sensei for making this series. Thank you to everyone involved in bringing this amazing, chaotic, stupid show to life. Because without it, I know I wouldn’t be where I am today. The show has got me through a really rough patch where I genuinely wanted to quit my job every day, throw away all the time, the tears, the stress I gave just to get my damn nursing license. So thank you, Gintama, for opening up the tightly shut windows in my lonely heart for bits and moments of happiness to leak through. Sometimes, I regret not starting this series as a teenager during its prime, but I think I found Gintama at the right time for me. I’ve never really felt this strongly about a show before, but I’m really glad that I do for this one. 

Thank you if you read all the way to the end! And just know my asks are always open if you need someone to talk to. 

Sorry for the long rant? I just felt the need to post this today.

[officialsporkintheroad]

Oooh Gin n Tonic for the soulmate ficlet!

(Author’s Note: OKAY so this one got away from me--it’s almost 3k words. It’s a little darker/sadder than I thought it would be--I started off with Power Couple vibes, and then it became canon compliant, so obvi that didn’t quite happen. Ginny’s still a bad bitch tho. Thanks for the prompt and I hope you like <3)

SEND ME A HARRY POTTER RARE-PAIR FOR SOULMATE AU FICLET

TW: brief & mild self-harm, depression, off-screen attempted murder, minor character death

**********

Here’s the thing.

By the time Ginevra Weasley is born, there are six other Weasley children already. It’s hard enough to distinguish yourself when you’re poor, when your family name is synonymous with Blood Traitors in some circles and Pity in others, when everything you own is second-hand and handed-down and usedbrokendirty. It’s even harder knowing half her siblings will make a name for themselves before she’s even out of nappies.

Bill is the most talented. Charlie, the most fearless. Percy is the smartest. The twins are funny and inventive to a degree that’s nearly unbeatable. Even Ron is the best at chess, the best at strategy.

What’s left for me, she wonders.

But when she’s old enough to understand soulmarks, old enough to read them, she realizes that magic herself has marked her as different. Nobody in her family two sets of words the way she does.

 ********** 

Here’s the thing.

Tom Riddle is born to nothing but the name falling from his dying mother’s lips, but even in a sea of orphans, he is extraordinary. First, because he is a pretty child. Then because is so very bright. And later—though not much later, because as noted, he is extraordinary—because of his magic.

And because, unlike the other children at Wool’s, there is a string of words winding around his wrist in narrow script that read, “I wish someone would see me instead of my family.”

Soulmarks. That’s what Professor Dumbledore calls them when he visits, when he explains magic and Hogwarts and the words his soulmate will one day say to him.

“Someone made just for me,” Tom mutters under his breath, enchanted by the idea. Someone who will understand him wholly and completely, who will be his entirely—

“Well,” Dumbledore says, and he has a strange, cold look in his steely eyes. “Not all soulmates work out.”

Tom gets the impression Dumbledore might not like him very much, and that’s before the man sets his wardrobe on fire.

Still, before Dumbledore leaves, Tom asks one more question.

“Sir. Do people only have one soulmate?”

Dumbledore pauses, assesses Tom. “Almost always.”

Tom nods quietly and lets the old man leave.

(There’s a second set of words in a more elegant script above Tom’s left hip that read, “It’s always you, isn’t it?” Another sign that he’s more than the wizards around him—two soulmarks instead of the usual one—but Tom doesn’t tell anyone about them. Not yet.)

 ********** 

When Ginny meets Harry Potter—for only a split second just outside platform 9 ¾ —she hopes it will be him. Probably lots of people hope Harry Potter will speak their words; he’s a hero and he has the prettiest green eyes and the nicest smile. He doesn’t speak to her then, and she’s too shy to say anything, and that means there’s still a chance.

Still a chance when Harry Potter comes to visit the next summer.

But of course, then he waves and says a cheery, “Hello!”

Ginny freezes, turns and all but runs back up the stairs. Neither of her marks is a simple, “Hello.”

For the next few days, weeks, she wallows a bit in her disappointment. Harry Potter is not her soulmate.

The excitement of Hogwarts dulls the hurt of her doomed crush, though, right up until she puts on the sorting hat and it says, “Another Weasley.”

And in the Gryffindor girls’ dorms late that night, having unpacked and found a strange, blank diary that she doesn’t remember buying, Ginny writes down the thought that’s been plaguing her practically from the moment she was born.

“I wish someone would see me instead of my family.”

She doesn’t expect the book to write back.

“I see you.”

She stares at the words, the pretty, delicate script, for only a moment, and then she’s running to the bathroom, wrenching her nightgown down off her shoulder because even though she’s looked every day since she learned to read, she has to be sure.

“Those are my words,” she whispers to herself, vaguely aware she’s nearly hyperventilating. She all but runs back to the book—her soulmate is a book?—and writes more.

“I’m Ginevra Weasley, though I go by Ginny. Who are you?”

 ********** 

When Tom Riddle is 16 and overconfident and proud and desperate to prove himself, he opens the Chamber of Secrets and inadvertently kills Myrtle Warren.

Waste not, want not, he thinks. The girl’s death might have been a bit of an accident—he’d planned to kill someone, if not her specifically, and perhaps not right now—but that won’t matter for the ritual he has planned.

When he makes his first horcrux, he feels as though he’s being split apart. The agony is blinding, burning. But eventually it fades and he hauls himself up, dusts himself off, and sneaks back into the Slytherin dormitories.

It’s only the next morning that he realizes the soulmark on his wrist is gone. Not burned off. Not faded to gray the way they do when your soulmate has died. It’s as if it never existed.

(The one on his hip remains unchanged.)

Ultimately, he decides, it’s of little consequence. Soulmates are a childish fancy that had appealed to him when he was an orphan nobody. Now, Lord Voldemort is on the horizon—a grander image for himself that will elevate him beyond the paltry frivolities of mortal men.

He doesn’t linger on this loss, or what it might mean for his soul.

********** 

Ginny wakes up on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, soaked to the bone in filthy water, Harry Potter bleeding profusely beside her. The diary—Tom—is on the floor, a huge hole gaping on the front cover.

He tried to kill me, Ginny realizes, a sick feeling in her stomach. Tom had possessed her for months, had made her kill chickens and set the basilisk on muggleborns, had dragged her down to the Chamber so he could suck the life out of her. And now he’s dead.

At first, there’s nothing but the relief of surviving, tinged with bitterness and a vile, betrayed feeling in her gut. The idea of telling anyone that her soulmate was Tom—was Voldemort, as it turns out—makes her throw up. And then, of course, it occurs to her that no one has to know.

It would be better if no one knew.

She keeps that tidbit to herself, even with the anger and the grief. Everyone attributes her moods to the fact that she nearly died, but eventually they stop worrying so much. Eventually they leave her alone.

The mark on her shoulder—“I see you.”—once black, now has faded to a pale gray. So light it’s nearly invisible to anyone else.

The other mark is fine.

********** 

Ginny throws herself into her life with the energy of a person who knows what it means to die. Where she was quiet and shy before—always overwhelmed and overshadowed by her siblings—she’s now loud and bright and fearless. If Tom has taught her anything, it’s that nobody else is going to come along and make her great. That’s something she’s going to have to do for herself.

So she tries. She makes friends with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. She studies hard, makes sure she answers questions in class. She goes to the tri-wizard ball her third year with a nice boy named Michael Corner who is not her soulmate. She dances and she has fun and he doesn’t try to kill her, so it’s a win.

She thinks she might finally be getting the hang of things.

Of course, that’s when Voldemort resurrects himself.

Harry lands in the stadium, sobbing and clinging to Cedric Diggory’s body, and suddenly the sick feeling from the Chamber is back.

 **********

Cedric Diggory was Harry Potter’s soulmate.

Ginny learns this late at night at Grimmauld Place because dreams of the Chamber and Tom are keeping her awake and when she goes to make a cup of tea, she finds Harry at the table, staring blankly in the dark.

The clock reads 2 a.m.

“I barely got to know him, and he’s gone,” Harry says, voice ragged from crying. “And it’s my fault—”

“It’s Tom’s fault,” Ginny snaps. Not her Tom, really, but they’re the same enough. Both murderers and jackasses as far as she’s concerned.

Harry looks up at her, wide green eyes, and she realizes that no one else has told him he’s not to blame. Not for Voldemort coming back, or for Cedric dying. She wonders if anyone else even knows that they were soulmates.

Maybe that’s what prompts her to tell him.

“Tom was mine.” The words taste like ash, scrape up her throat and leave her feeling raw. “The diary. He was my soulmate.”

She shows him the grayed-out words on her shoulder.

“Fuck,” Harry chokes out eventually. “That’s…”

There really aren’t words for this.

“It’s all fucked,” she agrees.

Her tea is scalding and soothing and not nearly enough. But she’s been here for months; she knows where Sirius has been hiding the good stuff from her mom. She reaches into the false bottom of the china cabinet, pulls out a bottle of Ogdens, and pours a shot into her tea.

Harry raises a brow, but she just shrugs.

“I think we’ve earned it, don’t you?”

He takes the shot she pours for him, and there’s a silent promise that they won’t talk about this. Not with anyone else.

**********

She shouldn’t have come here.

That’s what she thinks, standing in the Department of Mysteries, in the Hall of Prophecies. One moment, they’re looking for Sirius, and then Lucius fucking Malfoy is there, and Bellatrix Lestrange, and a handful of other Death Eaters, and Ginny knows they’ve stumbled into a trap they’re not getting out of unscathed.

