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maximoffsgirl · 21 days ago

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Airplane Mode ✈︎

summary: When the long-awaited "winter break trip" finally arrives, the twins are thrilled to explore somewhere new and have a well deserved break—and so are you and Wanda. Even if she has to drag you away from the shops, sometimes the best souvenir is the one right beside you, holding your hand.

warnings: Established relationship, Wanda and Reader are married. Domestic Life. Airport environment. The twins are close to 8/9 years old. Wanda is referred as Mama, Y/N is referred as Mommy. Otherwise, I think there's none, this is pure fluff

author's note: English isn't my first language :) and to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️ (I don't have any airport vocabulary either, so I apologize for that :D)

word count: 2.300

The twins began their Holiday countdown as early as the beginning of November, their excitement bubbling over and dominating their thoughts. This yearly ritual marked the start of their anticipation for what had become a cherished tradition in the Maximoff family.

Like every year, the family had planned to travel for a week or two, combining the celebration of the twins’ school break with the chance for a fun yet rejuvenating getaway. The destination was always kept as a surprise for the twins, which only heightened their excitement.

Wanda moved around the house with a medium-sized folder securely tucked under her arm. You’d watched her check and recheck the documents inside at least four times already. The folder contained all the family passports—including yours, since she apparently didn’t trust you enough to keep it yourself—and a collection of other papers that, to you, seemed unnecessary. Though you didn’t comment on it, and advised your children not to do so.

“Wanda, love, the Uber is almost here,” you called out, your voice carrying a mix of urgency and affection as you made sure the twins were ready to leave. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at their matching Woody and Buzz Lightyear backpacks, a testament to their unwavering love for Toy Story.

As you helped them with their luggage, Wanda moved through the house one last time, her sharp eyes scanning every detail. She checked every window and door, ensuring everything was securely closed and locked. Her thoroughness didn’t surprise you; it was just Wanda being Wanda, always making sure nothing was left to chance.

When Wanda finally appeared by your side, you reached for her hand and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. Without saying a word, you brought her knuckles to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss against them. It was your silent way of telling her that everything was under control, that she didn’t need to worry so much.

She turned to you with a soft, sweet smile, her gaze full of affection. Leaning in, she mirrored your gesture, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face. It was her way of saying thank you—thank you for grounding her, for always knowing just what to do or day to ease her mind.

Just as you expected, Wanda became a well-oiled machine at the airport, her mind working like clockwork as she scanned the bustling surroundings. You could almost see the gears turning in her head as she ensured every detail was accounted for.

As always, you had arrived two hours early—Wanda’s non-negotiable rule. Predictably, the twins were already whining about the wait, their tired voices echoing their confusion about why you couldn’t just leave home closer to the flight’s departure time and walk straight onto the plane. Their innocent logic made you chuckle.

“Mama, where are you going now?” Tommy whined, dragging his feet as he held onto your hand, clearly not thrilled about all the airport procedures.

“To get our boarding passes and check in the luggage, honey,” Wanda replied with her usual calm tone, though her focus was already set on her next task.

You knew as well as the twins that the boarding passes could have been handled online through the app or website. But Wanda preferred doing it herself, ensuring everything was in order, her way. At times like this, you knew better than to argue or try to convince her otherwise. Some battles simply weren’t worth fighting, and honestly, you admired her determination to make sure everything went smoothly.

If you were honest, airports gave you mixed feelings. You loved the little family moments they brought—how Wanda seemed effortlessly in control, the warmth of a tiny hand - Billy’s or Tommy’s - clasped in yours, and the shared excitement of what the week held for all of you. But the waiting, the line, and the endless tasks? Those were a headache.

So when the luggage was finally dispatched, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. Now all that was left was waiting.

The twins had taken the opportunity to wander a few steps ahead, relishing the small taste of independence their age afforded them. You and Wanda walked side by side, keeping a watchful eye on them. Letting them think they had the upper hand.

As your body turned instinctively toward the nearest store, Wanda chuckled knowingly. She reached out, gently taking your hand in hers to steer you back on track.

That didn’t stop you, of course. Boredom always had a way of sparking your impulse to shop, and Wanda knew it. Before long, you were tugging her toward a chocolate shop, a stuffed animal store, a library, and even all the coffee stands that appeared.

Wanda chuckled at your playful comments, her amusement evident as she listened to you gush over every store that caught your eye. With practiced ease, she gently pulled you away, her fingers softly stroking your hand or resting at your waist, a calming touch meant to distract you.

As she guided you to the other side of the terminal, her tone was light and teasing. "Come on, love," she said, subtly steering you away from temptation. It wasn’t just practicality—Wanda knew exactly how to distract you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how easily you fell for it every time.

She wasn’t just indulging your whims—she was also protecting the trip budget. Wanda wasn’t about to let you spend half of it before the vacation even began.

“Wands! Look at that. We have to get it as a souvenir,” you exclaimed, pointing excitedly at something that left Wanda slightly puzzled. She followed your gaze but couldn’t quite figure out what had caught your eye this time. Still, she smiled warmly, her attention flickering briefly to the twins to ensure they were still close by.

“I think it’s better if we eat first, babe,” she said gently, her voice as soothing as her touch.

Without missing a beat, she called out to the twins, who were already wandering toward another distraction, and began steering everyone toward a café. A little snack before the flight, she decided, was the perfect way to ground the moment—and maybe keep you from buying half the airport.

The rest of the time you had at the airport stayed like this. You all had a chill snack, and wandered a little more around the airport. Before Wanda pulled out her folder, analyzing where the gate you’re supposed to go is.

The twins were endlessly curious, their excitement bubbling over into constant guesses about where the family was headed. They’d been obsessing over it for weeks, their hopes pinned on somewhere warm and sunny. After all, that had been their official request when asked about the trip.

Their reasoning was clear enough: the only winter clothes they had packed—or as they preferred to call them, their "Christmas clothes"—were currently layered on their small bodies . But neither of you agreed or disagreed as they rambled about their ideas.

Instead, you settled into the chair, sighing contentedly as you finally relaxed, Wanda and the twins right next to you, though, somehow, the moment of peace and 'destination guesses' quickly dissolved into a heated debate between your wife and the boys.

The seating arrangement had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time: one window seat and one middle seat in one row, and the same seats in the row directly behind. It was a way to split parenting duties evenly, with each of you sitting next to one of the twins.

But apparently, the twins had changed their minds about the carefully crafted plan. They didn’t want to be separated anymore; instead, they were dead set on sitting together.

“Please, Mama! We’ll be good. We promise,” Tommy pleaded, his little foot giving an impatient stomp on the ground for emphasis.

Billy turned his attention to you, eyes wide with a practiced pout. “Mommy,” he whined, his tone tugging at your heartstrings in the way only he knew how. You could already feel yourself softening, ready to agree—until you caught Wanda’s sharp look.

Her eyes spoke volumes: Don’t even think about it.

You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, offering an awkward smile to avoid siding with either party.

“We won’t do anything wrong. We promise!” one of your sons whined again, his voice edging toward desperation as he tried to convince you—though it was clear, he needed only to win Wanda over. You were already sold at the first “Mommy”.

Wanda sighed, her tone firm but calm. “It’s not about doing right or wrong, boys. You’re two children, and you need supervision.”

The twins' faces fell, and you could already see little tears forming in their eyes. Billy, ever the persistent negotiator, tugged at Wanda’s sleeve and pleaded, “We know! But we promise we’ll be super quiet. We pinky pinky, triple pinky promise!”

Wanda sighed, glancing at you as if to say, Are you seeing this?

You sighed, turning to Wanda with a soft nudge toward the boys. “I mean… It can’t hurt,” you whispered, giving her a subtle look that showed just how hard it was for you to resist their pleading.

Wanda met your gaze, then looked back at the twins, frustration briefly flickering in her eyes. She ran a hand across her face, clearly weighing her options before giving in.

“Fine,” she finally said, her voice firm but resigned. “But if I hear one little complaint, or any fighting from the two of you, this will not turn out well. You are warned.”

The twins immediately brightened, exchanging victorious looks as they hugged each other in celebration. Their excitement was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like a small victory for them. But Wanda’s warning still lingered, a reminder that the next few hours would require a delicate balance of good behavior and quiet contentment.

As you watched the twins, you couldn't help but smile at their eagerness, though you knew they were about to test the limits of Wanda’s patience. The flight ahead would be an interesting one, to say the least.

When you entered the plane, the twins quickly settled behind you and Wanda, but it didn’t take long for them to realize they had a dilemma: the coveted window seat. They exchanged worried glances, not wanting to be separated due to such a thing.

After a few moments of whispered discussions, the twins reached a decision: Tommy would get the window seat on the flight to your destination, and Billy would take his turn on the way back. The compromise was simple—based on age—and it seemed to work perfectly. Wanda chuckled softly at how easily they managed to sort it out, knowing full well it wouldn’t have been that smooth if the threat of separation wasn’t hanging over them.

You settled into the window seat of your row, Wanda next to you. You exchanged amused glances as you watched the twins finalize their plan.

“Did you see that?” you whispered with a grin, watching as the twins figured out their seat arrangement. Wanda just nodded, her smile wide as she shook her head in mock disbelief.

Once the safety instructions began, you and Wanda turned to the row behind you, making sure the twins were ready. You checked their seatbelts and went over the rules one more time. “You can play games, but keep it on airplane mode and no loud sounds or arguments, okay?” you reminded them gently. You also made sure they had snacks within reach and that they knew they could call either of you if they needed anything.

Wanda, ever the considerate one, turned to the teenage girl seated next to them. “If they disturb you, just let us know. We’ll switch seats with them if necessary,” she said with a kind smile, hoping to avoid any issues during the flight.

The girl, who seemed shy, nodded in acknowledgment before returning to her phone. You and Wanda returned to your own seats, ready for the flight. While the twins settled into their seats, both of you began to follow the same instructions you had given the kids.

At some point during the flight, the lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of the quiet hours. The twins, exhausted from the excitement, were already asleep. Their faces were peaceful as they lay with their pillows aligned just so, heads resting comfortably against them. The empty seat next to Wanda provided the perfect space for you to stash your handbags and other belongings, giving you room to stretch out a little.

You turned towards Wanda, noticing the seat divider had long been folded away. You settled closer, moving your body so that you were nestled against her chest, your arms wrapping around her waist, and your legs draping over hers. Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle, her voice low and teasing as she turned to look at you.

