#people responding to my hot chocolate post!!!

[subjectsix]

A bit extra mushy about all my friends and community today.

[ineffablefool]

This connection is supposed to be symmetrical.

[madridfangirl]

Dichotomy

(Jude Bellingham Blurb)

Set post the Girona away game (24/25). Jude texts with his gf after the match.

..................................................................................................

After the win, Jude skipped to the dressing room & found a message from his girlfriend.

'Riddle me something?'

He sat down in front of his locker & started typing.

'What? Also, no 'congrats' or 'you were amazing' or 'I'm proud of you'?'

'Congrats. You were amazing. I'm proud of you.'

'Gee thanks. Now, riddle you what?'

She sent him the two photos.

'How are these the same person? In a span of 5 mins? What is this dichotomy?'

'Erm what?'

'Like how do you go from barking orders on the pitch & dominating everyone (including your own teammates at times) to these toddler antics?'

'Toddler what?'

'You looked like my 3 year old nephew wrapped in those blankets asking for a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter night.'

'Is that your way of saying I looked cute?'

'🤷‍♀️'

'IT WAS COLD AF! Like, you play half naked and tell me you don't need blankets after. Even my fingers were frozen.'

She could almost hear the whine even in his text.

'You even sound like my nephew now. Also, people would pay 10x the money to see you play half naked so stop being so dramatic.'

'Whatever.'

'Awww.'

'Don't do that.'

'You know what I do when my nephew throws tantrums like this?'

'What? Also, this ain't a tantrum.'

She refused to even address the second part of the sentence.

'I give him his favorite treats, snuggle with him under a cozy blanket, pamper him endlessly till he giggles and jumps on me happily.'

That got his attention.

'I won't mind that.'

' Yeah?'

'Yeah am hurt & cold & sad. Need some cheering up.'

'Sad? You just won the match AND the MOTM.'

'Those things can go together.'

'Ofcourse.'

'So I'll come to yours from the airport? Will be late in the night but....tomorrow is Sunday.'

'Yeah you can come.'

'Coool.'

5 seconds later he was typing again.

'Something was said about fav treats?'

'What do you want?'

'Hot chocolate. Some fries. And you.'

'Yes. Yes. And no.'

'?????'

'I'm on my period you loon.'

'Thought you were already done?'

'No it's still day 5.'

'Universe keeps conspiring against me.'

'Sure. Me having to go through this tremendous discomfort every month is universe conspiring against you.'

'Obviously.'

'Whatever.'

'Now who's being a kid?'

'Still you.'

'Seriously you're sure it's day 5?'

She could practically hear his whining ringing in her ear.

'I don't know how to answer that.'

'Fine.'

Jude packed up his bag & got on the team bus without taking a shower. The staff reminded him but he refused, saying he'd die if he goes near water right now. They just smiled back and let him be. But some teammates gave him some stick which he didn't give two hoots about.

What he did give two hoots about was being outmaneuvered by his girlfriend. Even against her he didn't like losing, not even remotely.

He sat in the back, watched the team celebrating upfront but refused to move (again, too cold). Pulling out his phone, he re-read the exchange and sent her a quick message.

'Riddle me this?'

Her curiosity was piqued.

'Yes?'

Jude went straight for the kill. Typing without gloves was an effort & he wanted to save energy.

'How come you like me all aggressive & dominant on the pitch but not in bed? What is this dichotomy?'

When she didn't respond for 30 seconds, he mock-teased.

'Earth to dove, you there?'

'You are...those things...in bed also.'

'Not enough.'

'So...what else would you...you know?'

'Naa would rather show you tomorrow night.'

'Maybe tell me a bit? So I can...wrap my head around it?'

'Telling is no fun. Doing is.'

'Judeee.'

It was her turn to whine. He smiled at the screen.

'I like it when you are a bit nervous & on edge. The sounds you make then>>>'

'You're insufferable. And shameless.'

'Sure. Getting on the flight in 5. See you in under 2 hours. Prepare the treats that are rightfully mine. Mwahhh.'

'BYE.'

'And dove?'

'What??'

'I love you.'

Just like that, all her irritation / nerves fizzled away. And she couldn't wait for him to come to her, so she could wrap him up in a blanket and spoil him silly.

..........................................................................

He deserves all the spoiling and pampering :)

Hope you liked it!

[2thamax]

A CHRISTMAS WITHOUT YOU

Word count: ?

Warnings: angst

A/N: so sorry for the inactivity, I’ve been practicing my writing and I’m really proud of this one

The soft hum of Christmas music barely reached Tara’s ears, drowned out by the feeling of emptiness that enveloped the room. She sat curled up on her couch, a mug of hot chocolate clasped tightly in her hands. The fireplace flickered softly in the corner, casting warm shadows across the room, but the warmth didn’t reach her. The Christmas lights on the tree blinked cheerfully, but all she could feel was the cold. The kind of cold that settles deep inside, where nothing can chase it away.

This was supposed to be the holiday season—the time for family, for love, for memories. But all Tara could think about was how everything felt so wrong without you.

Without Y/N.

She’d been trying to ignore it, trying to pretend like she was fine. After all, she had to. She had to keep going. It was Christmas, for God’s sake. Everyone else was busy with their plans, Sam posting pictures of Chad and Mindy, laughing in cozy settings, sharing sweet moments with the people they loved. But Tara felt like she was standing in a snowstorm, lost and alone, watching the world go on without her.

Her fingers brushed against the cold porcelain of her mug, but it did nothing to warm her heart. The mug didn’t help. The fire didn’t help. Nothing helped. All she wanted was to be with you again.

It had been nearly two months since Y/N had broken up with her. Two months since the phone call that shattered everything.

“Tara, I’m sorry, but I think we need a break. I just… I can’t do this anymore.”

The words had come out of nowhere, like a punch to the gut. Tara remembered feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, her stomach twisting into tight knots as Y/N’s voice faltered, trembling on the other end of the line.

“I think I need some time, Tara. I need space. Please understand.”

Of course, Tara didn’t understand. She tried to call back, text, beg Y/N to talk, to work through whatever had gone wrong. But Y/N didn’t respond. She didn’t reach out. It was as if she had just disappeared from Tara’s life, leaving behind nothing but silence and a hollow ache in her chest.

Tara thought back to the Christmases they had shared. The first one felt like a dream, wrapped in fairy lights and laughter. They’d spent hours decorating the tiny tree they’d shared, teasing each other about it that was just a little too crooked, laughing about the failed attempt at baking cookies together. They’d made promises, whispered about the future, about how their holidays would always be like this—together.

And now, here she was. Alone.

The first snowflakes of the evening began to drift past her window, twinkling like the stars she used to look at with you, lying side by side in the cold, sharing stories, and dreams. It was all so far gone now.

The notification on her phone buzzed loudly in the silence, cutting through her thoughts. She reached for it, half-expecting it to be Y/N. Maybe this time, Y/N had changed her mind. Maybe this time, she was ready to come back.

But no. It was a message from her friend, Mindy—another Merry Christmas text, full of cheerful emojis, photos of the family gathering, and a reminder to join the Zoom call later in the evening. Tara’s finger hovered over the screen for a moment, the emptiness in her heart swelling at the thought of joining a conversation where everyone would ask her why she wasn’t with you this year.

Because the truth was, Tara didn’t know. She didn’t know what had gone wrong. She didn’t know why Y/N had walked away, why they’d grown apart so suddenly. It felt like she had been blindsided, like she had been living in a relationship where everything seemed perfect, and yet, somehow, it hadn’t been enough.

Sighing, she shoved the phone back into her pocket, leaning her head against the back of the couch. She tried to focus on the sound of the fire crackling, the soft tinkle of the Christmas music in the background, but her mind kept drifting back to Y/N.

She had told herself she’d be okay. She’d even convinced herself that she was getting better. But tonight? Tonight was different. Tonight, there was no escaping it. The loss hit her harder than ever before. The house, the tree, the decorations—they all reminded her of what she didn’t have anymore.

The Christmases they would never share again.

She reached over to the side table and picked up a small wrapped gift she had been holding onto for weeks. It was the present she’d bought for Y/N, the one she’d spent hours picking out, the one she had been so excited to give her. She’d been certain this would be the Christmas they’d get back on track, the Christmas they’d fix everything. But it had been left unopened, abandoned just like her heart had been.

Tara’s throat tightened as she ran her fingers over the wrapping paper. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to return it, to even think about giving it to anyone else. It felt like a betrayal, a final goodbye that she couldn’t quite let go of.

A sudden knock at the door startled her, and for a brief second, her heart skipped. Was it Y/N? Did she finally want to talk? Could this be the moment that changed everything?

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Y/N.

It was just her neighbor, bringing over a plate of cookies and wishing her a Merry Christmas. She smiled politely, took the plate, and thanked them, but the brief interaction only highlighted how alone she really was. The neighbor left with a cheerful “Enjoy your night!” and Tara closed the door softly behind her, leaning her forehead against it for a moment.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her thoughts, and this time, when she looked at the screen, it was a message from Y/N.

“Merry Christmas, Tara. I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry things turned out like this. I miss you.”

Tara’s heart pounded painfully in her chest as she stared at the words. It wasn’t a full explanation, and it wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for, but it was something. Something that made her believe, for a brief moment, that maybe things weren’t entirely over.

But she wasn’t sure how to respond. Could she forgive Y/N for leaving? Could she move past the hurt, the empty space that had been left in the wake of their breakup?

She ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip as the tears began to well up in her eyes. She missed Y/N so much. More than she could put into words. She missed the way Y/N would light up when she walked into the room, the way their laughter would echo through the house, the way they would talk about their dreams, their future, as if nothing could ever tear them apart.

Now, there was only silence.

A Christmas without Y/N.

Tara placed the phone down, resting her head against the back of the couch again, and let the tears fall. She let herself feel everything—the sadness, the regret, the longing. Because this Christmas, that’s all she had left. Memories.

And maybe, just maybe, if she allowed herself to feel all of it, she’d be able to make it through the night, until the morning came, and with it, a new year. A new beginning.

But tonight, she was still here—missing the one person she thought she’d spend forever with.

And that, she realized, was the hardest part of all.

______________________________________________

A/N: hope you guys like this one !

[temilyrights]

simple thing, where have you gone?

alex blake x gn!reader

summary: for @storiesofsvu's holiday bingo "first snowfall" square + also inspired by this ask i recieved. alex knows you aren't sleeping and is determind to find out what's bothering you, and she's bringing out the big guns - hot cocoa.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nightmare descriptions: feeling claustrophic, being trapped. alex touches r's hair (long enough that she moves a strand from r's eye - no description of hair type/colour). kissing. no use of y/n or pronouns. hurt/comfort with a happy ending.

a/n: this was so fun to write. i think it may be my fav thing i've written. i'm changing up the photos i post because i've seen a lot of people do this format (e.g. @emilys-bangs & @catssluvr - check them out <3) and i think it looks a lot prettier and cleaner than a gif so i'm jumping on the bandwagon.

Alex balances the two trays of steaming cocoas in her hands. The aroma tickles her senses, the creamy chocolate temporarily transporting her back to her childhood, to winter evenings in front of a fireplace with her family. It’s a welcome comfort after five days in chilly Bismarck, ND. She pushes her way into the conference room the team are currently taking up residence in; multiple heads lift up, sighs leaving lips, as shoulders relax at the indulgent scent, and Alex knows she has made the correct choice in grabbing the sweet treat for everyone. 

“Is that what I think it is?” JJ sighs, hopeful and exhausted. 

“I thought we could all use a little pick-me-up, especially in this weather.” She responds as she places the heavy trays on the table. Her eyes dart around the room as eager hands begin reaching for the hot beverages. Your absence is notable, and makes her teeth dig into her lip. A common theme this week.  

“Thanks, Blake.” Morgan nods gratefully. He sips the cocoa, savouring the taste, thrown back to his own happy memories. It’s beautiful how a simple drink can have a room full of agents silently reminiscing. She catches Hotch, tenderly holding the cup, a warmth making its way up his cheeks as he takes a sip, so unlike the stoic figure he tries to hold whilst at work. 

