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beomie3 · 10 months

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tokyo 2 - choi beomgyu

pairing: boyfriend!beomgyu x fem!reader

word count: 18.6k

summary: your dream vacation to tokyo only gets better as you and your boyfriend continue exploring the newfound pool on the balcony of your hotel, but little do you know he has some surprises planned for you. ~lovers in the movies~ type of vibe.

content/warnings: established relationship, romance, fluff, kissing, cursing, some drinking, wholesome smut scene, (v much slow burn), just two lovers falling deeper in love <3

a/n: this is the sequel to my existing story "tokyo"! you can find it here if you haven't read it already :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

♬ [soundtrack]

sunsetz - cigarettes after sex

every color - luca fogale

fallingforyou - the 1975

over the moon - the marias

double take - dhruv

the dress - dijon

baby blue - frazier blue

peach eyes - wave to earth

astronomy - conan gray

get you the moon - kina

electric love - night traveler

take me where your heart is - Q

skin - dijon

hold on - flor

japanese denim - daniel caesar

tonight - summer walker

to love - suki waterhouse

sweet - cigarettes after sex

intro: serendipity - bts

fairy of shampoo - txt

striptease - carwash

sweet disposition - the temper trap

lover - taylor swift

feels like - gracie abrams

you! - lany

turning page - sydney rose

heaven - niall horan

nap of a star - txt

yellow - coldplay

immerse yourself in the story & listen while you read for a cinematic experience :) it’s a bit long, but the songs go along with the story!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

what could he possibly have in mind? you chuckled to yourself as you stood outside by the newly discovered infinity pool, gazing out at the twinkling city as your white sundress swayed gently with the lukewarm breeze.

the sun had set its glimmering eye behind the city's tall buildings, eventually only the skyline's silhouette left as the sky glowed a dim hue of orange. beomgyu had asked you to stay outside, that he'd be right back after he ran into the hotel room to do something. of course, you wondered what the hell your mischievous boyfriend could be up to. but you enjoyed the thrill of what was to come; he always had something exciting up his sleeve.

you noticed the way the full moon slowly brightened in the sky, moving in opposite tandem with the sun. it had been visible throughout the day, just a faint whisper in the sky, almost invisible.

you always found it most beautiful when the sun and moon were both visible in the sky at the same time. it reminded you of how opposite they are, yet how beautifully they complement one another.

every once and a while you glanced proudly over your shoulder at your boyfriend's newest discovery; the shimmering pool and hot tub, its water reflecting the city lights like a mirror. the day's memories dawned over you, a special one immediately blooming like a flower in your mind; the events of when beomgyu sang wonder for you on the bridge several nights ago. a smile crawled onto your lips as a result, one you wouldn't quite be able to rid for the rest of the night.

as the final tinge of sunlight faded its way from the sky, a deep shade of red, almost burgundy, tinted the navy blue abyss. you had been so infatuated with the beauty of the melting sunset you were unaware that the sliding glass door had been closed by beomgyu as he had returned. but of course, you hadn't heard a thing because he made sure to close it as gently as possible, tip-toeing his way over to you as quiet as a ghost.

he didn't want to scare you, but he slightly startled you with his unsuspecting touch as he gently pressed his chest to your back. you only tensed for a brief moment until you concluded it was your boyfriend, relaxing under his warmth as he wrapped his arms around your waist, clasping his hands softly over your stomach. to bring him even closer, you crossed your arms to reach around your own torso, trailing your fingers up his arms as you held him tightly.

you sensed the weight of his chin on your left shoulder, feeling his gentle breaths fan against your exposed skin, the warmth of his cheek under your ear as he snuggled into the crook of your neck.

the feeling you got from his hugs, especially the ones from behind, was something so warm, so fuzzy in your heart. everything about him; his sweet aroma, feather-soft lips as they grazed your skin. he gave you a feeling of comfort you never knew was even possible.

the crimson-tinted sky had almost fully disappeared as the sun was long gone under the horizon, only a subtle whisper of deep red left to fade away into the darkness.

"the sunset is so pretty," he whispered against your ear, a chill aching to race up your spine at the warmth of his breath against you. you smiled at his comment. his statement was true, but there was something else- someone who topped it. the man standing behind you with his arms snaked around you. he radiated the most beauty.

"but not as pretty as you." "but not as pretty as you."

"jinx!" "jinx!

you both had shouted the same thing word for word, like you knew exactly what the other was thinking. and that wasn't a rarity; it was often that you yelled jinx at each other. but every time, your similar ways of thinking surprised you more than the last. it was literally like you shared the same brain cells.

he giggled adorably at the fact you two had said the exact same thing; head thrown back as you felt his chest heave in laughter against your back.

"i said it first so.. jinx you owe me a soda!" you giggled, angling your head up to get a look at him. a subtle tinge grew across your cheeks at how close his face was to yours; soft skin and sharp jawline adjacent to your gaze, your heart pounding as his large eyes quickly focused into yours.

"but what if i said it first?" he tilted his head playfully, ever so slowly inching his face closer to yours as his eyes pulled you into their deep brown trance.