“Comfy, sweetheart?” she whispered, a playful glint in her eyes.

You sighed in contentment, pressing a soft kiss to the skin you could reach, the warmth of her chest comforting you. “Very,” you murmured, savoring the closeness”.

Wanda's hand moved gently to your hair, her fingers running through it with a soothing, tender touch. She leaned her head against yours, letting out a quiet sigh as she closed her eyes, feeling the calmness of the moment wash over both of you.

The plane was suddenly quiet, the soft murmur of people whispering to each other only adding to the sleepy feeling that settled over you. The familiar rhythm of the plane's engines and the gentle sway made it hard to keep your eyes open.

And even though you hadn’t picked up any souvenirs from the airport, you had something far more precious. You had Wanda. And no matter where you went, you knew you’d always seek her out—just as she did with you. There was a quiet, comforting certainty in that, a bond that felt like home no matter the destination.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

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#mcu #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #y/n

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afterglowkatie · 3 months ago

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security nightmares | k.m./c.f.

katie mccabe x caitlin foord x child!reader | 2.5k | things don't go as planned at one of the arsenal matches leading you to have a nightmare later that night

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of my new little starfish universe. depictions of starfish's nightmare are included in this, not too much detail but yeah <3 thank you for being so patient while i took a break. i love that you love starfish sm

Match days on their own could be quite overwhelming and full on, let alone match day in a whole different country. By now you were used to travelling on planes and going to different places, but you were only really used to doing that with the Ireland team. You couldn’t really remember travelling with the Arsenal girls that many times. You knew how travelling with Ireland worked, plus travelling on planes with Ireland was a lot more common than travelling with Arsenal so everything was bound to run more smoothly with Ireland than Arsenal.

Your mammy had tried her best to make sure travelling with Arsenal would be the same or at least quite similar so it wouldn’t throw you around too much. But she was still constantly stressing over you. You weren’t the type of kid to really be too phased by travel or new countries, being surrounded by different languages and all that. You were quite used to it all, it was all you knew.

But there were obviously things that no one could control and whenever you were going somewhere new your mammy always stressed and worried extra about you, ‘Yes mammy, stop asking I still have it,’ You had a pout on your face and almost rolled your eyes when your mammy asked you, for what felt like the millionth time, if you had your backpack and if you had your pass on you. Your pass was important, since it told security who you were and if you got separated from either Katie or Caitlin then you were able to, with the help of security, find your way back to them.

Not that it’s ever happened, you being separated from them, but as your mammy said, it’s better to be safe and you can never be too careful, ‘Hey, starfish, this is important, okay? It’s not like we’re just at the Emirates where everyone knows who you are, this is completely different and I need to keep you safe,’ Your eyes softened and you lost your pout and attitude when your mammy brought out her serious voice.

You nodded and gave your mammy a hug, ‘I’m sorry mammy,’

‘I just want to keep my little starfish safe, I love you,’ Katie smiled and held you tighter, picking you up and sitting you on her hip while walking towards the change rooms.

From the atmosphere in the change rooms you could tell that today was a bit more of an important match than some of the other ones you had been to, ‘Goodluck Caity,’ You had wandered over to Caitlin after she’d finished putting on her boots, ‘Gonna get goals against them,’ You tried to swing your leg in a way to pretend you were kicking a ball just like Caitlin but you ended up falling over backwards in the process.

‘Whoops, you alright starfish?’ Caitlin was quick to help pick you back up, brushing off and flattening your little dress back out, ‘Gotta be careful starfish,’ You both laughed it off and you wrapped your arms around Caitlin’s neck giving her a hug before you were all being ushered out of the room and into the tunnel.

‘Looks like you’re stuck with me starfish,’ Both your mammy and Caitlin were starting today so you had to go with one of the others who wasn’t starting and unfortunately for your mammy and Caitlin, Kyra had been the one who would look after you while you all sat on the bench.

‘Oh no,’ You dramatically sighed out, throwing your head back covering your eyes with your little hands. Though as hard as you tried, your facade cracked easily and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘You know you love me,’ Kyra poked at your sides before taking your hand so she wouldn’t lose you on the walk out, knowing that she wouldn’t want to face either Katie or Caitlin if she did lose you from her sight.

‘Ky Ky look!’ You held your connected hands up excitedly wanting her to twirl you around so you could show her the jersey you were wearing. Normally you would wear a mini version of your mammy’s jersey but you’d been asking lately to have one with Caitlin’s number and name and today you finally had gotten one to wear at the match.

‘Oh look at you,’ Kyra smiled while you skipped slightly next to her, ‘When are you gonna wear mine to a match?’ Kyra joked but also knowing Kyra she would get you to wear one of hers just to mess with Katie.

‘Only wear mammy’s and mum’s,’ You beamed proudly, Kyra’s steps faltered a little, taking in the slight shock realising that you were referring to Caitlin as your mum.

It’s something that Kyra had brought up to Caitlin one day when they had a moment to themselves at training, if you had or would ever call her mum or something along those lines. It was something that Katie and Caitlin had talked about but Caitlin never wanted to pressure you into calling her anything other than what you were comfortable with.

A small smile spread across Kyra’s face but she knew to not make a big deal over it, not until Caitlin was the one that told her about it. She didn’t want to spoil that moment between you and Caitlin. Also since Kyra was definitely sure you hadn’t said it to Caitlin yet, or others would definitely know by now.

When Kyra was being subbed on she made sure you were safe and being looked after. But nothing ever really goes as planned. It was an important win and when the final whistles went everyone was lost in the heat of the win. Enough that you weren’t noticed when you jumped off your seat and wandered away from the bench.

You were excited to see your mammy and Caitlin after the match. Caitlin had scored a goal and you wanted to give her a hug as soon as you could. But before you could make your way onto the pitch and towards them, like you were normally able to, you were stopped by security. None of the security had seen where you’d come from and just assumed you had come from the stands and were just a fan of the players.

‘I want my mammy,’ You yelled out towards the security guy, a little cry escaping your lips. He’d stood in front of you, quite tall and scary and blocking your view so you couldn’t see your mammy anymore.

He was talking to you but you weren’t listening, just crying out for mammy or Caitlin just anyone to come save you. You’d forgotten your backpack where you were sitting on the bench otherwise you could show him that you belonged where you were. Then when his hand touched your shoulder, trying to escort you away from the players is when you become hysterical.

‘Get your hands off her,’ You weren’t in the head space where you could hear anyone’s voice and you missed when Caitlin came over shoving the security away from you, ‘That’s my daughter,’ Caitlin and Katie were going around looking for you when they noticed you hadn’t made your way to them and you weren’t still on the bench.

The next thing you knew you were in Caitlin’s arms, she was rubbing your back, whispering little ‘You’re okay starfish, you’re safe,’ While she took you away from the pitch, away from everyone and down the tunnel.

When your mammy reached the two of you she had some choice words to describe the security guy after Caitlin told her what she’d seen. Choice words that you’d never be allowed to repeat.

‘I’m sorry Caity,’ You cried out, burying your head further into Caitlin’s neck and wrapping your arms as tight as they could around her, ‘I didn’t mean to forget my backpack, I know it’s important. I’m sorry,’ You were calming down enough that you could string together sentences again, even if your voice was still so soft and muffled by your tears.

‘Hey, shh, it’s okay starfish. Me and mammy, we aren’t mad at you,’ Caitlin kept rubbing her hand over your back soothingly, ‘We’re both just glad you’re okay and safe with us again,’ You calmed down almost completely, letting Caitlin’s soft voice and words soothe you. You were just glad to be back with them.

‘I’m gonna go get her things, you gonna be okay?’ You heard your mammy’s voice, it was softer than usual, the kind of voice she always saves for when you’re upset or tired. In a few years you’d find it amusing how your mammy’s voice can be so strong and bold but then so different when it comes to you. Something you’ll always appreciate.

‘Yeah, we’ll be fine. I’ve got her,’ Caitlin had sat you both down at her cubby, wrapping you up in one of her hoodies.

‘I love you,’ Katie placed a soft kiss on Caitlin’s temple, rubbing her arm softly, ‘And I love you my little starfish,’ You gave your mammy a small smile, Katie met you with a sad smile when she saw how red your eyes were. She gave you a kiss on your forehead and a little hug as best she could with how you were positioned and left to go get your backpack and anything else you had left behind.

Before the girls started filtering into the change rooms, Katie had already told them what had happened, Caitlin was grateful that everyone kept their distance and didn’t overwhelm you. Some of the girls silently checked with Caitlin to make sure you were okay before going about their post match routines.

It wasn’t long before your mammy joined you both. She was glad to see you weren’t crying anymore and had settled yourself, but she still wiped a little under your eyes and rubbed your cheek softly. It was obvious you had exhausted yourself, the way your eyes were half closed, the small pout on your face, how you weren’t really present and focused on your surroundings and the way you were leaning into Caitlin.

You didn’t leave Caitlin’s arms, not on the way to the bus and not once when Caitlin was seated on the bus, all the way back to the hotel you were all staying at. On the bus your mammy had given you your favourite starfish toy you’d brought with you and once you had that safely tucked in your arms, along with the comfort of Caitlin’s hoodie you had on, you were out like a light.

‘Thank you for taking such good care of starfish,’ Katie whispered to Caitlin once they’d both slipped into their bed. In the hotel room you were staying in, your bed was in the same room just a little bit from their bed. They were able to get a bigger room that had a separate space for you but for Katie’s peace of mind, they opted for a room where you were in the same space as them.

‘You don’t have to thank me, she’s my daughter too,’ Caitlin opened her arms, pulling Katie into her embrace.

‘I know,’ Katie whispered, looking over to where you were sleeping before looking up at Caitlin, ‘You’re just so good with her. I don’t know how we got so lucky,’ Katie smiled softly, cuddling more into Caitlin.

‘I’m the one who got lucky to have you both in my life,’ They both shared a small kiss before following you in falling asleep, your mammy taking a bit longer while she watched over you for a bit to make sure you were sleeping okay before she went to sleep.

Your sleep had started out promising, until it went downhill. Luckily for you, you never did have nightmares all that often. But unlucky for you is that when you did, they felt like the worst dreams in the world since you weren’t used to them. The dream seemed like it was a good dream, you were at the match watching your mammy and Caitlin play but then suddenly they were gone. They were gone and you were calling out for them, calling out for anyone to help you but no one could hear you. No one could see you and you couldn’t find your mammy or your mum.