Alex grabs the last two cups from the tray. “Where’s-”

“Out back.” Reid interrupts, worry obvious. She wasn’t the only one that had noticed your declining state. 

She retreats from the room with a smile as the team all voice their thank you’s. The cold night air is less forgiving when she steps outside a second time, biting at her skin, and causing her face to flush pink even as the hot cocoa continues to provide warmth to her hands and she buries her face in her scarf. She finds you leaning against the precinct wall, the glow of a nearby security light breaking up the night sky, highlighting you enough that she can make out your arms wrapped tightly around your body and your stare stuck on a point in the distance as she approaches. 

You look around, the bags under your eyes more obvious in the unflattering yellow light. You haven’t been sleeping, Alex knows. Has been able to hear you restlessly moving around your room late at night due to the thin hotel walls. And despite that, you are always pouring over casefiles when everyone arrives in the precinct in the morning, looking like you’ve been glued to the chair for hours, even though the clock only reads eight am. 

It’s not healthy, you’re working yourself to the bone and she can’t figure out what it is about this case that has you on such high-alert. It was brutal, three victims so far tortured and mutilated, but she’s watched you not flinch at worse.

She’s worried about you. 

“Hot cocoa.” Alex says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing her lips as she pushes the drink in your direction. 

Your eyes widen, mouth opening in surprise, “Oh.” You take the cup from her hands, eyes tracking her face for a moment before you fully accept the gift, always looking for an ulterior motive. 

You lift the drink to your nose, eyes closed as you inhale the chocolatey aroma through the mouthpiece of the lid. A hum leaves your lips, your shoulders relaxing further into the wall. A sense of peace finally settling over you for the first time this week. 

Alex finally rewards herself with a sip of her own cocoa. The hot liquid fighting off the cold air and encompassing the ball of warmth in her chest that is directly related to you. She did good. Anything that eased the now permanent furrow of your brows was a win in her books. 

“Thank you.” You sigh, eyes fluttering open. Your body rolls against the wall, leaning more towards her and creating a little pocket of space where the harsh biting air seems to dull. Her eyes move across your face, caressing every detail, wanting to hold this time while she can. 

“How are you doing?” She asks, trying to keep her voice light so you don’t get defensive, and unintentionally making it soft and intimate in the small space.

You take another sip of your drink, nodding. “I’m okay.” 

She arches her brow, she can’t help it. Her lips tilting upwards as her fingers reach out to ghost your arm. You follow the action, breath catching, and she forces her hand away, scolding herself for wanting more, always having to resist the urge to pull you closer.

She tucks her free hand into her trouser pocket, “How are you doing?” 

You blow out a breath, visible in the air. She wonders if it might snow, the air feels frosty enough. “I just wanted a breather. I was about to head back inside.” 

“A breather from what exactly?” 

You huff, eyes moving away from her and focusing on something across the street. “I mean isn’t it normal to want a little space after five days of being in each other's pockets? I love the team but it’s not like any of us have had five proper minutes alone since we got here.” 

She nods. She would agree with you if you weren’t beginning to get defensive, eyes avoiding hers and feet shifting beneath you. She tilts her head, aiming for casual, but knowing the words will hit anyway, “And this has nothing to do with the fact you’re not sleeping?” 

Your eyes snap to hers, panic obvious, before they flicker away and you bury your head back in your cup. “I don’t know what you mean,” You murmur, words threatening to be lost to the cup as you take another sip of your drink. 

She aches to reach out and stroke the hair away from your face that you are using as a shield. Instead, her fingers flex on her cup, her teeth digging into her lip. “You can talk to me.” She whispers, voice coming out like a promise, a vow. “I want to help, however I can.”

“Why?” You ask, disbelief coating your features, looking at her like she’s a puzzle you can’t solve, no matter how hard you try. 

“Because you’re hurting.” She responds honestly and swallows down the lump in her throat that tries to make itself known. 

Tears build in your eyes as you shake your head. Your eyes flicker over her face and then away again, a soft laugh escaping your mouth as your fingers tap a pattern against your cup. “Just like that?” You whisper throatily, gaze still trapped in the distance.

“Of course,” 

You swallow roughly, eyes finding their way back to hers, lost and scared. An expression she never wants to see on your face again. She doesn’t have it in her to resist again.

She sighs, stepping closer and gently brushes the hair from your eyes. They fall close, a soft breath leaving your lips as you lean into the gesture. She memorises each detail of you, committing the length of your eyelashes to memory, the lines around your mouth, the feeling of your skin beneath her touch. Her hand trails down to your arm and settles there, safe. 

Your eyes flutter open, holding her gaze as you nod gently. ”I haven’t been sleeping well.” You confess.

She waits patiently for you to continue as she notices a few white snowflakes land in your hair. 

Snow. 

“I’ve been having this recurring dream where I'm trapped in this box, and I can barely breathe. It’s—awful.” You rapidly blink away the tears in your eyes. “I’m screaming but no one comes. I’m all alone. And then I wake up and I feel claustrophobic in my own body, all these emotions bubbling up that I can’t release.” Your tears spill over and you reach up to hastily wipe away the mess with a shaking hand. “It’s stupid and selfish. There’s three dead women and I’m crying over nothing.”

“Sweetie, no.” She urges, hand tightening on your arm. “You are none of those things. Those dreams sound atrocious. No wonder you haven’t been sleeping.” 

“I’m so scared to close my eyes.” You whisper, hauntedly. 

“Then let me watch over you, and when the dream hits we can break the pattern. I’ll be there.”

You shake your head, laughing, “What? You’re gonna watch over me while I sleep—”

“Yes.” She interrupts, voice serious and weighted. She won’t let you joke this away, not when you look seconds away from collapsing. Alex would sit there the entire night if she needed to. She would watch over you and keep you safe. 

You swallow roughly, unable to hold her intense gaze, the probing eyes that not only saw you, but took action to help. Snowflakes continue to slowly fall, landing on your hair and face, and making her heart erupt with emotions. The urge to touch is amplified tenfold, the combined beauty of the snow and you almost too much to bare. She forces her hand to fall away. 

“Alex, I will be okay. You don’t need to do any of this.” 

She nods, knows that, but it will not stop her. “You need to sleep. You are destroying yourself pretending you don’t. Why wouldn’t I help when I can?” 

You sigh, frosted breath erupting into the space between you. Annoyed, frustrated, at the thought of needing anyone. “Only because I need to be able to focus on this case.” 

She smirks, eyes brightening. “For the good of the case.” She hums, catching your eye and enjoying the almost bashful expression that coats your features as you huff out a laugh and your gaze skates away again. 

You take another sip of your drink and she mirrors you. It’s beginning to lose its heat, but you don’t complain. Snowflakes continue to fall, and Alex turns towards them, lifting her head into the snowfall. The delicate flakes land on her face, cold and wet, and a smile tugs at her lips. This was the first snowfall of the year, and she could not think of a better moment for it to arrive than when you were standing next to her. 

The chattering of your teeth breaks through her basking, and she turns back around, a disapproving tut escaping her mouth when she finds you shivering on the spot in silence. “Let’s go inside before you get hypothermia.” 

“No,” You protest, hand landing on her arm to stop her moving away. “No, you love the snow. Let’s enjoy it a moment longer.” 

“Honey, you’re shivering–”

“I’m fine.” You rebut, shoulders squaring in stubbornness. And then, softer, from below your lashes, “I want to finally enjoy the snow with you.” 

She melts, putty in your hands. She can’t argue with you, your eyes should be considered a weapon the way she crumbles for them. She nods, and outstretches her hand, “Here, give me your cocoa.” 

You pass it over without objection, and Alex walks a few steps away to dispose of both cups in the bin. Long since cold and of no use to anyone now. She begins pulling off her scarf as she approaches you again, and your eyes widen. 

“Alex–”

She wraps the burgundy cashmere around your neck, bating the hands away that try to interrupt her task. Your shoulders slump, your nose burrowing into the material as a sigh leaves your lips. She smiles and ignores the biting cold now hitting her body as she fiddles with the end of the scarf, making it lay flat against your coat. 

“There,” She whispers.

You sigh, holding her gaze with a furrowed brow. She can see thoughts winding their way through your head, but you don’t voice them. Instead, you stumble forward, your arms pulling her in and wrapping tightly around her waist, eliciting a surprised “oh” from her throat as her own arms hold you close, after a second to compute. Her nose finds its way to your hair, the smell of your shampoo evading her senses and making her hold you tighter.

“Thank you.” You whisper. “For everything.” 

“You do not need to thank me.” She responds, hand stroking your hair before she pulls back to see your face, missing the sight. Your hands remain fixed to her waist, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you look at her. She tracks the movement, heart thumping in her chest. 

“I don’t want you to think your actions go unappreciated.”

She finds a strand of your hair, one not even in your eye, and stokes it out the way, a choked tut escaping her throat. It’s getting increasingly more difficult to remember herself, to draw back, especially when you look at her with soft, unguarded eyes. The snowfall is getting more intense, covering you in white snowflakes, landing on your eyelashes and melting as you blink.  

“I could never feel unappreciated by you.” She responds, voice barely louder than the wind. Too honest, too much of her heart on show, and you must see it, the way your breath catches, your hand tightening in her jacket. “I just want to do what I can to keep you safe.”

You arch a brow, “You know that’s not always gonna be possible, right?”

She nods, hand moving to cup your cheek and caress the cold skin. You lean into the gesture, your eyes falling close. She isn’t silly, she understands the risks of this job; she knows it isn’t always going to be possible. However, why does that mean she should stop trying? “I know, but sometimes it’s nice to know someone has your back.” 

Your eyes open again, blinking slowly, snowflakes interrupting your sight. “And that's all this is? Just you having my back?” You run your lip between your teeth, your tongue swiping out to moisten the chapped mess you leave behind. 

Alex tracks the movement under heavy eyes, “No,” She breathes, honestly. 

Your mouth parts, your chest rising and falling, eyes focused on her own mouth. Her thumb trails down your cheek, pausing by the corner of your mouth as her gaze finds yours again. You watch her, pupils blown, and Alex slowly pulls her thumb across your bottom lip, feeling the soft flesh, and nearly crumbling at your heaving breath. 

“Alex–” You sigh, eyes pleading for more. Her heart thumps, head hazy with desire, as she finally brings her mouth closer to yours. Your hot breath hit her lips, breaking up the cold, and melting the snowflakes that have landed near her lips. She doesn’t mean to tease you, she just can’t believe she’s here, and is set on memorising every moment of this interaction. 

You have other ideas, a frustrated whine leaving your lips, as you thrust forward and close the remaining distance. Her body hums at the first brush of your lips, needy and impatient, her stomach tingling as you pull her flush against her. She can’t think, can’t breathe, as your lips move together, the sensations perfectly overwhelming. The kisses melt into something gentle and slow, but the neediness never leaves, simmering under the surface. You both balance on the edge of something more; blood rushing through her veins, but she’s not able to forget her location. 

She pulls back, short of breath, the cold air rushing to fill in the space and making her shiver. Your lips are swollen, so kissed. The most irresistible you’ve ever been. She caresses your cheek, “You, my dear, are the person I’m falling in love with.” 

You rapidly blink away tears, “Really?” 

“Of course,” She nods, smiling. “It’s you.” 

You shake your head slightly in disbelief, “You make everything sound so simple.” 

“I think with you it could be.”

“God–” Your voice cracks, and you tug her back your lips finding hers again, frantic, hot and needy. You devour her with bruising kisses, communicating what you fear to say aloud, and Alex catches it all. I feel it too. I want you. I’m scared. Please stay. 

She pulls away, earlier than she wants to. “Honey–” She meets you in another kiss, but drags herself back again, forcibly taking a step back so she can’t fall into you again so easily. 

“Sorry, sorry–” You say between laboured breaths, shaking your head. 