Harry was holding the prophecy, but sometime between him taunting Malfoy and when they all send out a simultaneous stupefy, she feels him slide it into her pocket. It takes less than a second for her to understand. They’ll think Harry has it, and even when it inevitably comes out that he doesn’t, Ron and Hermione will be the next obvious choices. Ginny is unexpected; Ginny can keep it safe.

They scatter, each one of them running in a different direction. Ginny’s dodging spells left and right, tossing hexes over her shoulder. She’s always had a fair amount of power, but the DA has honed her skills in a way they never were before. She lands more hits than she expects, hears the belligerent cursing of the man behind her when a well-placed diffindo makes him stumble. She can’t look back and see the damage herself—that would be stupid and she can’t afford to give up her meager lead—but she tosses a reducto and listens as the walls collapse.

She has three seconds to be proud of herself before it all goes to shit.

Somehow they all end up back in the same room—a strange one with a pale, shimmering archway standing in the middle—and then they’re surrounded: Death Eaters on all sides.

Voldemort himself strides forward from the darkness. He’s tall and pale and snake-like, but those movements, that grace, are all Tom.

The room is too cool and dark and for a moment, she’s back in the Chamber, she’s fading, she’s dying, she’s staring up at Tom’s face, twisted into a mocking, cruel smile that she’ll never forget as long as she lives.

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort says, breaking her out of her memory. “And I see you’ve brought your useless friends.”

There’s a split second of nothing, and then Harry’s clutching at his scar, screaming. Ginny is distantly aware of Ron helping to catch him, but she won’t be distracted now. She keeps her wand level, steady, and aimed at Voldemort.

That’s why she sees when his gaze shifts to her: red and piercing and horrid.

“Don’t be stupid, girl. Give it here,” he says, words half-hissed, and he holds out his hand for the prophecy.

She stares at him. Stares, and then laughs. It’s something manic and bitter and this is not the time, but she can’t help it. Fuck.

Because those are her other words, the ones etched across her ribcage.

(When she was younger—before the Chamber incident—she’d never liked these words as well as the other set. Her soulmate was calling her stupid, for one thing, and seemed demanding to boot. After Tom and the basilisk and nearly dying, she’d looked at these words with the last shred of hope she had left. She’d hoped, first impressions aside, that maybe this person would be the one to love her. Maybe this person she’d be allowed to keep.)

What a fucking joke.

“It’s always you, isn’t it?” she spits and has the joy of watching Lord Voldemort freeze on the spot.

She has managed to strike him speechless. It’s almost enough of an advantage.

But in the end—Ginny is starting to think some things are inevitable—Voldemort and his Death Eaters rally, the Order of the Phoenix shows up to save the day, the prophecy shatters, Sirius dies.

********** 

Back in the safety of Hogwarts, of the Hospital Wing, Ginny puts her fist through a mirror.

Then she takes one of the shards to the words on her ribcage, tries to scrape them off.

Madam Pomfrey has to stop her, has to restrain her to the bed while she heals the bleeding wound.

The mark stays. It’s magic, her soulmark; it goes deeper than the skin.

*********** 

Voldemort sits in his study in Malfoy Manor.

The prophecy is destroyed. Harry Potter has escaped. The Minister, idiot that he is, won’t be able to deny Voldemort’s presence now that he’s seen him firsthand.

It has been a shite evening, in short.

Then there is the matter of his soulmate. Ginevra Weasley.

“It’s always you, isn’t it?”

Even his new body, freshly formed out of the cauldron, had borne those words. The ones that, no matter how many horcruxes he’d made, had stayed firmly printed above his hip. Years ago, he’d thought they would disappear when he made the ring, then the cup, the locket. He’d wondered why he lost those first words but not the second set.

Now, of course, it all makes sense.

Well. He’s still not quite sure why magic has deemed some scrawny, red-haired chit deserving of Lord Voldemort.

Draco Malfoy is a well of information. Largely useless information, granted, but information all the same.

She’s a quidditch player, apparently, and—according to Draco—nearly as good a seeker as Potter. She’s got a mean bat-bogey hex and a short temper, but on the whole, she’s a year below Malfoy, so he doesn’t know much.

“Oh, but—” and here the boy pauses, pales, and swallows nervously “—she was…uh…the one who nearly died. In…in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Draco looks like he’s worried Voldemort will curse him for that, but really he’d gotten all—okay, most—of his frustration over that spectacular disaster over with when he’d first heard Lucius had given away his fucking diary.

But he didn’t know Ginevra was the one his horcrux had almost killed.

My horcrux that took my first soulmark, he thinks, and something in the back of his brain clicks.

“It’s always you, isn’t it?” she had said. Always. Because they’d met before.

She was both his marks.

********** 

“I had—have—a second mark,” she tells Harry, because he obviously knows something is up. They’re sitting together up at the astronomy tower. It’s one of those nights where the dreams creep in and she wishes she had the memory of Gryffindor’s sword in her hands. She wishes she’d been the one to kill Tom all those years ago. Wishes she could kill Voldemort now.

But that, apparently, is Harry’s job.

Despite the fact that she’s pretty sure he’s already guessed the truth, and despite the fact that she knows he won’t judge her for it—he didn’t judge her for Tom, he won’t judge her now—she can’t stand to say it aloud.

She shows him the words on her side instead.

Don’t be stupid, girl. Give it here.

“I…I tried to get rid of them,” she whispers into the night when the silence stretches too long. “Why is it him?”

Harry wraps her in a hug that’s just shy of smothering.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m so fucking sorry.”

**********

Dumbledore is dead. It’s only a matter of time before the ministry falls. Lord Voldemort is more powerful now than he’s ever been.

He can’t stop looking at his soulmark.

It is ridiculous, he tries to tell himself. Lord Voldemort has no use for a soulmate, no want for one either. And certainly not one that’s a mudblood-loving bint fighting for the enemy.

He should kill her and be done with it. It’s not as though he can just leave her be.

But.

But for all that Voldemort has remade himself into something near-godly, there is still an orphan boy somewhere inside of him that used to steal the things he coveted, that used to collect what little treasures could be found in Wool’s and keep them close.

Once, he saw his soulmarks and thought, There is someone made to be mine.

And that?

That’s a temptation he cannot quite pass up.

[smallheathgangsters]

The girl in the yellow dress.

A/N: I’m like the cavarly. Late as usual. But in the end, better late than never, right?? Sophie @maggiescarborough​, I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to post this on your birthday! I still hope you enjoy this little piece of writing I did for you! 💛 And a big thank you goes to @hecohansen31 for organising all of this!

Personalised Shelby!sis fic

Word Count: 1330

Type: just some fun and laughter

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sophie wasn’t one to go out socialising and drinking very often. The noise and the drunk people just simply didn’t appeal to her at all. But today as an exception. It was Ada’s birthday and there was absolutely no chance of Sophie missing out on her favourite sibling’s party.

Ada and Sophie were only two years apart, giving them the strongest bond two sisters could have. Even though Polly had taken over the motherly role after her real mother’s passing, Sophie had always seen Ada as her protector and caregiver. And Polly had eventually accepted the fact, that she literally had no saying when it came to the younger girl.

It was almost seven when Sophie stepped into the packed Garrison. There was music playing and guests talking and laughing, glasses being clinked together while toasting to a great evening. On any other, Sophie would’ve wanted to turn around and leave the pub immediately, but today she was excited.

“Sophie!”

Ada’s voice was bright and happy and maybe already a little tipsy.

“Oh my god, you look amazing!” Ada exclaimed when she had pushed through the crowd and grabbed her little sister by the upper arms. “Where did you get this dress from?”

Sophie looked down at herself, examining her flowy, yellow dress. “I bought it today, just for tonight.”

Ada pulled Sophie into a big, warm hug. “You’re the cutest! I’m glad you’re here, it wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“Of course, I’d come,” Sophie responded, almost slightly offended by the fact that her sister thought she would ditch her on her birthday.

“I know you don’t feel comfortable at parties,” Ada mumbled. “So, I really appreciate you being here.”

Then, Ada grabbed Sophie by her hand and dragged her towards the bar. Without asking what she wanted, Ada ordered two gins and while Harry prepared their drinks, Sophie let her gaze roam the room. Her entire family was here. John and Arthur were clearly already intoxicated, slurring and singing some songs together, having a blast. Polly was in the corner flirting with a man obviously quite a few years younger than her, while Tommy stood behind the bar, leaning against the wall, observing the festivities.

Suddenly, Sophie felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. “What is a lovely lady like you doing here?”

“Shut up, Isaiah,” Sophie giggled, pushing his arm away from her. She and Isaiah had a great friendship and his favourite activity was to wind her up. And it often worked.

“Trying to get all the male attention in the room, aren’t you?” he teased, pocking playfully into her sides. Sophie quickly grabbed his wrist and gave him warning glace. “Stop it, you know how ticklish I am.”

“Let her be, Isaiah,” Michael chimed in, pulling his best friend away from his cousin. But before he could add something more, Ada cut him off. “She can fend for herself, Michael. And I’m sure she doesn’t mind a little male attention, right sis?”

Sophie rolled her eyes and tried to suppress a scoff. “You are all making it very hard for me to enjoy this evening and you’re not exactly doing a great job convincing me that parties are fun.”

