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amywritesthings · 4 months

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new year, new choso. / choso nye fic

pairing: choso kamo x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 1.9k summary: Choso Kamo has never been to a New Year's Eve party. Who knew chaperoning his kid brother to Gojo's Jujutsu High party would end up like this? tags: new year's eve kiss, nye party fluff, choso is a sweet baby angel goth, and he's wearing a suit, alcohol, mentions of cards against humanity credit: dividers by @saradika dedicated to @nube55 , @sixpennydame , and @chishiyasan xo

welcome to the final day of the twelve days of amymas !!

New Year’s Eve parties are typically not your thing.

Loud music, bustling crowds, crowded rooms with crowded strangers — the whole debacle always sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Ieiri claimed that this gathering would be different. Small.

Albeit still a party by Gojo Satoru’s standards as his entire penthouse is littered with tacky balloons, confetti, and endless amounts of blinking year-end sunglasses, but tamer than anticipated.

It’s probably something to do with the fact that said gathering included his students from Jujutsu High.

The teenagers all crowd in the dead center of the living room excitedly playing Cards Against Humanity while Gojo's colleagues and friends mingle about the main floor.

(There’s just something about watching a cursed panda argue that his cards are accurate to the prompt as opposed to the obscene and filthy winners — ironically, a silent kid with cursed speech tattoos holds the jackpot of black cards.)

You were once destined to become a sorcerer yourself, but you’d hung it up for a simpler life. Not unlike your best friend, Shoko, but not as close to the Jujutsu world.

Then again, you never really get away from this life. Not really.

(Only thirty minutes left until the new year.)

“Did you need a refill?”

The gentle question comes out of nowhere to your side, breaking your concentration of the rowdy game.

When you turn your head, you’re immediately taken by a dark-haired man with a thin, black strip covering the bridge of his nose like a blush. He wears a maroon button-up, satin to the eye, and a dark suit jacket to compliment his pale complexion. His shoulder-length dark hair is in a half up-do, fixed hastily in a tiny bun at the crown of his head.

Your first thought? He’s beautiful.

Your second thought? You find yourself staring for too long, lips parted with an answer you’ve all but forgotten.

The man blinks back at you, shuffling in the uncertain silence.

“I, uh — sorry, I probably should have said ‘hello’ like a normal person and —”

“Uh, sure, I could walk with you?” you blurt, hating yourself for the way his eyes round with his own bout of confusion. “For a refill. I’m getting kind of stiff sitting against this wall.”

He’s a stranger, even if it’s technically a friend’s party.

You’ve been taught from birth that you should take care of your own drinks — but that doesn’t mean you can’t accompany someone as alluring as him to go grab a new mixed drink.

God knows Gojo bought out the entire liquor store despite how seventy-five percent of the party can’t drink and, the irony, Gojo doesn’t drink.

(An overachiever even in the art of hosting, Shoko joked before she dipped for a smoke break.)

Right.

You're dissociating.

Back to the guy in front of you.

“And hi,” you add lamely after a beat.

The stranger fights a smile, choosing to rush a small huff of air.

“Hi. Name's Choso Kamo,” he awkwardly introduces. “And yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He fidgets with a button of his dress shirt, popping it absently.

“Feels a little crowded here.”

"A little," you agree, gesturing for him to show the way.

Shoulder to shoulder you both walk to the drink table, not saying a word.

You note how the stranger — this Choso — keeps his eyes on the table of kids as they heavily debate which answer should win: the cold, dead fingers card dropped by a triumphant Kugisaki, versus the Daniel Radcliff’s delicious asshole card slipped in by a stone-faced Megumi.

“Dying to join in on the game?” you joke, trying to break the slow-building tension.

“Hmm? Oh. God, no. I’m not getting involved in that war.” The man blinks to you, his expression softening for a moment. “My kid brother’s over there.”

“Which one is he?”

Choso smiles small, clearly proud to point him out.

He fills his cup with a moderate amount of rum and soda, mixing it with a wooden stirrer.

“The pink-haired one. Yuji.”

Yuji isn’t hard to spot, not by a long shot.

He’s giggling between Megumi and Kugisaki, joyously playing moderator to the budding fight for who has the best card this round.

When you turn back to Choso, you see his smile has widened.

“He’s got his work cut out for him if he’s the Card Szarr this round," you say.

Choso laughs breathily and takes a sip. “Yeah, his friends are a little brutal. Good kids, but… opinionated.”

(As proudly displayed by the way the finalists shout at one another. Yuji laughs hard, shaking his head — only to pull a major upset by choosing the panda’s card instead.)

“He’s the only reason I’m here,” Choso adds belatedly, seemingly wishing to keep the conversation going. “I’m not exactly friends with the guy who threw this thing.”