“It’s not because I do not want to.” She explains, a blush rising in her cheeks, that mingles with the permanent one on her face because of the frosty air. 

“I know,” You nod, smiling bashfully. “But we should get back to the team.” 

She sighs and nods. “Yes.” 

“And out of this snow before we catch a cold.” 

She looks out at the white flakes, beginning to settle on the ground. Hopefully in a few hours she’ll be able to feel the crunch of snow under her feet. Your hand rubs up and down her jacketed arm, “When this case is over, I’ll find a place where you can properly enjoy the snow.” You promise. 

Her heart warms, gaze softening as she looks at your earnest expression. “Come on, you’re right, let’s get inside.” She places her hand on your back and pushes you back in the direction of the precinct.

You oblige, shoulders bumping together as you walk. Alex catches your eyes just before she opens the door to the building, eyes soft and her smile just for you. Her hand falls from your back, forcing her touch away, as she pulls open the door. You step inside, subtly squeezing her hand as you pass, making her heart thump. 

She follows, watching as you attempt to shake off the snowflakes that cling to your body. It's useless, they’re already melting, soaking into your hair and clothes, but she enjoys watching you try. 

“There you guys are.” Morgan interrupts, making her break her gaze away from you and to the man watching you in mild amusement. Alex’s not ready to give away just how much she’s feeling for you to outsiders just yet. She wants to keep it between the two of you for now. “Hotch wants us to go over victimology. Thinks something isn’t right.” 

She nods, ready to focus back on the case. “Of course, let’s go.” She heads in the direction of the conference room, mindful of the way Morgan hangs back to speak to you. 

“Is that Blake’s scarf?” She hears him ask, amusement thick in his voice. 

She doesn’t dare turn back around. 

“Yes, I was cold.” You respond, defensive, and likely with an eye-roll.

He whistles, “I see you, casanova.” 

“Morgan–” You protest, voice dripping with annoyance. Alex winces and pushes her way into the conference room, hearing his loud chuckle sounding from behind her. 

The rest of the team is already spilling over folders, and she takes her seat, pausing first to slip out of her wet coat and discard it on an unused chair. You make your way into the room and she can’t resist looking at you from the corner of her eye as you take the seat opposite her, a smile on your face that conveys you can feel her stare. 

She looks away, forcing you out of her mind, and instead focusing on Hotch as he starts to voice the holes in victimology. 

She’d check on you again this evening. There was an unsub to catch.

taglist: @aburman03

[stsgluver]

synopsis. mcdonald's date with gojo after work [part of the dynasty series]

wc. 870

tags. gojo x reader, rich boy!au, fluff, self indulgent, not proofread x

a/n. I wish I had a gojo to fund my maccies addiction

"dinner is served, m'lady," gojo dropped his head elegantly in a small bow as he held out a mcdonald's bag to you and you can't help the grin that graced your features. your snow white-haired boyfriend dared to take a glance up, his expression mirroring yours as he felt the spread of the warmth that came with making you happy. his cheeks and the tips of his flushed a light shade of pink at the idea he was the reason behind your smile.

"you shouldn't have," you responded dramatically, leaning forward to grab the bag of food with one hand and the collar of his hoodie in the other. tugging him forward lightly, he followed through, not hesitating to dip his head down to meet your lips for a well-deserved kiss. your teeth clashed and he huffed a quiet laugh, pulling back, lips drifting to peck the corner of your lips, the flush of your cheeks and then one final kiss to the tip of your nose.

you scrunched your nose up in response, and gojo grinned. "eat, before it goes cold."

silence settled between the two of you as you flicked through the bag and organised what burger belonged to who. the car park gojo had parked in was almost empty, the sun having long set and most people having gone home. you, on the other hand, had just finished an eight hour shift at your local cafe and your boyfriend insisted he treat you to the finest of dinners.

christmas was only a couple weeks away now and the temperatures were significantly dropping, so every minute of your day had been just one gingerbread latte and hot chocolate after another. several spillages, a kid vomiting, and two muffin drops later, you were more than grateful for drive thru mcdonalds.

gojo’s thumb brushed lightly against your thigh as he held you whilst you both ate. yes, he would risk knocking the dips over as he haphazardly held all of his food on his lap and dipped his chicken in. "the stars are so pretty tonight."

shifting in your seat, you peered out at the night sky. he was in fact right – thousands of stars and satellites alike flickered above. "oh my god you can see them so clearly." you pulled out your phone to take several pictures that you’d almost definitely be posting on your next dump on your spam account. 

your boyfriend, on the other hand, was clearly not impressed with your response, delivering a harsh pinch to your thigh that had you jumping in your seat.

"ahem," he coughed, dark glasses dropped to the edge of his nose as he peered over the lenses at you.

"what?"

gojo could come across as intimidating to some, with his towering height, black glasses, and overall cocky nature. however, he looked anything but as he pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, twisting his body away from you in his seat. "you were supposed to be like 'yeah they are' as you gaze at me."

you laughed at the notion, leaning across to steal some of his cold chips from his lap. "i'm sorry but what level of delusion are you living in?"

gojo gasped, swatting your hand away, "i'm never buying you dinner ever ever again."

"oh no, how ever will i be able to afford my…” you glanced at the receipt on the bag you’d left on the dashboard. “£7.95 meal again. £7.95!"

when he spared you a glance this time, he couldn’t help but smile despite his best efforts not to. how could he not? not many that he’d met could put up with his eccentric personality, and even fewer would play along with his dramatics. and yet here he had the prettiest girl he’d ever met entertaining him without judgement.  

"you won't. you'll starve,” he said matter-of-factly. “i'll still go to your funeral."

"i'll let you tell everyone we were best friends so you'll get sympathy points."

if gojo had jumped any higher in his seat, he would’ve had a concussion from hitting the ceiling of his car. "best friends?! you mean boyfriend and girlfriend? husband and wife? soulmates for life?"

"sure those work too i guess," you waved your hand dismissively, reaching for more of his fries.

this time, gojo doesn’t hinder your effort. sinking further into his seat as he gripped his top over his chest. "you're breaking my heart here baby."

you kissed his cheek gently, a small print of your lipgloss left behind on his pale skin. “you’ll live.” 

gojo puckered up his lips, “one more and maybe i will.” you rolled your eyes but complied nonetheless, tasting the salt from your dinner on his lips as you leant over the console. if it wasn’t for oxygen, he didn’t think he’d ever let you go. 

“wanna take me to subway so i can get some cookies?” you mumbled against his lips. gojo hummed when he felt your hands lightly caress his undercut and that was all it took for your earlier offences to be forgiven. he was putty in your hands after all, had been since the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“anything for my girl.”

taglist. @jar-03 @animeflower26 @hyori2

[snorky]

hiiii im back to very respectfully request more trent frederic! literally anything works if its 500 words or 3000 i do not care.

- anon 🌹

Tell Me A Sweet, Sweet Lie

Hey y’all! And hi again to the lovely requester, anon 🌹. I hope you all are doing well and lovely, and I deeply apologize again for this very delayed post, life has not been too sunshine and rainbows, but that’s for another time. A sweet Trent Frederic x F!Reader, strangers to lovers, fake dating, summer-time party fic for y’all. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and remember to take care of yourself!

Pairing: Trent Frederic x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Some creep/sleazy dude (ew), Fake Dating, (let me know if I need to add anything)

—

—

As the summer sun seemed to beam onto her skin delicately, her sundress swayed in the wind, all whimsical and magic sewn into the hem. Her drink swirled in her grasp, a non-alcoholic refresher as she was the designated driver for her friends, who were talking to their partners and their friends. 

She didn’t mind the lack of company, but rather, she savored it as it felt like it was her only time to herself in such a busy and hectic life.

Laughter and easy conversation could be heard from around her, little snip-bits of people catching up with one another after a while, revisiting old and fond memories, and overall, just seizing the moment as they all reminisced. 

A small bonfire was started further off from the house, people setting up their chairs and blankets to gather around the blazing warmth, with some holding bags of marshmallows and chocolate for s’mores. It was a small detail, and yet it reminded her about her youth, eating the sugary sweetness until she was laughing on the ground, energy and hyperness zipping through her.

As she was lost in her thoughts, she felt an arm slide around her waist. “Hey beautiful, wanna ditch this party and go back to my place?”

 Stepping away from the strange person, whom she could barely recognize from her friends and her mutual friends alike, she shook her head. “No, no thanks.” She waved her hand in kind dismissal, hoping to not escalate the situation further. “I need to drive my friends back home,”

Eyeing her up and down, the look in his eyes made her sick to her stomach, unease starting to settle in her. “I’m sure they won’t notice that we’ll be gone for a bit—” His hot breath fanned over her neck uncomfortably, causing her to shrink away.

“I have a boyfriend!” she blurted. It was a quick, most likely, out-of-pocket response, but her mind ran a little empty in trying to figure out how to deter this stranger away from her.

He looked around the back yard, trying to search for this said ‘boyfriend’ of hers. “I don’t see him around here,” he scoffed.

Putting a finger up, she gave him a lopsided smile. “One moment, he’s inside I think—”

She ran off towards the direction of the backdoor of the house, hoping to find someone that could be her ‘boyfriend’ for a brief moment.

And with her luck, she ran into someone carrying a bowl of chips. He looked a little dorky if she could be truly honest, with curly light brown hair peeking out from his baseball cap, a gently soft face to tie it all together.

“I’m so sorry, but I need you to do a really quick favor for me,” she whispered in a rushed sequence.

He looked at her with a confused expression for a brief moment before responding. “Yeah? What is it?”

She bit the inside of her cheek nervously, hoping that this wouldn’t backfire terribly. “Pretend to be my boyfriend, just for like, the next few moments—” she looked at him, an apology prepared in her head in case he didn’t want to. “—please.”

A small smile formed on his face, “Tell me the ground rules and I’m all set.”

She sighed as a wave of relief washed over her, wiping her palms on her dress. “Well okay, first, I need to know your name. And secondly, I give you permission to touch me—like, arm around my waist—but nothing more!” A warm flush was visible on her neck and face from embarrassment, causing him to let out a small chuckle.

“Okay, okay, I kinda get it—and my name is Trent.” 

He stuck out his hand for her to shake, and she introduced herself to him as she took his hand. Her hand felt perfect in his own, their palms molding together as if they were meant to be, although he wouldn’t openly exclaim that since he just met her.

Her demeanor was angelic, the evening sun not denying it a single bit, and it pulled him in deeper, wanting to be around her presence more, savoring every moment with her. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed her earlier on at the party, but he was beyond grateful nonetheless. 

Pulling away, she clasped her own hands together. “Great!” She turned around and started to walk back towards the patio door, glancing over her shoulder as she noticed that he hadn’t moved a step. “You coming?”

Her voice snapped him back to reality, a gentle blush casting over his face as he realized that he was standing there in the dining area like a fool. “Yeah, sorry hun—”

The words flowed out of his mouth easily, a comforting taste on his tongue, and to her, it sounded like she could get used to him calling her sweetly so often. She smiled at him, cheeks warmed and rosy.

“No worries, love,”

They both walked outside, and took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining, and the sunset sky seemed to shine down on the both of them in approval. It felt so right to hold his hand, as if it was some sort of fairytale-meant-to-be situation. His thumb was grazing over her knuckles lightly, delicately, and it made her melt like ice cream on a hot day.

She looked over at him, his soft expression making her heart flutter in her chest despite having only met him a few minutes ago. He made her feel so in love, so fuzzy and infatuated with him, and she had a small hope burning inside of her that it could last a little longer than just for tonight.

“Let’s sit here, I’ll make you a s’more.” His smile was just as sweet as the marshmallow he reached for, skewering it onto the stick before he hovered it over the fire.

Sitting down beside him, she rested her head against him, a blurry tiredness washing over her already despite the sun not having fully set yet.

