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cloudwisp · 5 months ago

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𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐬𝐰𝐞��𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

contents: fluff. established relationship. found family. megumi takes up baking and it takes you back to your teenage years when a certain white-haired someone pined for you. 1.4k wc.

Nine year old Megumi has a crush on someone. You were pleasantly surprised when he asked you to take him to the grocery store to pick up some ingredients, and you inquired if there was a special occasion or a school cooking project as you both walked along the aisle and collected the items on his list that he prepared beforehand.

Your heart melts when you learn that he was planning to gift the pretty girl in his class something homemade, and he decided on butter cookies because she mentioned in passing that it was one of her favorite snacks. You think it’s incredibly sweet that Megumi came up with the idea himself, and even more so that he wanted to set aside a weekend to create something completely from scratch with his own two hands when purchasing a square tin would’ve been much easier.

It certainly reminds you of an insufferable yet equally lovable sorcerer that’s way too tall for his own good with too bright blue eyes that make you forget everything around you if you stare into them a little too long. When you both were just two young teenagers pining after each other and he showed up with a white pastry box hidden behind his back on a summer day, with the strawberries in season and nurtured and harvested to perfection. You smile at the pleasant memory before forcing yourself back to reality.

When you are getting ready to pay for the things you and Megumi placed on the conveyor belt, he stops you and pulls out his Digimon wallet (courtesy of Gojo’s taste in presents) and explains he wants to purchase it with his own savings and be able to say that this gift is entirely by him without receiving any help from others.

You almost had to hold back a tear because when did this boy become so sweet? You suppose he always was this sweet and thoughtful, it just took a bit of time and some trust for him to fully warm up to you and Gojo despite the circumstances with his family and almost being sold off like a pawn to the Zenin clan. And now he has a home where him and his sister could feel like they belong and be surrounded with people that he could depend on because at the end of the day Megumi is just a boy much too young to be growing up too fast.

You announce your return home to Gojo and Tsumiki with the soft thud of the grocery bags being placed on the kitchen counter, and Megumi scurries into his bedroom to fetch the printed recipe he tucked away in a drawer. You carefully take out each item from the bags to place on the surface for him to get started, and white tufts of hair come into your peripherals and Gojo greets you with a cheeky grin.

“Angel, you’re back.” His hand falls on your hip and he softly pecks your lips when you turn your head toward him. He does a quick scan of the contents in front of you, and he decides you must be some kind of mind reader or his telepathic messages have finally reached you after several days now. “Aw baby~ Don’t tell me you’re baking something for me? How did you know I was craving—”

“Not me.” You shake your head and cut him off promptly. “Megumi.” And at the mention of his name, the young raven-haired boy enters the kitchen with a loose paper in his grip. You offer him a polite smile before addressing that everything he needs is on the counter and point to where the baking equipment are, and if he has any questions or concerns then you’ll be in the next room with Gojo as you drag your boyfriend by the arm to give Megumi his privacy.

“You see, Satoru, our Megumi here has a crush on someone. And he’s taken it upon himself to bake her cookies!” You say just above a whisper, a proud smile lining your lips and Gojo arches a curious brow. You catch a peek between the threshold that separates the kitchen and sitting area with Gojo looming behind you and find Megumi checking off the ingredients and looking over the instructions. He’s being thorough, that’s a good start.

“Megumi, eh? You know, I’m a little surprised he’s crushing at all. He’s quite the serious kid.”

You huff at him softly. “Well, serious or not, I think everyone is allowed to have crushes. Besides, doesn’t this remind you of something? Like that time you baked me a strawberry shortcake because strawberries were my favorite?” You look back up at him, and in your gaze there was always a sort of sweet and dreamy expression that never fails to make his heart swell three times too big.

“Ah.” Gojo chuckles, and his mind drifts back to the fond memories of his own youth, when he too used to try his hand at baking sweets in the hopes of impressing you. He remembered how long it took and how many attempts he made since he had no prior experience. There was a lot of flour and eggshells, and maybe he did set the oven on fire… but the moment he saw your face light up with your beautiful smile it was worth all the trouble and the mess. “That was the cake that changed it all for us, huh?” His arms move to your waist and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

You nod and hum affectionately, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck though with his height he had to bend down slightly. “That’s one way to put it. But as much as I appreciate the sweet gesture, I am so glad you left the baking to me since then.”

“You’re still teasing me about that to this day?” He playfully nips the sensitive spot on your neck causing you to giggle and lightly shove him away. “But hey, I never claimed to be a master chef. A little bird told me that maybe a homemade cake from me would be the thing to win your heart.”

“Well, I hope you know it was more than the cake that won my heart.”

“Yeah, I know it was my good looks and charm, you can’t get enough of me.” Gojo teases, peppering kisses over your shoulders and neck before pulling back just enough so his smirk comes into your view. “Enlighten me then. Since I still don’t have a clue why an Angel like you fell for a great catch such like myself.”

You playfully roll your eyes at his jokes, and you mull it over for a long moment to purposely keep him in anticipation. There are so many reasons that made you love Satoru Gojo back then, and every day you find new things to love about him. But for now the two qualities that come to mind should suffice for an answer. “Maybe it’s because I found you funny. And cute sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Cute most times, I think.” Gojo quips, and he gently pinches your cheeks. “And of course, my sense of humor is legendary. Who else can make you laugh like I do, hmm?”

“Alright, I think that’s enough flattery for you in one day. Any more and I’m afraid your enormous ego might burst.” There’s a teasing lilt in your voice, and suddenly the air around you feels sweeter as Gojo brings you closer to him and kisses your cheeks before resting his forehead against yours.

“But you know I love you, right?” He says in a much softer tone. “I might tease you a lot and act like an idiot sometimes, but I do appreciate you still being here with me through it all. Without you, I don’t want to imagine what my life would be like without you. You make me a better person, you know that?” He tenderly cradles the side of your face and gazes lovingly into your eyes before there’s a flash of his dimples and a boyish giggle. “And the fact you think I’m cute is icing on the cake. Pun intended.”

You groan softly but the laughter that came shortly after is one of genuine affection. “I'm gonna go check on Megumi.” Before you turn on your heel, you plant a big smooch on his cheek then you’re gone the next second. He stands there, grinning from ear to ear as he rubs the spot you kissed like he still was (and he still is) the lovesick boy just a few years back.

꒰ note ᰔ the idea where megumi takes after gojo in some ways really squeezes my heart and that’s what inspired this little piece. ꒱

#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 6 months ago

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twenty four, birthday boy | s.r. x fem!reader

“you look very handsome, birthday boy.”

spencer leaned his head back to see you standing beside his desk with your hands behind your back. dressed in a lavender short-sleeved button up paired with a simple black maxi skirt and your simple flats, a subtle smile pairing as your accessory, you looked radiant this morning.

“thank- thank you.” unconscious hand reaching up to mess with the giant birthday cake hat derek forced onto his head. it felt kinda nice to be treated like a kid on his birthday for once.

your eyes went up at the action then back to his face, “got you a present.” taking a small sage green wrapped box with a baby blue ribbon attached from behind your back, giving a tiny shake to it. fingers curled gently to hold the mystery gift outstretched.

“i tried to remember if you mentioned owning it or wanting to. i kept a receipt in cause though.” smile waving just a bit, it made his heart stutter a beat.

“i’d keep it anyway, it was from you.” his own smile twitching from nerves. his statement caused your smile to widen, cheeks scrunching up your eyes. “open it, spence.” you were the only one who calls him that.

finally grabbing the box, his slim fingers brushed over your painted nails before you pulled your arms away, tucking them back behind your back. spencer took his time peeling away the plastic wrapping and shiny bow, wanting to preserve the gift in its entirety. next came a cardboard box and once that was gone it revealed a cartoon figure.

“oh no way!” it was a bobble head figure of the fourth doctor. it was still inside the packaging and spencer was debating if he should keep it inside or take it out and proudly display it. then he noticed the small folded paper taped at the top.

“it’s just a small note slash birthday card.” speaking up after spencer went silent too long. he looked back towards you, “wanted it to be personal.” shrugging off the kind words and action.

slowly peeling the tape from the packaging, spencer set the gift aside so his full attention would be on the words you wrote from your heart. licking his lips then flipping open the small paper he was met with your cursive-print handwriting, he’s been able to understand your scribbled words after the first case.

happy birthday dr. spencer walter reid. yes i know your middle name and yes i got it off garcia, i wont tell though. it’s been a wonderful few months since you’ve joined the department and i couldn’t ask for a better new friend. (don’t tell pen, but you might be my number one now) to many more years together as a family. -love y/n l/n <3

a/n: @bringitonhomejohnb a wish has been granted

#erin writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x liaison!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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mistiell · 5 months ago

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We Keep this Love in a Photograph

summary: since Joel gifted you a polaroid camera for your birthday, you've developed a habit of sneaking pictures of him whenever possible. He doesn't think he's worth the film "wasted" (His words, not yours), but after catching you looking over your accumulated gallery, you manage to win him over.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Joel's a little self conscious, Reader's gender isn't specified, and they have hair but the length isn't specified either. If I accidentally did use a gendered term, lmk and I shall fix it. <3 NOT PROOFREAD (will likely come back to fix any mistakes later)

a/n: HOLY SHIT I'M BACK!!! This fic was inspired by this TikTok. I saw it and the Joel obsession possessed me so viscerally I had to make a comeback lmao.