Suddenly you were all alone. The world felt cold and you were on the ground holding your legs to your chest until some big, tall scary looking man loomed over you. In your bed you were tossing and turning, your arms thrashing around and when you woke up it was dark and you couldn’t see your mammy or your mum.

Already close to tears the moment you woke up, the dark room and feeling like you were still alone and left behind sat like a weight in the bottom of your stomach. You burst out in tears, crying out. Trying to call for your mammy or your mum but nothing other than loud cries were coming out.

Instantly at the sound of your cries, Katie and Caitlin both sat up. Your mammy frantically tried to turn on a bigger light while Caitlin made her way over to you. Caitlin took your little body, as gentle as she could so she wouldn’t frighten you, into her arms gently rocking you and soothing you.

A frown spread across Caitlin’s face as you cried out, making out the words, ‘Don’t leave me,’ ‘Was all alone,’ ‘Couldn’t find you,’ while you cried harder and your little hands fisted her shirt tightly.

‘Shh, it’s okay starfish. You’re okay. You’re safe, me and mammy are right here,’ Caitlin spoke softly into your ear, over and over, hoping that her words would eventually break through and you would start to calm down.

Your mammy sat beside you both, her hand rubbing up and down your back, letting Caitlin take the lead. If Katie started talking too she knew it would only overwhelm you and make everything worse, but her presence was enough especially when you would start to calm down and be present enough to know she was also right there.

‘We’ll never leave you or let anyone take you away from us,’ You’d calmed down a lot to the point your cries were just little hiccups, ‘You’re our little starfish and we love you so much,’

‘Promise?’ You sniffled looking up at Caitlin, a little pout on your face.

‘Pinky promise,’ Caitlin held her pinky up towards you, letting go of her shirt you linked your own with Caitlin’s. Once you were ready, Caitlin gently moved you over to her and Katie’s bed. Your mammy already had your starfish toy waiting for you while Caitlin placed you in the middle.

‘Love you mammy,’ Your voice was small, tiredness evident. You turned your head so you were facing and cuddling into Caitlin’s side, ‘I love you mum,’ You were safe and most importantly you were back with your mammy and your mum.

#katie mccabe #caitlin foord #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader #caitlin foord x you #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord x reader #arsenal women #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc #woso #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine

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kenzlie · 4 months ago

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so i have an idea for a fic idk but i feel like it might have good potential ..but anyways it’s where a fan meets the triplets at an air port and matt finds her very attractive,so he talks to her for a bit (after realizing she is going to the same place and waiting to board) and she ends up sitting next to matt on the flight across from nick and chris..and they get freaky in the seats-taking it to the bathroom.

you were walking through the airport about to go sit down and wait for your flight until you saw three familiar faces, it was the triplets, you had been a big fan for so long, you were always a matt girl, you liked them all equally but you just felt connected with matt more

you walk over to them slightly nervous “hi, can i please get a photo” you say smiling uncontrollably “yeah of course!” chris says as him and nick stand close while matt stands by you with a hand on your shoulder making you more nervous

after you the photo was took matt stays as nick and chris go find somewhere to sit “i like your bracelets, did you make them yourself?” matt says quite impressed “yeah its kind of a coping method” you say while fiddling with the jewels on you’re wrist not knowing that the matt sturniolo was admiring your beauty right now when you looked up your eyes immediately connected like magnets “so where ya headed?” he asks with a soft smile “im going to boston” “no way same, are you from there?” he replies “yeah i grew up there”

after chatting for a bit you hear your flight is ready to board, you wave bye to matt and his brothers before getting up and walking not noticing that the three were shortly following behind you

once your on the plane and walk towards your seat, you see matt he was sitting by the window with his headphones on, you softly chuckle and sit down, he looks over at you, his face instantly lighting up “my favorite fan is my flight buddy?” he jokes making your heart melt “just our luck i guess” you laugh quietly, you look over and across from you was nick and chris, they wave at you and you guys exchange smiles

there was about a hour or two left until destination, matt and you had a LOT in common “so do you have a boyfriend..?” matt whispers “nope” you grin “you joking, y-your like angelic” he stutters making you feel all giddy “why do you ask?” you chuckle “i- just wondering, y’ know” “matt your so nervous, whats wrong” you say placing a hand on his shoulder, then your eyes land on the bulge in his pants, throbbing for some sort of touch

“i- im seriously sorry.” matt says covering his crotch “on a plane?” you question “i couldn’t control myself, something about you, i don’t know if its your eyes, your laugh or just you” he blurts quietly while peeking over at his sleeping brothers across from you two, before you even knew it your hand was sliding down to his aching boner, he jolts in surprise “what if someone sees..” “what?” you say innocently while stroking him through his boxers “f’ hell”

you slide your hands in his boxers, you smear the pre cum around his tip, he lets out soft sounds before placing his head on your shoulder and gripping your thigh “get up n-now” he demands quietly “but-“ “go to the bathroom now.” he says

you get up and walk past all the sleeping passengers while matt follows behind, when you get to the bathroom he leans you against the wall in the small space “is this okay?” he whispers while groping your left tit “y-yea” you whine needing more of him, you try bucking your hips into his crotch but he holds you back “so f’ needy..” he tsks

he pulls your shirt over your head along with your sports bra and immediately starts sucking on your right boob while groping the other one “so perfect f’ me” he praises “m-matt..” you say impatiently

soon enough your pants and panties are down to your ankles while hes behind you thrusting deep, hitting all the right spots “so tight.” he says while holding your waist with one hand while his free hand is covering your muffled moans “gotta keep you quiet, pretty girl” he whispers before speeding up, you squeeze around him begging for release “cmon cum all over my dick baby..” soon enough your coating his cock in your juices.

a/n: i enjoyed writing this, gimmie more request 😼

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

Text

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled.

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder.

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.”

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.”

Partner.

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself.

And then he met you and the definition changed again.

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why.

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days.

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions.

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts.

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed.

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here.

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all.

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.”

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime.

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath.

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee.

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold.

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.”

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee.

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets.

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night.

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids.

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it.

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since.

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks.

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair.

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation.

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay.

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold.

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love.

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants.

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare.

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him.

“Baby–,”

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall.

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer.

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in.

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut.

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars.

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day.

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is.

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head.

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful.

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you.

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you.

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees.

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now.

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it.

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch.

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart.

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips.

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs.

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes.

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it.

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford.

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair.

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.”

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole.

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair.

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh.

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty.

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible.

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean.

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face.

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine.

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point.

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now.

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level.

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls.

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest.

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table.

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock.

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?”

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich.

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.”

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.”

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist.

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain.

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.”

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.”

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it.

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done.

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.”

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow.

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy.

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire.

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust.

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again.

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm.

“B-baby, please–,”

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer.

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.”

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.”

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name.

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep.

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again.

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more.

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst.

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs.

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet.

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling.

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor.

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull.

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face.

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.”

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest.

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.”

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips.

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all.

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed.

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you.

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.”

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach.

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.”

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

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crownmemes · 23 days ago

Text

Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 28

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I don't even understand you half the time."

"And that is exactly what bad ethics and zero impulse control will get you!"

"We stay out of other people's business out here, if you catch my drift."

"I have no intention of running around like a rat in a maze until we're dead! I'm going back!"

"Were you spying on me?"

"What exactly is your point?"

"You think I'm dumb, don't you?"

"You'll do as you're told."

"Why do you insist on provoking him?"

"What is wrong with men today?"

"You blew up my plane!"

"Do you feel better after slapping me?"

"Are you bringing home strays now?"

"You do your job and I'll do mine."

"Can I make a suggestion that doesn't involve violence?"

"You like reminding me of my past, don't you?"

"I don't know which I feel most: relief or anger."

"It's all an act with you, isn't it?"

"Oh. You're moody again."

"I must warn you that my patience is not inexhaustible."

"You must admit you have a talent for attracting trouble!"

"Is small talk a way you deal with your anxiety?"

"You're about as subtle as a train wreck!"

"With respect, I am capable of retaining more than one thought in my mind at the same time."

"This isn't a toy! You could have gotten hurt!"

"Do you want congratulations? Some praise? Well, you better get it somewhere else because I'm just about done with your bullshit."

"There's no way I can convince you that you're wrong, is there?"

"Pull yourself together! There's no reason to be frightened!"

"Don't ever defy me again."

"They think you're behaving foolishly. I must say, I agree."

"I can't talk to you right now!"

"I find you amusing up until a point, but you've passed that."

"How can you be so cold?"

"You're on thin ice!"

"You have an obtuse manner which some people find ingratiating. I do not. Do you follow me?"

"Every time you start becoming acceptable, you start making trouble again!"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #single sentence starters #assorted;#angry;

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mikobeautifulheart · 10 months ago

Text

OKAY BUT HEAR ME OUT

Megumi and Sukuna fighting over you.

TW: Bad spelling. Unedited.

100 word-ish

I JUST REALLY REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA.

So you, Megumi and Yuji were all assigned a mission together, it was Yuji's first official mission and Gojo told all of you that somewhere in the building was a cures that had to be extorscised. It shouldn't have been such a difficult mission if a certain curse would keep his damned mouth shut.

"Brat, you should switch with me, your weak body will get you and all your little friends killed. Especially the woman" Sukuna said appearing on the side of Yuji's face as a mouth.

Both you and Megumi turned around looking at Yuji as he quickly slapped a hand over the mouth.

"I didn't know he could do that" you muttered turning back around to continue down the dark hallway.

"Oh I can do many things you don't know about." Sukuma said this time his mouth appearing on the back of Yuji's hand.

"Yuji can't you control that thing?" Megumi said in frustration, finding this cure was hard enough.

"Aww did I intimidate the little shadow user, priceless" He smirked.

Poor Yuji he was trying so hard to contain Sukuna, but he just kept coming back.

"I can't wait to taken over this body and turn back into my true form, stupid brats and their boring missions, you might actually kill me of boredom at this rate" he said continuing his rant.

"The first thing I'll do when I'm free is slaughter you all. Except for the woman. You know you'd make such the entertainment toy-"

"YOU know what YUJI why don't you search upstairs" Megumi cut in.

"OKAY!" Yuji said complying unable to take the embarrassment anymore.