He handed the s’more over to her, marshmallow a perfect toast, chocolate slightly melted. “Here you go, enjoy it sweetheart,”

Smiling back at him, she took a bite of the sweet treat, the flavors too sweet almost, like a familiar childhood. They both remained like this for a little, sitting there and relaxing as the sound of others around them continued, a lively scene.

Trent looked around, making sure that everyone else around the both of them were occupied, due to the fact that his question would most likely out him as a decoy partner. “Are you familiar with anyone from this party?” he asked. His hand was still clasped around hers, lovingly, thumb stroking her skin.

“Yeah, my friend, I think you might know them since I saw you talking to them earlier,”

He looked at her with sweet admiration, wanting to hear her voice more often since it sounded like music to his ears. “Go on,” he encouraged.

She continued to talk about how she met her friend, rambling about childhood stories, as well as their shared memories of college years and early adult life, including the silly mishaps in hopes of making him laugh.

And it did, his laugh seemed to be the only sound she wanted to hear from now on, full and hearty, beyond genuine if she could describe it right. The way his eyes crinkled at the corner, cheeks flushed and pink, it made her feel warmer than the fire next to her.

Everything came naturally to the both of them, the easy, smooth talking, the lighthearted laughs and smiles, every nickname that cupid could come up with rolling off of their tongues.

Footsteps could be heard behind the both of them, the dirt and gravel being scruffed up.

“So is this your little boyfriend, sweets?”

Her stomach churned uncomfortably, recognizing that awful voice from earlier in the day.

Trent turned around with a slight smirk, standing up to face the other guy. He was visibly taller than him, who was now cowering slightly.

“Yeah, I’m her boyfriend.” He stuck out his hand, firm and confident. “Do we have a problem with that?” His brow was raised, tone interrogative and questioning.

The stranger took a step away, shaking his head. “No, I’ll leave you guys be—” His voice wavered as he took off in another direction, presumably to head home and away from the humiliation that he just had to put himself through.

Trent sat back down beside her, allowing her to lean closer to him. “Is that why you asked me?” he whispered.

Nodding her head, she remained silent for a little bit, allowing for her thoughts to accept the fact that it was over now, and that he didn’t have to act as her significant other any longer.

Moving away from him slightly, she could see his tender expression falter. “You don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore, Trent.” She matched his quiet tone, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation between them.

His lips were pressed together in a line, unsure of what to do or say next. He looked in her eyes, seeing a twinge of sadness—or maybe tiredness, he couldn’t tell—float around.

“But, what if I want to be yours, truly this time?”

She looked at him, confused, but wanting to not step too far. “Trent, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Only if you do as well.” Trent’s expression was genuine, pure, the nighttime sky and stars hoping to emphasize the way he felt. “I just think you’re a sweet and kind person, and from the time that I’ve gotten to know you, I know that I want to know more about you,”

A smile eased its way onto her face, paired with a blush from his honeyed words that truly felt like it was poured straight from his heart. “I think you’re lovely,” her voice was hardly above a whisper, but he heard it all, and almost melted on the spot.

“You think so?”

Nodding her head, she took his hand and held it, looking up at him once more.

He looked magical, enchanting, so sweet, so beautiful in the moment. Her heart seemed to slow, or speed up, but she didn’t feel real, lost somewhere in a dream-like state. They both remained in this moment, the seconds passing by in a blur, an exchange of numbers, something about wanting to co-exist more, feel more.

They both stood in the driveway of the house, moments before parting ways. He didn’t let go of her hand just yet, still wanting to feel her touch. “Brunch, tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, love,”

Her fingers slipped from his as she waved, walking away with her friends who were already gushing over any details they could get, laughter of the sweet night echoing in the sky.

Part Two

[hyacintheros]

Brand New City

5. Taunt

|| (Marauders Era Characters x Fem!Reader)

Series Masterlist Previous Chapter

Pairing: Marauders Era Characters x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Rude James

Word Count: 1.1k

P.S: So basically, I burnt out LOLL, I will be trying to post more frequently though c:

“Petunia! Look at my snowman!” A brightly redheaded girl calls out, her nose and cheeks kissed with the winter air. She pulls her elder sister to a newly built snowman, its ice blobs adorned by a carrot the girl had borrowed from the kitchen. Petunia laughs at it, all wonky and lopsided, yet still having its own charm, being that her sister made it.

Their cousin pops out from the snow, covered in it and giggling at her snow angel. “You have to try this out, guys!” Lily and Petunia join her on the snowy hill, throwing snowballs and sharing hot chocolate from their packed thermos.

Walking to the black lake, she sighs deeply, remembering the last time she saw her cousin Petunia, seeing the anger and jealousy in her eyes when it was revealed that she would also be attending Hogwarts, along with Lily. How cruel Merlin had been to her, Petunia had thought.

She sets a thermos of hot chocolate down on the blanket, one charmed against water and to provide warmth. Propping herself against a snow-covered tree, the girl pulls out a sketchbook, taking in her view for a moment. Finally, her eyes set upon a large tree next to the lake, a few students throwing lumps of snow at each other.

She starts off with the background first, wanting to capture the environment around her. The barely frozen lake, the grass covered in a blanket of snow, trees shaking off their coats of snow onto students below.

“That's really pretty.. I like what you did with the tree on the left,” the boy sits down next to her gently, his dirty blonde hair getting in the way of his eyes. “Thank you, Peter! I just can't seem to work out the lake, how do I show that it's ice now?” Peter thinks about this for a moment, pondering on what ice could be represented with.

“What about ice-skating? Put a pair of people skating on it, so then it'll register as ice in your head!” Peter looks over the lake, making a note to ask his friends later to go out for a little skate. “That's brilliant, Peter!” He breaks out into a flushed stare, not quite sure how to respond, nor where to look.

Before he can conjure up a reply, a remarkable head of red appears. “Y/N, Peter, come quickly!” Lily pulls Peter up while the girl goes to pack her things, concerned at the distress in Lily’s voice. “What's happened?” Peter asks as Lily walks briskly, urging them to follow.

“Remus.. he's fallen ill, James said he was in the infirmary!” Her cousin hurries, worry in her tone. Peter looks nervous at this, still following along. “Are you sure? We should bring him something..” Y/N says, worried about her friend.

Lily stops to think for a moment, what could they possibly bring to make Remus feel better? The group had never seen the boy sick before, so they couldn't reference another incident. Though, one thing that could always cheer Remus up was always a bar of chocolate.

Chocolate was like Remus’ girlfriend at this point. Always in his hands, on his lips, sometimes found on his bed! But the three of them didn't know his favourite. To them, it never looked like Remus carried a specific bar of chocolate around, he'd typically buy whatever was on sale or he'd buy the big box of unwanted ones that wouldn't sell.

Thus, he never carried one specific brand or flavour, they were always mixed and matched. In the end, his friends went back to Y/N's dorm to retrieve a chocolate bar her parents had sent. A Lindt dark chocolate bar they had bought specifically when they were in Switzerland on travel.

Now with the Holy Grail in hand, they march to the infirmary, in hopes to check on the boy's well-being. “D'you think maybe it got too cold? The weather has been crazy lately..” Peter asks the girls, trying to find the cause of his friend's illness.

The trio strolled into the infirmary, trying not to disturb the other students who are also here for some form of illness. They spot Remus at the furthest end of the room, surrounded by James and Sirius.

“Rem! Goodness, what's happened?” Lily calls out as they approach the boy. Remus, upon hearing Lily, sits up quickly, he's not supposed to be up at all. James and Sirius try to push him down, telling him to worry about his health.

He looks sheepishly at Lily, then Y/N, Peter had already known as they were roommates. “It's not bad, really! I was out studying in the grass when this huge dog just came at me..” he says to the girls, praying that they'll believe him.

Ever the doting friend, Y/N grabs a washcloth from the table next to him, placing it in the bowl of water and wiping his face gently. “How do you feel, Remus?” She asks quietly, not wanting to make too much noise in case he had a headache.

James puffs, obviously annoyed by the girl even being here, but he doesn't want to make a scene- for Remus’ sake.

Remus melts into her touch, feeling butterflies on his skin from her gentle movements. “I'm alright.. Dog came from nowhere” she nods sympathetically.

Lily pulls the treats from Y/N's pocket, placing it into the injured boy's hands. “We heard chocolate helps when you're feeling unwell. Eat, you'll feel better” Lily teases, something Remus always does when others don't feel well.

He laughs at this, amused and touched by the bar of chocolate, thanking the girls and Peter. He thinks back to the full moon last night, it wasn't as bad as it usually was, and he's grateful for it. Though, he did scare poor Peter when stumbling back into bed.

James, ever the bitter person, but he could never act like that in front of Lily, he tries to be subtle about it. “I think there are a few too many people here, we should start clearing up.” He says, looking at Y/N.

She gets the message, not wanting to fight. So she pats Remus’ head and says goodbye to her friends, telling Remus to get better. Y/N debates on going back to her common room or to the lake again. On one hand, she'd like to be all warm and cosy while reading a little book. But on the other, she's still got that drawing to finish.

Ultimately, she decides on packing a little sandwich from the Great Hall and going back to the lake. She still had her little blanket and thermos, kept it in her bag with her. For a moment, she just lays on the warmed blanket, watching little snowflakes fall. Christmas is coming soon, she missed her family dearly.

[a-french-coconut]

Drew Tanaka (part 1)

I've already posted some extracts but I wanted to keep writing the fic here (:

A first punch leaves the mirror shattered and her fist bloodied.

There’s a traitor. 

An another one sends flying all the beauty products standing on the shelves of Cabin 10’s bathroom. 

“-Oh my gods, honey, are you crying ? What happened ? 

-Charlie is— oh Drew I… it’s all my fault but he told me he—

-Silena, what happened to Beckendorf ? 

-HE’S DEAD DREW ! He… he blew himself up to sabotage Luke’s armies because someone told him they were coming ! Oh no, hum, forget I said anything sweetheart, okay ? The counsellors are supposed to keep it secret ‘cause we wouldn’t want to cause a panic right ? Hey, Drew ? Are you listening to me ? You can’t tell anyone about this you hear me ?” 

A third punch lands on the wall, bruising severely Drew’s knuckles but the pain is better than what’s she’s been feeling since Silena slipped up. 

There’s a traitor, there’s a fucking traitor who wants them all dead, they killed Beckendorf, they probably killed Lee and Castor and they will kill everyone else if Drew doesn’t find who it is. 

There’s a scorching inferno in her heart. She never suspected she could hate someone she doesn’t know with such passion (oh buy you know them don’t you ? Odds are the traitor already talked with you, laughed with you, trained with you.).

Before she can break her hand landing a fourth punch, someone knock on the door and ask if everything is all right. 

“No” she wants to snarl back, “we are all going to die because of some heartless monster !” 

Instead she just responds with a sharp “everything’s fine, coming out is a few minutes. Can’t a girl finish her makeup in peace for gods’ sake ?”. She hears an offended huff and she knows she’s alone again. 

No matter what other people think, Drew Tanaka is nor heartless nor a bitch. She might lack some basic empathy skills but last time she checks, she’s not responsible for everyone’s feelings just because she’s the daughter of the goddess of Love. Plus, Silena is empathic enough for the both of them. Except that she’s been a mess of tears and chocolate for the last two days and just like that, pure white-hot rage burns from her heart to her veins, a firestorm blazing in her blood and igniting her whole body aflame. 

Drew cares about Silena. She’s the one who welcomed her with a warm smile and chocolate gifted by her father. She’s the one laughed with as she told her stories about Sasha and the one who held her after she saw his headless body on the ground during the Battle of the Labyrinth. She’s the one she yelled at for thinking herself above the Rite of Passage and continuing dating Charles Beckendorf when Drew had to break the heart of his best friend only for him to die two weeks later. Silena is the sister Drew loves and adores, all resentment and bitterness melted away by those blue eyes and kind smile. That means that the bastard who got her boyfriend’s sister killed is going to pay for what he did. 

For Drew is the daughter of Aphrodite Areia, the warlike goddess. 