**NOTE: I've linked ways to help Palestine here. If you're in a position to donate anything at all, please do! If not, you can reblog the post that's linked so it gets out to more people.

---

It started on your birthday.

You’d shared with Joel one evening, wrapped warm and snug in his arms within your soft haven of sheets, during one of those late night conversations where vulnerability doesn’t seem like a thing so daunting, that you used to love photography. Loved immortalizing things you loved or things you found beautiful. He’d asked what kind of camera you’d had, what kind of things you usually took pictures of.

“Polaroid.” you’d told him softly, fighting you keep your eyes open with his tracing shapes into the curve of your waist. “And I already told you. Whatever I found beautiful.”

The morning of your birthday, you woke to the smell of coffee and a clumsily wrapped box sitting on your bedside table with a note taped to the top; Happy birthday, honey. Love, Joel. And in smaller print near the bottom left corner; P.S. Wait until I’m here to open it. Wanna see your face.

You’d smiled, bashful, brushed your teeth in record time, scooped up the box, and made your way downstairs towards the sound sizzling and the tapping of a spatula on a pan. He gave you a good morning kiss, pretended to make a fuss about waiting until after breakfast to open it and watched with a smile as you carefully tore it open, popped off the lid, and visibly softened at first sight of the contents.

It was a polaroid camera. Coincidentally, the very same one you’d had twenty years ago.

You’d cried, he’d panicked. You hugged him so fiercely, any worry that he’d fucked the whole thing vanished as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you close.

That was months ago, and in the time since, you’ve accumulated quite the gallery. You take pictures of just about anything and everything, but your main muse is Joel.

Which is what’s led you to have half a shoe box full of polaroid of mostly him. He’s no idea of your little stash, and you intend to keep it that way. You’ve come to learn he’s got a thing about being photographed. Always nitpicking his appearance no matter what you say. He asks sometimes when he catches you why you don’t choose something nicer to look at, and your answer is generally always the same. There is nothing nicer. He walks into a room, and all you want to look at is him. Yeah, he’s got some more lines, got some more meat on his bones, his hair is a little more grey than it is brown these days. But he doesn’t see it the way you do.

He’s got crows feet and smile lines etched almost as deep as the crease between his brows. He looks healthy now that he’s actually got food to eat, meals you’re both sure to share every morning in your kitchen and every evening in the dining hall. His greys are a tangible reminder that he’s alive, that he’s survived, and that he now gets to live, and you’re incomprehensibly grateful for every russet strand turned silver. He’s all the more beautiful for all of it. And here, tucked into your armchair, polaroid pinched between thumb and forefinger, you get to commit every little detail picked up by your camera to memory.

Your gaze follows the sloping curve of his lovely nose, profile softened by the sun shining white behind. It’s only one half of his face, but the beaming smile he’s sporting makes you feel whole. His hair was just starting to get longer, then, curling near his nape and flicking round his ears to kiss his jaw.

“What’s all this?” You startle, head leaning into the plush back of the chair to look at him upside down as you press the pictures into your diaphragm. He seems curious, if a little confused.

Caught, you swallow, “If I said nothing, would you believe me?”

“Not for a second.” He smiles teasingly, bending to give you a quick peck, bottom lip warm where it slots between yours. Your hold on the photos loosens, and when his gaze dips to them, the smile shifts into something closer to a frown, a little cagey, “S’ that me?”

“Yeah.” You answer simply, before joking tentatively, “Swear I’m not a creep. You’re just pretty.”

“See now, that’s exactly what a creep would say.” He teases, and you’re glad for it – that he’s not upset. Rounding the chair, he sits on the arm, elbow propped up on the soft back of it and knuckles warm on the nape of your neck.

“Pretty.” He echoes, blowing a short puff of air out his nose, “Never been called that before.”

“Well, you are.”

He smiles again, bashful and a little disbelieving. There’s a short moment where he just looks at you like that, backs of his fingers sliding down your spine a few notches then back up in a tender line before he juts his chin toward your collection. “Show me?”

Warmth blooms in your stomach and fizzes up behind your sternum. You grin, handing him the one you were holding before sifting through the shoe box for your best works. He accepts your compliments and sweet talking reluctantly, but hangs onto your every word as you describe where you were, what you were doing, what made you sneak the picture in the first place.

You start to worry his limited responses mean he’s gotten caught up in his head until his hand slides up the side of your neck and settles over the side of your head, the warmth of his calloused palm encompassing the entirety of your ear as he guides your temple to his lips.

“Love you.” He murmurs into your hair, and the warmth sizzles like its carbonated, bubbling and burbling within the cage of your ribs.

You turn your face, slip your fingers beneath the curtain of hair at his nape and lift your chin to kiss him soft and slow. He rubs an affectionate line into the soft skin behind your hear as he hums, vibrations thrumming against your lips.

You lean back just enough to murmur, “I love you to.”

He smiles, kisses you again. And again. And once more. He asks you to show him more of your pictures, and you oblige. It’s early evening when you’re finally through, at which point Ellie’s come home and Joel’s started on dinner. You let her sift through the polaroids while you move to join Joel at the counter.

You won’t realize until later that she’s snuck a photo of the two of you by the stove, Joel’s large palm on the small of your back where you’ve taken over stirring a pot, gazing at you like you’re the only thing he’d like to listen to for the rest of his days as you talk and talk and talk.

That one, he hangs on the fridge.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #soft joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller

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juniperdugong · 3 months ago

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Be my first? - Wonwoo

WC: 824 || Genre: Fluff || CW: Some swears, despite the title, there is only a smidgen of suggestiveness || Wonwoo x fem!reader (established relationship)

A/N: This is a quick little thang that could be (very much insinuated to be) a pt.2 to this lovely fic that's gotten so much love

"How do you like it, baby?"

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you onto his lap. Resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched you in amusement.

"How do I like it? I don't just like it, I fucking love it, Nonu!" You quickly turned around to meet him face to face. The goofy smile adorning your lips makes him sit tall and proud knowing that he's the one who's made you like this.

You pepper his face in light kisses as you fumble with the box. You've long discarded the gift bag at this point and Wonwoo sighs knowing that he's gonna have to pick it up later because you'll inevitably forget to clean your mess. He just enjoys being showered in your physical praise for the moment, pushing all other thoughts to the side.

Finally, you get it open. Your face gleaming with joy as you hold your new treasure. Excitedly you dart between your present and Wonwoo's face, like a puppy asking for permission from its owner to run around the park full speed. He nodded gently and you were off to the races!

The Instax mini evo instant film - a beauty of a modern film camera that you've eyed since its release.

To be honest you weren't as into film and photography as Wonwoo but you always admired the look of some of the older analog film cameras he had. You expressed a slight desire to get into the hobby but only if you could do it digitally... the only thing stopping you? You absolutely hated the way modern cameras looked. Of course, the aesthetic shouldn't matter when it comes to equipment but it mattered to you just enough to not commit to photography, although you'd never admit it.

But with the Instax mini, you could basically say FujiFilm read your mind and came out with the perfect product for you to fulfill your oh-so-selfish desire of looking like someone who knows their way around a camera. All of this of course to impress your handsome nerd of a boyfriend, Jeon Wonwoo.

"Be my first?" He looked at you quizzically before scanning his own body with his eyes, "Baby, we've already-"

"No, you ass. I meant let's take the first picture together..." You hit him on the chest lightly before skimming over the manual for a gist of how everything worked. He gave a small chuckle and a light peck to your cheek, relaxing into your shoulder once again. "Sure, pretty girl. I'd love to be the first."

Once you're sure you've got down the basics you raise the camera above your heads, making sure your angle is perfect. "You better smile very prettily for this, Jeon Wonwoo." you say through gritted teeth as you hold "the perfect poised smile".

"Of course, I won't dissapoint, angel." He tucks your hair behind your ears on the side that he's resting against, puts on his best smile, and reaches up to meet the hand you're using to hold up the camera.

"What are you do-" Before you can get your question out Wonwoo uses his other hand to push your head towards him, catching you in a kiss. His timing is perfect because just as you're about to push him away he snaps the photo.

Immediately he takes the camera from your hands and prints the picture. You stare at him in complete shock at his audacity. "Wonwoo~" You whine as he holds an iron grip on the device you're so desperately trying to get back from him.