"then you still owe me a kiss," you returned his playfulness, but really, you weren't joking so much as you were telling the truth. you really did want to kiss him in this moment. his eyes so irresistibly gazing into yours, so deeply you could already feel his lips on yours before either of you even made a move.

his lips twitched upward at your request, inching his face so close to yours until the tips of your noses touched. "i can do that," he whispered through a small giggle, his toothy grin gleaming like the rays of sun that had long disappeared beyond the horizon.

grazing his fingertips along your jaw, he neared his face to yours, closing the tiny gap that was left between your lips to unite. a heartfelt kiss it was; one full of such joy that you could feel his smile grow against your lips, getting a subtle taste of his cherry chapstick. you couldn't resist letting out a few giggles at how quickly your heart was beginning to fill with such warmth.

the kiss was deepened as you turned to face him by standing on your tiptoes, snaking your arms around his neck to pull him down even closer. when it seemed as if your bodies couldn't get any closer, they did as he wrapped his arms tightly around your lower back, pulling you so close that his warmth cradled you. at this point, your teeth had even begun to clash due to how big your smiles had grown, no lips even left to kiss because of how curled they were from your toothy grins.

at the realization of this, beomgyu pulled away, examining your smiling face; his favorite expression of yours. your eyes fluttered open and you stared back at his ginormous grin and glittering eyes, your cheeks beginning to ache and tighten from how large your smile had grown. but he looked too damn cute, how could you not be smiling like an idiot?

"no but really, the sunset is not as pretty as you," he remarked, exaggeratedly shaking his head to get his point across.

opening your mouth to argue back, he read the awaiting comeback forming on your lips as he suddenly tightened his arms below your hips, picking you up off the ground before you could even say a word. forgetting what you wanted to say at an instant, your attention shifted to the fact that beomgyu was now walking you over to the large, glowing pool.

"gyu what are you doing!?" you yelled through a hysteric laugh, heart racing at how close he was getting to the edge of the water. is he planning on throwing me in?? was all your mind could process.

you were half right. "brace yourself!" was what he yelled as he ran full speed off the ledge, jumping into the deep end of the pool with you in his arms. and with a wave of thrill in your chest, a yell-like laugh left your mouth, one you had inherited from none other than your boyfriend.

you shut your eyes and made sure to release air out of your nose as you felt your body make contact with the lukewarm water, immediately coming up for a breath as you both became submerged.

although you were slightly annoyed at beomgyu with the fact that you had been unexpectedly catapulted into a pool with every last article of your clothing on, that feeling didn't even last longer than five seconds when you felt his hand grip your ankle underwater.

you couldn't help but roll your eyes and smile, filling your lungs with oxygen before plunging back underwater to find him. although the chlorine stung your eyes a bit when you opened them, the feeling quickly went away as you got used to it.

you discovered his tall figure floating beneath yours like a dark shadow; made up of his darkened hair, black baggy shirt and shorts as they floated loosely in the turquoise light. not to mention, his hand firmly around your ankle as he swam further toward the bottom of the pool, trying to pull you to him.

you quickly freed your ankle from his grasp with a few tugs, excitedly swimming headfirst as deep as you could into the deep end to catch up with him at the bottom. the water ran it's cool fingers through your hair as you swam deeper, entranced with the way it engulfed you.

he stared up at you with large, innocent eyes, auburn hair floating freely around his head, cheeks filled with air. he held his arms out to you, waiting for you to swim into them, his cuteness only enticing you to swim faster.

both of your hearts pulsated rapidly every passing second you maintained eye contact; two lovers yearning to be reunited.

when you reached him, you swam into his arms, wrapping yourself around his baggy shirt that floated around him, and he looped his arm around your waist, baggy dress surrounding your body like a fluffy cloud. your hair floated around your body, similar to your dress.

bubbles of oxygen escaped your noses every now and then as you stared at one another underwater, admiring the way your faces glowed in the turquoise ambiance of the pool light.

his eyelashes; quick to draw your attention. their pretty length and how gently they batted against his cheeks whenever he blinked. even picking up on the tiny oxygen bubbles which floated up toward the surface at every bat of his eye.

even underwater, with your vision blurred and all- he was absolutely beautiful. it was like a dream; features lit by the fuzzy, baby-blue ambiance of the water around him. he was constantly astonishing you with his beauty.

and he noticed your soft skin and bright eyes and the way your hair flowed behind you; watching it glide underwater in slow motion like the hair of a goddess. he reached out to touch it as if it were calling his name, his movements so soft and gentle, inviting your fingers to his hair as well.

noses grazing one another's, his dreamy gaze peered into yours, trailing down to your lips and in a flash they were locked to yours.

kissing underwater felt much different than the countless kisses you had shared. this kiss was a lot softer; the taste of chlorine lingering in your mouth instead of his signature taste. it felt as if you were kissing a soft, velvety pillow; the way his lips closed around yours delicately, savoring every last second until you began running out of air.

unable to hold it any longer, you tugged on his shirt and he took this cue to return back to the surface, pulling you up with him.

you had surprised yourself with how long you and beomgyu were able to hold your breath as the sky had now faded to pitch black when you came back from your blue dream, up to the real world. no more dusty crimson clouds, now only the small speckles of stars shining brightly, matching with the tiny, lit windows of the skyline far away. but really, it best resembled the sparkle of his eyes.

this view. you swam to the pool's ledge, supporting yourself on the cement with your elbows. your eyes fixed on the view on the other side of the infinity pool, simply breath taken by just how beautiful the city sparkled all around you.

"it's so beautiful," you whispered against the tile of the pool wall, your heart racing in excitement over it all; this was like- the best view of tokyo anyone could have.

you sensed beomgyu swim up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist like he always does.