“Oh, come on!” Ada whined, handing Sophie her glass of gin. “Take a sip and your opinion will change soon.”

Sophie let out a chuckle, before moving her eyes away from her sibling. She scanned the groups of men and women gathered around the tables, when suddenly something in the corner or the pub aroused her interest.

“Is that a piano?”

Ada threw a glance over her shoulder towards the object Sophie was so intrigued by and nodded. “Yeah. I was told that some guy found it on the streets somewhere and decided it would be a good idea to bring it here.”

The last part she said in an ironic tone, clearly not very fond of that man’s thought process. But Sophie thought it was amazing, a lovely accent to this mostly rather boring décor.

“Let’s go try it out,” Isaiah, who had been listening to their conversation, suggested with a wide grin on his face. Then, he snaked an arm around Sophie’s waist and guided her to the other end of the room. He sat down on the closest chair to the instrument and moved closer, before propping open the piano top.

In retrospect, Sophie didn’t know what else she should have expected, but Isaiah, being the goofball he was, started hitting on the keys like a maniac, trying to compose the worst sounding melody ever. She knew he was simply trying to annoy the guests, but he especially wanted to press his friend’s buttons. And it worked. Again. After only thirty seconds of pain, Sophie pushed Isaiah off the chair and sat down instead. With the awful sounds he’d created, Isaiah had attracted all the attention of the people in the pub.

“You’re making everyone’s ears bleed,” Sophie commented, while placing her fingers on the white keys.

“Oh, as if you know any better. Or are you like a hidden talent that nobody knew of?”

Isaiah crossed his arms and cocked his left eyebrow.

“I think you’re in for a surprise, Isaiah,” she said with a cheeky tone in her voice. With that, she played the first tone. And then another one. Countless tones followed, slowly creating the most beautiful tune probably anyone in the pub has ever heard.

And while Sophie transformed the room into a fairy-tale, Isaiah stood next to her, his mouth agape, absolutely speechless.

“What the fuck?” she heard him whisper, making the corners of her mouth dance.

The singing had stopped. The drinking and shouting and laughing had stopped. Every single pair of ears and eyes were on the young Shelby girl in the flowy, yellow dress.

Too soon, her song came to an end and she pressed down the last key, letting the sound fade out. Still, everyone and everything was quiet.

“Sophie!”

Ada’s voice was high pitched. And loud.

“Where the bloody hell did you learn that?”

While playing, Sophie felt confident and on top of the world. The way she always did when she sat down in front of a piano. But after, when noticing that she was being pestered with stares, she became a bit shy, feeling the heat crawl up into her cheeks.

“What are you blushing for?” Ada asked, cupping her sister’s face with her soft, slender hands. “That was incredible!”

Little by little her whole family had gathered around Sophie, bombarding her with questions. The one about where she’d learned how to play being the most repeated one.

“You still haven’t told us,” Arthur said, raising his eyebrows.

Sophie sighed and eventually gave in. “A few years ago, I went to school with this boy, Christopher. He started inviting me over to his house from time to time, because I told him about my interest in music and he had a piano at home.”

“Wait–“ John interrupted. “You were seeing a boy without us knowing about it?”

“John, it was all about the music, he had no other–“

“I’m going to kill him.”

“John, you’re not going to do anything,” Polly intervened, placing a warning hand on John’s shoulder.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Sophie sent a helpless look towards her sister and Isaiah, making them both shrug in sync, before moving her eyes back at her older brother. “You’re overreacting. That was like five years ago.”

But John just drunkenly shook his head and kept on murmuring something about how he was going to strangle that poor boy to death.

Sophie let out a laugh, got up from the chair and joined her sister. Before returning to the bar and ordering another drink, she turned to Ada and grabbed her hands lovingly. “Happy Birthday, Ada. I hope you enjoyed my present.”

“Oh, Sophie! How could I not?” Ada replied, quickly blinking away tears of joy.

[idkhow-you-found-me-writing]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690043

summary: “Bill, I’ve been partaking in the most serious process of thinking lately,” Ted confessed, his face sour as if he just finished devouring a whole basket of lemons. Bill gently took Ted’s hands into his. Ted was in total appreciation of that gesture. Small and yet meaningful. Very encouraging. Bill knew exactly how to provide the most resplendent support.

“What is it dude?” He looked somewhat concerned, what Ted guessed, was only fair after such a beginning of conversation. At least now they could match in their state of worry. Bill and Ted, always together.

Beautiful, sunny weather in San Dimas greatly contrasted with thoughts of the most troubling kind that were heavily clouding Ted’s mind.

Ted, just like any other teenager in the world, was in possession of an excessive number of struggles. School, the crushing pressure of being destined to bring world peace, trying to establish if it’s Bill’s turn to sleep at Ted’s or rather Ted’s turn to sleep at Bill’s. Well. There was a slight possibility of some of these being above your average teen struggle level. That was totally besides the point, though. 

The point was that recently Ted started to face a whole other set of difficulties of the most surprising nature. Unexpected disturbances in his everyday life on itself were nothing new at this point, despite all the irony hidden in this statement. However, there was something differentiating the current problem from all the other ones. Something that had never happened to Ted before. He was totally terrified of sharing it with the most cherished boyfriend of his.

It wasn’t like Ted didn’t think Bill would be anything but the most understanding in this, or any, really, situation. Ted knew he would. And yet, that knowledge did nothing to reassure him. In many ways, it only made him feel even more odious for staying silent about it for a whole month now. 

The thing was. It wasn’t the matter of fear of the negative reception. Yes, that would be the most non-non-bogus but Ted already established in his head that it wouldn’t happen. What scared him so much was giving it a sense of realness by speaking about it out loud. As long as nobody knew about his problem, it was totally like it didn’t exist at all. Ted wished he could be just as clueless as everybody else.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t possible. Not now, at least. Not after losing countless nights of sleep over this. And this was exactly why Ted was currently standing before Bill’s house, at eleven p.m., with just enough money for two slushies in his pocket. The front door was locked so he rang the bell two times. As usual, it was Bill who opened the door.

“Ted!” Bill exclaimed, his eyes sparking in excitement. They haven’t seen each other for hours now, after all. He started air-guitaring and Ted instantly joined in. “How’s it hangin’, dude?”

“Wanna go to Circle K with me? I can be the one to pay for our slushies this time”

“My most excellent companion, you knew exactly what I needed right now.” Bill smiled at him and Ted could feel his face getting hotter. It’s been some time now since they started dating but he still couldn’t get used to being called things like this. It felt the most triumphant, to be loved. 

What didn’t feel the most triumphant, however, was the awareness of the utelier motive behind their outing. The thought of it was eating Ted for the whole duration of their trip to the petrol station. Bill must have quickly caught on that something was up if his occasional worried glances were anything to go by. Ted squeezed his hand in reasurance each time. They were going to talk about it in just a moment. 

***

Bill and Ted sat on their usual spot, each holding a beverage of choice in their right hand. For a moment, nobody said anything, the only sounds breaking the silence being cars driving. After the process of devouring the drinks was completed, Ted was ready to speak. He put down the empty cup and directed all of his attention towards Bill. It was the time.

“Bill, I’ve been partaking in the most serious process of thinking lately,” Ted confessed, his face sour as if he just finished devouring a whole basket of lemons. Bill gently took Ted’s hands into his. Ted was in total appreciation of that gesture. Small and yet meaningful. Very encouraging. Bill knew exactly how to provide the most resplendent support. 

“What is it dude?” He looked somewhat concerned, what Ted guessed, was only fair after such a beginning of conversation. At least now they could match in their state of worry. Bill and Ted, always together.

“Remember when you told me how you are a dude, not a babe?” Bill only nodded, not wanting to disturb the other. Just like Ted stated a very second ago, the most encouraging. So far everything was going stellar. “I’ve noticed that living as a dude is a totally unsatisfactory experience for me. But the prospects of being a babe doesn’t sound the most joycefull either.”

Ted’s shoulders sagged in contempt. Captain Logan was right, there must be something wrong with him. Maybe he shouldn’t have-.

Bill managed to stop Ted’s non-non-odious train of thoughts before it completely got out of hand by hugging him firmly. Ted immediately leaned into the embrace, sticking his face into the space between Bill’s neck and shoulder. For a moment, the whole world, along with the time, ceased to exist. There was no past, no future. Only now, here in each other’s arms. 

After a while that felt like an eternity but most probably took about no more than 5 minutes, Ted found himself calm again. He considered moving away for a second but ultimately decided against it. He nuzzled against Bill’s neck to reach the height of comfort. Bill, knowing too well what the most outstanding colleague of his was doing, started playing with his hair. Ted almost forgot about what he even had been panicking about.

“Dud-, I mean Ted, It’s totally triumphant if you aren’t a dude. Or a babe. You hear me, Ted?” Bill tightened the hug again. Ted was almost sure he was about to cry but the reasoning behind it left him clueless. “You are still the most excellent without being any of these, okay? You just have to be you. That’s it.”

Ted wasn’t crying. He was not. Just. Sniffing a little. Nothing serious or worth noting. With a tear or two escaping his eyes. Okay, no. He was fully sobbing at this point. Ted had no idea how much he needed to hear those words.

“It’s totally cool, the most esteemed partner of mine. I’m here with you.” Bill let the silence take over for a second. Perhaps there was a way of helping Ted in this perplexing discovery of self. Bill kissed his companion on the head. He had an idea how to do just that. 