"Just a second... and... Got it!" He all but tosses the camera onto your lap as he hastily grabs at the photo once it's printed. The content laugh that comes out of him as he sees the result has you fuming.

"Let me see!" You snatch it from him and cringe at what you see next.

Wonwoo with his perfectly sculpted face, eyes closed gently, leaning in ever so gracefully and meeting you. You who had your eyes wide open in shock and lips pursed out of habit, but they more so resemble duck lips than anything else.

"You should put that in your phone case, baby." With a look of complete and utter dissatisfaction and disgust, you look at your boyfriend, who is thoroughly enjoying your reaction with the biggest smile on his face. You punch his chest, he pretends to be hurt for a second before returning to his state of euphoria.

"Yeah? Since you seem like it so much maybe you should put it in your phonecase." You hold the picture up to his face, a chuckle coming from him as he beholds his masterpiece once more.

"I'm good, I've already got the perfect photo in mine." He flips his phone over and thumbs at the cutout frame of a photo strip, your first kiss. "Plus, it's your first picture with your new camera, cherish it, baby."

A/N: Not proofread!! A little something something because I was in the writing mood~ A question to any fanfic authors who read this, what's your word count per day? Me personally, whether it's a part of a longer fic or not, I average about 1000. This fic was actually written with like an hour and a half. Anyways lovelies, let me know what you think!!!

Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

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imaprettygirl · 6 months ago

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A drop of ink, a blot spread across time

(Vintage au)

Plot summary: It was 1950s when pen pals were popular and almost everyone had one! You used to have a handful of them but the camaraderie between you and them faded as you got older. One day, you found a newspaper on your late great-grandpa's shelves in his bedroom. Excitedly, you flipped the papers to get to a specific page and bingo! There was a section for the addresses of people who are looking for a pen-friend much like yourself. After randomly choosing, you sent out your first letter and he replied back! However, you noticed something weird in the photo he sent...

Crds to @drinkthesky for the divider!

Men I deem fit: Alhaitham, Albedo, Imbibitor Lunae/Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Diluc, Zhongli, Venti, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Sunday.

(Fck alphabetical order, I can't do that sh*t)

The amber glow of the afternoon sun bathed the room as the open windows situated at the opposite of the door allowed sunlight streams to enter the room as its panes quivered in hushed symphony due to the beckoning of the hot air. If you moved closer to the windows, you could see dust particles illuminated by the natural light. Even after the passing of your great-grandfather, the bookish scent of his cologne still lingers in his bedroom along with his possessions which were either coated with a thin layer of dust or covered with a big white cloth.

The wooden floor creaked beneath you as you walked towards his bookshelves in hopes of finding pieces of classical literature and maybe learn a thing or two from it. You delicately traced your index finger through the long vertical rows of books, leaving a trail of dust on the pads of your digit. As you peruse through countless novels only to be unsatisfied until you saw a newspaper at the edge of the shelf, untouched by the dust that plagues the rest.

'How strange...' you thought to yourself as you rubbed your thumb and index finger against the surface of the paper to determine its texture: it was sandy and rough, definitely ancient but the format was similar to the ones your dad reads in the morning so it must be a freshly produced newspaper, albeit printed in a different quality of paper.

Or so you thought...

The newspapers in your hands gave you a glimmer of hope; it was an opportunity to find a pen friend! You used to have a few ones but stopped writing to them either because they used too much colloquial words or they had at least twenty spelling mistakes in each sentence which gave you a migraine whilst trying to make out if your correspondent was writing in a foreign language or not. But this time, maybe you could hit the jackpot and find an actually nice pen-pal. Excitedly, you flipped through the papers and stopped at the specific page which had a list of names along with their addresses under the bold heading:

'Pen-friends! Make new friends around the world!'

Your eyes scanned across the list of names, allowing your intuition to guess the personality of that stranger based on their names alone. But then, a specific name caught your eye- it was uncommon which was the main reason it stood out from the rest of the names which probably were taken from 'Top 10 best names for children of this year'. You took a closer look of the address below that person's name and turned out, both of you lived in the same area! A surge of enthusiasm rippled throughout your body and immediately tucked the newspaper into the inside pocket of your coat.

~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~

The curtains of your living room slowly opened as you peeked your head out and pressed your face against the glass. A day had passed after you had sent your very first letter and heck, you even went a mile far by sending a photograph of your two cats to make a memorable first impression. Then- just like you had anticipated- the postman on his bike suddenly came into view and halted his vehicle by your mail-box and placed a letter inside. You clutched the folds of the curtains unable to contain the happiness blossoming inside you. As soon as the postman disappeared out of your eyesight, you rushed outside to take the letter out of the mailbox. The first thing that greeted your eyes was the immaculate handwriting and the scent emitted from the paper.

'How sweet of him...' you thought as you continued reading the letter in your mind. The paragraphs were neatly organized and made of outdated vocabulary that you wouldn't understand had you not taken an interest in classic literature. You could tell this man practiced utmost eloquence just by his letter alone. Overall, he wrote a few things about himself and asked you about your hobbies, what you like and blablabla.

But then, something struck within you concerning with the photograph he sent and notes written behind it:

"The construction of the mall is making my ears bleed. I cannot stand the constant sounds of the drills and other sounds coming from it. I daresay, you must be experiencing the same disturbance as we are only one street apart from each other. Perhaps we should plan to meet up after the mall opens. What do you think of it?"

The more you stared at the photograph and the note, the more confused you became. The picture showed the mall with the same as the one down the street but it was still in construction according to the photo. 'Huh?' A frown stretched across your face. That specific mall had been going on more nearly a century now to the point that the community had been urging the government to shut it down in order to build a more innovative one. Didn't it finish construction like a hundred years ago? But his photo told a whole new different story.

Suspicions rose inside of you as a spiral of questions revolved around your head- you found it difficult to process it. Not missing a beat, you hurried to your room to find that newspaper you took from your late great-grandfather's shelf. You mumbled in frustration when you couldn't find it; you swore you left it either on the desk or on the bed. Finally, you found it under the bed and oh my...

The letter was published a century back in time which meant that...

"T-The man I just sent a letter...was from the past...." The newspaper dropped from your hands. Your letter had ripped its way out of the fabric of time and went into the mailbox of a man who lived in the same area as you but different time period. He was in the past, you were in the future.

Still, a part of you felt curious about the interaction between two people of different dimensions. So you decided to reply back to his letter. What could go wrong...right?

To people who are more knowledgeable in time travel or parallel universes, pls don't attack me, I know what I wrote may or may not make sense for some of you but pls don't mind me 😭😭😭

And also, not proofread because I wrote this around midnight and I'm literally on the verge of dozing off- (Ik I have such healthy sleep cycles and I have to wake up at 6 am yayyy!! Sleep-deprived-students-core😘🙆🤗)

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piningforstan · 2 months ago

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Talking in Your Sleep

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You start to suspect that there’s more to Stan than what he tells you, at least while he’s awake. Asleep is a different story.

Pairings: Stanley Pines x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Not really any? Let me know if I missed one

A/N: All Most of my oneshots are inspired by songs I guess😂 I’m thinking there might be 2 or 3 parts to this one

Stan lied.

To everyone.

Perhaps it was delusional to think that it didn’t apply to you. You, your reasoning was, were special. At the end of the day he crawled into bed next to you and pressed his cold toes to your calf, laughing as you squirmed away. You made grocery lists together and raided the aisles for food and supplies. It was you that he whispered his fears and hopes to.

So you thought nothing when he lied to the tourists, lied to the banks, lied to the man who “dropped” his wallet (Stan had pickpocketed it and you forced him to return it). You thought nothing when the lies bled into your daily life, domestic bliss disrupted with the occasional white lie. You told yourself: everyone does it.

It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

The room in the Shack that you stumbled upon on accident one day while looking for warmer blankets. “My brother’s room,” he told you. The brother, that you knew, was dead. You let it be, didn’t ask questions. But if it was his brother’s, why did all of the books say his name? Stanford Pines. Scrawled in margins and on the wall like a hasty addition. You didn’t have time to inspect it too closely, but the handwriting looked too neat to be Stan’s — tidy and cramped, unlike the sprawling letters you had seen him print on your paychecks.

STNLYMBLE his license plate read. It wasn’t his brother’s car, he affectionately retold stories of his time in the vehicle before. Maybe it was a tribute of some kind?

A million instances that accumulated in your mind like clutter in an attic, each one a box that you labeled and tucked away for later.

The first snow had just coated itself over Gravity Falls when the sleep talking started. You were roused awake by Stan twitching and muttering, the alarm clock blinking the time at you from the nightstand.

Too early. You rolled over, trying to grasp at the last remnants of your dream. It wasn’t much longer before he was muttering again, louder this time, hands clutching at the sheets and his face scrunching in unmistakable pain.