"hi~" his soft breath fanned against your ear. although the water was lukewarm, your skin still became chilled with sudden goosebumps ignited by his touch.

you sighed as he pressed wet kisses on the top of your shoulder, using his hand to gently massage the other one, soothing your priorly tensed muscles. the sudden shift of the ambiance invited a gentle wave of heat throughout your body as his fingers trailed down your arm so softly, the ache of goosebumps pelting your skin.

"is this the surprise you had for me, gyu?" you smirked with your head tilted to one side, exposing your neck for easy access for him to continue drowning the area in kisses.

he hummed against your soft flesh, leaving a trail of smooches from your shoulder to the base of your ear. and with the deepest, most gentle of voices, he breathed his response.

"just wait a bit longer, angel. that comes later." he whispered in your ear with the voice you couldn't even begin to express your love for. your heart pulsated in excitement for whatever was to come.

you both just sat there staring out at the view, his chin on your shoulder, observing the tiny cars on the street moving in what seemed like slow motion.

you at kicked each other's feet underwater as you made up a game to play; the game of which window light will turn off next? in which you had to guess which window light will be the next to go dark out of all the hundreds of lit windows. surprisingly, beomgyu won twice.

you had a long conversation about what you think each person in each window is doing. "i think that person is making ramyeon and getting ready to binge their favorite show," you announced, pointing confidently at the small speck of light glowing from the distant window.

he giggled. "and that person is getting ready for a date night with the love of their life," he pointed at another set of dim curtains.

"sounds like us," you commented, turning to gaze at him from behind you. he smiled large, looking up at you with puppy eyes. he was so adorable, you couldn't ever resist the urge to pepper his face with kisses. so you did just that.

simply relaxing in the pool just wouldn't cut it for beomgyu, it wasn't long before his shenanigans began again. "bet you can't beat me!" he shouted, quickly doggy paddling over to the other end of the pool, swimming away with a few large splashes at you to get an advantage.

the beomgyu advantage was always the most mischievous, unfair, and downright comical card he would pull when he felt in the mood to be a trickster. his mischief was known well between mutual friends and pretty much his entire family. he was always known as the class clown, that was your first impression of him when you met in college.

you always tried to get back at him, though, rolling your eyes with a certain competitive playfulness only he brought out in you. you swam after him as fast as you could, yearning to grab a piece of his shirt that floated loosely behind him.

before he could reach the ledge of the pool, you grabbed the material of his shirt, pulling him towards you and then wrapped your arms around him to climb onto his back. squeezing him tightly from behind you dug your chin into his neck, tickling him to no end. at this he yelled his usual, loud and exaggerated yell.

when he was distracted enough, you crawled around his body, pushing off of him to grab the ledge of the pool, throwing your arms up in victory.

"i won! i won!," you cheered, applauding yourself for successfully getting him back amidst his mischief. he smiled through large huffs, still catching his breath from the whole event. paddling toward you with a shrug in defeat, he softly placed his hands on your waist. a tiny smirk on his lips.

you were slightly suspicious; he didn't usually admit defeat this easily. and just at the brink of thought, before you could even move a muscle, he closed his fingers tightly around your waist, digging them into your most hyper-sensitive areas. he tickled you right back. waves of ticklish discomfort and laughter dispersed throughout your body, fighting to free yourself from him.

"i'll stop if you kiss me," he scrunched his face as water splashed him with how much you squirmed, immediately crashing your lips to his at the sound of his compromise. and as if he completely forgot what he was even doing, he melted right into the kiss, softening his grip on your waist.

but the kiss didn't last longer than two seconds as you quickly pecked his lips, leaving him with a pout; it was your way of teasing him back, sticking your tongue out at him with an evil smile. a cocky grin formed on his face as his bottom lip found its way between his teeth; you had only left him wanting more.

there was a sudden knock at the front door of your hotel room right before he could plot his revenge, his eyes fixated to you with a certain demise. but his face softened when your wide eyes fell to his, not able to stay annoyed at you for longer than two seconds at the sight of your curious expression.

"be right back," he softly pecked your lips before swimming away to the shallow steps; quickly exiting the pool with the sound of his drenched clothing pattering on the slick cement like heavy rainfall.

you observed his every move as he stepped out of the pool; the way his wet clothing clung so seamlessly to his body left you mesmerized.

your eyes didn't know where to focus due to the entirety of his beauty, so they were slowly drawn to the outline of his broad shoulders and abdomen through his shirt; admiring the way water dripped from his shorts down his long legs. and to say the least, the sight had you flustered by the second. your gaze trailed back up to his face; half covered by strands of dark, wet hair. god was he beautiful.

lazily drying himself off with a towel and throwing it over his shoulder, he quickly ran into the hotel room. the sound of him speaking briefly to the mystery person at the door in japanese echoed through the room. then after a few seconds, the sound of him closing the door, faintly heard by you from the pool.

the anticipation built up as the quick patter of his footsteps returned. he then emerged from the white curtain of the sliding glass door with what looked like a bottle of champagne and two thin, tall glasses.

a large grin surfaced to your lips as he pranced over to you, a pep in his step as he enthusiastically showcased the large bottle in hand.

"the finest champagne for the finest lady," he gestured, a sweet smile on his delicate lips that you could kiss for an eternity.

one of many things that you absolutely loved about choi beomgyu was how romantic he was. everything from flowers to chocolates, rose petal baths, or the way he caressed your body, the way he respected and cherished you. he never failed to make your heart melt, ever since day one.