"Yeah good idea shadow boy, say why doesn't Y/N join us to" Sukuna said

"What is up with you and your creepy obsession with Y/N? Its disgusting-"

"I wouldn't say disgusting considering that i'm just saying what your thinking-"

"No, I'm not thinking that because only disgusting curses think like that-"

"We'll see when I'm free I'll kill you last so you can watch as Y/N sits in my arms hmmm"

"You-"

"I'M RIGHT HERE" You shouted interrupting them.

at the same time there was a loud crash down stairs, you were the first to race to the steps leading down into darkness. You fumbled with your phone in your pocket trying to turn the flashlight on as you finally reached the ground.

"Y/N, did you find anything down there!" Yuji called out to you as you reached the bottom of a stair well.

"Not that I can see" You finally turn the light on and look around giving a quick inspection of the room.

"Looks like nothin-" you said briefly being cut off.

"Y/N?" Megumi called out but there was no response.

"Shit" Megumi muttered stumbling down the stair case, your phone lying on the ground with the light shining into his eyes. Yuji closely followed.

Both guys stood there in total darkness. Megumi picked up your phone and started to call out your name while Yuji used his own phone light to open rooms he saw and look around for you.

"I can't find her" Yuji said panicked as he bumped into Megumi.

"Useless brats, she could be dead by now, go into that room and break the wall down."

"Why should we listen to you?" Megumi said in frustration.

"Because if you don't she'll die."

Both Yuji and Megumi looked at each other and went into the room.

"Move back" Yuji said giving the wall a punch filled with cursed energy making the wall come crumbling down.

Sure enough, there was a hidden room behind it, the curse must have set a domain in there where it would be hidden. Right in the middle of it lying on the ground was you, passed out on the floor.

"Y/N" Megumi yelled running in as the curse reared its ugly face.

"With this tressure I su-"

"Hold it Fushiguro." Sukuna said

When Megumi looked over somehow Yuji had switched with Sukuna.

"Look thats not the real curse. Its a diversion. It planed to lure us here for Y/N, kill us off then kill her" Sukuna pointed at the curse

"And now he'll pay"

Not even in a second Sukuna ran to the curse and ripped its heart out. and sure enough as that one died a larger curse appeared as a mouth on the ceiling, coming down to swallow you and Sukuna whole. The curse never even stood a chance as Sukuna sliced it and pulled out its teeth for the thrill of it.

When he wasn't looking Megumi came in the room and swiped your unconscious body, picking it up and running up the stairs to the buildings exit where Gojo would be waiting.

"What do you think your doing with my woman?" Sukuna said catching up to Megumi in no time.

"GO AWAY" Megumi was at his breaking point he was so frustrated that he just pushed straight past Sukuna and to the door, before kicking it down and out back into the sun light.

"Sukuna..." Megumi said looking straight at Gojo before Yuji walked out the building in a daze.

THANKS FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: Idk just thought about it. Reblogs r welcomed and let me know if I should turn this into a series. Good whater time and thanks for reading <3

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ink-n-shadow · 1 year ago

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Just stumbled across your blog and I’m in love with your writing!! Especially bodyguard!Simon? Cmon the tension is DELICIOUS

If I may submit a request/put an idea in your head: if Simon thinks rockstar!reader is hot in leather pants, imagine Simon being around her in a bikini!!! Maybe they’re on vacation somewhere, idk. But I could only imagine his lack of self control LMAO

thank you sm :') i appreciate the kind words AND especially appreciate this request because i'm: feral for it (also pls send more for this au! or any other au you'd like to see)

SUNSCREEN AND STOLEN GLANCES

𝜗𝜚 the one where you're a rockstar and you go on vacation with bodyguard!ghost

𝜗𝜚 pairing: bodyguard!Simon "Ghost" Riley x rockstar!fem!reader (link to all works in this au) 𝜗𝜚 cw: basically Ghost putting sunscreen on you and losing his mind a little (minors—DNI just in case)

You finally had some downtime in your busy schedule. From concerts to interviews to red carpet appearances, you felt like you were being pulled in every single direction imaginable. That was why as soon as you found out you'd have an entire week off, you jumped at it.

"C'mon, hurry up. I wanna go check out the pool, Ghost." You huffed out a whine as you stood in the middle of the beach house you had rented for the week, arms crossed over your chest.

Ghost shot a glare in your direction as he set your suitcases and bag down on the tiled floor next to his one singular duffle bag. "Jesus, dove. Give me five fuckin' seconds to put the bags down, yeah? What, y'need me to hold your hand out there? Go check it out yourself."

You rolled your eyes at Ghost's words as you padded towards the sliding glass doors and expansive windows of the living room, pulling the door open and feeling the midday heat outside hitting your skin.

The patio and pool area outside was all white marble, a glass fence separating the patio from the pool desk. It was luxurious, sure, but most of all, it was private—covered in thick trees and bushes to shield from any prying eyes. No fans, no paparazzi, just you and Ghost.

You didn't bother waiting for Ghost as you stepped out onto the patio, feeling the breeze sweeping across your skin and the sun beating down on you. Your fingers made quick work to unbutton your jean shorts.

"Dove, which room did you say was—" Ghost stepped out onto the patio, eyes growing a bit wide as he watched you stripping off the clothes you'd worn for the plane. His gaze immediately focused on the black bikini you had on underneath, the way it hugged the curves of your body and left very little up to his imagination. He cleared his throat as he turned his head away to stare at the pool in front of him.

A soft giggle rolled off your tongue as you noticed the sudden shift in Ghost's demeanor, your lips stretching into a teasing smile. "What's wrong, Ghost? Cat got your tongue or something?"

Ghost let out a scoffed breath, arms crossing over his chest once more and making the muscles of his biceps strain against his black t-shirt. His eyes remained off into the distance, jaw tense under the balaclava still stretched over his face. "You're insufferable. Y'gonna be like this all week?"

"Like what—wearing a bikini? Duh." You brushed past Ghost to head down the wooden stairs towards the pool desk, body stretching out across a lounge chair with a soft sigh. You knew Ghost was still fighting to look anywhere but your body glistening in the sun. "Grab the sunscreen for me? I think I left it in my pink suitcase."

You heard Ghost grumble something under his breath before disappearing for a few moments, only returning once he had the tube of sunscreen in his hand. He held it out to you, keeping his eyes locked on your face. If he looked anywhere else, he knew he would explode. "Here. Now tell me which room's mine before I take the bigger one anyway."

"Wait—can you get my back for me?" You pouted softly as you turned over onto your stomach, cheek laying on your bent forearms and squishing your face a bit. "I don't wanna burn, Ghost."

A muscle in Ghost's jaw twitched at your words, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the sunscreen back into his grip. "For fuck's sake, dove...can't do one bloody thing for yourself, can you?" But he complied, pulling the leather gloves off of his thick fingers and letting them fall to the pool deck below.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you listened to Ghost squeezing the suncream out of the tube, lathering it between his palms before gently brushing his sunscreen-covered hands along your back. A soft sigh fell from your lips.

The gentle touch was a stark contrast to his calloused hands—the same hands you knew had killed many men back in his military days. Those same hands were now caressing your skin like you were made of porcelain, as if one sudden rough touch and you'd splinter into millions of little pieces. The thoughts alone made your head spin.

You didn't need to see Ghost to know that he was this close to snapping. You could feel it in the way he massaged the sunscreen into your skin, blunt nails scraping and the pads of his fingers pushing deeper against the flesh of your spine. "Don't forget the shoulders." You giggled softly as you let your body relax, focusing your attention on how good his hands felt against you.

"Don't fuckin' push it, dove." Ghost snarled softly as he moved up to your shoulders, making sure they were covered in the soft sheen of sunscreen before taking a step back. He tossed the tube of suncream onto your lounge chair and picked up his discarded gloves. "Do the rest yourself. You're not completely helpless."

You peeked your eyes open and let out a playful whine. You could see the tension in his body, the way his black slacks were a bit tighter in the front. "C'mon—you don't wanna get the back of my thighs?"

Ghost let out a shuddering breath as he turned away from you, marching up the wooden stairs with a stern shake of his head. If he put his hands on you again, he knew he'd lose any shred of control and professionalism he had left. "Get 'em yourself. M'not touching you again."

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

#iNs requests ⭒#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod mwii #call of duty #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley oneshot #simon riley x you #bodyguard!ghost ✰#simon ghost riley headcanon #iNs Simon “Ghost” Riley 💀

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago

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Can I request a gn!reader x batfam? The reader is in the batfamily business and is the 2nd youngest. They’re on a mission with the others, when they get hit by a alien tech which turns the reader into a toddler (2-3 years old?)😱 so the batfamily had to take care of the reader till they find an antidote. You can end it with the reader being turned back to their original age?

Of course you can request gn!reader... I just love these types of ideas.

Summary: Mission goes wrong when (Y/N) is turned into a toddler. The fam needs to find a way to bring him back to normal.

Warnings: fluff, alien technology, toddler (Y/N), family fluff...

Everyone was getting ready. It was a joint mission with the Justice League, a fight against aliens who wanted to conquer this Earth. This wasn't the first mission that included aliens trying to conquer Earth and it certainly won't be the last.

(Y/N) enjoyed the Justice League, considering Superman as an uncle and Wonder Woman as an aunt. And they were their favorite out of all the siblings. The said siblings sat in the Batplane, waiting to jump out of the plane.

Once at their designated coordinates, everyone jumped out. They were going to infiltrate the ship and try to destroy it from within. It was a great plan, but something is always going to go wrong. A plan never goes smoothly in their family.

Damian, Tim and (Y/N) were making their way to the control room. Their task was to override the ship and make it go down. The other heroes were somewhere else on the ship. They had a plan to catch the leader of these aliens.

The trio moved quietly, listening for the surrounding noise, hoping that the big majority of the aliens are after Superman. For some reason that man was an alien magnet.

" After this, I'm going to take a break from the superhero stuff, " (Y/N) said to their brothers, trying to hack the main door to get in.

" I feel you (Y/N), but I have open cases that need to be solved. " Tim said, looking at the screen watching the codes.

" Well, that sounds like a Red Robin problem. " (Y/N) said, making the other two birds sigh.

" You were supposed to be on my side (Y/N). " Tim said, taking his staff as (Y/N) managed to hack in. Damian got his katana ready. The trio got into the room, quickly fighting the remaining aliens in this part of this ship.