“You know how I started visiting the library when I realised I might not be a babe, right?” A low hum near his ear, “I found that I could be a dude, however there were also saying that they are neither of those and it’s the most bodacious too. You want to go there to read about all of this?” A very excited nod, “That's stellar, Ted. We can go tomorrow if you’d like..”

“No way, dude! I totally had no idea it was in the realm of possibility. You brought some non-non-non-egregious news to me. We should totally go there.” Ted was able to find his voice again. Everything was always so easy with Bill. Despite just being done with crying, Ted could feel his heart swelling with emotions once more. He quickly kissed Bill on both of his cheeks and air-guitared. Now, much better. 

“Yes way! I'm gonna pick you up at noon and later eat dinner at my place. Missy made an oath to prepare the most unrivalled meal.” Ted happiness was, as per usual, the most effortless to get affected by. With his smile brighter than a sun and blush apparent on his face, Ted simply looked too dazzling like this. Bill couldn’t help but kiss him on the nose. Ted’s blush became three shades darker. Stellar. Bill started air-guitaring and Ted joined right in. “Oh, I have a question of the utmost importance, can I still call you a dude, Ted?”

“I don’t know yet, dude. It’s still totally new to me.” Ted's face became sour again. Being now in a position to choose things like this sounded like a lot of responsibility- something Ted historically, in every sense of this word, hadn't been adequate at. "Right now it brings me rather bogus thoughts."

Bill nodded sincerely, totally understanding the situation.

“No problem, my most treasured pardner.” Bill ginned wildly, forgetting about the supposed seriousness of this moment in less than a second. He was used to calling Ted one, however that didn’t mean things couldn’t change. That scored him another smooch, this time on the lips. “We can also look for some new ways to address you. That way nobody will think you're a dude when I talk about you. I think people called them neon pronouns.”

“That's the most triumphant idea, Bill. I've never been this excited at the thought of going to the library. Or at all, really.”

“Fuck yeah. I think you could totally rock even the most neon of pronouns, Ted.”

Ted giggled at that. Everything was always so easy with Bill. But nothing could be easier than loving him.

[annelim]

Annie is buzzed.

When she’d ordered the first gin and tonic, the man taking her order had paid her no mind; now, a few in, he simply blinked at her momentarily, as if trying to gauge if she was a functioning alcoholic or simply having a bad day. When her dad, perched across from her at their table in Prune with his glasses resting on his nose as he surveyed the menu, ordered his usual “soda water, please”, the man at once seemed to have decided they were collectively a lost cause, and went about fetching their drinks and putting in their orders--too much food for either of them to consume in one sitting. All of her mom’s favorite things, for her birthday.

And so Annie is buzzed, now. 

Pressed into her knees are tiny shards of grass from the freshly-mown lawn of the cemetery Melinda Lim’s ashes lay at rest within. She can still feel the faint remnants of cool Earth against her skin, like a phantom limb. 

Annie takes a generous sip of her gin and tonic. 

…

She was newly-twelve when Melinda was diagnosed. She remembers this now, distinctly, because it was nearly Halloween, and Halloween, to Melinda and Annie Lim, was tantamount to Christmas for many other families. And while Annie was decidedly old enough at this point to find dressing up a bit overrated, she still planned to, even if she was simply to be sitting on the porch handing out candy to the children in their neighborhood with her mom. They would coordinate costumes. They would designate a theme. There would likely be glue guns and crafting supplies involved. Annie had ideas. 

She remembers walking into the sound of her dad’s murmurs in the living room. She remembers calling out. She remembers both of her parents sitting on the couch. She remembers being excited about that fact. Her dad home, her mom there. She remembers feeling, for one fleeting moment, that everything she could ever need was right here in front of her.

This is a very childish thing to think, of course, and Annie, at newly-twelve, should perhaps not have been thinking it. 

In the flurry of first appointments and the cataclysmic re-shifting of priorities, Annie never brought the upcoming holiday up. She’d simply decided what they would do, and went about procuring what was required. That morning, she informed her mom, and the pair suited up--cat ears and sunglasses and whiskers lovingly and tenderly drawn upon each other’s cheeks with Melinda’s eyeliner, worn the entire day. Cool cats. 

Now, she looks back and tries to remember that time of her life as anything other than the beginning of an end. 

… 

Annie is buzzed. 

Her dad is talking to her, but she feels like less of a receptive entity, less of a captive audience, and more of an amorphous blob that’s simply existing at the mercy of the universe. She had tried and failed to express those exact feelings to the counselor her dad had made her see for about three years after Melinda’s death, until he was satisfied with the idea that Annie felt okay. Okay enough that she wasn’t going to do anything. Okay enough that she was going to grow up relatively unscathed. And she is, largely. She is very happy. She is very lucky. Her life is unfolding before her, her future nearly-blindingly bright. There is a void, a chasm she sometimes carries, but largely, it is concealed even to her. Today it just so happens to not be. Today it is an open wound. 

Her dad is asking her about work. The waiter will be coming with the bill shortly. Between the two of them sits about eight plates of food, all largely untouched except for one or two bites. Ted will eat the leftovers for a week and a half, probably. Annie clears her throat, offers some anecdotes about a client she’s attempting to woo, about all the preliminary concepts she’s sketched. The Earth continues to turn. 

...

The entire process of Melinda Lim dying was really very clinical. It was by no means sudden; it felt torturously long to bear witness too, and sickly, it still wasn’t enough time. No one could say that she didn’t fight. There were a lot of medical professionals, of course. Strings of nurses and nurses aides and doctors, people who went to school to save people forced to watch this particular one die. Nobody was keen to admit that, despite “aggressive” being a term that was loosely thrown around quite a bit. Annie read a lot of books in waiting rooms or hospital hallways. There was a lot of crying. These were all normal things. Just big feelings.

But there were good things, too. Not every second of death is macabre, just as not every moment living is necessarily filled to its’ brim with vivacity. Making way too many pancakes every Sunday morning long after her mom could no longer stomach the sight of them, but pretended to for Annie and Ted’s benefit. Singing along to James Taylor on the way to treatment. The gentle way, even as Melinda Lim’s body weakened, crumpled inward on itself, betrayed the life that still clung to it, that Ted held her as they swayed in the living room to Ray Charles, Melinda’s feet resting on top of Ted’s, Annie sitting at the top of the stairs long after she was supposed to have been in bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. 

One day, Melinda insisted they go back to school shopping. It was the dead of winter. Annie acquiesced, of course, because to deny her mom this would be to deny the reality of the situation, and that’s not what they were doing. Things were scary, and mostly terrible. Melinda was sick more often than not. Even that day, their perfect day, she had to duck into a trash can outside of a boutique to discreetly puke, and Annie had realized that she’d learned at a certain point to pay it no mind, and she wasn’t sure what to make of that fact. They went to all the places they normally would, Annie trying on anything Melinda wanted, even the things she hated. They went out for ice cream after, the pair of them sitting in the window of the parlor devouring their cones, going over Annie’s list of necessary supplies for the upcoming school year, a now-uncertain time, a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to be. That night, Melinda tucked Annie into bed, though they both knew she was too old for it. She kissed her forehead. She thanked her.

Some time later, and a couple of weeks after her mom died, Annie got a package in the mail with her name on it from L.L. Bean. She assumed it was a grandparent gift from Ted’s parents, forever eager to ply her with belongings. This was always a point of contention between Annie’s parents--that Annie’s grandparents preferred material goods to time spent together--and so Annie nearly didn’t open in, existing in a well of grief, selfish and childish and wanting nothing but one thing she couldn’t have, feeling loyal, forever, to that ghost. She was thirteen, and her world was on fire. She set the box on the counter and sliced open the tape with her house key, heaving the tabs open with little delicacy. 

Inside sat a backpack. There was no note, and there didn’t need to be. This was Melinda Lim extending the future the courtesy of her consideration, and allowing it to proceed without her.

Annie slept with the backpack for a month. 

… 

Annie is buzzed. 

She is buzzed and she is listening desperately to her dad speak about an article he read on the Alaskan Viaduct in Seattle as she sits in the passenger seat of his car, the wind whipping her hair around her face haphazardly as they drive through town. She breathes deeply, trying to make sense of the details he’s offering her. They’re listening to NPR, and the sun is setting over Eureka. She watches as he gesticulates with his hand, the other planted firmly on the steering wheel, and his wedding ring catches her eye, and she thinks of him as a widower, and suddenly her throat is thick. This is the way Annie’s thoughts churn within her mind when she is like this, rapid fire and often unrelenting. She is remembering things she doesn’t want to remember. He asks her where she would like to go, and she says 'home,' but she isn't sure if that place exists anymore, really.

But for him, if she’s being honest. 

Her dad asks her where to turn, and she offers the directions easily, as taking the roads to Benji’s house--her house--by this point, is a form of muscle memory. And his car is in the driveway. He’s there. The very idea of this makes Annie want to cry. 

Ted asks her if she’s okay, and she isn’t, so she nods. Tells him to drive safe. Tells him she’ll call him tomorrow.

She no longer feels buzzed, hollowness assuming the place where warmth once laid, and there is, if she’s being honest, only one person that she wants.