"awww beomie!!" you swam over to the shallow end in excitement to where he awaited with an outstretched hand, offering it to you once you got close enough to the steps.

he helped you out of the pool, your white dress heavy with water as you wrung some of its weight out. you hugged his waist, shirt sticking to his skin now cold and damp.

suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the patio, instantly freezing your wet skin, the absence of body heat making you shiver.

"gyu, bring the champagne over to the hot tub!!" you exclaimed, quickly tip-toeing your way over to the warm relief of steaming water. you didn't notice your boyfriend's lingering eyes on you, observing your every move. he was cold too, but you warmed his heart with how cute you looked as you ran with a skip in your step, noticing the way your dress hugged your body closely.

walking over to the steaming hot tub, he set the bottle and glasses down with a clink, near the edge for easy access, not tearing his gaze from you once.

as you began to step into the bubbling water, you sucked air through your teeth, scoffing at the sheer heat of it. you decided to take it slow, holding onto the metal bar for support, inching your way into about knee height until you could tolerate the pleasurable burn.

"do you want me to help you in, pretty?" he asked as he noticed your struggle. with a nod of your head, he stepped into the steaming water onto the step behind you, softly hugging your waist for a moment to get by. he then lowered himself onto the step in front of you, turning to face you, his chin level with your chest.

your heart leaped at the beautiful sight before you; his face, fresh and adorned with dark, wet locks. not to mention his large, sparkling eyes looking up at you innocently as he maintained all eye contact.

he smiled sweetly as a dimple appeared on his cheek, nearing his face closer to your chest until his lips met the lacy material of your dress' neckline, not once tearing his gaze from yours.

to him, it was pretty much impossible not to give in. you're drop-dead gorgeous in your white sundress; the moon illuminating the dew of your skin, wet hair swept gorgeously over your shoulder. he was just head over heels for you.

you could feel his smile grow between your breasts as he grinned against the wet material of the dress but then pulled away, giving you a small wink. a little tease he was.

gently biting at your lip, you smirked, playfully rolling your eyes at his teasing gesture. he smiled back, followed by a low giggle; he knew perfectly what he was doing. you splashed water at him. teasing one another; a never-ending game it was.

"are you gonna help me in or what?" you put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to add a little more sass. he grinned at your gesture and threw two hands up in defense, finding your sassiness the cutest thing in the world.

"okay, okay! here, i'll get in first and then you get on my shoulders and i'll slowly lower you in," he suggested, turning around and sinking down further into the water until only his head poked out of the steaming surface.

you could only think- how on earth was he able to wade neck deep into the hot tub without a second of hesitation?? the water felt like molten lava. maybe he is an actual bear disguised as a handsome boy.

he turned to look at you, one of his thick eyebrows raised in question under his wet hair, as to ask what's taking you so long.

you giggled at him, walking forward until your thighs were pressed against his back. you balanced as you put one leg on his right shoulder, and then the other.

using your free hands, you placed them under his chin to better secure yourself onto him, laughing as your thighs nearly engulfed his neck. taking this cue, he began walking forward, your stomach jolting at the heat climbing up higher and higher on your skin.

finally, the two of you were amidst the bubbling water, goosebumps decorating your skin at the pleasurable sensation the heat dispersed all over your body. you climbed down from his shoulders and onto his back, hugging the loose material of his shirt, which tickled your skin with every of his movements.

he took you into his arms playfully, hugging you tightly underwater. these kinds of embraces were best; when he pressed you so close you could hardly catch your next breath.

the two of you sat in silence for a while, nuzzling into his shoulder as you basked in the whir of bubbles, moonlight, the city view; just enjoying the moment.

"ah! how could i forget," he suddenly exclaimed from beside you, calling your attention as he shifted his weight around. he reached over, pulling the champagne from out of its ice-filled bucket.

he used his strength to twist the cork off, leaving you infatuated at the way the veins in his arms accentuated in this steamy lighting. a loud pop sounded as bubbles began to gush from the bottle, his loud laugh overpowering your small cheers as he raised the bottle in the air like it was a trophy he had just won. we won't talk about the one time he pelted you in the head with the cork on your twenty-first birthday.

he noticed the way you slightly hid behind his shoulder at the pop of the bottle, leaning over to kiss your forehead, right over the long-gone (once bright purple) bruise of the cork.

"i haven't forgotten about that," he cooed into your skin, pecking the area once more.

"cheers to not getting pelted by the cork this time," you raised your glass in the air once he had filled two servings with the fizzy drink. he interjected; "aaaaand for also for being the best girlfriend in the world," he nudged you with his elbow and you rolled your eyes playfully, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"cheers, i guess" you chimed in sarcastically, trying to hide your smile, failing miserably when his laughter controlled your senses, collapsing your head into his shoulder. you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip of the bubbly beverage, its peach sparkle tickling your mouth.

"mmm peach!" you closed your eyes in delight, taking another sip of the stinging carbonation. "delicious like you," he replied smoothly like always, never failing to make you blush with his cheesy yet adorable remarks.

you sipped on the bubbly goodness slowly growing relaxed, observing the city lights grow brighter as the night became more alive. it wasn't long before you two became a hysterical mess, taking turns pouring champagne into one another's mouths and competing to see who could go the longest without laughing and spitting it out everywhere. your face ached with how much you smiled with puffed cheeks, fighting the urge to absolutely lose it (ultimately losing it).

downing the last of the champagne together, you watched as some drizzled out of his mouth and down his neck, following a path over his adams apple, admiring the sexy sight. you licked the trail from his neck and soon, fingers were intertwined in his hair, lips interlocked, tasting the peach bubbles inside eachother's mouths, messily making out with it. you just wanted to taste every bit of him.

moments passed as the once delirious mood slowly faded into the night. the two of you laid your heads back so that they perfectly reclined on the smooth tile that rimmed the jacuzzi. warm steam and moonlight cast onto your faces brightly, illuminating every little expression, smile, and laugh as you talked about anything and everything.