The trio had a natural flow going, no need to even communicate their moves. Aliens were faster than then them, but it was an easy fight. Everything was going great.

That should have been a first sign that something was going to wrong.

(Y/N) fought an alien, trying to find a weak spot. It was incredibly hard to find it and (Y/N) was afraid that they were going to get exhausted.

" Watch out! " (Y/N) didn't know who yelled it out, but (Y/N) felt warm all over. Why? All of a sudden, they felt like they were shrinking. Damian took down an alien and Tim went to hacking. Damian ran towards (Y/N), kneeling down next to his sibling.

" Oh my God. Red Robin, you need to hack faster. " Damian said, taking a toddler version of (Y/N) in his arms. Tim's mouth fell open a little as he saw his sibling so... Little. Oh my God...

" Okay, let me hack into this and then we are going to call B. Oh my God. " Tim said, getting to hacking the ship. He put an overdrive on the system, making the ship slow down and stop the cannons from the sides from firing.

It was the most exhausting fight in the history of fights. Even Superman was exhausted. Damian and Tim didn't know how to even bring up the fact that (Y/N) got turned into a toddler. How?

" Hey guys. " Tim started, gathering attention from the heroes. Batman had to do a double take.

" Robin, why do you have a toddler in his arms? " He asked, looking around.

" If you are looking for (Y/N), well... (Y/N) is the toddler. " Red Robin said, scratching the back of his neck.

Batman didn't show any type of emotions as he walked towards his second youngest child. He swallowed. He has never his second youngest as a toddler and they were so adorable.

" Oh my, (Y/N) is adorable. " Wonder Woman said as she approached the Bat family.

Superman nodded, watching (Y/N). They are so incredibly adorable.

" Alright, Wonder Woman and Superman, take the others and take the technology. Once you are done, call me so I can start looking for the antidote. " Batman said, watching Jason carrying (Y/N). Batman could sense a smile beneath the red helmet.

" Should we rush it? " Superman asked, already knowing the answer.

" Not really, take your time. I have to take care of (Y/N). " Batman said, turning to go back to his children.

" What do we do with (Y/N)? " Jason asked, holding the sleeping toddler.

" Well, I will take some time off from patrol until we find an antidote. Once they are back to normal, we are going to go back to normal too." Bruce explained, caressing the child's sleeping face with his gloved fingers.

" This child is going to put me in my grave. " Batman said, dropping his hand.

" Wait, do we have clothes for a toddler back home? " Dick asked, looking at the toddler with love in his eyes. (Y/N) came when they were 13 and the family didn't have a chance to see their second youngest like this.

They were going to make the most of it.

If Alfred was shocked, he didn't say anything. Instead he got right into grandpa mode, seeing that (Y/N) was getting cranky. He took the toddler into his arms and started feeding him some fruit. Alfred was also going to make the most out of it too.

" Oh my, you were hungry. " Alfred chuckled as his grandchild eating fruit so eagerly. " So alien technology? " Alfred asked for more elaboration.

" Yes, they got hit and turned into a toddler. The Justice League is looking through the technology and once they sort it out, I will start looking for the antidote. " Bruce explained, stretching his shoulders out.

" I presume that... They will be taking their time? " Alfred asked, knowing that Bruce would want to take advantage of this toddler phase.

" Yes. " Bruce said, sitting down next to Alfred.

" Dada. " (Y/N) said, stretching their little toddler arms out towards Bruce. Bruce took the toddler gladly, giving the child a kiss to the side of the head.

" I will take time off of patrol until they are back to normal. Despite being so calm, I think that they need their father. " Bruce said, holding (Y/N) protectively in his arms.

" I think that you want to see (Y/N) as a toddler and take advantage of it. " Alfred said honestly, making Bruce sigh.

Today marks a week since (Y/N) got turned into a toddler. The family was actively searching for the antidote. The Justice League went through the technology and now Bruce finally had the time to go through the technology.

So the four brothers were babysitting today. It was slowly starting to wear them out. (Y/N) is a very energetic toddler and a magnet for trouble. Damian was ready to lose his mind with how much trouble the toddler was doing.

Which meant that (Y/N) had to be watched over no matter what.

Recently, (Y/N) recreated a viral video where a parent asks what do you have and the child says a knife and ran away, making Dick and Jason run after him.

Bruce came back home, happy that he has the antidote. " Good news kids! I have an antidote! "

All five heads turned to face him. The four out of fiveheads sighed in relief, but one wasn't sighing in relief. It was (Y/N). And Bruce knew why. He had to inject it and (Y/N) was very afraid of needles.

" Guys, hold th-! " Bruce tried to say, but (Y/N) already ran. The boys ran after him. Jason tried to go over the couch, but he slipped and fell face first on the hardwood floor.

Damian tried to grab the child, but he felt down. Why? A crease on the carpet. (Y/N) was moving up stairs and Dick and Tim managed to grab the legs. Dick put the child over his shoulder and came down. Jason's nose was bleeding and Damian wasn't in the mood to talk.

" Okay, distract them. " Bruce said to everyone, getting ready to inject the soon to be ex toddler.

And the ones who were near did their best. Bruce did it quickly and efficiently. With a blink of an eye, (Y/N) was back to normal. The now teenager was in Dick's lap, smiling sheepishly at Jason and Damian.

" Next time we spar, you are going to be off of patrol for months. " Jason said, wiping the blood with his tissue. Damian just nodded.

" Can I please go back to being a toddler? " (Y/N) asked.

" No. Just no. " Bruce said, leaving the room. " You are a magnet for trouble so no. "

(Y/N) smiled, hopping off of Dick's lap and going back to his room. It felt nice to be back in their normal body.

#dc comics #batfamily #batkids #batfamily x gender neutral reader #bruce wayne x gender neutral #jason todd x gender neutral reader #damian x gender neutral reader

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v88sy · 5 months ago

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I'm going to jump on the "no one asked me but I'm going to tell you anyways" train of the 5 BuckTommy head canons. (Heavily Tommy centric because 🤷🏼‍♀️)

• One thing Tommy swore he'd never do is yell at Evan in anger, no matter how mad or frustrated he might get. Sure, that might result in him having to take a deep breath and walk away, but he spent far too many nights in his room as a kid listening to his parents fight, yell and scream. It never resolved anything, and only made things worse. He can't go down that road.

• Tommy actually doesn't like going on commercial flights. He knows it's weird considering, but passenger jets make him nervous. Not full on panic attack nervous, but enough to be uncomfortable in his seat for the entire flight. If a place is close enough that he can take the chopper, he'll do it regardless of how much more it might cost him. He's not sure if it's all those people crammed like sardines in a tight space, the fact that he's flying in something he has no control over, or just the childhood memories of constantly traveling back and forth between his divorced parents.*

• I fully believe they both bought engagement rings only months into their relationship, but are insistent on waiting for the other to propose or bring up the subject, for fear of it seeming too soon. Especially Tommy. He's had a ring for months but is so determined for everything to be at Buck's pace that he sometimes forgets he even has it in the first place.

• Buck bought Tommy a really expensive pair of polarized aviator sunglasses to use to work during the day, after he read somewhere that blue/light colored eyes are more sensitive to the sun.** We're talking really expensive, super protective with all the available coating options on the lenses. And if he paid extra for a custom engraving of Be Safe on the inside arm of the glasses, well that was no one's business but theirs. And no, it wasn't for his birthday or Christmas. “Because you're literally close to the sun."

😏 “Every single day.” 😏

• Tommy was a space nerd growing up.

*So, this got me thinking about the plane we keep seeing on the BTS shots. What if! What if Tommy had to take a flight, somewhere so far away that taking the helicopter wasn't a option. He's already uncomfortable to begin with, coupled with whatever dragged him away in the first place, and then...downed plane.

**I'm pretty sure this is a legit and actual fact. One that I thought about often a week or two back when I was walking around outside in the sun a lot and waiting in line at a baseball game, the whole time thinking about how much the sun was hurting my eyes.

#911 abc #bucktommy #tv shows #911 fanfic

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theblueflower05 · 4 months ago

Text

I promise I’m going to get the first chapter of These Violent Delights out soon- but until then please accept these little blurbs as consolation prizes lol I think about this man non stop and have to share my thoughts somewhere!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

I came to the conclusion as I was writing and day dreaming this weekend that Bjorn is extremely switchy- but leans towards being submissive in bed.

Hear me out. Hes explorative, he likes to make his partner feel good but once he gets comfortable in their relationship that boy wants to be DOMMED. He wants you riding him with your dainty hand around his throat. He wants you sitting on his lap and leaving marks all over his neck and collar bones and claiming him for everyone to see.

And most of all, he wants to be the little spoon.

No matter how much he denies it when you bring it up in front of all of your friends after taking one too many shots of the sketchy moonshine Navarro “won” in a game of darts.

Lmfao

Because this almost six foot tall man, who’s so tough and mean to the outside world, is goo when it’s just the two of you. He’s laying his head on your chest and demanding you play with his hair.

“You got to be the little spoon last night!” You protest with a faux glare as the two of you climb into bed and he’d flipped over quick and grabbed your wrist, attempting to wind your arm around his waist.

“C’Mon babe, I had a long day” he’s such a whiner “don’t act like you don’t wanna hol’ me now. You’re breaking’ my heart”.

You huff but concede, like you always do. Wrapping around him like a vine, burying your face in his tshirt, between his shoulder blades.

When your hand slips down the planes of his stomach and into the front of his baggy flannel pajama bottoms he gasps. You’re at the perfect angle to take control, fingers taking their time as they delicately trace the veins of his shaft and then his tip that’s already weeping for you.

He hisses as you rub his own precum all over him. It’s hyper sensitive and your gentle touches almost hurt

“Stop teasin’ me” Bjorn groans, his hips moving in little circles, trying to gain friction.

Even though he knows he could easily over power you, flip you over and get whatever he wants from you, he doesn’t. He wants this. Wants to be at your mercy, wants you to make him feel good.

You kiss the back of his neck, just the barest hint of teeth coming to play “you love it”

If you guys have any prompts or blurb requests- lemme know!