[peachyydesires]

im so excited for the fourth of july event!!! can i get 😈 with keiji please??

a/n: hi there anon!! tysm for requesting, i’m really excited too! here’s the beloved man himself <3 

😈Alcohol Use (Anything to do with alcohol)

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

★oh no.. you just KNOW this man is drinking the entire party

★he was the one that picked out the drinks for the bar, so he’s basically there 24/7 getting refills 

★he won’t get completely smashed until later into the night when the alcohol really begins to kick in 

★you can guarantee that he embarrasses himself at least 5+ times; he’ll do the stupidest stunts, such as diving into the pool, chugging cans of beers, nearly burning his fingers off with a sparkler, etc. 

★it’s no big surprise when his friends start to play pranks on him, especially considering the fact that he won’t remember anything in the morning 

★pushing him into the pool, throwing last-minute water balloons from earlier at him, blowing confetti poppers in front of his face, really anything is fair game at this point

★the more… responsible ones of the group would try to keep him from drinking any more, but somehow he just keeps appearing with drinks in his hands

★honestly it’s probably sou secretly sneaking him drinks from the bar just so he can see him embarrass himself more for the fun of it 

★someone like sara or kai would try and keep him away from the minors (specifically gin) so he wouldn’t influence them but honestly everybody’s seen it all already

★then again he’s pretty much the life of the party along with q-taro so nobody gets mad at him in the end

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

   “Pleaase? Just one kiss, right here?” Keiji pleaded, tapping his lips impatiently as he leaned closer to you with a tipsy, gleeful smile attached to his face. He easily toppled over you, and while usually, you’d be eager to kiss him, you refused to do so in front of everyone, especially while he was drunk. 

   “No, you stink. I’m not kissing you when you have alcohol-breath... How many drinks did you even have?” You asked, pinching your nose as his scent wafted over you. No matter how much you loved him, you still never got used to the wretched smell of alcohol that he would sometimes come home with.

   “Uhhhh, I don’t know… Maybe, like..” He began counting on his fingers, a somewhat thoughtful look on his face as he counted before responding, “Counting shots, 20-ish?” 

   You groaned, grabbing his hand again as you began walking towards the backdoor, “You’re going to be absolutely miserable tomorrow morning. What did I tell you about drinking tonight?” You scolded.

   “Whyy would I be miserable, sugar? I got you right here with me.” He hummed as you looked over your shoulder, noticing his goofy, drunken smile that lit up his tired face. You sighed, shaking your head as you just couldn’t stay mad at him no matter what.

   After the fireworks had gone off, you had momentarily lost your boyfriend, Keiji, amid the crowded chaos in the backyard of the house party. You didn’t know how or when he had gotten absolutely wrecked, but when you found him he was singing Kumbaya with Sou, and you weren’t exactly sure how that had even happened.

   You had managed to drag him away from Sou, but whenever he got drunk he would become extremely needy for affection, constantly begging for hugs and kisses from you as you urged him that it was time to leave. 

   You lead him through the house, mumbling goodbyes to your scattered friends as you tried to keep Keiji from embarrassing himself any further. But before you could get out the door, your boyfriend suddenly tugged at your hand and beelined for the nearby couch.

   “K-Keiji!” You shrieked as he pulled the two of you onto the sofa, “We need to go home, dummy!” 

   “Noo, aren’t you… aren’t you drunk too?” 

   “Well, yeah, a little bit, but not a-”

   “Exactly, you can’t drink and drive, cuutie,” He interrupted as his hands began to freely roam over your body, eventually settling themselves on your stomach as he wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you closer to his body. 

   Despite him being shirtless after diving into the pool, he was surprisingly warm. It was quite the enticing invitation, as you didn’t want to take the long drive home just yet. You sighed, knowing there was no way out of his arms once he started getting clingy as you rolled over onto your stomach.

   Your cheeks burned at the thought of someone seeing the two of you passed out on the couch, but there was no other option as you hid your face in his chest and prayed that you wouldn’t be easily recognized, “You owe me for this one, Keiji.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by his skin.

   His embrace only got tighter as he rolled onto his side and pressed a light kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on the top of your head. He let out a breathy sigh, completely at ease as a relaxed smile stayed glued to his face.

   “Ooof course, my little lady. Anything for you.”

[geeky-marie]

Hi! So you know that challenging like 21 shots for 21st birthday? What if the reader goes out for their bday and gets pressured into doing it by friends and Dewey finds them later like worryingly drunk, so has to take them home basically carrying them and tries his best and gets extremely worried (eg. Sits up all night to make sure they don’t choke, holds hair, plenty of water). The next day they have a killer hangover so he tries to make them comfortable x

The birthday shot challenge 

Dewey Finn

School of rock musical 

A/N : Thank you for your request anon. I hope you will like your request ( Please I appreciate a feedback as a anon or not since I change some things in your request). I would like to make a little warning here. If you plan to drink, please assure you to have a friend you trust to help you in case. Nobody like to end the night at the hospital, and, of course, if your friend put you under pressure to drink. Don’t listen to them, you shouldn’t make you sick because people push you to do something.  Take care of you ! 

----

Your birthday was an absolute blast. A loud, blurry, train wreck of a party. Around you, many of your friends were already wasted by the time you reach the last stop of your night. The little roadhouse. 

You were yourself a little bit drunk. But, nothing to be worried about. After all, the initial goal of this night was that you have fun, and until now, your friend seems to understand it clearly. 

You had loved the ambiance of the roadhouse since the moment that you had pushed the door. More quiet than the last place you were, a live rock band was playing, putting all their heart in an old AC/DC song. Excited, or just really drunk, many of your friends had brought you to the little dance floor, signing with the band between two dance moves.

It was after one of your friends made you spin,laughing, that you saw him. Focus on his guitar, lifting his head only to sing with one of the best voices you have heard of your life, his brown messy lock stick on his forehead, his fingers passing easily from a string to another. You didn’t realise until your friend gently pushed you that you were staring. Neither that his gaze was now on you as you were talking to your friend.

“  Come on , we go back with the other “ She said, taking your hand like she was scared to lose you in the small room. 

Following her, you suddenly feel your heart skip a beat at the sign of the table. You were sure that your friend had understood your desire to have a fun but safe birthday party. But now, standing in front of the table, your age in shot display in front of you, you weren’t so sure that you had been that clear. 

“ Come on Y/N ! It’s a tradition ! “

“ You can do it ! “ 

“ Come on ! it’s a gift, do it ! “ 

You heard all around you, putting you under pressure to drink. Taking a deep breath, looking around you, you take the first shot, drinking it under the encouraging scream of your friends.

After that, your night becomes a spinning wheel of Whiskey, Vodka and Gin. 

Dewey was putting his guitar on his case, lifting his eyes often to give a glance around. During a gig, he usually focuses on the music, paying only a little attention to the crowd. But tonight, he couldn’t resist. Watching you moving around, dancing like a living goddess, singing loud,drinking an alarming quantity of glasses, having fun. Maybe too much fun.

You weren’t the first birthday girl he saw drinking like this as their party. And you will probably not be the last. But, watching you hesitating at drinking all these shots, pushed by your friend. A desire to see if you’re okay and protect you if needed grows in him. however, before he could reach you, you had disappeared.

Waving goodbye at his other band mate, his case in one hand, he made his way to the door. Dewey was almost outside when he heard a soft but weird sound coming for the toilet corridor. Like someone drunkenly singing happy birthday. Curious, he stepped back a little, turning the corner. 

And there you were, sitting on the floor, your back against the wall, you head fighting to stay up and your eyes half open. Completely alone. Feeling his blood freeze in is veine, he proceeds to a quick check up to see if you seem injured or worse. 

“ Hey, are you alright, did one of your friends use the toilet ? Do you need help ?” He softly asks, putting a knee on the floor, putting his fresh palm against your burning cheeks. 

“  d…know…di..n’t see….” You succeed to tell, your eyes close, sleepy like you never were before.

Looking around, knowing that nobody was in the main room, he knocks at the door of the toilet, waiting before realizing that it was empty. Giving you a look, he helps you to get back on your feet, his arm passing around your waist. 

“ Well, I guess we will have to try to find you a taxi or…somethings…a coffee maybe…” 

Passing the door the cold wind of the night, helping a little to reduce the smell of the booze of your skin. He stops for a minute, reaching his phone out of his pocket. Your head resting on his shoulder, he tries to not smile at the feeling of your arms wrap around his neck. 

“ Hey…You’re the sexy guitarist !” you suddenly exclaim, telling your first comprehensive sentence since he saw you on the floor.

Surprise, he turned his head, meeting your gaze. You think that he’s…sexy ?! 

“ T…Thank…I um…Do you want I call you a taxi…did you have somebody at home or a friend I could call ? “  He proposed. 

Shaking your head in a denial sign, you suddenly stop, a wave of nausea clearly writing in your face. 

“ Woh woh woh…breath, okay…then I…I guess that hmm…you can come at my flat… my car is there.” Walking slowly, each step difficult, he helps you sit on the passenger seat and try to not drive too fast. 

His apartment was small but comfortable. On every wall, posters of rock bands were screaming his love for music. 

Comfortably installed in his bed. His Darth Vader pillow behind your back ,maintains you in a sitting position, reducing the risk of being sick for the fourth time that night. You were floating in one of his large shirts, necessaries item he quickly gave you after you decided that your clothes were too hot on your skin. 

Gently putting a glass of water into your hand, Dewey watch you drinking it, preparing a small bed for himself on the floor. 

“ Can…kiss you ? “ You suddenly ask, tilting your head on the side. 