"i think that's saturn," he spoke enthusiastically from beside you, pointing up at one of many small specks in the dark sky.

"really? because what i remember from taking that astronomy class like- sophomore year, it's actually mars," you teased, looking over at him with that smart-alec expression you liked to use. he returned the expression, crossing his arms dramatically underwater as he formulated a comeback.

"well, from what i remember in astronomy class was that i got an A plus and you got an A minus," he retorted, looking over at you with a proud expression, lips protruding, head tilted back. you couldn't help but notice the resemblance between him and a little duck in this moment, and all the moments he was proud of himself or simply just being a goofball.

you rolled your eyes, trying your hardest to keep a serious expression by pushing your smile down, but it just couldn't stay down; one glance at his face and your lips contorted into the biggest grin ever. he turned to look at you with a smile of his own, moonlight illuminating every crevice of his features from his dimple to the little whiskers that formed next to his doe eyes, your heart aflutter.

your squeezed his hand underwater, turning to look back up at the speckled sky, focusing on the bright moon directly above you. your smile settled as you entered a moment of thought, drifting to one you held deeply, one that settled your mood into a more solemn one, your heart heavy with it.

"you know, its crazy to think that we only live once, and that one day we'll just be...gone," you spewed out, eyes so focused on the moon that you could begin to see its craters. at this, beomgyu looked over at you in all seriousness. he dawned over your remark for a while, just the breeze and gentle jacuzzi bubbles heard between you.

"but i think that's what makes life beautiful, in a way. that we're only here for a limited amount of time. and i'm grateful i get to spend it with you," he responded, his soft voice like the small glowing clouds floating amongst the moon. you turned to look at him to find him already looking at you, cheek squished against the tile of the jacuzzi. his eyes radiated nothing but light.

you thought; if you could, you would give him the moon. out of everything he's done for you, who he is as a person; that was the least he deserved. really, it seemed that nothing on this planet could shine brighter than the light that radiated off of this boy.

but if you could just see it from his perspective, you didn't need to give him the moon, because he already had you. and that was all he needed. you were his moon and he was your sun. like the sun and moon; you both shine brightly, no matter how much you might contrast; you are ultimately perfect just the way you are.

because when the sun and the moon are in the sky at the same time, they are even more beautiful together.

you just sat there in silence, the sides of your cheeks pressed to the cool tile as you stared at one another, smiles slowly fading as thickness fogged the air. his gaze fixed on each of your eyes individually, searching them like they were treasure chests filled with gold. your face warmer than the hot tub steam.

"dummy" he thwarted your forehead with his index and thumb, a gesture he made to lighten the mood. "you know i'll be by your side forever, " he rolled his eyes with a small chuckle. he was right. you giggled, forgetting about your solemn mood.

faces only inches apart, his smile settled so that his lips were now only slightly parted, moving slowly to meet them with yours. your lips locked at the slowest pace possible, perfectly connecting like the last piece of a puzzle; like they were made for each other. he gently took your bottom lip in between his. you felt his warm, wet hand on the side of your face, droplets of water scurrying from his wrist to your cheek and then down to your neck.

the kisses were slow and passionate, sucking at his full lips as he occasionally nibbled at yours. beomgyu was such a great kisser, caressing your face and neck with a gentle touch, smoothly gliding his tongue in all the right places, making the most of every second your lips were connected.

it gave you goosebumps how good he was, actually. every single kiss was always absolutely perfect, no matter how many you had shared together; quick ones, silly ones, drunk ones, teary-eyed ones, passion-filled ones. it always felt like the first, hearts beating quickly as a subtle warmth blanketed you.

"i love you to the moon and back," you whispered against his nose once you had come up for a breath. this was a rather new thing you had begun saying to one another, one that really only started since coming to japan. it was like the moon radiated so much brighter here, when in reality was most likely just an illusion. it was your love that was glowing more than ever.

"well i love you way beyond the moon," he one-upped you, a small smile on his lips as he rejoined them to yours. as you shared your kiss, a small rumble came from the sky, a cool drop of water pelting your forehead.

drop after drop began plopping into the water around you, inviting a soft gasp from your boyfriend's lips. but you just kissed there, basking in peaceful silence, enjoying the pattering of rain all around you. he held your hand underwater, clutching it tighter as the rain fell harder. it was like you were the only two people in the entire world and the rain only added to its ambiance.

the pace that he kissed you slowed until you pulled away to meet his starry gaze. the rain quickened, plopping into the hot tub steadily, matting your hair down even more than it already was.

without a word, he began pulling you to the jacuzzi steps until you exited its warmth with the heaviness of your white sundress. your clothes, drenched in water, enhanced the pitter-patter on the concrete creating a rainfall of your own.

walking you over to the small platform that was the bit of open space next to the jacuzzi with a perfect view of the city, he turned to face you with his hand outstretched.