#bjorn alien romulus #bjorn alien x reader #bjorn alien #Bjorn alien Romulus x reader #Bjorn alien smut

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thursdayygrrrl · 8 months ago

Text

from the sidelines

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff (wandanat)

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood & guns, breakdowns/crying

summary: When Wanda comes into Natasha’s life, she gives the widow something to lose.

word count: 3,859

a/n: this is my first time writing for nat/something nat-centric and, technically, wandanat too! this was inspired by sidelines by phoebe bridgers because i think that song is suuuuper underappreciated and that it was a good fit for them (lyrics are in bold and italics). it’s been a while since i last wrote anything for fun and not for uni, so please be kind. i also don’t know much about gardening so some of the language might not be accurate. you can read it on ao3 (here) or under the cut. i hope you enjoy :>

I’m not afraid of anything at all

If there was one thing constant about Natasha, it was the lack of fear. It wasn’t inherent, but was a habit developed essential for her survival. She learned that pretty quickly. One moment of hesitance, no matter how short, could mean life or death.

There were other times she felt brave without risking her life though. Like when she first dyed her hair. She chose the color blue because it reminded her of the sky. The horizon always looked limitless, a reminder that there could be more to life than what she had already experienced. She remembers making that choice and following through with it. It made her feel in control of something, amidst all the other things she had no power over.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Cause nothing ever shakes me, nothing makes me cry

Not a plane going down in the ocean and drowning

One of her most vivid memories is flying the plane with Melina. The night was normal at first. She was playing tag with her younger sister until she fell and hurt her knee. Then, they watched the fireflies and went inside to help with dinner. Alexei arrived and they started eating. It all felt so nice, so normal until he said they were going on a big adventure. Her appetite disappeared. Yelena was excited, oblivious to what it actually meant. She didn’t have the heart or the chance to tell her.

The drive out was tense and quiet, save for American Pie playing in the background. She watched the scenes change outside her window from the suburbs to highways. They had to move fast, but she felt sluggish, overwhelmed with everything going on. She remembers holding on to a photobooth strip of her and Yelena before finally running to get on the plane after being urged by Alexei. The sound of sirens and the whirring of engines, her heartbeat hammering in her chest, filled her ears. Gunshots started sounding off. One hit Melina’s shoulder.

“I need you up here,” She said through gritted teeth. Natasha clambered beside her.

She was wincing in pain while giving instructions to pull right.

“Mom, you’ve got blood on you,” Her voice came out strangled, and that tight feeling came along with tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t cry often but she knew she hated the physiological sensations that came with it.

“It’s okay, baby.” Two more cars directly in front of them appeared in the distance. “Hit the accelerator there.”

She did as she was told, speeding the plane up. She faltered when a few more shots were fired at them.

“Hold it steady, hold it steady.” More shots, the headlights ahead were blindingly bright. “You’re gonna pull back at 55 knots.” They started counting in unison. Alexei popped one of the cars’ tires with a bullet, causing them to crash into each other.

“Pull back, you can do it! Pull back, all your strength...” Part of the plane grazes with the bottom of the now-upturned car. But they were finally off the ground. Flying. A sense of relief washes over her.

Considering the past few hours, the rest of the flight went smoothly. They landed somewhere remote, it felt like the middle of nowhere. Alexei carried Melina to a stretcher held by some soldiers she and Yelena ran after. After a short exchange of words with the older woman, she remembers wrangling a gun from someone, unwanted tears threatening to fall from her eyes again, and Yelena’s small form hiding behind her.

“I don’t wanna go back there.”

A needle was buried deep into her neck. She was then thrown into a shipping container with other girls. Masked people were pointing rifles at them, shouting and violently wrenching Yelena from her hold. There was a man, he knelt to meet her eyes. Rough and calloused hands held her face.

“The Red Room is your home now.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Watched the world from the sidelines

Had nothing to prove

Natasha had just started getting used to being “normal,” just another child in midwestern America. She was going to school, being around other kids, having a family until it was all ripped away. Even though it was all a lie, she couldn’t say it wasn’t important to her.

Being back in the Red Room was a regimented, isolating existence. No one was able to speak to each other for long. Schedules were planned down to the minute. Excruciating physical training, including hand-to-hand combat, ballet, acrobatics, and weapons training, pushed them to their limits, sometimes even beyond.

The mutilation, both psychological and physical, was the worst of all. They broke down each girl’s hope and willpower if any were even left. They were treated like objects, mere faceless weapons they could manipulate as a means to an evil end. The ones who survived were considered lucky, the prime of their batches, and given an operation. They called it “graduation,” but everyone knew what that meant.

At some point, she was able to get out. Her time with the KGB, then in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers was filled with twists and turns. It was a lot of battles, moral disputes, and political agendas. There was even a time when she had to expose her own seedy past, much to her discomfort, but it was for the greater good. She didn’t mind as long as it was for the well-being of others.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Til you came into my life

Gave me something to lose

Now that she thinks of it, the first time she interacted with Wanda was horrible. The witch inflicted a vision, memories that she was trying to bury and leave behind, when she was weakened and vulnerable. There were snippets of a conversation with Madame B. The graduation ceremony. It made her feel like a monster all over again.

The next time they interacted was in the Battle of Sokovia. She remembers regrouping with Steve, but not expecting the very same witch to make an appearance. Despite all the chaos, the jacket she wore looked familiar.

“Is that my jacket?” Natasha gestured at the younger woman, frowning slightly.

“She’s with us,” Steve said.

“That still doesn’t explain the jacket.”

Natasha was persistent. She didn’t shop for clothes often, never dressing up unless she wanted or had to, so this red jacket was special. It was one of the first few things she bought for herself. Wanda, now awkward and unsure of what to do, ran off. The rest of the battle felt like a blur of robots and rubble.

Since then, Wanda joined the Avengers. The younger woman mostly kept to herself when not on missions, watching sitcoms in her room. Vision would talk to her sometimes. Other times, the widow herself would do so. Natasha understood she needed space and time to cope with everything she’d been through but didn’t want to leave her fully isolated.

Their conversations, if you could even call them that, were awkward at first. Natasha would ramble on about whatever, trying to fill the silence.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

Wanda looks up from her book only to be met with a small, warm smile on the assassin’s face.

“It’s the usual American stuff. Eggs, bacon, sugary cereal, some fruit. Pretty sure Clint’s making waffles too,” Natasha points to the door with her thumb. “You should eat with us. Bond with the team, all that stuff that Steve goes on about. We’ll have training after.”

Wanda hums in contemplation. Then, she nods. It’s the slightest motion that one would miss if they didn’t pay enough attention. Natasha nods back and turns to leave the room. The witch’s voice catches her off-guard, though.

“I’ll come with you.”

It’s raspy in the best way possible, with a hint of her Sokovian accent lingering. It’s a sound that Natasha decides she would like to hear more often. Her smile grows ever so slightly as she gestures for her to walk together.

───

When Natasha started helping in Wanda’s hand-to-hand combat training, the two became closer literally and figuratively. In one memorable session, from when Wanda still wasn’t as skilled at combat as she is now, Natasha was able to pin her down. Her lithe fingers wrapped around the other woman’s wrists while she used her thighs to straddle. All to restrict movement, of course. The flustered expression on the witch’s face could not be more obvious.

Their sessions consisted of a warm-up, some rounds of sparring, and a cooldown. After barely surviving this particularly challenging one, Wanda lands on the bench with a sigh. “Fuck… You kicked my ass today, Tasha. No fair,” She says through heavy breaths, leaning back and wiping the sweat from her brow.

Natasha shrugs and smiles as she sits beside her, reaching for a bottle of water across from the younger woman. Her torso brushes with her thigh, making the Sokovian lose her breath all over again.

“Please. I went easy on you. Besides, it’s revenge for taking my jacket,” Natasha says as she sits back up and takes a sip of water.

Wanda stands on slightly wobbly legs while a breathy laugh escapes her lips. “You’re really still holding that grudge?” She raises her hands playfully, “In my defense, Steve threw it at me and told me to put it on. It was a hectic time, you know.”

Natasha smirks and shakes her head as they both move to gather their bags and leave. The assassin offers her hand.

“Let me carry your stuff. It’s the least I can do. Look, you can barely stand.”

“It’s okay, Tasha. I go—”

“Come on,” The widow urges. A knowing look is on her face.

Wanda’s face becomes flushed, more so than it already was. It looks like she hopes Natasha won’t notice, but she does anyway. She raises her eyebrow teasingly.

“Did the workout take you out that bad, Wands?”

The nickname doesn’t help at all. Wanda rolls her eyes playfully as she hands her duffel bag over. Natasha slings both bags over her shoulder and they start walking together.

“Remind me again why I have to keep doing the hand-to-hand stuff? I literally move things with my mind.”

“If you use your mind, why do you do the thing with your hands then?” Natasha tries to mimic the witch’s signature hand movements with her free hand. This earns her a lighthearted push.

“Oh, you know I’m just kidding. We both know you can’t just rely on your magic all the time. I want you to be able to fend for yourself if anything happens. Yeah?”

Wanda groans exaggeratedly, “Ugh. Okay, yes, you have a point.”

She chuckles at this. The pair, now embraced by a comfortable silence, walks to the elevator of the compound. As they enter, Natasha wraps her free arm around Wanda’s shoulder. She squeezes slightly, firm muscles under her touch, bringing her closer and looking into her eyes.

“Wanna have lunch with me today?”

Wanda raises her eyebrow, “Can we watch I Love Lucy while we eat?”

Natasha nods and hands over her bag. “Of course.”

They smile warmly at each other, parting ways to freshen up before meeting again later.

───

Natasha and Wanda have seen each other at different points in their lives. Happy, sad, and everything else in between. But the Lagos Incident was a whole other thing. Natasha herself was a witness to how Wanda had been doing so well before it. To watch the immense guilt, self-loathing, and depression come over the witch after the incident, after slowly building herself back up, was heartbreaking for the widow.

Old habits die hard. Wanda becomes a recluse again. However, instead of sitcoms accompanying her, it was the news. She couldn’t help but keep watching coverage of it as if being constantly reminded of this tragedy was helping anyone.

Steve already spoke with her, Natasha knows this, but she decides to give a different type of comfort to the person she’s grown to love. A silent one, one that speaks through actions.

On days Wanda doesn’t leave her room, Natasha knows she isn’t eating so she goes up and brings food. Nine times out of ten, it’s a peanut butter sandwich because it’s all she can make without setting the kitchen on fire. Ten times out of ten, it’s returned with just a few bites taken out. It doesn’t matter, Natasha is just happy to provide her with even the littlest bit of sustenance.