“Who, Gojo?” you ask. He nods. “Me neither. My best friend managed to drag me out of my cave. Not sure if you know her — Shoko Iieri?”

Choso shakes his head.

“Can’t say I do. Then again, I could say that about everyone. I only really came so my brother and his friends had a chaperone home." He straightens once he's done filling his drink. "I take it you don’t normally do these things, either?”

“That’s nice of you,” you comment, filling the rest of your drink before clinking the glass to his. “And no, I kind of hate parties. Way more of a quiet environment sort of person.”

“You and me both,” he commiserates. “Believe it or not, this is my first New Year’s Eve out.”

“Really? Your first, ever?”

He nods. “It’s a little complicated. Jujutsu shit.”

The words make you accidentally bark out a laugh, startling Choso.

He warms to it, however, and laughs with you.

“Jujutsu shit is very much something I can’t seem to get away from,” you explain.

“Guess I found the one person at this party that gets me,” Choso admits with a dissolving chuckle, the black strip on his nose sprinkled with a gentle pink blush at his confession. “Yuji was pretty insistent on making it a big deal, given it’s my first real holiday outing. We spent Christmas just with the two of us this year — sorry, am I talking too much?”

You sip your drink and shake your head. “I like listening.”

It’s the truth: this man is interesting.

Clearly he’s not completely of this realm, that much you’re quite certain of, but he’s truly trying to be human.

Choso fumbles, but he’s honest about his experience.

It’s a refreshing taking on a world you’ve become so cynical about.

“I usually don’t talk this much,” he admits; his second confession of the night. He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway, yeah. Christmas was solo, but he wanted to do this big party with his friends. Begged me to come along. New Year’s is an interesting idea, but the traditions… I don’t know.”

He squints at nothing in particular as he thinks.

“There’s so much I want to try now that I’ve got this life.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I have the drinking part down,” he tells you, glancing down at his glass and outfit. “I dressed up, though given what everyone else wore—”

Sweaters. Jeans. Nothing fancy — not like him.

“—I think I screwed that part up.”

“I think you look amazing, for what it’s worth,” you blurt, and he catches your eye with an appreciative glow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, suits always look good.”

Choso grins, albeit briefly, yet the growing confidence lingers.

“Party games, though I’m happier to watch than play right now. Then there’s that New Year’s kiss thing?”

Oh.

He turns to you for confirmation, but you damn well know your face is on fire from the implication.

“When the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone," he explains like you're new to this, too. "Make a wish or promise or whatever so that the next year is going to be better.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leans in a fraction further, dropping his voice to a murmur. “That's what I heard, anyway.”

You’re expecting him to have a but scoot into that sentence, but he pauses to search your face for the right or wrong answer.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” you admit — it's now your turn to confess.

His brows furrow. “Really? Never?”

You shake your head. “Maybe that’s why my years have been so shitty lately.”

Choso nods with a grave understanding. “Could be.”

A few of the teenagers cheer, abandoning the game to turn on the main television.

The clock is only a few minutes until midnight.

Three, to be exact.

Suddenly the drink in your hand becomes your life line.

“I admit that I didn’t know if you needed a refill on your drink,” Choso pipes up, slow and careful. You turn your attention from the television broadcast to look at him. “I only came here to make sure Yuji had a good time with his friends, but then I saw you come in with that woman.”

Wait, he saw you come in?

When you say nothing, he sucks in a sharp inhale to explain himself.

“I spent an hour working up the courage to come talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You’re so damn pretty, and you seemed fine hanging out by yourself or with her, and so I thought — I mean, I needed a refill and some liquid courage — so it — do you get what I’m saying?”

No, no you don’t and yes, yes you do.

“You’re very pretty yourself,” you tell him without thinking, causing his eyes to widen. Yours follow suit, rounding like saucers. “I mean — yeah, as soon as I noticed you, I thought you were attractive—”

“People go out for coffee, right?” he interrupts as if he’s been waiting all night to ask. “When they think someone is pretty, they… go out for coffee or dinner or walks.”

One minute remaining.

Choso pauses to stare into your eyes, earnest and true.

“I’d love to go out for some coffee, or whatever dinner you want, or even just a walk. Maybe. Some time. If you’re… free.”

A date.

Forty seconds until the new year, and you’ve already scored yourself a date.

“We could do one of those things,” you murmur. Choso’s face brightens. “Maybe all of them. And we could start it off with…”

Twenty seconds.

“Making a wish?” the dark-haired man suggests when you trail off, rounding towards you so he’s closer.

For someone who says he has a lot to experience, you’re surprised that he seems to cage you in with experience.

If it wasn’t for his eyes begging you to confirm that this is what you want, then you’d think maybe he was a liar.