"may i have this dance?" he held his hand out, bowing his head and all. you giggled; he still managed to charm you no matter how cheesy he was at times. but what more could this boy possibly do to make you fall deeper in love? you thought it was impossible to love someone more than you did him; you just loved him more and more every day that your heart ached.

grinning, you took his hand, melting into him as you pressed the side of your cheek to the damp fabric of his chest, beginning to gently sway with the gentle beat of the rain. the moonlight peeked through a haze of clouds above you as the rain fell with its signature murmur, cool droplets pelting your skin.

two star-crossed lovers dancing under the bright speckles of the night sky; you couldn't ask for anything better in this moment. it was absolutely perfect.

he rested his cheek on the crown of your head, beginning to hum a gentle, unfamiliar tune. must be a new song he's writing, you thought to yourself, as that's what was usually the case when he hummed a foreign tune.

he hugged your lower back, fiddling with the frayed edge of your wet dress with his eyes closed, opening them to meet yours when you looked up at him. he knew that curious gleam in your eye the moment he saw it; a yearning to ask a question without asking it. he knew you all too well.

"it's called nap of a star," he enlightened you with his soft voice. "i only have the melody and first few lyrics figured out though, it's a work in progress." he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose before looking out at tokyo's city lights.

you observed the city's glimmer in his dark eyes, large and filled with wonder. his eyes were filled with his sort of searching. like any little detail in the air could be used as inspiration for his song.

"will you sing it for me when it's done?" you asked without tearing your gaze from him once.

he glanced back down at you with smiling eyes "i promise," he answered without hesitation. deep down, he loved that question with his entire heart, no matter how nervous he'd get when the actual moment came. he loved that you wanted to hear his music. after all, it was the most vulnerable of his creations. only the most special person did he choose to share it with.

it wasn't until a crack of thunder and a bright flash of lightning not too far ahead that you both decided it was no longer safe to be outside. interesting how such a beautiful thing could quickly become something dangerous.

"i have something to show you," he pulled you towards the sliding door of the hotel room, hands interlaced tightly as your drenched clothes sloshed with every step. you giggled as excitement brimmed within you, following your boyfriend's wet footprints on the cement.

approaching the sliding glass door, beomgyu halted you in your steps; practically walking straight into what felt like a wall as he stood in front of the curtain with his arms crossed, denying you entry to the room.

"are you ready?" he questioned you. of course, your large smile gave your obvious answer away.

"close your eyes for me," he ordered, his voice chiming from behind you now as everything had faded to pitch black with the warmth of his hands cupped over your eyes. he blindly led you through the sliding glass door, finding your footing into the cold, hotel-scented air of the room.

he began counting down from three once you took a step into the room, slowly removing his hands when he reached one.

"tadaaaaa," his sweet voice chimed from behind you as you slowly fluttered your eyes open to reveal what had your hand over your mouth.

before you, a large heart decorated the king-sized bed with what you quickly made out to be rose petals, the room flickering with the light of candles all around the bedside table. a soft glow of fairy lights decorated the headboard, the faint sound of your playlist echoing in the background. it was absolutely perfect. the ambiance was like something out of a dream.

"choi beomgyu you did not!" you jumped into his arms, looking into his eyes with such elation and gratitude. so this is was what he was busy doing several hours ago before he catapulted me into the pool, you realized.

"this is amazing," your heart lept with love and adoration for him that you simply wanted to explode, hugging him as tight as humanly possible, earning a groan from him.

you looked around the room some more to discover flower petals scattered in a pathway leading to the bathroom. he had the entire night planned just for the two of you, romance just seeped in the air.

he grabbed your hand, inviting you further into the room. to this, you sensed just how soggy your clothes were pressed against you.

"wait gyu, my clothes are drenched," you halted, pulling the wet fabric over your head and tossing it onto the patio outside with a heavy thud. beomgyu just watched in awe, nearly forgetting his own name because of how beautiful you looked in your lacy bra and underwear.

everything about the way you pulled it off of yourself was so sexy to him, the sight of lace pressed against your bare skin left him mesmerized. he just stood there admiring you, shaggy hair fluffed over dazed eyes as his damp clothing clung to his increasingly warm skin. he just couldn't wait to take the rest of it off of you.

he snapped back into reality when your eyes locked, looking down at his own wet clothes sticking to his skin; large black shirt and shorts. he began to lift his shirt off when he felt a sudden lightness as you helped him pull it over his head.

you blindly chucked the soaked shirt outside next to your abandoned white dress with another hefty thud. his hair had been ruffled from the wet shirt, inviting a soft grin to your lips at how handsome he looked. you loved it when his hair was all messy like this, adorning him with a kind of sexiness you couldn't even begin to describe. you thought maybe he would be able to see the hearts floating in your eyes if he looked deep enough.

"what?" he questioned, tilting his head to one side curiously as he noticed the rosy tinge on your cheeks, a smile on his pretty lips. instead of telling him the truth about what you were fawning over, you continued gliding your fingers down his now bare torso, until you reached the waistband of his shorts.

his eyes followed your fingers, which gently ghosted over the imprint of the growing tent in his briefs, only for a second as you returned to glide them back up his chest, then to the soft skin of his face. he watched you in awe, attentive to every trace and trail left by your fingers.

using your thumb, you gently swiped it over the delicate skin of his bottom lip, pulling it down to barely reveal the glimmer of his teeth. standing on your tip toes, you inched your face ever so slowly, so close to his until your noses touched, so focused into the depths of his eyes.