On nights Wanda can’t sleep, evident by the faint light escaping from her room, Natasha stays up with her. She takes it upon herself to change the channels on Wanda’s television or switch it off. She puts on some music instead, knowing that noise is a welcome distraction to her spiraling thoughts. Other times, Wanda motions for Natasha to her bed. The contact of skin on skin, the physical reminder that she isn’t alone helps Wanda relax even if it’s only for a few hours. Most nights, the feeling of Natasha’s body pressed up against Wanda’s is enough to lull her to sleep.

And when it’s not, when she falls into that spiral once more, Natasha’s always there to wipe away her tears and pull her out of it.

“So many people… All those lives lost because I-I couldn’t—” Wanda sobs, breaking down in the familiar hold of strong arms.

Natasha squeezes just a little bit tighter. She speaks softly, interrupting the younger woman, “I know, Wands. I know. But you have to stop blaming yourself, okay? We’ve all hurt people and we’ve all made mistakes. Even if we mean well. And you did mean well. It’s just sometimes things work out in ways we don’t anticipate.”

The consoling words fall on deaf ears. Wanda shakes her head and cries even harder while burying herself deeper into the embrace. Her voice is muffled, repeated pleas of repentance, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault… T-tasha, it’s all my fault…” Unsure what to say now, Natasha resorts to her instinct instead. It has never failed her. She starts to rock Wanda gently, pressing a soothing kiss to the top of the younger woman’s head. A quiet, melodic hum resonates from her lips. She continues until Wanda’s breathing evens out and until sleep takes over both of them.

───

A soft stream of sunlight seeps into the room, awakening the Russian. She looks down at the sleeping figure in her arms. Wanda looks so peaceful right now, Natasha thinks. She would do anything to conserve this moment, this feeling of serenity for her. To take away all her pain, heartache, and afflictions. Realistically, she knows she can’t accomplish that. The best she can do is just be there for her.

It’s been a few minutes since and she feels Wanda stir slightly, who immediately snuggles closer and remains asleep. A warm feeling settles in her body, first in her chest then it spreads all over. She recalls feeling this way many times before, but only ever with Wanda. It’s at this exact instance she finally fully realizes what this is.

I’m in love.

She bites her lip in contemplation, quiet realization, as Wanda’s eyes flutter open. Hazy green eyes look into clear ones and a mumbled phrase reaches her ears. “Your thoughts are getting loud, Tasha. Are you okay?”

Broken from her trance, she looks down at Wanda. “Yeah, I am. Um. I just… I have something to tell you.” She shifts to lean against the headboard. Now is as perfect a time as any, she thinks.

Wanda’s eyebrows stitch together in a frown as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. She sits up, mostly leaning her weight on the other woman, while trying to decipher the look on her face. The Russian waits for a sign of approval from the Sokovian. Wanda nods and hums.

“I’m going to be direct about this, Wands.”

She takes a deep breath in.

“I like that we’ve grown close, that we consider each other as friends. I like doing things for you and with you and I like helping you, giving you what I have. Time, insight, comfort, whatever. Watching sitcoms with you, sleeping next to you, and waking up in your bed. I like your voice and your ringed hands, how graceful they look when you use your powers. The way your nose scrunches up and your bunny teeth show when you smile. How your accent slips when you say certain words and how you say my name. The way you carry yourself. How you care so much about others… If you let me, I would care for you for the rest of time.”

Natasha finishes with a sharp exhale, only now realizing her rambling. Losing control was one of the things she never wanted to experience again, but this time was different. Finally letting these thoughts flow through and out of her felt cathartic.

Wanda’s voice is quiet, “You would?”

Natasha nods, “Always.”

She says it without hesitation. Because she is wholly certain that she has no other answer. Why would there be?

Wanda becomes silent. An unreadable expression appears on her face as she takes in Natasha’s words. Her posture straightens slightly. Tension is now in the air and a silence begins to settle.

Natasha screws her eyes shut, willing the tears in her eyes to stop forming. She was just about to take everything back, apologize for even saying anything, before getting interrupted. She feels slim fingers gently hold her face. Wanda strokes Natasha’s cheek, her thumb moving in slow, circular motions while she speaks.

“Tasha, hey, please don’t cry,” Wanda looks at her pleadingly, leaning in closer.

Natasha blinks rapidly, brows furrowing together. “I’m sorry. I got nervous because you weren’t saying anything and I… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I just had to take a minute because I didn’t realize you felt this way. Trust you won’t lose me, please.” She looks away. Her touch slows down and ceases as her hands fall to her lap. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You didn’t have to do anything, moya lyubov.” Natasha holds Wanda’s hands, “I mean everything I just said. I love you, Wanda.”

She waits for a response with bated breath. Before she knows it, she feels supple lips capture her own.

It’s tender yet electric. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. It’s simply perfect.

Natasha closes her eyes and deepens the kiss. She cradles Wanda’s jaw and feels the brunette melt into her touch. They pull away seconds later, foreheads touching as they catch their breath. Wanda says softly, “I love you too, Natasha. You don’t know how long I have been wanting to say that.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Now I know what it feels like

To wanna go outside

It was a calm morning, both women following a routine established over the past few months. Natasha would wake up early and then proceed to training, leaving Wanda to sleep in. By the time she’d be back, Wanda was up and just finishing preparing breakfast. They’d eat together, talk about their plans for the day, and decide what to do from there. Some days they’d spend together while, on others, they’d have separate activities.

“Detka! Come here, please!”

Natasha was working on some reports when she heard Wanda call out. She looks at the clock and decides now is a perfect time to take a break anyway. She hums as she stands up and stretches her limbs before leaving the room.

Wanda had been tending to the garden in the compound for some time now. She started with small pots of herbs and then moved to random vegetables after discovering she had a gift for raising plants. Lately, she also added flowers and various houseplants to her catalog. Being out in the sun, getting her hands dirty, and nurturing these plants was hard work, but it was work Wanda loved.

Natasha makes a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and pours two glasses of cold water on a tray, then carries it over to the sliding door leading to the garden. She places it down on a table outside and her eyes immediately search for Wanda. It’s an irresistible sight, her beloved’s face beaming and surrounded by greenery. She even thinks she sees her talking to the plants.

She smiles to herself while appreciating the view until Wanda realizes she’s arrived. She gets waved over, “Tasha!” The excitement in the witch’s voice is barely contained as Natasha walks towards her.

She wraps an arm around Wanda, bringing her closer and kissing her forehead, “Hi, kotenok. I brought over some snacks and water if you wanted them. What is it you wanted me to see?”

Wanda pulls off her gardening gloves, places them in her pocket, and brushes her hands over her pants. She mumbles a quick thank you before taking Natasha’s hand in one of her own and using the other to cover her eyes.

“Close your eyes. I want this to be a surprise.”

Natasha plays along, using her free hand to help cover her eyes. “Okay. Just make sure I don’t trip, yeah?”

Wanda giggles as she leads Natasha by the hand, “Don’t worry, detka, I got you.”

They walk slowly, up a few steps, and stop. Wanda takes a deep breath, “Okay, now.”

When their hands uncover Natasha’s eyes, she is met with vibrant blooms of various colors against a green background of bushes. It’s a masterful arrangement of asters, marigolds, hydrangeas, wildflowers, and many more. She gasps, breath taken away by the gorgeous sight.

“You did all this by yourself?”

The Sokovian nods sheepishly, “Yeah. I read somewhere that getting them all to bloom like this would be challenging, but I think I did decently.”

Natasha squeezes her hand, “It’s more than decent. It looks stunning, Wands. You did an amazing job.”

Wanda’s arm wraps around Natasha’s waist, her head rests on her shoulder. A satisfied sigh leaves her lips. They remain silent, basking in each other’s presence and the garden view.

“If you’re like this with plants, I can only imagine how well you’d be with kids,” Natasha muses.

Wanda lifts her head and looks at Natasha, her shoulders raised slightly, “What if, at some point, you won’t have to imagine?”

Small smiles grow on both of their faces. They share a knowing look before assuming their previous positions. “Someday, lyubov, someday.”

Natasha used to feel the need to keep busy, keep moving because she thought anything too constant would be taken away from her again. Though she never admitted it to anyone, not even herself, the thought of settling down and starting a family of her own was terrifying.

But not anymore. Everything felt so much easier with Wanda. It now truly felt like anything was possible. The lack of fear forced onto her when she was younger came from a dark place of abuse and indifference. Now, it comes naturally. It comes from love.

#ky writes!#oneshot #fanfic #marvel #mcu #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfiction #wandanat fluff #wandanat fanfiction #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda x natasha #wlw

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eeunoia · 1 year ago

Text

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

chapter two

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: a contains violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: not proof read. sinag’s chapter will usually have 2k-3k words. i'm sorry if there’s grammatical errors. enjoy reading and my ask are open for your messages. thank you so much!

here ‹ chapter one | chapter three › here

“Calm down, Kwon.” a man wearing a formal attire focused his eyes at the scene beneath him, standing proudly in front of the big glass windows of his office. He holds a cup of whiskey on his hand, the other one inside his pockets.

“Calm down?” his tone frantic as he slightly slams the coffee table near him. His fists balled, jaw clenching feeling perturbed by the situation they’re tangled in.

“Your son is uncontrolled! This arrangement was long overdue! You know we already need to do something about this.” he added.

The man remained calmed and collected despite his opposite demeanor. He went here out of frustrations in hope to come up with a solution for their problem and all he gets is a couple words of consolement. If anything, that's the last thing he needs.

“I am doing my best to convince my son, Luis.” he slowly turns to face the raging man. The placid look on his face pretty much mirrors the same with the young mafia boss they are discussing about. The main reason of their distress and troubled affairs.

“You out of all people knows that convincing your son is already out of the choices.” the man stoods and stares straight to his eyes.

“He’s stubborn and proud.”

“Mainly why we shouldn’t act repulsively. Sunghoon knows when to play his cards and is not stupid.” he took a quick sip from his glass and pursed his lips into a thin line.

“He is unpredictable and moves only to his demand. He was never born to be controlled. He's my own flesh and blood afterall.” the proud smile spreads across his face that only adds to Mr. Kwon’s anger.

“But he’s now going crazy over some girl? Is this the same boy you are blabbering about?” the man scoffs that faded the smirk on Mr. Park’s face.