Every monster and demigod who dare venture in the Midtown Tunnel is shot down by Drew and her siblings. Her arms ache from stringing her bow far too many times and the occasional stab for those getting a little too closer. Love is as compassionate as it is merciless and Drew has no qualms in slitting an enemy’s throat (they will join the other ghosts in her nightmares), not when she hears Silena’s mourning cries in her ears. She wonders where her older sister is right now. The girl disappeared hours ago, going back to Camp to convince Clarisse to come fight with them. She’s sure her sister managed to convince her, the stubborn daughter of war loves Silena as much as she does. She is proven right when she hears whispers of the girl warrior dragging a drakon behind her (she does not know of the blue-eyed girl whose face has been deformed by acid, a silver charm bracelet found on her arm).

The moon slowly bows to the sun as she disappears and the sky turns a bright summer blue. The fight is over for now, the only moment of peace found in death because no one would dare attack when each side recovers their friends and siblings’ corpses from the battleground (not when they could be the next body lying on the ground), ensuring them proper funeral rites. 

part 2 posted !

[sebastianstanisahotmf]

a perfect winters day

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N This is a part of my 100 followers celebration. At this point I'm gonna stop apologising because my shitty time management issues and son make it hard for me to adhere to the time frames I have given to myself so I will post the fics when I have time to. (I love my son millions so I'm not blaming him for me posting so late but I'm just saying that I like to spend time with him which means it's hard to find time to write) I hope you understand. Also, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Summary You and Bucky have the perfect day in as it snows outside.

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff, allusions to smut

“Wake up doll,” Bucky whispered into your ear, “It snowed last night.”

“Mm?” you slightly opened your eyes.

“It snowed doll!”

You sat up as soon as the words registered in your head,”Really!?” 

“Yeah doll, look,” Bucky wrapped your blanket around you and picked you up.

He walked over to the window in your bedroom and you gasped when you looked outside. Everywhere was covered in a sheet of pure white. The snow untouched, unbothered by anyone. The streets were empty, not a soul out there. It was like a winter wonderland especially since everything was so still it didn’t look real. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you gushed.

“Not as beautiful as you doll,” Bucky added, winking at you.

“You’re so romantic it’s almost disgusting,” you told him with a smile on your face.

“But you love it doll,” Bucky leaned in to kiss you. 

It was such a perfect moment, kissing the person you love the most while the world outside stood still, a beautiful landscape, the type you see in the movies and read in books. 

Bucky pulled back from the kiss with slightly swollen lips and a massive grin on his face, “I think we should make some hot chocolate and waffles.”

“I think thats a good idea babe.”

Bucky took the blanket off you and then took you into the bathroom. He put you down so you could brush your teeth while he did the same. 

Once you had done that, you walked into the kitchen to get started on the waffle batter as Bucky was making the hot chocolates. 

The way you both moved around the kitchen so gracefully and in sync made the scene seem rehearsed. The truth was that you and Bucky regularly made it a team effort to make breakfast so that neither of you feel like you have too many responsibilities. That’s how everything worked with you and Bucky; you both shared the workload in your shared apartment which not only made it easier, but allowed you both to feel equal. 

This may not have worked for other people but it worked for you and Bucky which is all that mattered. 

After the waffles and hot chocolates were made, you sat next to eachother at the dining table in your kitchen. Bucly had put every imaginable topping for waffles and hot chocolates on the table. 

“What do you want to do today?” Bucky asked, as he shoved an almost too big piece of waffle - loaded with every topping possible- in his mouth. 

You rolled your eyes and finished chewing the food you had in your mouth before responding, “I just want to stay in today, you know I like looking at the snow but going out in it is a different story.”

“I’m very aware doll, especially after our trip to Canada a few months ago,” Bucky chuckled at the memory of you slipping over. 

“You’re so sadistic Barnes,” you retorted.

“You didn’t moan about it last night, well you did, but not in that way,” Bucky smirked.

You picked up a strawberry and threw it at him.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m only telling the truth, Santa doesn’t come if you lie.”

“And you’re not gonna cum tonight if you keep teasin’ me,” you retaliated. 

“Is that a promise?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

You knew that Bucky would always be in charge in the bedroom, but it was fun to joke around. 

-------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, you and Bucky were cuddled up on the couch. He was laying with his head on your chest and the rest of his body was ontop of yours, acting like a weighted blanket. There was an actual blanket over the two of you and Home Alone was on the tv. 

This was the first christmas you and Bucky were spending together so you decided to introduce him to some of your favourite films especially since he was a few years behind on films.

Bucky let out a laugh which was a rare occurrence. You kissed him on the head and wrapped your arms around him tighter. 

“I love you so much baby,” you whispered.

“I love you too doll,” Bucky replied, pressing a kiss to your chest. 

This was perfect, you and Bucky cuddled up on the couch, watching a Christmas film and occasionally looking at the world outside.

If you want to see be tagged whenever I post a fic then click on the link.

If you want to see what I repost my other account is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist:@nicoline1998enilocin, @buckys-wintersoldier, @kenzs-world, @cutedisneygrl , @nekoannie-chan, @kandis-mom, @hisredheadedgoddess28, @booscherripop

[cx-boxbox]

Fic writer interview!

Tagged by @strawberriesinmoominvalley. Thank you! :D

Because taking every fic I've written into consideration for some of these questions would defeat the purpose of staying anon on AO3, I'll just mention fics I've written for F1 for the more specific questions.

How many works do you have on AO3?

199 works... I didn't know that until now... when I added up my F1 fics and the other fics I've written.

What's your total AO3 word count?

1,101,249.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(I'll only list F1 fics.)

You Won’t Believe That Chocolate Muffins Can Lead to Breaking the Infamous ‘Anti-Sex’ Beds *Not Clickbait* - 859

Look What the Cat Dragged In - 833

Of Cats and Carriages - 832

Intercontinental Flights - 820

Rise and Shine, Dildo! - 812

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! Being in smaller, dying fandoms prior to landoscar meant I had way fewer comments, so it's kind of a shock to see just how involved people are here. I promise I'll eventually get to all of them, but I do read and appreciate every single one, especially on the lab fic I posted recently.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Man, I don't like angsty endings, but angst is cathartic to write sometimes. I did write a hanahaki fic, but it still had a happy ending.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

All my fics have happy endings, but I'd say Old Habits Die Hard has my favorite happy ending.

Do you write crossovers?

Nope. I love super niche AUs, though.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Oh my god yes. It was hilarious too because they so much under a guest name (back when AO3 didn't ban that function) and said nothing at the same time.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah. The fun kind?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I wouldn't know, tbh.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah. I'm glad the people who have took the time to ask permission too.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Old Habits Die Hard

What's your all-time favourite ship?

The one I wrote 144 fics for, not including my unpublished fics gathering cobwebs. But I can definitely see landoscar beating that number.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Hrgh. A college cellist AU I uploaded like four chapters of. I still have the WIP doc open, but again, dying fandom.

What are your writing strengths?

I'd say... humor? Quippy banter. Fluffy stupid shit.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Porn when I'm not in that specific mood to write it.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

So this is a fun question because I'd only ever written fics for fandoms without source materials in English before F1. When I write dialogue in "another language," I usually just use English and italicize it. I can't be assed to bother with google translate and worry about inaccuracies. Phrases like fengshui or morior invictus that don't really have the same impact translated into English just get italicized.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Probably Vocaloid...

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I usually write what I want, so I'm good. 👍

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Young British Twink Gets Destroyed by Hot Big Dick Australian Formula 1 Driver *Not Clickbait* or Look What the Cat Dragged In.

No pressure tagging: @wisteriagoesvroom @wanderingblindly @blueballsracing and whoever else wants to!

[bakuliwrites]

Serenity- Satoru Gojo x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Relationship: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Tags: JJK 0 Spoilers, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Penetrative S*x, Oral S*x, soft Gojo, past Gojo x Geto x Reader, Secret Relationship, Romance, Gender-Neutral Reader Pronouns, Mentions of Death, Romance

Summary: Gojo moves like liquid, even in this cramped space. His motions are seamless, the ebb and flow of his cursed energy mesmerizing. If you weren’t in the midst of exorcising the mimic curse right alongside him, you’d pause to watch. You can feel the voltaic thrum of his very soul with every powerful attack he makes. His wrath bursts in rays of light and his brutality is icy cold. You understand why Satoru Gojo is called The Honored One. He’s using minimal effort and still, his motions are awe-inspiring.

You and Gojo go on what is supposed to be a simple mission, but are met with more than you bargained for.

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

When Gojo asked you to accompany him into the city, you knew it wasn’t going to be a trip for pleasure. It never is. The only pleasure that will come out of it is the multitude of sweet treats he’ll inevitably purchase along the way, which you can look forward to partaking in as well. Otherwise, his request is for work and nothing more. The first time he’d asked you, you’d been over the moon. To you, it meant he trusted you at his side, as a partner, as a sorcerer. Now, it’s become a bit more like babysitting a full grown man, trying to make sure he doesn’t give himself a tummy ache from eating too many daifuku or any number of other desserts. 

Today’s mission will be relatively simple: scoping out a place for the first-years to practice. There’s a relatively low level curse in an abandoned building nearby, one that would be perfect for students to exorcise. 

As you walk the busy streets of Tokyo, Gojo chatters away at you, occasionally stopping to excitedly point out a creperie or an ice cream parlor. He always seems to wander in an aimless fashion, but deep-down, you know he’s got his own map going in his head. It’s carefully curated to hit his favorite sweet stores, while also leading you towards your end destination. Though, by this point in your relationship, you already know all his favorite spots. You could easily tune out, follow blindly, not bothering to observe the shifting throng of people around you. But that’s not how sorcerers do things. No, your eyes are alert behind your dark sunglasses, observing your surroundings keenly, watching out for curses. So far, so good though, so you engage in a bit of light chit-chat with the lanky sorcerer beside you. 

“So, how do you think the first-years are doing?” he ventures, his tone casual and bright. He takes a bite of a crepe filled to the brim with strawberries and cream. 

“I think they’re promising,” you return sincerely, watching as Gojo licks a bit of chocolate syrup off his thumb, “Fushiguro is quiet, but seems confident in his ability. Nobara is certainly talented and seems sure of herself. And Itadori is getting stronger every day.”

He nods quietly, considering your opinion. He ultimately seems to agree with you, giving you a thumbs-up, his mouth too full of pastry to verbally respond. 

“Remind you of us, huh?” he returns, nudging you teasingly with his elbow. You smile wistfully, thinking back to your own years at Jujutsu High.

“Yeah, they do,” you muse, a sudden flood of memories, both good and bad, filling you almost to the brim. They’re overwhelming. You and Shoko poking fun at Geto and Gojo, training together, going on missions, lounging around on hot summer days. You generally try not to think about the past. Not because you have any animosity towards your upbringing at the high school. No, quite the opposite. Those joyful memories mark such a painful period in your life. In all the lives of those who knew and loved Suguru Geto. There’s a hollow in your heart where you keep the memories of your high school experience. Where you keep the feeling of Suguru, a powerhouse even in his noticeable absence. They’re kept warm there, alive, stimulated by the rush of your blood.

“Those were some pretty good days,” you hear Gojo distantly say. He stuffs his free hand in his pocket, gazing through his blindfold up at the clear sky above. He’s silent for a beat and it’s strange. It’s always strange when he’s quiet. For as many years as you’ve known him, Satoru Gojo has been a troublemaker. A chatterbox. Gregarious, cocky, and playful. But his moments of silence feel real to you. More real than the boisterous attitude he usually puts on.   

Walking beside Gojo on the busy streets of Tokyo, you can see his quiet intensity, hidden beneath a showy bravado meant to throw others off. You, Suguru, Shoko: you’re some of the lucky few that have bore witness to Gojo’s quieter moments. These moments are marked by a static electricity, a strange and voltaic charge that hovers in the air. There’s something entirely unpredictable about Gojo, especially in his silence. It makes you nervous: not because you’re scared he’s going to hurt you or do something awful. But because you can almost feel the chilly void his sorrow rests in.