"what about these?" you whispered against his lips, hooking a finger under his waistband and releasing it with a snap.

lips parted, he stared deeply into your gaze, searching from one eye into the other with a hungry glimmer, making your heart beat quicker than ever before. the look he gave you at this very moment; you could simply collapse with the intensity of it.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your hips tightly against his. you knew damn well what you were doing as a low grunt escaped his throat, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth at the sensation. he couldn't handle one more passing second of this bone-crushing tension as he finally gave in, pressing his lips to yours so passionately hard.

"you're irresistible," he mumbled with a clenched jaw, crashing your lips back together like they were magnets. the kisses were deep and desperate, hungry for each other as you fumbled with the waistband of his shorts again, trying to undo the tedious knot of the strings as you both began stumbling into the room.

dropping his wet shorts to the floor, he kicked them out of the room as he slid the glass door closed with his foot, blindly walking backward. your hands on his chest as he cupped your face, messily kissing you.

as his heel reached the base of the bed, you lightly pushed him down so that he plopped down on the bed's edge. you stood in between his slightly spread legs, his lips level to your chest as he stared up at you with doe eyes; mouth parted as his bottom lip caught on the lace material of your bra, pulling you close.

this time a glint of lust crept into his large gaze; a certain glint you could read from a mile away. he needed you. all of you.

feather light, he skimmed his fingers down your now bare legs, the absence of your skirt intensifying the sensitivity of your skin.

small water droplets fell from the ends of your hair and dripped down onto his bare chest. you almost thought they would evaporate at the contact due to how hot his skin was growing against yours. he trailed his hands up your back, skimming the clasp of your bra, doing everything in his power not to just rip it right off of you.

cupping his jaw, you crashed your lips to his again and amidst a deep makeout, he undid the clasp of your bra, sensing its pressure release from your back until it hung lazily on your chest. he pulled back to observe it slide down your damp skin, gentle fingers helping the straps from your shoulders. he watched as your bare chest became revealed in front of his eyes.

a small, mischievous grin formed on his lips and you wondered what his next move could possibly be. he took your bra and put it on like a hat; cups atop his head, straps secured under his chin. he looked like the bear he was.

this reminded you of a nickname you used to call him: beomie bear. it used to even be his contact name for the longest time way back when you barely started dating. you smiled, recalling the ridiculously cute endearment that just fit him perfectly. you both laughed at his silliness.

"beomie bear" you giggled, pecking his lips as he gasped dramatically. he wore a huge grin on his face, pretty teeth shining brightly as his mouth fell open in surprise.

"you haven't called me that in years!" he kissed you back, chest filling with warmth at the special endearment of his name. hugging your waist, he pressed his cheek to your chest as you ruffled his damp hair, memories flooding back.

it took him back to the early months of your relationship; when you were still a bit shy with one another romantically, but also a pair of best friends who had dance parties in your dorm room at 2am while eating ramen and doing facemasks.

he remembered the exact moment you called him that name; it was when slid your fluffy bear headband over his (once) blonde hair to do his skincare one night in the bathroom of your dorm after movie night, kissing his face with how cute he looked. your voice rang through his memories; haha you look like a bear! my beomie bear. your smiling face replayed in his daydream, the elation of that moment returning to him.

that memory was a passing thought in your mind too, remembering how young and in love you had always been. if anything, your love had grown double, triple that. but he will always be your beomie bear, no matter how much you age together, the love you shared at 2am in that dorm room will always last.

pulling back, his eyes trailed down to admire your chest, teeth over his bottom lip as he smiled. the way the soft candlelight flickered on your damp skin; it was absolutely perfect in his eyes. dropping the makeshift bra hat, he moved his cool hands to palm each of your breasts. you sighed in response, a certain heat tickling your core as he placed a single kiss in between them.

he wanted to show you how much he loved you every day, and in these particular moments, he wanted to make you feel his love in every way possible.

his parted lips skimmed your chest, breath warming your skin before taking one of your buds into his mouth. he slowly swirled it with his tongue while gently squeezing the other, staring up at you with those eyes. the eyes you couldn't ever resist. the crash of thunder electrified your skin, rain drumming against the window like your heart against your chest.

your breathing grew heavier by the second, hands tangled into his hair as you hugged him close to your body, subtle whimpers escaping your mouth as you grew more and more desperate for him.

you angled his face up to yours with a finger on his chin, taking his full, bottom lip in between your teeth as you teased it. at this, he squeezed the plush of your hips, slowly tracing a path up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

slipping past the elastic, he slowly began exploring underneath your panties with two fingers. you shuddered as he reached your bundle of nerves, rubbing small circles onto it as you subtly moaned into his parted lips.

he hummed as he got to your core, tracing around your slippery arousal. "do you want me to start with one finger or two, my love?" he softly inquired, looking up at you through scrunched pieces of his bangs.

"i want all of you," you replied, wrapping your arms around his back to pull him even closer.

his gaze narrowed, a small smirk on his lips as he suddenly wrapped his arms below your hips. he picked you up swiftly; switching your positions and gently laid you down onto the bed. the sheets cooled your damp skin as he climbed on top of you, hooking his arms under your shoulders.

you could practically feel the fire inside him radiating through his skin, hot with passion and need. the fires inside of you just begged to be set aflame, joined together to create an even greater one. tonight your love was just that, the flames growing the more fuel was added to it; bodies pressed together tightly as you devoured one another's lips.

continuing his prior endeavor, he began trailing butterfly kisses down your neck, heat radiating from your body as he sucked several marks of his to decorate your pretty chest. his fingers against your skin felt as soft as the flower petals on the bed, inviting chills your body's surface with each trail he left.