“If we cannot do anything with your son might as well start by getting rid of that girl.” the look on his face were shameless. The way he talks was too casual that you’ll think he’s just commanding a luggage to be discarded somewhere.

“We have to find her before he does.” he fixed his coat while still keeping his dark, serious gazes over Mr. Park.

“In order to solve the problem, we need go dispose the one causing them.” he stated with firmness to his tone indication of want on immediate action.

“I will expect a bigger progress soon, Steven.” he starts heading towards the door, one of his man held it for him. He stops from his tracks and craned his neck to the man by the windows, “I’m not a very forgiving and patient person. You know that.”

He left the room and Mr. Park was lost with his own thoughts. His emotions at a mess that rarely happens. The lack of sense in the current situation was very unusual of him. All he can think of is his son and the tangled connection link between the Kwon family.

From the plane to your way to the hotel, you are well taken care of. The stress and worries you’ve been feeling when you stepped at the airport hours ago were vanished into thin air. It was crazy and you can’t even believe that you’re actually thinking that this trip isn’t so bad at the moment. Like as if you aren’t the same girl in distress for being sent over for this.

“This way to your room, Madam.” one hotel staff guides you in this beautiful suite. It was a hug room with a breathtaking view of the city beneath you.

The streets are busy, people rushing towards somewhere, cars honking at each other but it didn’t spoil the ambiance of the place. You giggled and eyes shut for a couple seconds, embracing the breeze blowing towards you. It surely gives off a different vibe, the feeling of being new to the place slowly gets into your system.

Scary, but thrilling. You are feeling anxious and all but staying in a fancy hotel with a rowdy surrounding rather than secluded villa sure comforts you a thousand times better.

You are snapped out from your trance when you remembers the main agenda of your trip. Letting out a strained sigh, you walked towards your bag to fish out the well planned schedule that was prepared for you. It’s like a list of things to be accomplished along the trip. It sounds like something not of a big deal since this is a business trip afterall, but the amount is what’s gets you. Thankfully, they did left your first day vacant.

Another strained sigh liberates out from you, making your lungs feel more lighter. So much for enjoying this trip. You tried to find the brighter side of it. The things you will learn from the seminars and basically from the experience here will be much to your gain.

You ordered room service for lunch and decided to rest for a bit before roaming around near the hotel for the rest of the day. The next day, its work day so while waiting for your first agenda, you ordered food for lunch. If the place was great, of course the food was fantastic. It is expected and it didn’t disappoint. You enjoyed your meal and soon starts preparing for your errands.

Today’s task is an uncomplicated one. Pretty much a warm up for the upcoming busy two weeks of your stay here. You dress up cutely and comfortably before deciding on heading downstairs to ask the lobby for some directions.

On the other hand, multiple cars parked right in front of the hotel. People’s eyes darted curiously at the scene, some chooses to continue their day after watching for a while. Sunghoon went out of his black range rover and dominantly roams his eyes around, causing the lingering eyes of some individuals to tear away.

His intimidating aura just causes some to even stop at their tracks and give way to the handsome man. He didn’t give any care and went inside along with some of his men, tossing his car keys to the valley incharge without sparing him a glance. The boy bowed paying his respect, slightly anxious not to do any mistake.

Arriving at the hotel lobby, staffs bows as he walks by. It didn’t stop people to stare at him. His face is not one to be missed anyway.

His men clicks the elevator open and Sunghoon steps inside. After pressing the floor where his room was booked, the door closes. The people who's about to ride the elevator hesitates and decided not to join him.

As the door of the elevator closes, the one beside opens and you steps outside. Smiling to the people waiting just in front of it. They seem fazed about something that made you curious. Your eyes looks at the elevator beside you, but it was close and the lights above says its moving up the building.

Dismissing that matter, you shrug off your shoulders and walks towards the lobby to go ask for directions.

Sunghoon sighs and walks outside the elevator when he arrived the floor. The hallway was empty.

“What are you doing here?” his jaw clenches and his fist balled tightly at the sight of a man sat comfortably in the middle of the room.

He’s alone, at least here inside, and a glass of whiskey sat near him on a coffee table. The man smiles a little and opens his arms as a welcoming gesture.

Sunghoon furrowed his brows and kept his unamused expression.

“Is that how you greet your dad?” his Dad crosses his legs and gave him this stare.

Despite feeling so angry, Sunghoon grinned.

“Dad?” he scoffs. “Since when did you act like one?” his rude words pricks something inside Mr. Park’s chest, but he knew he was in no place to complain.

He took part on why Sunghoon became like this. He was part of his dark childhood that led him to be ruthless. He may feel sorry right now, but there’s nothing he can do about it anymore. All there’s left was to convince him over to do the arrangement and save him from any possible outrage of the Kwon family.

“Son,” he calls, tone longing.

Sunghoon face reflects disgust at what he heard. “Don’t you dare call me that.” he coldly rejects.

“What are you doing here? How did you know that I’m here?” his questions are full of suspicion for the older man. This isn’t the first time he did this, but its still so odd that he couldn’t help to not let his guard down.

“I’m here to talk to you.” he answers one of it, but leaves out one. It didn’t slipped off from Sunghoon and sure he isn’t someone to disregard it as well.

“There’s nothing to talk about with you.” he grunts, letting him know that there is no way he can expect him to cooperate.

He turns his heels and was about to head out when his father talks once again.

“Marry Luna.” his words were short and direct.

Sunghoon halt from his steps and the crease to his forehead disappears along the emotions in his eyes.

He slowly craned his neck to look at his dad.

“Didn’t Mr. Kwon told you what we talked about the last time he went to see me?” he smirks with no humor.

“Please, son. That is planned ahead even before you’re even born.”

“If you’re too desperate in making her marry a Park, why not you do it?” he suggests in complete taunt.

“Park Sunghoon!” his Father shouts.

Seeing his father lose composure and frustrated like this, sooths something in Sunghoon. It feels something accomplishing in some part of him. He smirks unbothered of his Father’s threatening tone.

“This will be the last time you and Mr. Kwon will bother me about this stupid marriage.” he states, back to being very serious. His eyes dark, almost mirroring his father’s.

“It will never happen. He can have a gun pointed at my head during the wedding and I still won’t say ‘I do’.” he smoothly puts his hands inside his pocket.

“Don’t make me do something you will regret. Stop pushing my buttons,” Sunghoon tilts his head. “... Dad.”

Mr. Park was lost of words. He felt shivers run his spine at how cold his tone was. He can’t remember when he became like this. What did he do for him to end up like the cold ruthless person he is right now?

His mind was occupied for a while before he snaps back to his senses. He sighed and rest his back on the chair before massaging his temple. He expects no easy way to convince Sunghoon into this. And as much as he hates how Mr. Kwon last resort of solution to their problem, he was left with no other choice.

He’s doing this for his son.

He fished his phone from his pocket and dials someone’s phone number. “Did you ask the lobby about a reservation under the name Aelia Choi.”

He waits for the response of his assistant from the other line. He received a tip that Sunghoon gathers info that the girl he’s searching for are booked in this hotel. He figured his son will come here to search for her so he decided to take the opportunity of talking to him.

“There’s none, Sir.”

His brows furrowed, a little confused. Disappointed for probably another false information. A part of him felt sympathy for his son, he’s been searching for her and still no concrete leads of her whereabouts. Another, felt relieved. He can’t comprehend what crazy things his son can do for this girl. He can only mean bad for him. If he’s this wreckless for her right now, what more if he found her.

“All right, ready my vehicle.” he commands and ended the call.

After asking for details and asking assistance for your ride to the city. Waiting patiently, your brows furrowed curiously at the sight of men in black appearing the hotel’s lobby. They aren’t that many, but enough to catch attention. Their black similar uniforms sure captures people’s curiosity.

The view makes you remember of a particular night of your life. It makes you nervous, pressing your lungs and light pinches to your heart. It wasn’t pleasant for you so you quickly glanced away and move towards a more isolated part of the hotel.

From a distance, you watch how they move in an organize manner. It was evident how disciplined and well connected they are to each other. Their built and postures sure insinuates how dutiful they are. It seems like they are there to protect someone. Someone very important.

Everybody went back to normal once they left the premises. You can hear some of them still talks about the said person that just left. Uninterested, you walks towards the lady at the front desk.

“Can I ask a room service once I get back?” you ask smiling. The lady returns and smiled warmly at you.

“Under what name of reservation?” she asks.

“Oh, under Mr. (boss name).” you pursed your lips as she tries to check something on her computer. Patiently, you roam your eyes around the hotel lobby.

You noticed another group of men wearing suits pretty similar to the ones from before. This time, you saw the man walking in between them. He seemed like a very powerful man. His hair perfectly fixed, some gray strands can be seen even from the distance but it didn’t make him look that old. If anything, he looks like a Dad of a very attractive offsprings.

You didn’t realized you’ve been staring too much. Thankfully, the lady at desk calls your attention. The moment you looked away, the man gazed at you. Both of you clueless about how each other will soon make a big change to your lives, missed the opportunity to meet due to uncertain timing

“What time will you be back for the room service, Ma’am?” she asked.

You gave her the time you possibly back from your errands. Thanking her softly before going on with your day, unaware of what lies ahead of you.

“Hello, Riki?”

He heard some muffled sound from the other line, “Yeah, hyung?” the younger one responds.

“I think there’s a rat in my men. They’ve been snitching on my Dad about my whereabouts.” he continuously says in a cold tone. He’s not yet sure if hes right, but what could possibly the reason of the unexpected appearance of his father?

He’s very strict on sharing infos of his life, specially when it involves about his search of you.

“I want you to find who it is and report back to me.”

“On it.” he replies and chuckles. “This is not free, hyung.” the younger one teased.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “Just send me the bill.” and he ends the call before resting his back on his chair.

He’s inside his private jet. He went straight here after the encounter with his dad. The pilot waits for his command to fly and go back, but for some reason he felt something’s stopping him.

The plan of searching for you at this place sure is already sabotaged. He hope what they received was just a false information or else he will make his Dad pay for missing you once again. He tries hard to convince himself that its also probably his father who tipped him so he can have time to talk. But he can’t get rid of the thought that you might be near him. It’s making him suffer.

He have no idea how many times he will feel this way in the future, but he doesn’t care. He will never stop looking for you, even if it means he have to spend his whole life hoping that you two will meet again without a definite certainty that it’ll happen.

here ‹ chapter one | chapter three › here

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