“Yeah. For a great new year,” you explain, lifting your chin.

Ten seconds.

“For a great new year,” he exhales with a promise, leaning in.

His hand reaches to gently cup your face as though mesmerized by how soft your skin feels beneath his palm.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The clock strikes midnight, and a pair of plush, timid lips gingerly press to yours.

You meet with an eager kiss, and you swear you feel Choso’s mouth curve into a satisfied smile against yours.

(Maybe next year really will be better.)

#choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo fluff #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #choso fanfic #choso fic #choso kamo fanfiction #choso kamo fanfic #nye fic #twelve days of amymas

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xaphrin · 4 months

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At Midnight, My Heart Drops

Fuck.

Raven stared into Damian's calm face, desperately trying to think of something to say - an excuse, a flippant comment - anything. But, no. She stood there, frozen on the spot watching the muscle in his jaw twitch as he waited for an answer for the most unnerving question he could have asked her.

“I'm… sorry?” She feigned ignorance, trying to buy enough time to get her brain to process his request again. Her heart was pounding in her throat and he had to have heard it. “Can you ask me that one more time?”

“Be my date for the Wayne New Year's Eve party.”

When he repeated it, it sounded less of a request and more of a demand. As though the inconvenience of repeating himself should have been repaid with a ‘yes’ answer regardless of what the question was. Cocky bastard. Raven fought the automatic urge to open a portal to anywhere and shove him in it. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her pounding heart and stared at him, keeping her face expressionless. Just because she was adept at controlling her emotions, it didn’t mean she didn’t have any.

“What the fuck for? You’re the son of Bruce Wayne. You wake up and trip over people trying to get dates with you. You have a wellspring of viable candidates to choose from for a New Year’s Eve party.” She fought to keep her panic under control, and continued to stare at him, hoping she looked calmer than she felt. “Please don't ask the girl who doesn't know the difference between an oyster fork and an olive fork.”

“Or a dessert fork.” He smirked as he reminded her of the celebratory dinner party the Mayor had in their honor last year, and the horror of some societal elites as Raven ate her salad with a dessert fork. The scandal.

Raven's face fell and she gave him a deadpan stare, but Damian was unaffected. Finally, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The truth is that I need someone I trust to run interference.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow, motioning for him to elaborate.

“There are… girls. Women.” He shrugged. “Some men.”

“Yes. That's usually who make up populations of people. Your point?”

“I'm a rich, educated, eligible bachelor.” He groaned and stared up at the ceiling, as if he was ashamed to be direct. “Of marrying age.”

“You forgot good looking.”

Why in the fuck had she admitted that out loud? Raven bit the inside of her cheek to keep from looking embarrassed, but Damian stared at her, and she swore she saw his face flush at least a little. She shrugged, trying to be as objective as possible. “I'm not blind, Damian.” She managed to keep herself from blurting out the rest of that statement: you're drop dead gorgeous and totally stacked - of course people are going to try and at least bang you.

“So what… you want me to lurk in the shadows and scare off anyone you don't approve of? Is there someone specific you're trying to… date? Court?” She rubbed her thumb along her jaw, thinking. “What do rich people from the Hamptons call it? Woo?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “Is there a reason you're being so blithe about this?”

“You just asked me to be your pretend girlfriend so that you can avoid talking to people who might want to date you.” She shoved at her hair and crossed her arms over her chest, needing to do something with her hands. “That’s a setup for a bad romance movie.”

He sighed again, obviously frustrated that Raven wasn’t taking his request seriously. Raven couldn’t take his request seriously. The minute she stopped trying to treat his request like a joke, her heart would break into a hundred pieces. She had been harboring feelings for Damian for years, practically since they had been pulled onto the Titans team together. She could keep her feelings under control as long as she kept a heavy barrier of friendship and distance between them.

But knowingly putting herself into a situation where she had to be a girlfriend - even a pretend one - would force all of those feelings front and center. It would leave an opening for her to confess those feelings, and she would admit to him (and probably all of his family too) that she loved him. If Raven was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to be hurt when Damian ultimately rejected her confession.

She could see the whole scene play out over and over in her mind, and the risk felt far too great.

“You’re the only one I want to be my date for the party.”

Raven felt like the floor underneath her had just disappeared. Her heart fell into her stomach before leaping back into her chest to pound frantically against her ribs. Damian’s face was unreadable, and he stared at her, his eyes searching her face for something he could read.

Raven panicked again, trying to find something she could say that would keep her in control. “Is it because you trust me to not fall in love with you?” Because too late, she added within her own thoughts.

“Because you’re my friend and I trust you. Full stop.”