“Portal…help…” whatever disturbed his dreams made no sense to you here in the real world. You listened quietly. “I promise, Ma…I promise.”

Segments of promises and reassurances, bits of stories that you hadn’t heard before and couldn’t parse out yourself. It didn’t concern you at first, chalking it up to stress — about the Shack during the cold winter months, or maybe whatever work he did in the basement.

And then they became more specific. Unsettling.

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. An accident.” Sweat glistened on his forehead and wet the dark curls at his temples. The weirdest part is when he would whimper: “I’m sorry, Ford. I’m sorry. The portal…”

The portal, the portal, the portal — the one reoccurring connection to all of the sleep talking.

The dreams were worse during the holidays; Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years. It was sometime after the beginning of the new year and you were nestled into one another on the couch when you asked him, “What’s the portal?”

Stan kept his gaze on the TV but his body stiffened beneath you. “What?”

“The portal.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

You don’t know why, but you sensed that you’ve crossed a line, somehow, said something wrong. In an effort to lighten the mood, you injected a hint of humor in your voice, “You’ve been sleep talking lately and you keep mentioning a portal. Is it a bad dream or something?”

“Or something,” Stan coolly replied.

A beat passed between you, tension palpable. The TV flickered off. Stan untangled himself from you without a word and started up the stairs. You stumbled after him.

“Stan, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, whirling on you, one hand braced on the rail. “I’m tired is all.”

You steeled yourself for an argument, aware of it approaching like a storm on the horizon. “For weeks — months — you’ve been having these awful dreams and talking about someone named Ford. And a portal.”

Sometimes you wake up in tears. Sometimes the pain in your voice is enough to make me nauseous. Sometimes you cry for forgiveness.

“S’probably nothin’.”

“Nothing? Stanford, I know something is wrong.”

You had both made it to the landing now, an old fashioned draw. Shadows thrown across his face, Stan possessed an unpredictable air, sharp and glinting like the blade of a knife in the dark. It slipped away just as quickly as the image had impressed upon you. Did you imagine it?

His features arranged into a semblance of shame, sheepish in nature. “I jus’ don’t wanna talk about it, alright? I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You ain’t gotta worry about me, doll.”

You wanted to press the matter. Wanted to know why he was being elusive and why his explanation rubbed you the wrong way.

But you didn’t.

A month or two passed. Spring lingered in the woods, melting snow and glimpses of greenery. You hadn’t mentioned the portal or the dreams again. Stan would go some nights without sleeping at all. You knew this only because you would wake up at night and roll over, expecting his warmth and finding the bed cold and empty.

“What are you doing in the basement?” You asked one day when you were feeling particularly brave. Stan was your kind-of boyfriend, after all, and you asserted to yourself that you had the right to know where he spent most of his time.

Stan, shoveling food in his mouth, shrugged and replied in a muffled tone, “Science stuff.”

He was off doing science stuff when you poked around the entirety of the Shack, searching for this alleged basement. How could there be no doors? You patrolled the perimeter of the building and spotted a cellar but it refused to budge. It unsettled you that couldn’t find an entry to the basement and hadn’t thought to even look before now.

“You wouldn’t want to see it, it’s boring,” he would tell you and you would believe him, his large hands roaming over your skin. “I can think of much more fun things to do up ‘ere.”

It worried at the back of your mind constantly, this idea that you were just another victim in Stan’s lies. Were you being dramatic?

The answer came to you in the dark of the night, moonlight spilling over the floor in silvery bars. Stan woke you as he staggered out of bed, muttering and bumping into the dresser that now hosted a mixture of your clothing. You sat up.

“Stan, honey? Where are you going?”

He never ceased his muttering to answer, persisting down the stairs in his sluggish manner. You grabbed a robe and threw it over yourself, following after him. After several more attempts to get his attention, you came to the conclusion that his sleep talking had now progressed into sleep walking. You knew you should’ve woken him but you curiously trailed behind, through the living room, the kitchen, and into the gift shop.

A blue glow from the vending machine washed over Stan as he ambled towards it, thick fingers pushing the buttons. Was he just hungry, sleepily venturing for a midnight snack? You wouldn’t put it past him. You reached out a hand, ready to rouse him from his trance, when a strange whirring emitted from the vending machine.

Shock rooted you in place as the machine didn’t release any food but rather swung open miraculously on its hinges, disclosing a corridor instead. Stan never even hesitated as he just continued on, broad shoulders and bedhead disappearing around the corner.

Rendered motionless for several moments, you finally decided to go after him. Where was he going? He could hurt himself.

You shuffled into the corridor. An uneasy feeling descended upon you like the legs of a spider, brushing against every inch of your skin. The chill cutting through your robe told you that you were being led further under ground, finally emptying into an enormous room.

And it wasn’t even the size of the room that surprised you, but rather the gigantic metal contraption crouched to one side. From what you could tell it wasn’t working. A huge, darkened eye stared at you from the middle of the rafters.

A window?

A portal.

Stan had ceased his dreamlike ambling to stand before this machine, gazing up at it like it might offer him some kind of absolution.

Your voice, small and afraid: “Stan?”

The trance broke, a taut rubber-band snapped in the way that his shoulders rounded and he glanced around in confusion. You could only imagine the look on your face as he turned to you.

Your name left his mouth, panicked. “What are you doing here?”

“Stan, what is that? Where are we?” Hysteria gripped you. “What’s going on?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Stan replied.

“Did you…did you make this? What is this?”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go upstairs. I can explain all this. A’right?”

“No, Stan, I’m tired of all of the lies and the sneaking around. I’m staying here. And you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

A defeated expression crossed his face. He went over to a panel of controls and leaned against it, hip and elbow. “Ya know I would never hurt ya on purpose, doll. I-I care about you.”

You wanted to soften. But you held yourself strong, heart fracturing. “Stan?”

“I guess I don’t know where to start.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then slowly began to unravel the story that you had pieced together over the time. Except, this time, details were changed— the truth, you realized, not the altered version he had given you.

Everything you thought you knew about this man, this man that you loved, disappeared and took on a new form. The childhood in New Jersey accompanied by a twin brother. His years as a drifter a result of his father kicking him out, not a pursuit of freedom and independence. Even the Mystery Shack, his name, wasn’t his.

Stanley Pines, he said.

Stanley. Not Stanford.

And his brother wasn’t dead but lost in time, and he was trying valiantly to find him again.

“All of this, all of the lies…are for him. It’s my fault that he’s gone and I need to fix my mistake.” Stan’s voice had taken on a strained edge, on the verge of tears. “I’ve made so many but this one…this one I’m close to fixing.”

“You come down here to work on a…portal,” you said, not sure what else to say.

“It’s the only way.” Stan took a step towards you, then thought better of it. “I-I didn’t wanna lie. But I had no idea how much you would mean to me. It was one lie an’ then another and I couldn’t take any of ‘em back. Not without you lookin’ at me like how you are now.”

“I trusted you,” you breathed.

“I’m still me.” He flinched. “Well, kinda. Besides the name and everything. That hasn’t changed. The way I feel about you hasn’t changed.”

“What do you mean? Everything has changed,” you snapped, “Everything I know about you is a lie! I don’t even know what to think right now.” You shook your head as if to dislodge the torrent of thoughts. “You led me to believe that you were someone else. That your brother — who is actually you? — died. I grieved him with you, Stan. And you just lied to me again and again like it was nothing. How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’m tellin’ you, I didn’t want —”

“To lie? But lying is what you do best. It’s all clear to me now. I-I can’t do this. I need air.”

Your feet carried you without permission, away from the strange basement and the portal and Stan. Stanley. Not Stanford. You heard his heavy footsteps as he chased after you, one hand on your shoulder and spinning you to face him.

“Don’t go. Please. I can make this right.”

“No, you can’t.” You fought back tears as you looked at him, so heartbreakingly handsome and wounded and earnest. “I can’t be with someone who I don’t even know. Everything about us has been built on lies.”

He didn’t try and stop you as you stepped out of his grip and back into the gift shop, nor did he follow you. You shoved out onto the porch and into the greying, mushy snow, gathered in piles in the corners of the forest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t be here.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing #stanley pines x reader #grunkle stan #mullet stan #stan pines x you #stanley pines x you #stanley pines oneshot #stan pines x reader #stan pines

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anniebeemine · 2 months ago

Text

mild- s.r. x fem!reader

I lost the request to this one again, I'm actually the worst

warnings: secret relationship

As the team huddled around the conference room table, everyone was deep in thought, rifling through case files and poring over maps. It had been a long day—one of those grueling ones where every lead felt like a dead end. When Penelope suggested ordering food, there were no complaints. In fact, everyone perked up a little when she mentioned Taco Bell.