“You still enjoying teaching at Jujutsu High?” he questions after a while, discarding his empty crepe wrapper in a nearby trash can. You offer him one of your extra napkins so he can clean off his hands, which he graciously accepts, plucking it from your grasp. The tension dissipates. The lightness of your earlier conversation returns. 

“I am,” you beam, proud of your profession. You came back to teach there a couple of years ago, after trying to unsuccessfully branch out on your own. You’re not new anymore, but Gojo still likes to check in with you every once in a while.

“I love getting to know the students,” you go on, pausing to let Gojo tenderly wipe off a little bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, “And teaching the next generation is an honor.”

“Sure, sure. But-” he gives you another nudge and you can imagine him winking behind his blindfold, “We all know you came back because you missed me.” 

“Pshh,” you return, folding your arms over your chest and rolling your eyes, “You wish, Toru.”

Entirely too proud of himself, Gojo’s cackling seems to echo through the empty alleyway you’ve suddenly found yourself in. You’ve gone from a densely populated area to an abandoned side street in a matter of moments. You can barely even hear the sounds of the city, which really isn’t all that far away. The air is stifling here, the desolation seeming to permeate the very marrow in your bones. The air feels entirely devoid of human activity, filled instead with a noxious, leaden weight. Before you can take another step, Gojo holds his arm out protectively in front of you.

“Something’s off,” he states just barely above a whisper. You can undoubtedly sense the rancid energy pulsing through the building to your left. This doesn’t feel like the low-level curse you and Gojo had initially believed it to be. This power feels- immense . Not something the two of you can’t handle, but certainly not what you were originally prepared to face. And certainly not something you’d want to send a couple of rookie first-years in to deal with. Not knowingly, at least. 

You steel yourself, flashing Gojo a serious look before he silently nods and takes a step towards a rusty metal door. It screeches with age as Gojo wrenches it open. You’re met with a crushing darkness on the other side, a putrid smell immediately assaulting your nose. You can just barely make out some formless shapes scattered about an otherwise empty expanse of a warehouse. The unpleasant, sweet smell of rot weaves through the air as you take a couple cautious steps forward. Gojo is tense, alert. He’s following the trail of cursed energy radiating from whatever entity is holed up inside. It feels like it might be a semi-grade one, whatever it is. 

As you trail Gojo through dark corridors piled up with refuse and barrels filled with unidentifiable liquids, you think you can hear something skittering about above you. In the silence, it feels closer than it probably is. You feel like you’re breathing too loud, walking too loud. Like your footsteps fall heavier than usual. 

Just as you round a corner into a stairwell, you hear your name echo softly down the hallway you just came from. You freeze, looking back, only to see impenetrable darkness. Gojo halts right alongside you, one foot on the first step. 

“Did you hear-” you start, brows knit together, trailing off when your name is called yet again.

“Shoko?” you and Gojo finish together, quietly so as not to alert whoever or whatever is clearly impersonating your childhood friend. All the hairs on your body suddenly stand on end, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over you. Gojo, less reactive, feels it, too. He gently places his hand on your shoulder, dismounting from the stairs and moving to stand beside you. 

“Gojo?” Shoko’s voice tries, but this time it sounds like it’s coming from above you. 

Is it throwing its voice? you wonder to yourself, not quite ready to address how this thing knows both your name and Gojo’s. Though you suppose in the world of curses and sorcerers, Gojo’s name is pretty well known. Something rumbles in the air vent just above you. Wordlessly, you and your companion acknowledge your plan of action. You’ve worked together enough times to know how the other operates, to play to one another's strengths. 

“Pretty low of you to impersonate a friend of ours,” Gojo returns, his jaw set, irritation spreading. His tone is sharp, cutting. This creature is an affront to Gojo, to you. He makes it patently obvious in the harshness of his accusation, the hard set of his jaw. 

“Gojoooooo,” the creature calls out again, the voice of Shoko melting into something grotesque and gravelly.

“And cowardly to not even show your face,” Gojo continues, every word out of his mouth dripping with poison. There’s a gentle laugh, an eerily familiar one. 

“Gojo, you wound me,” Geto’s voice sounds. Gojo’s brows raise, taken aback by this shift in voice. But he doesn’t let it rattle him. 

You ready yourself, knowing what’s coming, when suddenly, without much warning, the cover to the air vent flies off, smacking the opposite wall with a metallic pang . In a rush of foul air and many limbs, a massive curse comes clambering out of the cramped ventilation system. How it fit in there, you’re not sure. It fills the stairwell, curving upwards like a bloated snake. Its sallow skin looks slimy to the touch and it seems to gaze through eyeless hollows at you and Gojo, a toothy mouth splitting into a horrendous grin. You stand frozen, feet planted firmly to the ground, eyes wide with horror. It’s rare for you to freeze in the face of a curse. But the curse’s desecration of your most cherished friends’ voices fills you with a rage, a fear you’ve never felt before. 

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, Gojo?” it rumbles, Geto’s voice distorting with every word. 

“You’re pretty disgusting,” Gojo goes on, casually inspecting the curse from his distance and making you roll your eyes. He always manages to work in as many insults as he can before he attacks. You also know it’s a self-defense mechanism. Humor to dispel how deeply uncomfortable he is to hear Geto’s voice again, and for it to be coming from something that’s such a parody of humanity. To be honest, his casual attitude is somewhat of a comfort to you, as well. 

“Probably not very smart either, huh?” he continues, snickering as he turns towards you, “Don’t you think?”

“Are you just going to stand there and roast it to death or are we actually going to exorcise it?” you shoot back, trying to re-center Gojo. Though his humor is a comfort sometimes, it’s also pretty distracting. However, before Gojo can respond with yet another quip, the curse turns its attention towards you.

“You wouldn’t hurt meeeeeeee,” it creaks. 

“Don’t listen to it,” Gojo tries, a slight quiver in his voice, one you’ve never heard before. Is he worried? No time to think about that right now, you realize. 

“You wouldn’t hurt meeeeeeee,” the curse repeats, and this time, you’ve had enough. And so has Gojo. He charges up, rushing the creature, with you not far behind.

Gojo moves like liquid, even in this cramped space. His motions are seamless, the ebb and flow of his cursed energy mesmerizing. If you weren’t in the midst of exorcising the mimic curse right alongside him, you’d pause to watch. You can feel the voltaic thrum of his very soul with every powerful attack he makes. His wrath bursts in rays of light and his brutality is icy cold. You understand why Satoru Gojo is called The Honored One. He’s using minimal effort and still, his motions are awe-inspiring. 

In less than a second, his demeanor shifted from joking and casual to chilly and focused. It’s almost like he becomes an entirely different person in battle. No, not a different person. It’s merely that the saccharine outer layers of him slough off and he reveals who he truly is. A dark star in the center of a lacuna.  

In no time, the two of you have managed to exorcise the spirit. It shrivels, withers like starved ivy in the rays of a harsh sun, before disintegrating into dust. Gojo stands proudly over its remains.

“Good job! Look at that quick work!” he praises, lifting a small corner of his blindfold to wink at you. He’s back to being Casual Gojo, beloved and enigmatic sensei who never takes anything seriously. It’s all a front, and you know this well. There is pain in Satoru, deep-seated and immense. It’s as if he sits huddled at the bottom of an endless, empty well, light just barely reaching his shivering form. His barrier is cold to the touch, icy and impenetrable. A wall of infinity surrounds him.

You stare at him blankly, unsure of why you can’t be happy at this moment. Of why you can’t rejoice alongside him. Maybe it was your earlier conversation about the first years, the flood of memories, the mimicry of familiar voices. It all swirls around in your head, foggy and confusing. 

“Hey, you alright?” he ventures, hands stuffed in his pockets as he approaches you, head tilted in confusion. 

“Um,” you try, voice quivering. You clear your throat, trying to steady yourself, “I think I need some air.” 

You climb the stairs, heading up towards the roof of the building, both to ensure you’ve taken care of everything that needs to be taken care of (it seems there’s no cursed energy remaining from any other entities, luckily) and to search for some clean air. Not the oppressive air from the alley outside. Gojo takes the lead, his long strides carrying him up the stairs faster than you. But he’s oddly gracious today, and slows down when he realizes you’re lagging behind. 

A cool breeze blasts your face as soon as you open the creaky door leading out to the rooftop. It’s much appreciated as you inhale deeply and feel the fog lift from your mind. It’s dark already, the city lights twinkling all around you. In the distance, you can hear the sound of evening traffic and human activity. It’s a relief to be reminded that not all of the world is inhabited by curses. Not all of the world is a travesty of the past.

Silently, you take a seat, dangling your feet over the edge of the flat roof. From up here, everything looks so small. You are acutely aware of Gojo plopping down beside you. You peek at him out of the corner of your eye. He removes his blindfold, wrapping it up around his left hand. His snowy lashes create shadows on his cheekbones with the light from a nearby neon sign and the thin strands of his hair blow about lazily in the wind. 

“It was gross-” he begins in a low voice, staring out at the city, “-to hear his voice coming from something so grotesque. ” 

He flicks his gaze over to you, cerulean eyes like pooling wells of sorrow. All you can do is nod, desperately willing yourself not to cry. You can feel the tightness in your chest, the threat of oncoming tears. 

“I just felt so- so helpless, when it came to Suguru,” you explain, thinking back to when he defected, to his death, “And every reminder of him is just another jab in my psyche. Another painful reminder of how-”

Of how I failed him, you want to finish, Of how we failed him. It’s something that’s haunted you for years now. And you know it’s haunted Gojo just as much, probably more. 

“I know what you mean,” he finishes for you, not needing to hear what’s going through your head to understand. He knows you so well at this point. You could probably have full conversations without any words if Gojo weren’t so much of a chatterbox. 

“What’s the point of being the strongest if you can’t even protect the people that mean the most to you?” he breathes, staring out at the distant stars. You gaze up at him, his eyes searching a sky that seems to reflect back into them. Blue discs that contain the multitude of the universe. 

You could sit here and list off a bunch of platitudes about how life is cruel. About how things don’t always work out how we want, despite our efforts. But what good would that do? So you just sit in silence with him, letting yourself slowly tip sideways until you’re leaning against his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away. In fact, he softens, before gently resting his head atop yours. 

The burdens a sorcerer experiences in the world of Jujutsu are many. Protecting the innocent, the unaware. Maintaining order. Training the next generation, and making sure they don’t die in the process. All of these are things that you have chosen to experience. Things you’ve put upon yourself in your pursuit of a life goal. Gojo, however, is burdened by expectation, a birthright he didn’t ask for. Pre-ordained to be relied on. To surpass all those who came before him. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make it all about me,” he chuckles, “I guess what I mean is that it’s hard not to feel responsible for someone you care about.”

“Even if it’s not your fault,” you add, looking pointedly up at him. You know he blames himself the most for what happened. You know he wishes he could turn back the clock, rectify what cannot be rectified. He makes a small, “hmph,” paired with a rueful smile. 

“You’re too nice,” he returns, picking at a loose string on your pants. He’s always fidgeting with loose strings on your clothes or locks of your hair. It’s something he’s done since he was a teenager, a little habit that hasn’t seemed to change over the years. You smile to yourself, comforted by one of the few things in your life that seems stable: Gojo’s endless fidgeting. 

“I don’t wanna curse anyone, Satoru,” you mumble after a long beat of silence, staring out into the empty windows in the building across from you. It looks like a decrepit office building, long abandoned. It doesn’t seem to be inhabited by curses, thank goodness, but it looks sad to you, for some reason.

“What do you mean?” he exclaims, raising up a bit to give you a showy, flabbergasted look, like he always does when he’s trying to lighten the mood if your conversations start to get heavy. 

“You know what I mean,” you go on, matching his shock with a look of exasperation, wanting him to take something seriously for once. His goofy look fades, replaced with one of understanding. Gojo has his soft moments, and you’re appreciative of this. 