The excitement of his words mingled with the pain of the word friend, leaving Raven to feel both elated and disappointed at the same time. But, that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She would rather be safe behind her barrier of friendship, then put herself at risk of a broken heart. But still… if he only considered her a friend, then there was nothing she needed to worry about. She could do this for him, as a friend.

Rubbing her forehead, she turned and stepped back from him, knowing that her next words were going to be her downfall.

“Just tell me when I have to meet you, and what the hell I should wear.”

#damirae #NYE fic #I don't know if I can get this all out today or tomorrow #so I thought I would at least share when I have #just so you can see a little

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percervall · 4 months

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okay, here's a clue about the fic that has now killed both @monzabee and @vetteltea

#830 words in wish me luck #nye fic

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skeptiquewrites · 1 year

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Microfic: Champagne

for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'champagne supernova' by oasis. cw: alcohol

If Harry had his way, everyone would let each year tip into the next without comment. Instead, the house is overrun with half his Hogwarts year because everyone wants to celebrate with his friends.

Harry wants to join in. Harry wants to leave.

Pansy kisses behind Ginny's ear and leaves a sticky lipstick print. That's new.

Draco pours a flute of champagne for every person in the room before midnight, laughter bright; Lavender is more a hindrance than a help. But if Harry goes downstairs, what's between them won't remain secret much longer. Can't.

Better leave it to next year.

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #100 words #background ginsy #nye fic

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libra-lizard · 1 year

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Let’s Try This Again for @macadeliks

He can’t remember, she can’t forget.

A year later and they're back on another couch on another New Year's Eve, only this time, Fez has no memory of the past 12 months.

#small angst #big fluff #NYE fic #amnesia fic #feximas gift exchange #macadeliks #fexi #fexi fic #fexi fanfic #pinterest shuffles #collage #Spotify #lizard fic

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hoffmannwrites · 1 year

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On My List

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note: Hello, little gay people in my phone!! This is probably my favorite part so far just because it's like so very on brand for them and also we get a little bit of Steve being eye candy and Eddie being a sexy mechanic and I just love them!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, very vague sexy talk (like pg-13 mention of pulling the padge), call him Daddy but in a friendly way ya know, let me know if I missed anything?

Drive

Wayne had a saying while Eddie was growing up. Well, actually, Wayne had a lot of sayings. But one of Eddie’s favorites was “first time is an accident, second time is a coincidence, and third time is a hobby”. For weeks, Eddie ponders what a fourth time is. Because him and Steve have had their mouths on each other four times now and he had no goddamn idea what that meant. Obviously, Steve wasn’t, like, homophobic. He was Robin’s biggest support and he’s never freaked out after any of the times he and Eddie…But the metal head can’t help but wonder what that means. He’s never actually come out or said anything even remotely close to liking a boy. Straight until proven guilty, Eddie liked to believe. Had his heart toyed with by experimenting and down-low boys too many times to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. So Eddie doesn’t say anything- convinces himself that this is just Harrington being comfortable in his masculinity and sexuality. Self-assured enough to know that kissing his guy friend every once in a while isn’t gay, it’s just dudes being bros.

And they were bros! So much so that when Steve’s BMW breaks down around the corner from his own home, that Eddie is the person he calls to help. Steve jogs the block and a half back home and calls two people in quick succession. First is Robin, to let her know that he can’t make it in because something is wrong with his car (“Did you get a flat? Why don’t you know how to fix a flat?” “No, Robs. It’s not that. Yes, I’m sure. No really, I can’t just drive it anyway because it’s fucking smoking.”) Robin agrees to cover for him, but makes the vague threat of him owing her big time. They both know it’s unnecessary because he would do anything for her in a heartbeat regardless.

Second, he calls Eddie. Because Eddie knows about cars. If he can hot-wire a trailer, he can take a look at a smoking BMW. So Eddie drives over and meets Steve around the corner, where he’s sitting on the curb enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. He’s practically sunbathing in his stupid tight acid wash jeans and white tee with the sleeves cuffed and sun glasses on, smoking a cigarette. He looks like an 80’s James Dean but with somehow better hair, Eddie thinks. He rolls down the window of the van and shouts out “Hey! I’m looking for a damsel in distress? About yea high, prettiest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen, and no clue how cars work?”

“Ha-Ha, you’re hilarious, Munson,” Steve replies dryly, as Eddie parks the van right in front of the BMW on the side of the road. He gets out and walks over to the beemer to pop the hood. "So you really think I have pretty eyes?" Steve asks while Eddie sets up the hood strut. But Eddie just clears his throat and hopes the blush on his cheeks isn't noticeable. “So you said it was smoking?” He inquires.