After the order arrived, the team took a much-needed break, spreading out wrappers, burritos, and taco boxes across the table. The smell of fast food filled the room, providing a brief but welcome distraction from the case. Spencer was seated across from you, rifling through a bag of tacos with a frown, searching for something.

You kept your head down, pretending to focus on your food, but your mind wasn’t on the burrito in front of you. It was on him. Spencer, your colleague, your boyfriend—your secret boyfriend. It wasn’t that you didn’t want the team to know, but with the stress of your jobs and the close-knit nature of the BAU, the two of you had decided to keep things quiet for a while. And honestly, it was kind of thrilling, sharing secret looks across the room, or brushing hands as you passed each other.

But moments like this? They were the hardest. When all you wanted to do was lean over and kiss him, but all you could do was sit a few feet away, acting like colleagues and nothing more.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a packet of mild sauce sitting by the edge of your tray. Your eyes flicked over to Spencer again, watching as he unwrapped his taco with meticulous care. You glanced down at the packet, reading the words printed on the little orange packet: “I Love You.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you picked it up. Without overthinking it, you slid the sauce packet across the table toward Spencer, nudging it gently so it would catch his attention.

Spencer looked up at you curiously, then down at the sauce packet. He blinked once, then twice, before the realization hit him. You saw his lips twitch into a smile—an expression so subtle that no one else would have noticed. But you knew him well enough to spot it, even in the briefest flicker of emotion.

He picked up the packet, turning it over in his hands as if he were examining some kind of artifact. Then, without a word, he tucked it into his pocket, his smile growing just a little bit wider.

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest as he met your gaze briefly, the unspoken words passing between you: I love you, too.

To anyone else, it was just a mild sauce packet. But to you and Spencer, it was a quiet affirmation of everything that had been building between you—the connection, the affection, the love that you both had chosen to keep secret, for now.

The rest of the team was oblivious, too caught up in their food and conversation to notice the silent exchange between the two of you. You picked up your burrito, taking a bite and smiling to yourself. In the midst of all the chaos, the stress, and the long hours, this little moment with Spencer was enough to make it all feel a little more bearable.

And in a few hours, when the case was done and the team dispersed, you knew that Spencer would find a way to slip away, to find you—and this time, he wouldn’t need a sauce packet to tell you how he felt.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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tightjeansjavi · 7 months ago

Text

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“Takeout 🥡”

A/N: I sent @strang3lov3 post shower titty pics in my takeout undies…and then she said I should write baby love wearing those said panties around Joel 🤭 so I did the mf thing and wrote it! P.S that is yours truly’s fine Italian ass in the moodboard! 🍑

~word count: 1.4k~

Summary: Friday nights are takeout nights, baby love

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, oral f!receiving, mentions of ouid, teasing, flirting, intimacy, daddy kink! Mommy kink??, Joel and the reader are pornstars, Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

Friday nights were arguably your favorite night out of the entire week; takeout night, baby! Every Friday night you and Joel would pick a local restaurant to order from and this week it was your turn! Instead of simply letting Joel know where you wanted to order from, you decided to play some theatrics into it.

You were, after all, well seasoned in front of the camera.

So while Joel was downstairs, seated at the kitchen table with his jar of weed and rolling papers laid out in front of him, you slipped into one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties. The fabric had little Chinese takeout boxes printed onto the fabric. They were a high waisted, cheeky pair and you had a sneaking suspicion that Joel was absolutely going to love and devour them.

After throwing on one of his well-loved shirts, you headed downstairs to greet him in the kitchen. He had just finished rolling a joint when he noticed you in his peripheral, his lips curved upwards into a boyish grin when he saw that your attire consisted of nothing but panties and one of his shirts: delicious.

“Hey, baby love.” He tucked the joint behind his ear, turning in the chair completely so he was facing you.

“Hey, baby.” You grinned, lifting the hem of his shirt up so he could get the full view of your cheeky choice of panties.

His eyes traveled from your face and all the way down the curve of your body. His eyes flickered back upwards, grin widening as he beckoned you to come closer, “Ooh, how’d you know I was hungry, baby love?” He snickered, wrapping his strong arms around your waist when you were within reach and pulled you in close. He started nuzzling his face against your exposed stomach, pressing open mouth kisses here and there while his hands grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh between his thick fingers.

He brought one hand back, giving your ass a playful slap that elicited a giggle to slip past your lips as you gently carded your fingers through his soft, salt and peppered kissed curls. You leaned down, giving the top of his head a sweet peck as he hummed against your tummy.

“No, baby.” You giggled, “ME. I’m hungry. I want lo mein and orange chicken from Fortune House.”

He let out a soft huff, tickling the sensitive hairs above your pubic bone with his enticing warm breath, “yeah, that’s what you want tonight, baby love?” He looked up at you, resting his chin against your stomach while you gently brushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

“Mhm. Are you good with that for tonight?”

“Always down for some good Chinese takeout.” He rasped, dropping one hand from your ass so he could reach across the table and grab his wallet, “think I wanna eat you first, though.” He chuckled, pulling out one of his cards and handed it to you.

“You always wanna eat me, Joel.” You shook your head with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Can ya blame a man?” He focused his attention back on you, slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties and gently pulled the elastic back before letting it snap against your hip. “These are fuckin’ adorable, by the way. Love how they look on you, baby love.” He pressed a wet kiss to your hip bone, and then the other before trailing his lips just above the delicate lace on the hem of your panties.

His eyes flickered upwards, deep pools of brown full of nothing but unbridled mischief. The look he was giving you sent heat rising to your cheeks and your thighs involuntarily clenching together.

“Thank you, baby. They’re one of my favorite pairs to lounge in.” You hummed, keeping one hand in his hair just as he began to lower his lips, hot breath fanning your covered core. He leaned in, rubbing the tip of his nose against your covered clit, taking a deep inhale at the scent of your arousal.

“Fuck me.” He grunted, lashes fluttering shut momentarily before they opened again. He kept his eyes locked on yours when he pressed a kiss to your clit, and then another, and another till there was a small wet patch forming from the moisture building up between the thin layers in the fabric.

You stifled a moan, gripping onto his hair for support, your words coming out stuttered when he dragged the flat side of his tongue from your core and all the way up to your clit. “J—Joel, the f—food. Fuck.”

His words were muffled by his face being buried in your covered pussy as he hooked his thumb around the front of your panties and pulled them to the side. “You have my card, baby love, call ‘em and place the order while I feast on ya.” He chuckled deeply, sending a series of sparks to shoot up your spine as you tilted your head back.

“O—okay. What do you want?” You reached for his phone, snatching it up quickly just as he began to suckle on your clit.

“Gimme a minute, kinda busy.” You could feel him smirking against you as he swirled his tongue against you in a languid figure eight motion.

You struggled to dial the number to the restaurant with just one hand, but somehow you managed. “Hi! Yes, I’d like to place an order f—for delivery! Mhmm—I’d like an order of lo mein, orange—chicken. What—size? Uh, large for both, please!” You squeaked out, eyes rolling back into your skull when Joel had crooked his middle and pointer finger inside of your core, thrusting them shallowly.

His mouth and fingers were working in unison as your slick dripped out of you and down the side of his hand almost immediately. You struggled to keep your composure while he was working you into absolute ruin. You pulled the phone away from your ear, placing it against your shoulder for a moment.

“Joel!” You hissed, “what do you want, baby? Seriously J—Joel!”

He detached his mouth from you, looking up at you, beard and chin glistening in your slick as he licked his lips, “what was that, baby love? S’matter?” He teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him, struggling to not let a moan slip out and scar the poor old woman on the phone, “please, just—tell me what you want to eat.”

“Hmm.” He pondered, smacking his lips together, “an order of crab rangoon.” He leaned back in, dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit, sucking it between his lips before gently releasing it with a wet smack! “Egg rolls.” He repeated his previous action, feeling your thighs begin to quiver and tremble, “pan fried potstickers.” He suddenly ceased the movement of his fingers inside of you, and his mouth, forcing you to drop your hand from his hair to brace yourself against his shoulder, “and an order of beef and broccoli.” He added.

You swore you saw stars behind your eyes when he purposely edged you from your approaching orgasm. With a shaky hand you brought the phone back up to your ear, “hi! Sorry, I would also like an order of crab rangoons, egg rolls, pan fried potstickers— Jesus fuck—” you stuttered, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood when he continued with his ministrations, pumping his fingers inside of you at an unruly pace while he suckled on your clit. “I’m so sorry for swearing! That just slipped out—can I also get an order of beef and broccoli? Thank you—yeah, that’s it!”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby love. Give it to me. Soak my fuckin’ fingers, sweet girl. Give it all to daddy.” He murmured between your thighs, mouthful of pussy.

You don’t even remember saying your address, or the digits on Joel’s card when the sweet old lady let you know that the food would be delivered within the hour. You said thank you, ending the call and tossed Joel’s phone on the table before you slipped your fingers back into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you pressed his face further into your dripping cunt. “Don’t you dare fucking stop now, daddy.”