Damn it that you were cute when you was acting like that.

“ Well, you have no idea how I would like to say yes, goddamn you’re so gorgeous, but really it’s not a good idea now, maybe tomorrow, when you…well…will be more…yourself” He politely replied. “ If you need something I am just right there okay ? “ He informed you, trying to leave your side where he had sat a moment to take the empty glass. 

“ Okay” You simply reply, resting your head on his shoulder, your fingers lacing with his, finally found a little peace to sleep. 

In shock,swearing under his breath, not wanting to wake you up after such a worriedly and difficult night, he simply closed his eyes, falling asleep with you.

The light of the sun filling the room awakens you like an earthquake. Opening your eyes with difficulty, you suddenly shut them, feeling a flash of pain. Burying your face in the nearest pillow, you suddenly realize something strange. Your pillow was breathing….his odor really masculine… and…Oh god…is that an arm on your hips !? 

Forcing you to open your eyes, you suddenly realize the position you had put yourself into. Lay on your side, facing a large torso, your head on his upper arm. His chin resting on the top of your head, he was covering you with his arms, creating for you a comfortable and warm nest. 

Trying to step back a little, your head harming, you heard him growl, bringing you closer. It takes you some time before being able to identify your new body pillow. Letting a loud gasp you couldn’t contain, you suddenly recognize the cute guitarist of yesterday.

Awake by your sudden noise, Dewey opens his eyes. First confused by your red cheeks, he suddenly realized the intimate position you had both taken during the night. Suddenly letting you go, his own face flustered, he sat up in the bed, his messy hair making you wonder if he they once in his life be affected by gravity. 

“ Hi…hm….did we…did…something happen ? ” You ask embarrassed, trying to not let your hurting head affect you.

“ What..? No, no we don’t…” He suddenly replied, realizing the sense of your question, jumping in the bed, his hand lifted in sign of defense “ I just…you were dangerously drunk at the roadhouse and I found you alone. I asked you if I could call somebody but you couldn’t give me a proper answer… so I just bring you here to help you…I was worried about you…”

“ Why…Why am I wearing one of your t-shirts?” You continu, a small tension releases in your stomach of the idea that he didn’t take advantage of you.

“ You put it yourself I swear” He assured you, passing a hand in his beautiful brown lock. “ I was in the kitchen making coffee…when I came back you were removing your top…But I swear I saw nothing !! I ran to my room to give you a shirt, promise !” He continues watching your horrified reaction. 

Sitting at his side, your eyes hurting due to the sun, you feel all the tension in your shoulder leave. 

“ I did nothing wrong, I just helped you, I swear. I held your hair when you were sick… gave you water…I even made myself a bed on the floor but you fell asleep on me…I didn’t want to wake you up” He confesses, placing his sunglasses on the bridge of your nose.

Surprised by your luck and still a bit shy, you turn your head, watching his smile illuminate his face.

“ We should start all this all over again, shall we…Hi, i’m Dewey.” He presented himself, offering you his hand. 

Smiling at your turn, you shake his hand. 

“ Y/N, thank you for everything and sorry to had bothering you so much and for all the stupidity I probably said“

“ That’s okay, soo…you found me sexy yesterday” He laughed, teasing you a little. 

Feeling your face becoming hot, you bury it into your hand wishing to suddenly disappear. 

“ Hey, don’t worry, that’s ok. I find you really gorgeous too, you even distracted me from my music a little. “ He continu, removing your hands from your face. 

Your cheeks still flustered, you smile, meeting his gaze. 

“ Coffee…? “ He kindly ask. 

“ I loved to…” You simply reply, still smiling. 

You hangover was maybe awful, but, with Dewey, you knew that everything will be perfectly fine. 

–

PLEASE don’t forget to like or comment or reblog !

---

Tag list : @missihart23 @shayna-winchester @crybabu-gurl @icanseethelightsomewhere @baby-beej @spideypooler03 @tenthedemonartist @whereicomefromwhereigo @chensingmachinee @ansemibeko @annewrighthglc @edosunshine @ansemibeko @pastelnacht  @animals4ever527 @rambeu @swan-lite @beetlejuicecansteponme @beetlebitchywitch @sofabearr

[iohourtime]

Hey!Say!JUMP 2019 in Taipei - Reports from various newspapers

Notes:

I was going to do this back in October when it was more timely but I was going nuts trying to organize all the articles in some semblance of order. Why now then? The concert DVD’s will be released on August 5! A digest version of the Taipei concert will be included in LE 1. According to the fans, they only cut 3 songs (and probably a lot if not all of the MC). 

This article was translated mainly from the Apple Daily article, but I filled in the details from other articles, con reports, and news clips.

Johnny's group Hey!Say!JUMP held their first concert in Taiwan in 7 years. The 9 members of Hey!Say!JUMP are Yabu Kota, Takaki Yuya, Inoo Kei, Yaotome Hikaru, Arioka Daiki, Okamoto Keito (studying abroad), Yamada Ryosuke, Nakajima Yuto, and Chinen Yuri. For two days, they took over the Taipei Arena and were greeted with great enthusiasm: the 22,000 tickets sold out immediately, with the 2 performances grossing 58M TWD in ticket sales.

The concert was not just attended by local Taiwanese fans, the Japanese fans also formed their own tour groups to go to the concert, and you could find fans from many countries like China, Thailand, etc… Wu Chun, who co-starred with Yamada Ryosuke and Arioka Daiki, sent flowers to congratulate them on opening night. They also arranged a lot of "Taiwan limited events" for the local fans, such as opening a pop up shop, releasing 2 songs on streaming services, as well as a collaboration with Line Poko Poko.

2 minute digest video here.

Opening Introduction

As the LED sign of Hey!Say!JUMP's name rose to the top, the 8 members appeared on stage donned in sparkling suits in their own members' colour. The 11,000 fans switched on their penlights to their biases’ colour and turned the arena into a spectacle of lights.

Yamada shouted "Are you ready!!!!" Takaki* (or Arioka & Chinen) said in Mandarin, "Are you having fun? OK, we are having fun too. Taiwan! Welcome to our concert!" The other members didn't want to lose to each other and they all chimed in with their newly learned Chinese phrases like "you guys are super cute", "sing along with us" , "please sit" or “let me hear you scream”. They started with a performance of “Arigatou~ Sekai no doko ni itemo”, a song that included lyrics in many languages, such as “Thank you” in Manadarin.

* The Taiwanese media could not tell some of the members apart, so certain quotes were attributed to multiple members. I used 1 and put the other possibilities in brackets. I suppose we will find out when we watch the DVD.

When it was time to introduce themselves, they did not forget to flirt with and charm their fans in Mandarin. Yabu Kota started by saying “We’ve learned a bit* of Chinese. Please bear with us as we are not very good. How are you, I am Yabu Kota. We’ve let you wait for too long. Friends in the back, I can see you clearly!”

* Another article said we’ve spent a year learning Chinese. That’s what I heard from the news clips too, but either is possible because of his pronunciation. 😅 我們學了一點 (yī diǎn)中文 vs. 我們學了一年 (yī nián) 中文.

Hikaru Yaotome continued, “I remember the last time we came here. Let us melt your hearts.” 

Takaki Yuya also shouted, “I really really missed you guys.” 

Inoo Kei, who wasted no time telling the fans they were cute made a “shocking” declaration. “You are all our girlfriends. Can my girlfriends on the left hear me? How about my girlfriends on the right? ” Then he put his arms around Chinen Yuri and said, “But my real girlfriend is…” and trailed off, leaving the fans to draw their own conclusions.

Chinen Yuri was worried that the fans did not recognize him, so he kept asking “Do you know me? Do you know me? Really?” When he heard the affirmative responses, he said, “I like you very much! Thank you.”

Meanwhile Yamada Ryosuke tried a different strategy and used Taiwanese to tell everyone in the audience that they were cute*. However, his pronunciation was quite off so nobody understood what he said and the response was very tentative. He panicked and kept repeating the phrase*, when Chinen finally asked him to clarify. Yamada said “You’re cute” in Japanese and that was met with kyaa’s. Nevertheless, his failed attempt brought a lot of joy to the audience.

* Cute in Taiwanese is 古錐 (Actual pronunciation). 😅

Finally, Nakajima Yuto used both Mandarin and English to address the audience. “It’s been a long time. We are so happy to see you again. We’ve been waiting to see you again for 7 years since we came here last time. For 7 years. Our dream to come back here has finally come true. We are so glad.” (Source: a clip from a Taiwan TV entertainment show.)

You can watch some of the exchanges here.

There were many familiar songs on the set list but with a Taiwanese twist. For example, in Kimi Attraction, the members mugged the camera and acted cool as usual. At the end, Chinen said “As expected, Taiwan is No. 1.” Inoo added in Mandarin, “So cute!” 

They also brought back the "flying circle" from the stage show “SUMMARY”, which was something they had not performed for years. Dressed in white, they quickly hooked each other up to the harnesses and held each others’ hands as they flew, their capes flowing gracefully as they twirled to the music while they sang “Born in the EARTH”, the audience went wild. The rest of the concert was filled with effects like confetti, smoke, dry ice, and gin tape. It was a spectacle.

MC

Just before the end of the first half, the 8 members were chatting with fans and each other on stage. When they found out a lot of them attended their concert at Nangang 101* 7 years ago, they immediately said “Thank you” in Chinese. They then asked each other (in Mandarin), “Do you have a smartphone?” Nakajima also asked the audience, “What kind of group is Hey!Say!JUMP?” 