“Yeah it just started to smoke, so I panicked and pulled over immediately,” Harrington explains. “Ah,” Eddie nods in acknowledgement. “Good thing too. I’ve got good news and bad news. Bad news is, this” he says dramatically while pulling out a thin black belt from under the hood into the air, complete with frayed ends, “is not supposed to look like that.” Steve’s eyes go wide, automatically freaking out a little because that looks really bad. But before he can completely shit himself, Eddie continues. “Good news is, I can fix it and it’ll only take me about an hour once we get the part.”

“Oh thank Jesus,” Steve let’s out the breath he was holding.

“Not Jesus. Just little ol' me,” smiles Eddie. “However I have been told the resemblance is striking. I think it’s the hair.” He gestures to the van. “Hop in, let’s go get Daddy a new belt, huh?” He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s face heats up at the nickname, but chalks it up to regular embarrassment. Once they’re both in the car and Steve is sure he locked the beemer for the 4th time, they’re on their way to the nearest Northern Automotive. Eddie doesn’t even blast the radio too loud or anything. “Hey, do you need to me to drop you off? Like you were obviously going somewhere so, I can take you if you need and then just fix it on my own,” Eddie offers, realizing this is probably not how Steve wants to spend his day.

“Oh. No. I already called out of work and it’s a Wednesday, so it’s gonna be dead anyway. Honestly, I could use the break and it’s goddamn gorgeous out today, so I don’t mind. Thanks for asking, though. Are you sure you’re okay spending the day fixing my car?” Steve asks, suddenly aware that he never really asked Eddie to fix it, just take a look and the metal head just lept into action.

“Oh yeah, it’s fine. I was actually super busy smoking weed by myself, jerking off, and watching M.A.S.H. reruns, but it’s alright I guess I can reschedule those super important plans,” Eddie dramatically sighs. Steve smiles wide. “Good to know that you jerk off before watching M.A.S.H. I’d be totally concerned if that was what got you going.”

“Actually, Stevie, I’ll have you know that Alan Alda gets me all kinds of hot and bothered, thank you very much.”

By the time they have arrived back at the car, the sun is hot in the middle of the sky. They got the new belt needed and some Burger King and a case of beer on their way back too, at Steve’s insistence. He tried to offer Eddie money for fixing the car, but the makeshift mechanic refused. “You literally saved my life. I can fix your car,” he had said, blankly, but Steve decided he could at least feed him. Eddie had scarfed down his Whopper on the way back, and got started on the car immediately.

Steve tried to be helpful, handing over a wrench or a beer every now and then. He even gave Eddie a hair tie to put up all those beautiful curls. Mostly though, Steve just watched. Watched Eddie’s arms flex around metal. Watched his tongue stuck between his teeth while he looked at his work in concentration. Watched as his hairline dripped a fine line of sweat down the side of his neck, and disappeared under the collar of his Pantera t-shirt. Watched his ass and that stupid black hanky in his left pocket. Steve just watched Eddie work and thought about how he could get used to seeing the older man sweaty and dirty, as long as he wasn’t bleeding out like that time Steve saw him so filthy. Sure, they talked too, but Steve could barely pay attention to the conversation because he was so focused on just how fucking pretty Eddie looked.

Eventually, the belt was fixed and Eddie slammed down the hood, startling Steve out of his very unholy reverie about all the other ways to make Eddie sweat. “Alright, Big Boy. Let’s give her a test, make sure she starts up for ya nice, and drive her around the block a few times.” Steve jumped up from his spot on the curb and hopped in the drivers seat, put the key in the ignition and turned.

“Beautiful!” Eddie practically shouted, jumping in the passengers side as the car sprang to life perfectly. “Now let’s drive her around a little, make sure she’s all set.” Steve did as he was told and took the car around the neighborhood in complete silence, as Eddie made sure everything sounded, looked, and even smelled correct (“If it sounded wrong, I’d know it. If it smelled wrong, I’d know it. And if it started smoking again, I’d definitely know it,” he insisted).

They pulled back over to where Eddie’s van was. “Man, you have no idea how much I appreciate this,” Steve said when they were parked. “Seriously, I could kiss you right now.”

“Alright, if you insist,” Eddie replied with a theatrical eye roll. He pursed his lips and shut his eyes comically, expecting Steve to laugh him off and shove him away. Instead he felt two soft hands grab the side of his face and an even softer pair of lips on his own. And for just a second, in the silence of Steve Harrington’s BMW, Eddie felt like he was melting way more than he had standing out in the sun. Steve pulled away, hands still on his friends face. “You wouldn’t let me pay you, so that’ll have to do.”