He looked up at you, tongue sinfully swirling around your clit, stray strands of curls dropping from between your fingers, falling against his forehead and briefly obstructing his view, “I wouldn’t stop eatin’ my girls sweet fuckin’ pussy even if the world was ending, momma.”

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🩷

Moodboard made by the lovely @strang3lov3 💘

Follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

#fic: takeout #pornstar!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller drabble #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel tlou #joel miller au

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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The wait way universe. The one where they get married.

Ohh god it is perfect.

Please say you will write more of this?

I am begging you.

Need more of the baby.

And all the group together having fun family nights.

Another baby maybe? ;)

Aunts and uncles fighting to hold the baby.

Bucky and the reader being told the baby moved the hammer and thor really presenting him with a mini hammer?

Also I love love love love love uncle Tony’s nickname for the baby. Mini terminator love it.

Happy squealing baby is so cute.

I just love it. So much.

I will beg for more. I will. I love it. I love your writing. I love how you write the characters.

Oh god I would kill to see protective avengers. Maybe someone takes the reader and the baby, oh and even more so the reader is pregnant. :0 dun dun dun…. Protective angry Bucky, Steve, Tony,Sam ,Nat, Wanda, Bruce etc

OKAY YES. I'm here for PROTECTIVE AVENGERS OVER ALL THE BABY BUCKIES AND HIS ANGEL. You can read this piece as a stand alone. I added the links for other parts if you want to read it but you don't have to. We're all here for what happens when you mess with Bucky's family.

Wait, what?

Wait, what? 2

I do (again) Wait, what? 3

Wait, what? More Babies?

Competitive God Fathers

You smiled to yourself, carefully adding the last piece of tape to Bucky's gift, tying a perfect bow around the wrapped box before hiding it in the closet. Bucky was due to come back soon and while you missed him like crazy, his absence made it easier for you to get his surprise together. Over the last few weeks, you'd felt more tired than usual along with feeling tender and crampy. One trip to the pharmacy, a pregnancy test and a positive result later, you'd bought a custom onesie with Baby Barnes Jr #4 printed on the front.

You hoped Bucky would enjoy the surprise you were growing in your belly, especially considering how often he kept insisting he wanted just one more, adding to your growing family with Steve Jr who had just turned 5 and your 3 year old twins Samantha and Nathaniel. You hid the present under the bed before going to the playroom to tuck your littles ones into bed, the three of them unusually quiet compared to their usual mischief.

"C'mon munchkins" You smiled at the sight before you with Stevie sprawled on a large bean bag, his brother and sister on tucked on either side, their big brother reading to them while they intently looked at the pictures. "Bed time for you babies"

"Will daddy be home soon?" Samantha asked with a pout, a complete daddy's girl just like you, tucking her face into your neck as you scooped her up along with Nathaniel while Steve followed promptly behind.

"Of course bub, he'll be here first thing in the morning" You assured her, kissing her forehead before tucking her into bed followed by the other little one. "Good night loves" You turned off the lights before going back to your room where you knew Stevie was waiting with his favorite book, ready for a bedtime story. It was a special bonding time you always made sure to have with him, not wanting you first baby boy to feel like he was no longer one of your favorites after the twins were born.

"What did you pick tonight baby" You got under the covers, fluffing the pillows and propping them up while Stevie snuggled up beside you, plopping a book about science onto your lap. You chuckled at the nerdy side he'd gotten from his dad, reading through scientific discoveries that were made in the last century and theories that were still being tested. He listened with wide eyes until they grew heavy, eventually falling asleep on your lap, not having the slightest clue you'd carried him to bed and tucked him in with a kiss to his cheek. "Sleep tight my sweet boy"

You slipped back under the covers, grabbing a book for yourself while occasionally running your hands over your belly, soaking in the quiet night before the team arrived after their latest mission.

It wasn't often that the compound was empty; few missions required all hands on deck but this was one of them. You'd received a message from FRIDAY informing you the jet would be landing in a few hours and that no medical assistance would be required because no one had sustained major injures. It was the sole reason you were able to relax so easily, happy waiting for your husbands arrival so you could tell him the good news.

You settled comfortably under the covers until a faint sound from the common room pulled you from your book again. FRIDAY would have alerted you if the jet was approaching and you would've definitely heard the sound of the engine approaching anyway.

But was still eerily quiet.

Then you heard something again.

You were sure it was nothing but you pressed the button under the bedside table that locked and secured the rooms of the little ones just to be safe. Tony had added additional security for their rooms in case of emergencies, with 4 different operating systems working at once. Absolutely nothing would happen to his godchildren under his roof.

It was probably nothing.

Still.

You grabbed the knife you kept hidden behind the headboard, tucking in under the waistband of you sleep shorts before making your way down, reprimanding yourself for being paranoid over what was probably just sounds of the plumbing and vents creaking in the middle of the night.

The halls were clear, easing some of your nerves as you continued to the common room where you heard the sound. The hairs on your neck stood up when you saw the glow of the kitchen light turned on, grabbing your knife, only to find one of the new agents sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on a coffee.

"Annabeth?" Your brows were knitted together, discreetly slipping the knife away, wondering how she'd gotten into the main floor of the compound when it was restricted to others after a certain time.

"Hey y/n" She gave you a sleepy smile while you watched her warily, "Couldn't sleep. Hope you don't mind, just wanted to grab a mug before heading back to trainee wing"

"Yeah, its fine" You spoke slowly, something still not sitting right with you though you didn't show it.

"How come you're still up, waiting for Sergeant Barnes?" There was something sinister in the sweetness of her voice, cocking her head while you hummed in response, stomach churning. "You're both so cute together you know. It's nice to see how his life has come together after all he's been through as the asset"

"Excuse me?" Your eyes grew wide, heart hammering against your chest, it was rare for anyone to refer to Bucky as the asset. Most referred to him as the winter soldier, even soldat, only those deep in Hdyra had called him-

"We want our asset back" She whispered, cracking a smirk and nodding to someone behind you. Before you could turn around, a large form grasped your body, slamming a hand over your mouth muffling your screams. You didn't have any time to react, feeling a pinch to your neck and slipping into darkness immediately after.

Bucky stretched with a sleepy yawn as the jet began its descent, already waiting at the doors and ready to hop out and see his wife and babies. He smiled at the thought of them all safely tucked into bed, sleeping soundly while you probably tried to stay up with a book. He always found you dozed off, book loosely falling from your hand, still propped up against the bed every time you waited for him. Didn't matter not how many times he told you to just go to bed. You always stayed up till you saw he was safe and sound.

Sam helped Bucky put away his equipment so he could get to you faster, everyone smiling watching the soldier dash off, running to his family.

"It's nice to see him like this" Nat nodded, trudging with the rest as they entered the compound, nothing amiss while they went to the conference room.

"He deserves it" Steve smiled, happy his best friend finally had what he'd always dreamt of. A wife. Kids. A safe home for them.

Bucky made his way over to see his little ones first, stopping in front of the heavily decorated door, covered with Captain America and Iron Man posters, courtesy of the two Godfathers competing for #1. Bucky smiled, turning the knob, only to find it locked shut, which was odd considering the only way to lock the door was if the security system had been activated.

He shook his head, frowning as he made his way to your shared bedroom instead, figuring it was a glitch or mistake. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach seeing the door open ajar, with the lamp turned on, your book set aside but you were nowhere to be seen.

"Baby?" Bucky called out, struggling to keep his panic at bay when the bathroom was empty, as was the closet. "Sweetheart?"

He called down the hall way a little louder before jogging to the kitchen but there had been no sign of you there when he'd entered. He started to move quicker, running back to disable to security system, breathing a sigh of relief to find all three little ones still sleeping soundly. He softly shut the door before immediately going to the conference room.

"Y/n, has anyone seen her?" He hoped to see you sitting with the others but he was filled with dread when the others shook their head in confusion. "She's-she's not in her room. I've checked everywhere, the security system was activated for the kids' room, she wouldn't leave the compound around this hour, somethings wrong"

No one asked questions, immediately jumping into action; Tony starts to comb through security from the time they left while Nat double checks every floor and room, just to be safe. Steve and Sam help Bucky look over your bedroom for any signs of a struggle. He ran his hand along the areas they'd hidden weapons, his stomach dropping when he felt the empty space behind the headboard.

"She took the knife" Bucky swallowed thickly while Sam and Steve shared concerned glances.

"Look, she's strong Buck, whatever it is, we'll find her" Steve insisted while Bucky continued to look, checking under the bed where he'd kept a pistol, nothing out of the ordinary except-

He frowned, seeing a little gift bag hidden underneath, newly packed with a gold bow placed on top. He picked it up, brows knitted together as he pulled away the tissue paper, feeling soft material tucked at the bottom of the bag. He took it out, heart splitting into two at the words written on the little onesie,

"Fuck!" A broken sob pulled Sam and Steve from their search, finding Bucky slumped by the edge of the bed.