* Nangang 101 was a small concert hall that has since been demolished. From what I heard, it was actually a pretty bad location. Supposedly, Taipei Arena is a much nicer space.

At this time, it looked like Yamada was going to introduce each member, but all he did was point at each one and said “他很帥! (He is handsome)”. When it was Arioka’s turn, Yamada pointed at him and said, “他是笨蛋! (He is an idiot)”. Arioka, who didn’t know the Mandarin for “idiot”, immediately asked, “Hey, the word you used to describe me is different from the others!” The audience roared.

After Yamada introduced everybody, Chinen introduced Yamada* with “他是...我的錢包. (He is my... wallet.)” Yamada clarified, “不是,我是...銀行! (No, I am... the bank!)”

*This is not in any of the news articles, but the Taiwanese fans won’t shut up about it, so I’ll add it here. Either the whole thing was in Mandarin or it’s a mix of Japanese and Mandarin. I have no clue but at least “wallet” and “bank” were in Manadrin.

Meanwhile, out of nowhere, Chinen showed off the line he learned and said, “I will not make the same mistake next time”*. The members were completely baffled by that. 

* When Yabu, Yuto, and Chi went to Taipei for the press conference, they appeared on a number of TW entertainment shows and were taught a bunch of “useful” Mandarin phrases. I think this was one of the lines.

They also remembered to advertise the pop-up shop. Since the members arrived a day earlier in Taipei, they secretly visited the pop up shop to check it out and signed the poster. The members teased Yamada, the spokesperson for Lachesca cleansing product, and said “The shop is filled with Yamada.” At this time, Yamada brought out all the products and promoted them to the audience. Nakajima added, “If you use this, you will have the same soft skin as Yamada!” Yabu said, “I heard a lot of items that were sold out will be restocked tomorrow. Please go check them out.” 

They also promoted the Line Poko Poko game they were repping. Takaki jokingly said, “Yesterday, I went to the sauna. Just when I was very relaxed, I suddenly saw our ad on TV. It was a bit embarrassing.” They also revealed that the stickers were designed by Yaotome Hikaru and even used Mandarin to say “Go download it.” Indeed, they were good spokespersons.

Second Half

After a short intermission, the second half of the concert began. The members changed into purple Japanese outfits for the “Wa” corner, with Nakajima on taiko and Yaotome playing shamisen. The “Wa” corner was reminiscent of senpai Domoto Koichi’s musical, “SHOCK”. Each member performed a series of fan dance and ribbon dance, set to a rearranged version of “Over” and “Give Me Love”, etc. The background also changed throughout the set into various Japanese motifs. During “Give Me Love”, Yamada and Chinen grabbed the white ribbons and started flying on stage with no safety harnesses. The audience was shocked and awed.

As the main part of the concert came to an end, the audience was treated to a highlight video of HSJ’s last Taipei concert 7 years ago, giving them a chance to reminisce. They changed into sparkly gold outfits and sang a 12-song medley of their hit singles, including their debut song “Ultra Music Power”, “Mayonaka no Shadow Boy”, “Mae wo muke”, etc., while… you guessed it… flying through the air again! They finished with “White Love”, their single from the previous year, but to the audience’s surprise, they sang the last half of the song in Taiwanese (correctly pronounced apparently)! The audience completely lost it with excitement at this point.

「White Love」（台語版）：

若有一天會實現

咱兩人永遠做伙的彼個夢

妳就是唯一願望

妳是我的從今以後的未來

最後一擺的戀愛

我的愛乎妳一個

獻予妳全心全意的一個人

我的心愛妳到底

我愛妳　遮愛妳

全世界只有妳一人

我愛妳 遮愛你

妳是我永遠註定的命運

上愛的故事

“White Love” (Taiwanese version)

If it comes true one day,

That dream where we are together forever,

Then I only wish for you,

You are my future from now on.

My last love story,

I give my love only to you,

To you, who love me wholeheartedly.

In my heart, I will love you till the end.

I love you, I love you very much,

There’s only you in the whole world.

I love you, I love you very much,

You are my destiny,

The best love story.

You can watch the video here

Encore

After the thunderous shouts of encore from the audience, the members appeared on stage again and sang “Fanfare!”” and “You & I”. They promised their Taiwanese fans to “not let them wait this long for the next time”. However, since this was the last night, the 11K fans shouted for a second encore and the members appeared on stage again.  Chinen said with a smile, “We see each other again so soon!” Yabu used Mandarin to ask the fans, “What do you want to hear? What do you want us to sing?” They then performed “Ultra Music Power again, and rang around the stage. Nakajima Yuto said in pretty fluent English, “Thank you everyone for coming. We are so happy. We will not forget tonight when you are here with us in Taiwan together!” Chinen also said in Mandarin that “We will come again!”. The members wistfully said goodbye to their fans.

Fan stories and fan service

Hey!Say!JUMP’s concert was like a grand entertainment show. In addition to the members’ hard work, the fans also brought a lot of enthusiasm. In Johnny’s tradition, fans communicate to their idols through homemade uchiwa, which was a sight to behold for [those unfamiliar with Johnny’s concerts]. Fan messages included “Wink at me”, “Blow me a kiss”, “Point at me” etc., and the fans could quickly switch to different uchiwas depending on the member who appeared in their sights.

A 30 year old OL fan, Sen, brought a Yamada Ryosuke and Nakajima Yuto uchiwa as well as 2 message ones that said “Give me a kiss” and “Did you drink bubble tea?” She said the handmade ones were actually borrowed from a fan, who successfully got a kiss from Yaotome Hikaru the day before, so she hoped the luck would rub off on her.

Apple Daily’s reporter even saw a Japanese fan who brought 8 uchiwa, and she even joined forces with her seat mates, all holding up that members’ uchiwa together to catch the attention of their idols who appeared in front of them.  During the encore, Nakajima Yuto immediately started running around the stage to look for fans. When he found a fan from Singapore and he asked this fan directly, “Did you fly here from Singapore?” He also compiled with all the fan service: blowing kisses, giving them thumbs up, heart signs, the fans were super excited. [I guess you can say his service is excellent.]

Sources (in addition to news clips and twitter / weibo):

Apple Daily

https://tw.appledaily.com/new/realtime/20191006/1644575/

China Daily

https://www.chinatimes.com/amp/realtimenews/20191006002555-260404

Liberty Time News

https://ent.ltn.com.tw/news/breakingnews/2938402

https://stars.udn.com/star/story/10092/4089578

Now News

https://www.nownews.com/news/20191006/3674832/

https://www.nownews.com/news/20191006/3674976/   (White Love lyrics)

Star UDN

https://stars.udn.com/star/story/10092/4089727?from=udnamp-referralnews_ch1022artbottom

[mintchocohip]

39. and 80. with jin?

from »this list:

39.   “I’ll be gentle, promise.”

80.   First kiss

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble! fluff became plot. 🤒

🌨️ pairing: seokjin x f!reader | wordcount: 2.2k

🌨️ warnings: throat touching [no choking], mentions of sadist!y/n, mentions of alcohol, no kisses for sj, y/n is explicitly shorter than sj

The threshold of normalcy is thin at four o’clock in the morning.

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the pavement with your hand on Seokjin’s throat.

Jungkook was nervous. Everyone promised to livestream the first day of his overseas gaming tournament. A small party formed in the apartment Jungkook shares with his roommate, Siyeon. 

The first flakes appeared as the sun fell. Five centimeters of snow were crunching under your boots by the time you buzzed their apartment at midnight. During downtime between Jungkook’s appearances, you held your tea and stood by the window to watch sudden heavy snow falling out of a purple sky. You were blowing cool air over a second cup when Seokjin appeared by your side. He always stands a little too close. The lazy “wow” he muttered was given an echo. “Yeah,” you smiled, as you felt Seokjin lock into the hypnosis of watching parked cars become hills, “wow.” 

The fact that you and Seokjin both live on the north side of town sealed the decision to walk home together. 

Seokjin is a friend. He was a friend of a friend before Jungkook properly introduced him to you during a snowboarding trip last year. You would never call Seokjin a close friend, but you’re disappointed when he doesn’t join the group chat’s drinks or afternoons at the gaming café. 

A fuzzy red glove is a slice of vivid color between the collar of Seokjin’s black puffer coat and his chin. Your heart is beating in your throat. Frigid air cools heat on your cheeks, but your chest could burst.

For a moment, you forgot this is the second time you’ve truly been alone with him.

Seokjin looks completely tranquil. His heavy eyelids are sealed shut. The faint smile on his lips is an invitation.

When Seokjin paused his careful waddle down the street, you watched him drop into a squat. Streetlights are flashed on in the early morning darkness. Under an orange beam, gloves dug into undisturbed snow like a front loader digging into rubble. Instinctively, you dropped down to grab defensive handfuls for yourself.

Snow is melting on your tits. Seokjin succeeded in dumping a cold streak between your coat, your sweater, and your scarf. High pointy shoulders and confused eyes flashed through your vision, and the realization that giddy childishness after the first snowfall of December has filled Seokjin with stupid bravery skipped your heart before you were crawling over his back, a victorious laugh was parting the air, and your hand snapped out from under his pompom hat. 