You’d think that after weeks of overthinking the last four times this had happened that Eddie would have had anything worth while to say, that he would have seized the moment and asked Harrington just what the fuck was going on in his head. But he was Eddie Munson. So of course, he made a joke out of it. “I’m not sure what the exchange rate is on that right now, but I think we’re even,” he said feigning confidence, shifting his eyes as far away from Steve’s as possible, and scrambling out of the car as quickly as he could all while trying to not look suspicious. He held the door open and bid Steve good bye, “I won’t tell Robin that you can totally go to work now, by the way. See ya around, sweets.” And with that, Eddie was in his van and speeding away, blasting the radio by the time he got to the end of the block.

Steve had intended on asking Eddie to come back to his house for a while and maybe, finally, get somewhere with the metal head, after dancing around each other for so long, thought he had sealed it with today’s kiss. But Eddie had left so abruptly, that Steve didn’t even get the chance. Obviously, Eddie was totally freaked out by Harrington’s forwardness. He sighed loudly and cursed to himself, driving to Family Video anyway because he needed to talk to Robin.

A/N:

Steve's car is a 1983 BMW 733i in Burgendrot-Metallic.

Apparently, the thing that holds up a cars hood is called a few things, mainly a hood prop or hood strut. From what I could find, BMW uses the phrase hood strut.

Also apparently, only a BMW motorcycle is called a Beemer, while the cars are "bimmers". But as both a person who has never heard that before, and a German speaker, I have decided that is fucking stupid and I won't be calling it that.

Once again, I don’t know shit about fuck about cars. I only know this because one time my serpentine belt broke. It’s a pretty quick fix if you know what you’re doing (allegedly) and you can drive short distances with a broken belt, but it’s not recommended. I have no idea if Steve’s car would be as easy to fix as mine was. Hell, his model might not even have a serpentine belt. Don’t know, don’t really care. I’m a fanfiction writer, not a mechanic.

Northern Automotive was the most popular auto parts store in 1988 according to a news article I found on Reddit. I have never heard of this store, have no idea if they were in Indiana at the time (I mean, they should have been. Indiana is pretty fuckin Northern if you ask me) , and it looks like they either went out of business or rebranded to North Auto Parts at some point. Who’s to say?

M.A.S.H. went off air in 1983, after 11 seasons in as many years. It’s a Korean War drama/comedy and it is one of the most amazing and heartfelt shows ever made. Eddie grew up watching it with Wayne and now he watches the reruns whenever they're on. I strongly recommend you watch it.

I asked my mom what food she ate in the 80s. She said BK (like enthusiastically, too). Here we are.

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skyler10fic · 1 year

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Did I get a kiss at midnight? Nah. Did my characters get a kiss at midnight? Obviously yes

#fic writing #nye #nye fic

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kingsofeverything · 1 year

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1000

#word count #1000 words today #NYE fic #midnight

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bloodydeanwinchester · 4 months

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ive still got quite a few hours til it’s midnight for me but i want to say that i had so much fun with you all in 2023. whether we’re mutuals or if you follow me or i follow you i just want to say that im so glad we got to spend this year together and i hope we get to keep doing it and having more fun times together next year. i really truly appreciate all of you 🥰

#bit of a sappy post i know but i really do just love it so much here #i hope every one has a safe and wonderful nye #i’ll be here all night reading fics and writing and posting about the ship that brought all of this into my life<3 #destiel

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percervall · 4 months

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hehe hiii and happy new year!

№1 - how - and when - did this threesome thing start? who initiated it?

№2 - does it only happen at new year, or do they gather for other special occasions (bdays, race wins etc)

№3 - does fernando ever buy any toys / gifts?

№4 - does the nature of the relationship between fernando and george ever change, or do they only focus on her?

I have more thoughts but I'll hold off on them for now..

Happy new year!!

this is the second time, the first time was during NYE '22, and it was George that invited Fernando to continue the party somewhere private when Fernando and her kept flirting

It started out as a new year's eve tradition, but George loves spoiling his girlfriend so it's grown into a season break tradition: summer break out on Fernando's boat, winter break hidden away in the Swiss mountains (or wherever that's cold enough so they can use a sauna for hot weather training)

After the first time, Fernando bought her a remote controlled butt plug, "something to remind you of how it feels to be filled the way you crave"

No, they just like hanging out and George trusts Fernando blind with his girl, knowing he can give her something that doesn't come naturally to George

Please feel free to send whatever thoughts, I love hearing them!

#ask #paris-roubaix #nye fic

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neontoad · 4 months

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“There is nothing in this life that makes it…”

Chuuya rolls his eyes and takes a drag of his cigarette, turning a deaf ear to Dazai’s yapping. He leans his back against the crane frame and squints his eyes at the lights of boats peppering Yokohama Bay like stars. Their little hiding point on the top of the port crane provides a perfect view of the vast and mighty sea they both adore but still… The night is cold and not particularly pleasant. Especially with Dazai babbling away about the meaninglessness of life, a pesky mosquito clad in black he has the misfortune to call his almost-friend.