"Buck?" they shared concerned glances seeing him holding something small in his hands, clutching it tightly to his chest.

"She's-she's pregnant" Bucky whispered, tears welling in his eyes holding the tiny jumpsuit in his hands, his heart couldn't take it-

"Barnes, we have something!" Tony's voice echoed through the coms, the three men running back to the conference room where Tony had pulled the footage from you in the kitchen. Bucky watched in silence, jaw clenched seeing the new agent use a stolen keycard to sneak into the compound with a Hydra agent, the two of them quietly waiting for you to come down.

He had to keep from smashing the TV, watching the man grab you from behind, injecting you with something before carelessly carrying you off like ragdoll, his heart aching, wishing he'd gotten home sooner. All voices around him drowned out to a faint buzz, the sounds of Tony and Steve giving out commands all muffled as if they were underwater.

"We have the coordinates locked, everyone down down to the jet, remember your positions.

It was like a switch was flipped.

"Cap and I clear the entry ways, Nat, Clint, follow behind, Sam, surveillance from the top. Barnes, you just have to get y/n"

The former young husband and father who sat with tears streaming down his cheeks was replaced with a man who knew no remorse. No guilt. No sense of right or wrong.

"Barnes"

Steve knew of this man well.

"Barnes?"

The one they called the Winter Soldier.

"Baby" Bucky whispered, scooping his sleepy eldest son in his arms before striding over to the twins bed, tucking them in together. "Daddy's gotta go another mission but we'll be back soon, alright?"

Steve could sense something was wrong, the strain in his fathers voice making him worry.

"Again?" He asked while Samantha and Nathaniel stirred slightly, trying to tuck themselves into their daddy's warmth. "Where's mama?" He asked with a tiny whisper having heard the commotion outside of the room, his hearing enhancing more and more each day. Bucky swallowed thickly while Steve stepped into the room to check on his best friend, his heart breaking over the three little ones clinging onto him.

"We're going to get her, promise bub" Buck kissed their heads, grabbing their favorite stuffies to cuddle with.

"Let me see my favorite little soldiers" Steve strode over, giving them a brave smile. "We'll be back before you know it"

"Will mama be okay?" Nathanial whispered, grabbing onto Steve's wrist before he could leave, tears streaming down his little chubby cheek.

"Of course" Steve reassured him, kissing his forehead and tucking him back into bed, "We'll never let anything happen to your mama"

That was a promise.

"Oh fuck" Clint snorted to himself watching the black mask that had been locked away for good slip over Bucky's face, his usual leather jacket replaced with a thick black tactical vest, straps running across his chest.

"They're fucked, aren't they" Sam whispered to Tony as he put his suit on, the glancing over to the stone cold brunette who sat in silence, finger resting on the trigger. Like he doesn't actually need us"

"We're really just going for moral support, also no one hurts our y/n" Tony whispered back. The teams full focus was getting you back along with keeping your babies safe; Pepper had come to look after the littles ones till you were found safe and sound. While the team was fully ready to take apart anyone that tried to hurt you. It was more that evident Bucky wouldn't have a problem taking hydra apart by himself but they wouldn't let him go alone.

Bucky didn't speak a word as soon as the jet hit the ground hitting his targets from 100's of feet away, each bullet landing right between their eyes.

"...Did you know he could do that?" Sam called from the coms, watching agents drop while he flew across the top of the base. Tony blasted the front of the doors while Steve cleared the hall way, throwing his shield, knocking down three men that guarded the wing.

"Looks like she's down in the cells" Sam called, looking at where the heat signals were coming from. Bucky made his way down the sterile hallway, red lights suddenly flashing above when a woman charged towards him.

"Welcome back soldat" Annabeth sauntered, blocking the doors to where you were being held with a satisfied smirk on her face. "We knew you'd come back. We missed you-

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with this" Nat smirked, stepping in front of Bucky and grabbing Annabeth by her hair, dragging her off to a corner before throwing a punch to her jaw.

Bucky continued, slamming the lab doors open, his eyes landing onto your tied up form, strapped onto the very same chair he'd been tied to every time he'd been wiped. He didn't give anyone a second to think, killing those closest to him while the others tried to escape.

"You wanted me back, didn't you" Bucky's voice was a low growl as he stepped over the bodies he shot down before running to save you. "Well, I'm back"

The ones that ran off didn't get too far, making it out of the lab, only to be met with a very angry Steve and Tony.

"You don't hurt my fucking bestfriend" Steve gritted, slamming the agent to the floor before grabbing another and throwing him to Tony.

"You are not taking away my turn at being a God father" Sam grabbed another that tried to hide behind the rubble, swooped up to the ceiling, dangling to agent in the air for a while before letting him drop. Bucky was by your side in an instant, cutting off the straps that bound your arms together.

"Baby?" Bucky scooped you up in his arms, cradling your body to his chest, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "You okay sweetheart?"

"Bucky!" You cried out, clinging onto him, trembling while he kissed you before protectively covering your face from the bloody trail he left behind him. "You're here"

"M'taking you home baby, c'mon" Bucky whispered against your hair, carrying you tucked against him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, breathing in his scent. "I got you babygirl, it's okay"

"I was so scared" Bucky held onto you tightly on the ride back, he had never felt relief like this, his heart finally calming down. "M'so sorry sweet girl"

"S'not your fault baby" you whispered back, smiling when you felt a kiss to the back of your head.

"Glad you're okay sweetheart" Steve gave you a squeeze before leaving you and Bucky to have your privacy again, staying near the front with the rest of the team, watching over Annabeth, who had been captured for questioning. Once you'd reached the compound, you were greeted with proper hugs and kisses from the others, hearing the pitter patter of little feel seconds later.

"MAMAA" Your babies ran to you, climbing up your leg until they were all properly snuggled against you, refusing to let go until they were sure you were perfectly safe.

"Daddy and your aunts and uncles rescued me, see? I'm all okay" You reassured them while they looked at you intently, checking over you the same way you did whenever they had a fall. Once they were satisfied that you were okay, they let their daddy take you away to get cleaned up while it was Tony's turn to read them a bedtime story even if it was nearing morning.

"Right where you belong" Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist after you'd both showered, foregoing clothes as you climbed into bed, snuggled over the covers. He spooned you from behind, the feel of his warm bare skin comforting you.

"I love you so much angel" He pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, eyes brightening when he remembered the little present he'd found earlier. His hand slipped down to softly brush over your tummy. "Both of you" He playfully whispered, smiling at your soft gasp as you wiggled to turn around and face him, growing bashfully shy when he pulled the tiny jumpsuit he'd kept on his pillow.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me mama?"

"Think you're ready for a 4th?" You giggled, burying your face into his chest while he grinned, peppering your face with kisses till you squealed.

"M'ready for a 5th and 6th if you'd let me angel" Bucky smirked, playfully nipping your jaw before shuffling down to rest his head on your tummy, kissing your soft skin while you carded your fingers through his hair. "but I can't wait to meet this little one first"

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wynnyfryd · 1 year ago

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Trailer park Steve AU part 30

part 1 | part 29 | ao3

cw: Steve Harrington committing unforgivable thought crimes (besmirching LotR)

"Uh," Steve stammers as Eddie tugs him off the couch, because he just propositioned the guy while covered in snot and tears and wearing a blanket as a cape, and now that guy is holding his hand.

Eddie doesn't let go after he gets him to his feet. Their fingers lace together, and his palm is soft and warm, his fingers slightly callused. Steve can feel his own pulse pounding in his wrist.

"Simmer down," Eddie teases, "I'm not having sex with you. Yet," he adds with a lewd waggle of his brows when Steve puppy-dog pouts at him. "This is better than sex, anyway."

"If you're having shit sex, maybe.” Steve rolls his eyes and lets himself be dragged past a messy counter, where Eddie stops to grab a black lunch box and a cassette tape, a tissue for Steve’s face, then down the hall to Eddie's bedroom.

"My kingdom," he grins as he shoves the door open and waves Steve through with a bow.

His room is amazing. Awesome and terrible all at once: awesome, because it looks like someone put Eddie’s essence in a blender and ran the blades without a lid, and terrible, because the place is a fucking pigsty. There’s a bag of bread on the floor.

Eddie tells him to make himself at home, so Steve plops down on the edge of his bed, takes in the explosion of artwork tacked to the walls while Eddie buzzes around the room — swoops and swoons like a drunken bee, kicking shit into messy piles, sticking a cig in his mouth and forgetting to find the lighter, turning on the stereo. He pops in the cassette, and Steve lets out a surprised laugh when he hears the upbeat strumming.

"Rumours? Really? That's your 'better than sex' cure?"