“I know what you mean,” he comforts, wrapping his arm around you and scooting you closer. There’s little more that either of you can say to one another. Sometimes, that’s just the reality of things. 

At least curse me a little at the very end, rings in your mind. But it’s in Gojo’s voice, because he recounted it to you. Because you only got there after the damage had been done. And the guilt of not being there gnaws at you everyday. 

“Don’t curse me at the end,” you whisper, resting your hand on Gojo’s knee and squeezing tight, “I won’t curse you, either.” 

You feel his strong grip on your shoulder, tugging you even closer, like he’s trying to press you into his body. Like he’s trying to merge the two of you.

“How about this?” he replies, pulling back so he can look you in the eye, “Promise me you won’t get into any trouble, huh?” 

He laughs, his usual cheery demeanor returning, and you can’t help but smile a little. But you can hear what he really means, Don’t let me lose you, too. That’s not a promise you can keep, and he knows it. His soft smile seems to say, Just indulge me. Say you promise, even though I know you can’t.

“Promise,” you lie, trying so hard not to let the tears stinging the corners of your eyes escape their fragile confines. You are unsuccessful, the dam breaking and tears flooding your vision. 

“Hey,” Gojo breathes, cupping your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears now streaming down your face, “I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

“Sorry,” you sniffle, gripping his hands and holding them in place, fearing that if you let go he’ll fade out of existence before your very eyes, “I just-”

The loss is endless. It will never stop. And one day, you know that either you’ll lose Gojo, or Gojo will lose you. In some capacity or another.  

“Hey, c’mon,” he hushes, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips before helping to lift you to your feet, “Let’s head back.” 

He only ever kisses you in private, because no one is supposed to know about the two of you. Because he’s sure the higher ups would use it as some kind of ammo against him. Against you. This gentle secret is one of the few things that has kept you sane over the years. Stolen kisses after missions alone together, secret rendezvous’ whenever you have a moment to spare. You’re honestly astounded Gojo has managed to keep it to himself after all this time. The only other person that knows is Shoko. And she wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone. 

Gojo re-wraps his blindfold around his head and places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and towards the exit. Your walk home is filled with more of his idle chatter, but honestly, you’re grateful for it. Anything to distract you from the nasty feeling that abandoned building has left you with. 

The highschool is silent when you return. None of the lights are on. You’re greeted by the sorcerer on patrol before you slip inside the teachers quarters. You pull Gojo into your room, certain that no one sees, and quietly shut the door behind you. As soon as you’re inside, his lips are on yours as he gently presses you against the nearest wall. He tastes sweet, like strawberries and cream. Gojo rests his hands on your waist, his fingertips playing with the hem of your shirt. He drops his Infinity for you, allowing you to feel him, actually him and not the barrier that would normally stop others. His skin is soft, warm, and you can feel the flutter of his heart beneath his breast. 

For a while, this is as far as you go, letting him encompass you in his arms, pushed safely against the wall, warm in Gojo’s embrace. The only sounds that fill your ears are soft gasps, the shifting of fabric as Gojo’s large hands start to explore, and the small plip your lips make when they press against one another. Before long, though, Gojo lifts you into his arms and carries you towards your bed. 

Carefully, he lays you down, tugging at his shirt and letting his pants slip down to his ankles while you work on getting rid of all your clothing. As soon as the two of you are free, he climbs on top of you, laying his lips against yours once again. When he’s with you, it feels as if he’s wrapped you in his Infinity. As if by encompassing you in his arms, he’s encompassed you in a limitless, protective realm. 

“May I?” you ask quietly, gesturing to his blindfold. 

“Only if you wanna get lost in them,” he teases, smirking. 

“You are ridiculous,” you return with probably the nth eyeroll of the day. He peppers your face with kisses amidst his laughing, before acquiescing and letting you unfurl his blindfold. You let it fall to the sheets beneath you as you’re met with blue eyes that hold infinity in them. Indeed, you find yourself lost in them. But for once, instead of making a joke about it, Gojo simply smiles. This moment is soft, quiet. In fact, it’s the quietest you’ve ever heard him. 

He stares at you for a while, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in while one hand tucks some errant strands of hair behind your ear. You rest one palm on his chin, your thumb on his lips, caressing the dip in his cupid’s bow. In the darkness, in the sanctity of your room, he’s vulnerable for a moment. He’s the strongest, but he reminds you that he’s human. That he’s just as fragile as you are. He looks at you like you are everything. He looks at you like he looked at Suguru. Like you looked at Suguru. There’s an intimacy between the three of you that perhaps no one else will ever understand. An intimacy that sadly only endured for two. 

“I won’t ever curse you,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours, “And you’re not going to curse anyone either. I’m sure of it.” 

Something in you shatters a little at his words. Nothing is ever a guarantee, but for some reason when Satoru says it, you believe him. He pulls back just enough to kiss you and you feel him smile against you. 

“I want to say something,” you venture, “But I’m scared it will curse you if I do.” 

He gives you that damned lopsided smile, that dopey, cocky look. 

“You’re not gonna curse me,” he reassures, “Just say it. Besides, I’m the strongest, aren’t I? I can handle it.” 

You stare at him for a moment, considering his words. You’ve heard him talk about the most twisted curse of all. You’re well aware of its power, its ability to fell even the strongest of sorcerers. But you suppose that both you and Gojo have experienced that curse already. With Suguru. And to you, when he says, “You’re not gonna curse me,” you know that what he really means is, We’ve both been cursed already. What’s one more curse to pile on? 

“I love you, Satoru,” you whisper in this sacred silence, half expecting the very foundation of the earth to crumble beneath you, “And that’s not me cursing you. I swear it.”

He pauses, eyes still searching. Always searching. But his silence isn’t unnerving. You know he’s grappling with this confession, with your words. Words that you’ve never had to say to one another before because it’s always just been inherently true. Suddenly, they’re out in the open. Raw. Naked. Delicate. And yet they carry a strength that is unsurpassable. Unbeatable. 

“I love you, too,” he returns, his eyes glimmering in the darkness, “And that’s not me cursing you, either.” 

He says it with such conviction, with such confidence. As if to say, “Fuck you,” to any curse that might try to imbue itself in your tender admission. Into his. Nothing will taint this feeling. Just as nothing could taint what you and Gojo felt for Suguru. 

This might be the first time you’ve formally said those three words, but it’s certainly not the first time you’ve felt it for him. And it’s not the first time that either of you have said something in a similar vein to one another. Often, your love is unspoken. You’ve never needed to say it or to hear it to know that Satoru Gojo loves you. You never said it to Suguru Geto and neither did he. So you reason to yourself that it doesn’t matter if you say it or not. A curse is a curse, spoken or unspoken. 

You put these thoughts to rest as Gojo trails kisses down your neck, sucking on the tender flesh just beneath your ear, drawing constrained moans from you. You’re trying so hard to keep quiet, but it’s difficult when you feel Gojo’s erection graze your inner thigh. He buries his face further into your neck when you start to stroke his cock, languid pumps causing him to mewl pathetically into you. He’s particularly noisy, which has been both a source of amusement and argument for the two of you. Tonight, however, he’s doing his best to muffle his sounds. 

You can tell he’s exhausted from the day, all his motions unhurried, purposeful. He seems to want to take his time with you, to feel close. He’s never one to outright admit how he’s feeling, but you know him better than anyone. And you can tell he’s probably traumatized a bit by this afternoon’s cursed entity. By the voice of a long dead companion. He’s just as much in need of comfort as you are. 

The night passes slowly, but in the best of ways. You and Gojo are intertwined, a tangle of limbs as he gradually eases himself into you. The two of you rest on your sides, your back pressed to his chest, a pillow between your legs to give you better leverage. And Gojo a better angle. When he’s got his full length inside you, he holds you close, his hand resting on your abdomen while one of yours reaches up to tangle in his hair.  

“Toru,” you whisper gently, running your fingers through his pale locks, each strand soft between your fingers. You feel his breath fanning against the shell of your ear as he leans in to nip gently at your lobe. 

He starts to rock his hips, rolling deeply, taking his sweet time. He’s got a lot of stamina in that lithe body of his, so he’s not worried about tiring himself out. But he’s sure to take breaks when you need them. 

The air is hot, heavy, so you crack open a window to let in the night breeze. A beam of moonlight creeps through, illuminating a long, thin strip of your bedroom. Gojo’s hair looks like starlight in the silver light of the moon and his cheeks are rosy. You come together the first time, your core tight before it blissfully releases as Satoru spills into you. His cum runs down your leg, drips onto the sheets, fills you with a welcome warmth. His kisses afterwards are desperate, hungry, utterly sloppy. 

The second time, all he really seems to want is his head buried between your thighs. He laps you up like he’s parched. Like he’s been stranded in a desert and you’re an oasis. You have to bite a pillow to muffle your overstimulated cry when your walls pulse and release. When Gojo crashes his lips into yours, he tastes like you. 

“Best dessert of the day,” he winks, before it’s his turn. You delight in his muffled, needy moans. His desperate keens as you swirl the tip of your tongue around the swollen tip of his dick. He wants to finish on you, if you’ll let him, and you do. His cum is warm as he releases threads over your abdomen. The two of you have to stealthily find your way to the bathroom, in the dark, and hope that no one hears you tidying up. You and Gojo giggle for a while once you return to your bedroom, finding amusement in how you have to constantly sneak around like you have some sort of curfew or something.

Your final time that night, he’s sheathed deep inside you again, but he picks up the pace a little towards the end, at your request. You’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat by the end of it, your bodies flushed and muscles shaky. Gojo flops down on top of you once he’s spent himself, piercing gaze rolling up to meet yours. His chin rests on your soft stomach. He looks at you like he’s looking at the stars for the very first time.

“I like it better when I can see you without the blindfold,” he practically coos. A pink blush blooms over your cheeks and it’s now that Gojo takes the opportunity to tease once again.

“Awww, did I embarrass you?” he starts, ruining your tender moment with his snickering. But his laughter is muffled when you smash your lips against his.

“You’re rude, Toru,” you scold between kisses. 

“You just like having an excuse to shut me up,” he winks. The faint hint of exhaustion creeps into his eyes. He goes back to laying down on top of you, perhaps his favorite position to rest. He doesn’t do it for long, though, knowing he’ll probably cut off your circulation after a while. But feeling his weight on you is a comfort, like one of those weighted blankets. And he seems to find comfort in your softness, in your closeness. He’s all limbs, lanky and willowy, practically spread out across the whole bed as he lays on top of you. Absently, Gojo kneads your hip bone, occasionally pecking tiny kisses along your abdomen. He chit-chats for a while with you, this time about his plans for tomorrow, asking if you’d like to join him. 

“Of course,” you return, knowing he’s worried that maybe today’s events might’ve scared you off. He seems pleased, going on to tell you all about something he read in a gossip magazine earlier that week. Eventually, he starts to trail off, until finally, you hear Satoru’s soft snoring. Hearing him sleep, seeing him relax fills you with an unbridled joy. He’s always on the go, always busy, always doing something. These peaceful moments with him are truly ones to be cherished. You shift so he’s not resting directly on top of you anymore, careful as to not wake him. You snuggle up in his arms, pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose before falling fast asleep in his embrace. 

A/N: Inspiration for this fic struck me suddenly last week, so I've been working on it every chance I've gotten over the last couple days. I do love how complicated Gojo is, and his relationship with Geto. Wanted to write a little Gojo x Reader that explored some of that (and also some background poly Gojo x Geto x Reader, because if you've read any of my other stuff, then you will know I love all things poly). Thank you so much for reading! As always, it is a joy to write fanfic and get to share it with people just as passionate about these fandoms. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Lots of love 💜

[glorious-poetato]

I have a request.Imagine waking up on Christmas morning with Tommy wearing matching pajamas and just spending the day together cooking, opening presents, watching holiday movies stuff like that.I don’t know I think thats adorable

[Christmas in July]

Warnings: none I'm aware of. Let me know if I forgot something

Ship: tommyinnit x reader

Summary: Tommy surprised the reader with a christmas In july celebration

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I open my eyes. My vision is still fuzzy adjusting to the light, but I hear music playing. Is that Christmas music, I think to myself. It's July. I mean, who would be playing Christmas music right now.