Pathetic.

Still, even that is better than spending New Year’s Eve alone.

He glances at his watch. Just a few more minutes until midnight. Until the date changes — and nothing else, really.

New Year is not a big deal.

Then why does it feel like it should be?

“If I were to jump off- oh!”

The genuine surprise in Dazai’s voice makes Chuuya’s head snap. He has to do a double take — Dazai looks ridiculous and almost human with his eyes crossed as he’s looking at a… large snowflake resting on the tip of his nose.

The snowflake melts almost instantly, leaving just a wet spot behind.

In unison, the boys raise their heads as they watch thousands of snowflakes descend on the city in an intricate waltz, the first snow deciding to grace the city in the last moments of the old year.

Chuuya’s wristwatch beeps.

And… it all changes.

As the snow continues to fall, Chuuya can’t get enough of the way little snowflakes stay on Dazai’s eyelashes, diamonds on the dark backdrop dissolving into nothing and quickly replaced by new, somehow even shinier ones. Dazai keeps grunting and trying to sweep the snow off the top of his head, and Chuuya has to resist the urge to grab his wrist and let the snowflakes linger on the dark brown strands for a bit longer. On the other hand… there is something precious in such fleeting, momentary beauty.

The stray snowflakes on Dazai’s fringe twinkle under the crane lights, and it’s such a mesmerising sight, that Chuuya feels like his gravity is reduced to nothing as he floats in the galaxy of shimmering stars, lost in the shine so bright, he never wants to be found.

Chuuya is brought back to reality when Dazai, ridiculously red-faced, lightly punches his shoulder and hands him a wrinkled plastic cup of o-toso sake. Their fingers brush when Chuuya takes the cup from Dazai’s hand, and he can swear that Dazai’s usually cold fingers are almost scorching hot — the fire Chuuya’d gladly embrace.

They clink their cups and Chuuya’s heart skips a beat at Dazai’s faint, sincere smile.

“Happy New Year, Chuuya.”

“Happy New Year… Osamu.”

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #skk #soukoku #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #mini fic #teen skk #pm skk #feelings realisation #soft skk #first snow #new years eve #nye #fluff

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hoffmannwrites · 1 year

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On My List

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note:

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, some pretty brief mentions for drinking, smoking, musical theater (yes, that gets it's own warning), uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, let me know if I missed anything?

Suddenly, Seymour

By the time their 4th kiss rolls around, Steve is starting to think that maybe he hallucinated the whole fucking thing. Eddie hasn’t made a single move or mentioned any of the kisses at all to Steve since NYE. Even Robin had gone from “Oh my god, he’s totally into you” to “well, you know how Eddie is. He loves to cause chaos.” Eddie and Steve still see each other regularly, usually at least once a week on their own volition and a couple times in between while driving around the children. And in the almost month that had past, not once has Eddie even hinted at anything happening between them.

So, Steve did what he did best and pushed it all down and focused on anything else other than the metal head. This focus included helping Dustin audition for the school musical, Little Shop of Horrors. Steve didn’t know much about acting and his singing knowledge was limited to what he learned as a kid in church choir, but he was very good at critiquing Dustin. Steve even watched the movie with Rick Moranis and everything so he knew what was going on in the musical and how it should feel (and totally not because he thought Steve Martin looked kinda hot in the leather jacket with the motorcycle even if he was a piece of shit).

Dustin was auditioning for the lead, Seymour. Part of the audition was having to do a duet with someone auditioning for Audrey, and kissing her at the end of the song. Dustin was really good at every other thing he had to do for this role, but the idea of kissing someone random on stage in front of the whole town was really freaking him out. (Sure, cannibalism and murder was fine, but god forbid there was PDA). Of course, Steve became his personal director for this particular issue, as the ex-ladies man was very familiar with kissing practical strangers in public.

“Listen, you just gotta think about Suzie,” he advised.

“You want me to think about my girlfriend while kissing another girl?” Dustin questioned, looking at Steve like he has 5 heads.

“No that’s not what I-“, Steve started. He sat down on the couch next to the now Sophomore. “Look. This whole song is about realizing you’re in love, right? It’s about finally getting the girl. It’s about finally realizing that the person who’s been by your side this whole time, who’s had your back since day one, who’s never hurt you is the love of your life. And you’re finally ready to see that, to admit it,” Steve explains. “Not only are you falling in love with your best friend, but you have this feeling of-of hope. There’s a weight off your shoulders and everything just might work out in your favor. And that’s how you feel about Suzie, right? Like it’s all gonna be okay when you look at her?” Dustin nods in response and Steve continues. “So you gotta take all that- all that love and light and- and hope and put it into this song, and the kiss. It’s not about kissing someone on stage, it’s about making the audience feel that joy that your character is feeling.”