Eddie cranks the volume. "It's workin’, ain't it?" he mumbles around the unlit cig.

Steve tries to frown and fails. "…Shut up."

Eddie snickers at him; gives him the cutest smile he's ever seen, nose scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners, then he tucks the cigarette behind his ear and shakes his hair out with a grimace. “Christ, it’s hot in here." His hands move to the hem of his shirt. "Look away or don’t, baby, I’m changin’!”

Steve smiles and averts his gaze, falling back on Eddie’s bed and looking at the ceiling with his legs dangled over the edge. In his periphery he can see Eddie hopping gracelessly around the dresser, trying to tug his foot out of the end of his skinny jeans, cursing under his breath; dropping all the ‘g’s off the ends of his words.

"I like your Southern accent."

"Do ya now?" Eddie throws it on thick, really hamming it up, "Well then, I reckon it's plum near the most attractive dad-gum thing y’ever did hear 'round these here pawrts."

Steve honks a mortifyingly stupid laugh, which makes Eddie laugh like a chime in a windstorm, which just makes Steve laugh even more, and maybe Eddie was right.

Maybe this is better than sex.

He wipes at his eyes, misty for a good reason for the first time all night, and when he looks up again Eddie’s dressed in his pajamas. Dark gray gym shorts, a black cut-off tank, the arm holes deep and loose to expose his armpit hair, his ribs.

Steve’s mouth goes dry.

Eddie’s wiry and pale, firm muscle wrapped around his string-bean frame, and he's covered in tattoos — black line art and gray shading, fantastical beasts and staffs and swords, a crazily-detailed set of serpent scales snaking up his side. But it's his legs that catch Steve's eye.

His legs are covered in words. Words and doodles everywhere, from his calves to his thighs, the lines wobbly and thick like Eddie put them there himself. There are quotes in sloppy cursive, longer ones in blocky print; a few stylized to look like comic book dialog, the words POW! and DANGER outlined in spiky bubbles above his knee. Steve wants to trace the lines; rehearse him like a poem, learn each ink stroke with his fingers until he can recite them all by heart.

Eddie catches him staring and gives a small, pleased grin. “Like what you see?”

Steve’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Yeah. I really do.”

The smile widens. Eddie clambers onto the bed, stepping over Steve’s head and plopping down beside him with his back against the wall, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out long and loose.

Steve shifts to lay the same direction, and his shoulder brushes Eddie’s leg, his wrist ghosting against his ankle bone. He doesn’t pull away; likes the look of their skin tones side by side — the smooth desert landscape of his inner arm, accented only by a few veins and moles; the riot of ink and art all along Eddie’s shin. Eddie’s feet are bare, and they’re wide, a little hairy (reminds Steve of Dustin’s nerdy ring book, and he almost says as much, but he knows Eddie’s even more obsessed with that shit than the kids are. He really doesn’t want the dude to pop a brain boner and spend the next four hours lecturing Steve about jewelry lore.)

“What are you giggling at down there?” Eddie nudges at his elbow.

“Nothing,” Steve says, and Eddie responds “All right then, keep your secrets” in a silly character voice. He stretches to the side and grabs a joint off the bedside table.

“Now,” he says, voice slipping into that deep, slow sing-song thing he does — his sales pitch tone, Steve realizes. “This part is, of course, completely optional, but. In my humble, expert opinion—”

“So humble,” Steve teases under his breath.

“—It really enhances the whole experience.”

“The Stevie Nicks Therapeu- thera-” Oh, screw it. “Un-saddening Experience?”

“That is correct.” He holds it out over Steve’s face, wiggling it in offering, and Steve thinks about his conversation with Robin over brunch:

"I can't believe you did coke.” "I can't believe you smoked weed." "I know." "Was it okay?" He hasn't tried weed since... "Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually."

“Okay,” he decides. I trust you. “Let’s do it.”

Eddie puts the joint between his lips and lights it up.

—

part 31

listen i know it’s a quote from a movie that will not exist for another 16 years just let me have this. tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my fic #my writing

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slytherinshua · 11 months ago

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MATCHING DINOSAURS

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. pairing. anton x fem!reader. wc. 1k. a/n. @eternalgyu here's ur anton delusions <3

“I have a present for you!” You said excitedly, pushing Anton’s back towards your bedroom.

“What is it? Should I be scared?” He looked back at you, bewildered, but still allowed you to drag him towards the bedroom door.

“Why would you be scared? It’s cute, I promise.” You reassured him, pulling out a gift box from the closet and setting it on the bed. Anton sat down beside you, peering curiously at the medium sized blue wrapped box.

“It’s not even my birthday…” He mumbled with a laugh, picking up the box.

“Just open it!” You urged him, getting impatient to see his reaction to the cute present you had picked out at the store earlier.

Anton was soft and pure, so warm and gentle to everyone and everything that he didn’t even know how to raise his voice. He probably couldn’t even hurt an ant. Knowing this, you should’ve predicted that he would be the type to unwrap the present slowly and carefully to make sure the wrapping paper didn’t rip. He picked at the tape that was holding the paper together carefully until it separated from the box.

It was a little endearing to watch, but also tested your patience even further. You were so excited to see his reaction and to see him use the present that you could barely think of anything else. But one of the things that had improved once you had started dating Anton was your patience, so you sat and waited as he unwrapped the present at his own pace.

“You’re making me nervous by staring so hard.” He laughed shyly, his cheeks flushed as he finally slid the wrapping paper off the box, successfully saving its form without ripping it so it could be reused on another occasion.

“I can’t miss your reaction.” You muttered, leaning even closer to stare even harder which caused both of you to giggle.

The anticipation in the room was probably absurdly high for the occasion, but something about this little gift that you had gotten for him on a whim was exhilarating for both of you. You may have just been in your crappy small apartment, the lights dimmed to save electricity and the space running a little colder to save on the heating bill, but it still felt like it was one of the most precious moments of your life.

Your boyfriend slid off the lid of the box, revealing the contents of it. His face broke out into a huge smile once he saw what it was, quickly turning to face you again with his excitement. You smiled satisfactorily. This was the reaction you had been anticipating all day.

Anton picked up the set of pyjamas from the box, still admiring them carefully. They were a light green colour with a cute print of brachiosauruses all over in a darker green. When you saw them in the store, you immediately had to buy them for him. There was no way you would be able to leave them hanging on the rack.

“Guess what else?” You prompted. Anton turned to you, humming curiously in response, still holding his pair of pyjamas in his hands.

You pulled out another pair of pyjamas from your dresser drawer and held them up. These ones matched Anton’s, but were pink with triceratopses instead. You grinned and he giggled.

“They’re cute.” He commented, blushing at the thought of matching with you.

Once you were both changed into the comfy new pyjama sets, you settled down to watch a movie which had been your original plan for this evening. Cuddled next to Anton would always be your favourite place to be, tucked comfortably under his arm. He rested his head on top of yours. Your eyes were stuck on the movie screen while his eyes were closed, enjoying the pleasant scent of your hair.

“Did you get new shampoo?” He asked in a whisper, catching your attention enough for you to look up at him.

“Yeah. Is it good?” You smiled up at him, your eyes crinkling slightly— the sight made Anton’s chest feel warm.

“Smells like grapefruit.” He noted, breathing in the scent again, smiling against your hair, his nose buried in it. The feeling made a million butterflies start to dance in your stomach.

You both focused back on the movie, watching mostly in silence, though sometimes you or Anton would let out soft giggles at something funny in the movie. Time went by quickly and before you knew it the end credits were rolling on the screen. Anton reached over to grab the remote and turn off the screen while you just snuggled deeper into the soft blankets you both were under.

There was a bit of a shift as you both got comfortable and ready for sleeping. You liked to fall asleep in a position that was still close and cuddled up to Anton, but at a distance where you could still look at him for your last whispered conversation before finally falling to the depths of your dreamland.

Anton smiled at you, cheek squished adorably against the pillow, his left hand resting against your waist and tracing the small pink triceratops on the fabric of your pyjama pants.

“Thank you for the present, lovely.”

“They were too cute not to get.” You grinned, eyes closing as tiredness swelled through your body. You loved falling asleep next to Anton, and you could feel the drowsiness taking over quickly.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.” Anton whined softly. You forced your eyes open to catch his pout before they fell shut again.

“Why? I’m tired.” You mumbled.

“You haven’t given me a goodnight kiss yet.”

You laughed softly at his response, “Come get your goodnight kiss then.”

It didn’t take long for Anton to take you up on your offer, giving you just a small gentle kiss on the lips before settling back down on his pillow.

“I love you.” You whispered to him, teetering on the edge of awakeness and slumber. You fell asleep before you could hear him say it back to you, but those 3 words followed you into your dreams for the night, bringing warmth to your chest and the perfect familiar comfort that was always an effect of Anton.

↳ riize taglist: open!

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