Seokjin kept the hat on. You know there’s a chunk of snow melting on the top of his head. Thick wool presses over his ears. You don’t need to see those ears to know they’re bright red—they’re the same color as his shiny, frozen nose.

Trembling hands swiped away his remaining handfuls on your shoulders. You pat off the rest of your snow on his hips. Locked in a half-hug, you stared at each other. Your eyes were filled with curiosity. Seokjin only looked calm. When he asked the question, your head tilted with smiling fascination.

“What would you do? If I asked you to kiss me.”

“Do you want me to show you?” Alert with the energy that only hits when you’ve been awake all night, your smile crooked up tighter.

“Yeah.”

Despite his flaring nostrils and the fog your breath was building, Seokjin spoke quietly.

“In this moment? Or in my fantasies?”

“Do the fantasies hurt?” His nose snorted. Seokjin sniffled in a wet sound, and apologized with a strangely high giggle. 

Seokjin can put on charm. Practiced expressions, flirty puns, and careful body language are his ice-breaking forte. The absence of those affectations relaxed your shoulders back, and softened your intrigued smile. 

“Who’s been talking?” Laughter peeled you away from Seokjin’s body. Instinct kept your hands on his hips. Under the marshmallow-soft rings of his puffer coat, you could sense a hint of their curve. “It was Jungkook, wasn’t it?” Your sadistic bedroom tendencies have apparently breached osmosis. 

“I just know,” quiet breath rasped in, “so don’t be afraid to show me.”

“Right.” Studying Seokjin’s muted excitement up and down grounded you back into the moment. “Well. If I showed you what I think about…” You squeezed his waist tighter. “I would need to put my hand on your throat. Is that okay?” 

“Sure.”   

“I’ll be gentle.” Your smile disappeared with a full-body sigh. Hands on your shoulders fell away. Seokjin was glowing in the lamplight. His eyes were already closed. “Promise.”

Shadows darken the arcs of Seokjin’s closed eyelids. Everything that isn’t shadow is dimmed with orange, and softened. You know Seokjin has smooth features. Right now, though, he looks like a moody painting in half-light; framed by blurs of a snowed-in world. You breathe thin through your nose. You don’t want to create clouds. Thick, crimson lips are a shining target.  

Eyebrows flick down under the wispy black fringe sticking out under his hat, and glistening light appears slowly.

Seokjin’s slowly opening eyes have settled thin. Forcing your eyes off his lips, you glance up.

“Don’t stop.” Movement pulses under the damper of your glove. Pulling in, and pushing out. Seokjin swallows heavily.

Seokjin has an elegant throat. A bold larynx. Of course, you notice. It was one of the first things you noticed when you met him. He was unzipping the high collar of his coat and shooting you a careless glance over Jungkook’s awkward introduction. Eyes, lips, throat. You ignored the warm details until you had a moment to reflect, later. Seokjin is stunning to you.

“I’m showing you what I would do, right?” Seokjin’s dark eyebrows are angled down hard, but you can only raise your eyebrows with a little smile and an innocent shrug. “I would do it slowly.” 

It’s a partial truth. Mostly, you stopped because you were staring.

All of your pressure is angled up under Seokjin’s soft chin. Mild disappointment tamps your high. You need to press harder—or, you need to slide your hand lower, and lower—to really feel his heartbeat. 

Your free hand slides around the back of his neck. The plush of a thick hat borders the crook between your thumb and fingers. Feeling the support of your feet; the shape of the body in front of you, and the shapes of a dark city and muffling snow spreading out around you—you know where you are. The snow you’re standing on is packed down fresh. Ice doesn’t threaten to slip. 

Thick winter boots strain into a tilt. Seokjin is bending his knees.

Something tickles. Your whole body tickles. Your eyelashes have hazed down into darkness, and you can feel Seokjin hear the first puff of a laugh you just let out, because the shape hinting under his thick hat jerks. 

“What,” your eyes pop open as his jaw swipes past your lips like a match sparking over an igniter, “are you trying to piss me off?” Wide surprise bounces off brick walls, and echoes into alleyways. Studying the scrunched-up face Seokjin is pushing into his shoulder, you suck in airy amusement. The grimace on his face looks like guilt. “Don’t worry about it,” you sigh. “I know you aren’t playing games with me. Right?” Your fingers fall onto his shoulders, and tap out a drum.

The heels of your boots crunch back down into your footprints. Sucking a deep breath of winter air into your lungs reminds you of the facts. 

You feel comfortable around Seokjin.   

Right now, the past doesn’t matter. 

It doesn’t matter that Seokjin knows you were interested. 

This moment is fresh, and new. This moment doesn’t hang on previous expectations.

Seokjin started spending more time with everyone. He laughed too hard at your jokes. He let brushes of bodies linger. Once, he sent you a flying kiss as a thank you for going outside to check for a lost item in Jungkook’s car. The way he avoided your eyes after you caught it and sent it back to him left you with a single impression. Seokjin knows how to give—receiving turns his ears red. 

Coming on to Seokjin was pointless. First, you just wanted a fuck. Then, you tried asking him for a date. Seokjin turned you down with a simple explanation. “I don’t like complicated things.”

You and Seokjin were alone at a bar earlier this month. Nobody else arrived. A fireplace was crackling; Christmas lights strung up romantic glows. Tired, idle jokes that this was everybody’s attempt to set the two of you up on a winter date became conversation about television and aliens.

“I was engaged. A few years ago.” 

The confession was a non-sequitur.

“Oh, really?” You glanced at Seokjin’s gin and tonic. Neither of you were really drinking.

The story unraveled. Seokjin’s parents had demands. So did hers. Neither of them had romantic notions about marriage. He shook hands with a woman he met at business school, and sealed a secret deal. In one year, they were engaged. The marriage date was kicked into the future again, and again. Seokjin was already burning out of the corporate world when she accepted a job overseas. You didn’t need to know the complete story to foresee its conclusion. Hearing that he still chats with her put a smile on your face. 

Laughter is shaking Seokjin’s chest. You’re suddenly reminded of the chill of wet fabric clinging to your skin. Seokjin huffs out a crystalline sound that hangs in the air, holds his snow-soaked mittens up to his face, and breathes into them. 

You’re confused about his feelings. So is he. Light is flashing in his wet eyes, and laughter is covering up his full-body shake.

You thought Seokjin wanted to share his past with you as a simple sign of trust. As the memory fizzles away, you feel yourself smiling. Maybe he was trying to tell you he really doesn’t like complicated things.

“You should take your hat off.” You shove your hands into your pockets. The high note of disturbed waterproof fabric fades into silence. “That can’t be healthy.”

“It’s making my hair wet.” Seokjin grabs the fat fur pomom at the top of his hat. Wool sucks up around his ears and slides off, a head of stick-straight hair reveals itself, and Seokjin bends over in a lanky sweep. A chunk of unmelted snow falls with a solid thwump. A hole is carved in the snow under its weight. Sympathetic shivers chatters your teeth. You don’t know how Seokjin hasn’t been shivering. Lifting up straight, Seokjin jerks his chin to the side, and groans at himself. “Ah. I’m too old for this.” The smooth in his voice is sudden. He’s genuinely apologizing. “Sorry.”

“Nobody’s too old for a snowball fight. Start complaining when you’re ninety.”

“I’m sorry I asked you to kiss me.” 

“Oh.”

The clarification warms nerves under your skin. Flexing your fists inside your pockets, you straighten out your legs, and shiver again. The warmth escaping off your skin has cleared away moonlit, snowlit unreality. Turning gears in your stomach pop up thoughts of your afternoon shift at work. 

“Come on.”

Ahead of you, dark shops and empty apartments form an orange tunnel beneath the heavy sky. A sudden dry rumble pulls your attention up the street. A silhouette is shuffling around a car. Snow fluffs off the car’s windshield with each echo of the scraper. 

You lift your leg to take another step into snow, and stop. Lowering your boot into fluff that hugs your ankle, you glance over your shoulder. Footprints in the snow carve away from Seokjin’s body. The snow behind him is a trampled mess. 

A landscape of snowed-over cars and frosty lamposts spreads out around motionless, sloped shoulders. Seokjin’s long throat is exposed. He’s gazing up at the sky, and a huff of white pools above his face. You glance up, too. The snow has stopped falling. Everything overhead is streaking tiers of violet and grey.

“Can I ask you something else?” His head rolls down slowly. The snow on his blue gloves has flaked away and melted. When he shoves his hands into the pockets of his puffer coat, Seokjin takes a waddling step forward.

“Of course.” Buried under thick winter layers, you know your body doesn’t look as tense as you feel. Trembling your muscles in tight, chilled wet but warming up slowly, you think about your hot water bottle at home. You think about thick blankets, and good sleep. 

“What do you want?”

“What do you think I want, Seokjin?” 

“Food.” The word drops too fast and flat for Seokjin to hide his intentions.

“That sounds like what you want.” You swash your hand out towards Seokjin. Half-asleep, or horny, or both—his eyes are barely open, and he’s moving in slow-motion. 

“It is.” Seokjin’s shoulders hunch with a silent laugh. 

“Dinner? Or just food?” You’ve heard Seokjin praise steak places with open kitchens and tiny seasonal menus. If Seokjin wants you to buy him dinner, you’re already apologizing to your wallet. Sticky damp and cold rolls your lips together. “Come on,” you realize how hard your lips were tingling when you feel them numb into the cold, “let’s walk and talk.”