I then look to my side and see and empty space next to me. That's weird. I think to myself, Tommy is never up this early. Confused, I finally decided I should probably get out of bed.

My feet hit the cold ground, and I dragged myself to the living room. As I get closer, the music gets louder. That's when I walk into the living room and see a small tree in the corner presents scattered under and decorations covering our walls. I was distracted by everything around me that I jumped when I felt arms snake around my waist.

"Sorry love, I didn't mean to scare you," Tommy said to me. "It's okay....but what is all of this," I ask while gesturing to the Christmas explosion. "Well, I wanted to surprise you... I know how stressed you've been and I know how much you love Christmas....so I thought we could have a Christmas in july." He explains. You can't help but gleam at your boyfriend. He really went through all this trouble just for you. "Also, I like christmas cookies and was hoping you could make some with me," he tells me, hopeful. I look at him as if I am going to say no and worry flashes through his face, but then I respond, "Of course we're going to make christmas cookies."

He smiles widely at my responses, and I get caught up looking into his eyes. "What are you looking at, looser?" he says jokingly. I smugly respond, "The most amazing boyfriend in the world." He then looks around wildly and frantically says,"Georgenotfound is here!!! Where?" He continues looking around frantically, and I can't help but burst out laughing at his antics.

After we settled down a bit, we put on some classic christmas movies. I sat down on our sofa and snuggled up to Tommy.

I must've fallen back asleep watching the movie because the next thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the last scene of the movie. Tommy came waking into the living room with two cups of hot chocolate.

"How was your nap?," he asked me sweetly. I can't help but smile as he hands me a mug. I then respond, "Wonderful."

He sits down next to me and says, " I have a surprise for you." I look at him curiously."What kind of surprise?" I ask. I then think back to the last time he got me a surprise. I mean, if you want to say a pie being smashed into your face and posted on the internet for millions of people to see a surprise.

He then pulls out a small box that is wrapped under the tree and hands it to me. "I feel bad I didn't get you anything for our Christmas in July celebration." I tell him. He reassures me he didn't want anything besides a day of just me and him. He then hurries me to open the box.

When I see what's inside the box, I look at him shocked. I can't believe he did this. Like he's been sweet all day, and now he's doing this. I'm just sitting completely speechless as I feel tears form I'm my eye. "Tommy, I can't believe you would do this." I tell him while staring in his eyes.

I pick up the first object in the box, and it's a book. It's a scrapbook, to be precise. Opening the book, I see pages full of the memories we've made. After flipping through most of the book, I look in the box and grab the second object. It's a cheap plastic ring but when I saw it I immediately recognized it from our first date. It was the ring Tommy won and given to me.

After thanking him and crying some, he starts begging me to make cookies. Of course I say yes and we move to the kitchen. Me and him spend about an hour and a half making a complete mess of the kitchen and ourselves. In the end, though, we had so amazing Christmas themed cookies.

After enjoying cookies, I went to go clean up the counter while Tommy went to the bathroom to was the floor of his face. Once he came out, I went and did the same.

I then walked back into our living room, and Tommy had pushed all the furniture aside. He then flipped on so classic Christmas music and put a hand out to me, saying, "may I have this dance?" I giggle at his gesture and give him my hand. As we were dancing, I couldn't help but stare into his eyes. When his eyes met mine, it felt like i was in a movie. He then leaned in, giving me a simple kiss whispering, "I love you," as he pulled away. Me and him danced the night away and eventually fell asleep watching more Christmas movies.

Even though it's not technically Christmas, that might have been the best Christmas ever.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

HI, IM SO HAPPY TO BE WRITING AGAIN!!!! Okay so i know I kind of just disappeared randomly but I've been dealing with some stuff and haven't been motivated to write or do anything really but I'm back and I'm going to try and start posting more.

Also, I hope you aren't too mad the I took forever to write it and changed the idea a little. And sorry for any grammer and spelling mistakes as usual.

-poe <3

[rgr-pop]

okay international working womens weekend daytime luncheon in my home for maybe 7-10 people, one week from today

nobody i really need to impress. if anyone confirms gluten free or dairy free i’ll fine tune, otherwise everything is always baseline meat free and nut free (with the option for me to throw in some tinned fish from my pantry)

snacky/salads vibe, maybe dips

for sure doing:

lemon poppy seed loaf. i REALLY want to do sally’s new lemon poppy seed muffins but i’d need to get a new muffin tin and we’re 📢 not doing too much

cardamom strawberry jam bars (craving cardamom stuff all the time)

pretty sure i can do both of the above without buying anything; although i’d have to make the jam from frozen strawberries (i want to pan anyway)

really want to do MOCKTAILS. i wouldn’t mind investing in a few staples for myself anyway. i think i for sure will get orange juice and and a sparkling juice— PLEASE RECOMMEND ! what would be a good second mocktail or some ingredients to buy? especially because i have several interesting bitters, including chocolate. and i could put out tart cherry juice i have, and i’ll make a pitcher of iced tea. oh maybe i should make iced chai from scratch 🤔 in any case this is where i’ll spend most money

central offering will be a bean dish, either a bean salad (WHATS THE BEST ONE YOUVE HAD?) OR (hot dish) the bean ziti smitten kitchen posted which… i want to do this. is it 📢 doing too much? yes. But. she said.. if i did i’d have to do bread with it, which makes me nervous (i don’t have good bread instincts)

if i go with SK i’ll have extra basil for a veg salad. it seems too early for the typical basil salad uses so i’d have to brainstorm. my go-to would be a carrot salad and a smashed cucumber salad, both of which are options but wouldn’t go that well. this would be a good time to try doing the viral salad seasoning pasta salad - should i…

i will for sure make japanese potato salad because i have a ton of kewpie to use up. in fact i may need to make a second kewpie salad

if i were going the dips route i’d the lauren toyota’s vegan nacho cheese but i’m just not inspired

a typical go-to spread for me might be the spicy sour cold spaghetti noodles from woks of life with carrot salad and cucumber salad and maybe marinated tofu but it doesn’t feel like the vibe

eta you know what, i have dates and am craving goat cheese dates, i should add those to the menu. i was going to avoid any fussy assembly but these would be worth it

i reaaally need to actually budget this because even though it’s arguably chapter business i can’t get chapter money (which i expected). the plan was to make asking for financial support (maybe $35 in food) for the women’s section a progressed structure test, but leadership failed structure test one (being willing to speak to us or respond to our communication when we told them we were organizing a womens day event) so i’m back to structure test negative one (them not murdering us)

so my plan is to have three dishes plus 2 sweet ones and all but 1 should be make ahead, and some chips maybe or something like that

however as you know i have a habit of doing too much for this sort of thing lol

[thetragicallynerdy]

I posted this over on twitter, but figured I would share the thread here too!

I've been thinking a lot lately about fics that only get a handful of kudos/comments, and how disappointing it can be - and something that occurred to me a few days ago is how these fics are the equivalent of reading stories around a campfire.

Because some fics, the fics that get hundreds or thousands of kudos and comments, are like stories being read before an audience filling a stadium, or a large auditorium - you have a large crowd before you, responding to your story and loving it, and how wonderful!

But when you post a story and only get 5, 10, 15, maybe 30 kudos at most and a handful of comments - it can feel like you're reading before an auditorium meant to sit 500 but there's only a half-dozen people there. And it sucks, it's discouraging and can feel really lonely.

The way I'm trying to view it now is that instead of reading to an empty audience, I am sitting around a campfire, with my closest friends and maybe a few strangers who needed some warmth, reading them a story. We're pressed together, toasting marshmallows while we listen.

And what felt a little lonely now feels a lot richer. My stories aren't lost in the empty echoing space - they are being lovingly read to my friends, basking in the warmth of a bright, crackling campfire, drinking hot chocolate and laughing at the silly bits of my story.

There's a closeness now, an intimacy. Its the feel of seeing a concert played in someone's basement, or squishing into a restaurant booth too late at night as we eat french fries and talk about truth, or sitting on the kitchen floor away from the big party in the living room.

And this isn't to say that the auditorium stories (the ones that get a lot of attention and readers) are less intimate - there's a sort of magic to being a part of a crowd like that.

But if you find yourself feeling disappointed because you're not telling a story to a packed auditorium, please remember that campfire stories are so important, too. Your story is no less loved just because it is being told to a small group sitting around a fire.

All fics - even those getting only a handful of readers - are special, and loved, and have an important place in fandom.

Thank you for continuing to tell your stories. I can't wait to sit at your campfire and listen to them.

And one last thought - if you usually read stories with big audiences - I would invite you to go find a fic with a tiny amount of kudos/comments, and sit around that author's campfire for a little while <3

[casino-lights]

For Lidia because i have been thinking about since that last post, but if you're bored/motivated I'd love to hear about the other two as well!

15. What’s the first thing people notice when Rook enters a room?

19. What is Rook’s love language? What love languages do they respond best to?

26. Rook is in charge of the grocery list. What’s on it?

oh anon. you ask for all three, I WILL yap about all three!! thank you so much for the lovely ask it's so wild and encouraging to hear that my oc is in someone else's brain right now ;-;

15. What’s the first thing people notice when Rook enters a room?

Answered for Lidia here!

Cazi is sometimes overlooked when entering a room (dwarf problems) but no matter what, she commands attention with her charming, confident smile. She knows she's interesting and attractive and the sheer confidence rolls off her thanks to her wardrobe, her stance, the volume and steadiness of her voice, and the strength of her eye contact.

Prospera doesn't go anywhere without her greatsword (I know there are no greatswords in game but she has one, okay) so usually people see an elf with a sword as big as she is and immediately wonder what her deal is. Otherwise, her red hair is an eye-catcher, and the generally hypervigilant behavior she exhibits certainly does not go unnoticed.

19. What is Rook’s love language? What love languages do they respond best to?

Answered for Lidia here!

Cazi's primary love language is words of affirmation. She absolutely lavishes both of her partners with compliments, flirtation, and praise. While the actual words differ based on what she knows they each like to hear, she doles out her loving words equally. Quality time and touch tend to get the best reactions out of her, but she honestly just loves both of her partners enough that she doesn't care what they do or how they do it - that they thought of her at all is special enough to her.

Prospera is new to the whole love thing. She hasn't trusted herself enough to love anyone or be loved by them in a long time. Quality time is what she tends to give most, but she doesn't exactly realize that she's doing it because she loves someone. She just finds herself gravitating toward certain people and feeling the urge to spend time near them - perhaps in silence, perhaps doing different things, or perhaps keeping watch while they sleep. It takes a while for her to open up to the possibility that this is actual affection, but once she does, she discovers that she very much enjoys soft, lingering touches and hand-holding, and soon she starts spending that quality time in her partner's arms or lap.

26. Rook is in charge of the grocery list. What’s on it?

Lidia has hot peppers, chicken, lots of pasta, many tomatoes, several bottles of moderately expensive wine, some high-quality chocolate, and other various staple ingredients like garlic, onions, herbs and spices, and bread. She's your typical Antivan, so her grocery list wouldn't differ too much from one Lucanis made, but she does like her food a little spicier than him. 

Cazi has recently acquired a taste for vegetarian dishes due to a certain necromancer, but she still won't skimp out on the staples of Antivan cuisine. She also frequently craves mushrooms, which she jokingly attributes to the remnants of her Stone sense, so she would put a variety of mushrooms on their shopping list as well as other vegetables she consults her partners about. She would also ask for a nice, sweet mead and several pastries from various nations.

Prospera gets by on bread, cheese, and salad greens. Occasionally she'll toss some fish or chicken on top. She would make a list including ingredients to make her own bread, about half the stock of the cheesemonger in Dock Town, the aforementioned greens, and fresh chicken. She catches the fish herself. Spear-fishing. She just has to do it away from other people or she unnerves them.