“Wow, Harrington. I didn’t know you were such a fuckin’ sap.” Eddie’s voice rings out from the doorframe of Dustin’s bedroom, scaring the ever living shit out of the other two boys. “Jesus Christ, Eddie, you can’t just sneak up on people like that,” Dustin scolds.

Eddie puts his hands up in defense “Sorry, sorry. Stevie was on a roll, there. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Yeah, he was. I just still don’t get how I’m supposed to kiss someone that I’m not into without it being weird or at least looking weird, ya know?” It’s Eddie’s turn to offer some advice, now.

“Oh, Dustybun, it’s way easier than it sounds. Isn’t that the whole point of acting? You do it every week at Hellfire, this is just like that. You’re woo-ing the fair maiden to get access to the castle and it’s armory. Except, instead of rolling a D20 and convincing me, it’s an audience that actually wants you to win.”

And Dustin thinks about that for a minute, because yeah he does have to “act” in Hellfire every week and there have been a few times where his character has had to flirt his way out of some sticky situations. But he still has his reservations. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you guys do it?” He says to his mentors, not wanting to admit they were right so easily.

“Fine,” Steve almost snaps before Eddie has the chance to make some sarcastic come back. The metal head looks over at Steve, a little wide-eyed, but before he can protest, Steve is talking again. “I’m no singer, but I’ll do my best. You know the song?” He asks Eddie.

“Uh, yeah kind of,” he croaks out, too caught off guard to really say anything else.

“Alright. We’ll start with the last chorus. You okay taking Audrey?” Eddie nods his head as Steve hands him a lyric sheet, still a little stunned at everything that’s happening. Man, he just came to pick up some Hellfire notes Dustin had for him. And now here he was, standing in Dustin’s bedroom, singing a fucking love song with Steve Harrington. Shit, he wasn’t even a soprano, he can’t hit these notes! Eddie clears his throat and starts singing, albeit taking it down an octave. Steve is right there with him, singing the back up vocals with surprising emotion. Holy shit, Harrington can sing. Holy shit, can Harrington act? There’s no time to really dwell on the revelation right now, because Eddie realizes he should probably be acting too. Only he doesn’t really have to act like he loves Steve because he does, oh god, he does. Has been since he watched that idiot jump into a lake that was also an inter-dimensional portal with zero hesitation.

So they’re singing to each other, standing face to face but far enough apart that it’s not, like, weird or anything. And then it is weird, it’s so so weird because they’re on the last bit of the song and Steve has moved in closer to Eddie and is looking at him like he did right after Eddie kissed him on New Years. By the third “sweet understanding”, Steve grabs both of Eddie’s hands and steps in really close now, so much that they’re singing the last line directly to each other, staring each other in the eyes. And when that last note wraps up, where there should be some orchestral music and applause from an auditorium filled with people, Steve moves his hands to around Eddie’s waist and kisses him like they do in all those sappy movies. Steve’s hand are everywhere and Eddie feels like he’s being completely held together by the younger man, like every piece of him will shatter the second he lets go. And they kiss, chaste and unmoving, waiting for the fake applause to die down and the stage lights to fade to black so the next scene can start. But they break apart and Steve turns to Dustin and raises his eyebrows looking for approval, like he didn’t just melt the metal heads brain.

“Woah.” Dustin is kind of flabbergasted by the display he just saw. “Why didn’t you guys do the plays in school? That was super convincing. Like, so good.”

Steve smiles, all teeth, beaming and proud. “Yeah, well, we were busy. With sports. And, uh,” he gestures vaguely to Eddie, “and drugs.” Eddie has regained enough brain function at this point to shrug in agreement with the last statement, but he’s wondering if Steve’s really that good of an actor or if there’s something else there. No, probably just wishful thinking. But as Dustin gets up to find the papers Eddie came for and Steve offers them both a rushed goodbye as he realizes he’s late for his shift, Eddie can’t help but remember that this is the fourth time Steve’s mouth has been on his.

A/N:

Idk shit about fuck about D&D. I've been trying to get someone to teach me or let me join them or anything and I simply cannot. If I am using the wrong die for this hypothetical situation in my fictional non-canon story about fictional people in a fantasy horror show, I'm sorry. This isn't Um, Actually, okay? I'm just guessing.

I also know nothing about the licensing process for school musicals, but the Little Shop movie came out in ‘86 and I love the idea of a fanatic drama teacher making it the musical. And Dustin would love it because it’s about a giant plant who eats people because it’s an alien. I also haven’t seen the full musical (not the movie, they’re different) since I was like 7 so please pardon me if they don’t actually kiss during Suddenly, Seymour.

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