"i forgot something," he slowly kissed you once more before getting up from the bed, his body heat escaping yours and quickly becoming replaced by the cold air conditioner. your eyes glued to him, you watched him excitedly run in his boxers over to the hotel door, unlocking it and slowly opening it.

"beomgyu what are you doing?" you sat up quickly in surprise, pulling the nearest pillow to cover your bare chest.

"i'm just placing the do-not-disturb sign on the door," he mischievously giggled, quickly shutting and locking the door once he was done. you threw the pillow at him as he tiptoed back to the bed, playfully rolling your eyes through a sigh of relief.

"you scared me, im half naked here!" you jokingly scolded him, followed by a choked laugh as he jumped back onto the bed, tackling you like his life depended on it. he drowned your neck in kisses again, laughing and squirming as he hugged you tightly, his hair tickling your skin.

mouths reuniting, you smiled against his soft lips, feeling his grin against yours. you couldn't help but feel both anxious and excited for the moments to come.

the mere thought of making love to your boyfriend always made you blush and kick your feet like it was the first. beomgyu just knew how to take care of you; emotionally, physically, mentally, sexually, all at once. he knew all the right spots, all the right things to say. he simply made your heart melt. in every way.

he always wanted to cherish your body and make sure you felt good; to him it was what you deserved and no less. and you two had grown a lot since you first began dating- not even able to take yourselves seriously at first due to insecurities and fear of judgment. but beomgyu always made you feel loved; he showed love to even your least favorite parts of yourself. he watered the seeds in your heart; helping you blossom and grow.

"you are heaven," his hot breath seeped into your ear, chills making themselves known on your skin. your stomach twisted as he kissed a trail down your neck, in between your breasts, and down to the most sensitive skin of your lower stomach; never once tearing his gaze from yours.

one thing about beomgyu was that he loved eye contact, especially during intimate moments. he loved the tension that built the longer you locked eyes, watching every little expression of yours, entranced by every shimmer in your eye.

he nipped at the lacy hem of your underwear, stopping before pulling them off; softly rubbing the wet patch of the fabric with his thumb.

"already so wet for me baby?" he cooed in the deepest of voices, looking up at you with his head innocently cocked to the side. you hummed in response, he knew what he was doing; god, how he turned you on. he teased you by skimming his lips over the dark spot before pulling them off as slowly as possible.

he watched like a starving man getting a full-course dinner feast revealed before him, observing the way strands of your wetness stretched as they clung to the fabric.

he looked up at you through dark strands of hair, wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull you even closer to him. he spread your legs open as he propped them onto each of his shoulders, getting a perfect view of your entirety. the chills on your skin intensified as you sensed his warm breath against your wetness, pulsating in need for his touch.

"you're my favorite snack," he sexily giggled against your thigh, pressing wet kisses all along the plush skin. he knew you loved it when he spoke in his satoori accent, especially during moments like these. he whispered dirty things into your skin, telling you every little thing he wanted to do to you. your breathing hitched, absolutely fawning over it all; his sensual voice had your heart doing flips, body aching for every bit of him.

he slowly lowered his mouth to your most sensitive area, your breath instantly shuddered at how amazing he felt. his chocolate hair tickled your inner thighs, adding to the pleasure. he loved the way his name left your lips with every flick of his tongue, eating you out deliciously; licking and sucking all the right places. it simply couldn't get any better.

you slightly propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look, only to find his eyes already on yours, glued to yours in pure seduction. you took in the beautiful sight that was his pretty face in between your legs, tongue flicking at what felt like a hundred miles an hour; your body beginning to twitch at how amazing it felt.

you quietly chuckled to yourself, realizing just how fast he could move his tongue. "hmm?" he hummed against your skin at the sound of your giggle, looking up at you quizzically; his lips glossy from your wetness. he wiped them clean, breathing heavily as sweat beads began to form on his skin.

"you know sometimes i think your mouth really is made of a motor," you giggled, looking down at him. he thew his head back, a deep laugh exiting.

"yeah? like this?" he lowered his mouth back down, lightly circling over your clit with his tongue before speeding up the pace again, leaving you speechless. your smile faded as he ate you out so lewdly, staring at you so intensely; nothing seemed funny anymore.

his boxers tented due to how painfully hard he was at the sight of you; your scent, your taste, the sounds you made, the way your pretty eyes gazed upon him. everything about you had him intoxicated with lust, drunk in love.

he licked two of his fingers, slowly sinking them into you while curling upwards just the way you needed it. this combination electrified your body with every stroke of his fingers and swirl of his tongue until your lower stomach began to tighten in pleasure, only intensifying with his pace.

"right there gyu, don't stop," you mumbled as coherently as you could, throwing your head back aggressively, overcome with pleasure. eyes sewn shut, the ticklish knot in your stomach tightened as he perfectly rubbed the spot inside you, flicking his tongue just right every single time. you began to grind against his fingers, arching your back as you climbed up the mountain of pleasure, sensing your climax approach at any time now.

he kept his pace when he felt you tighten around his fingers, watching in awe as your once tensed muscles released, your body spasming as pleasure rolled through you in waves. your chest rose and fell intensely as you caught your breath, legs collapsing to one side as you lay in complete stillness, only your forearms keeping you up as your head was completely thrown behind you.

he attended to you, quickly getting up to help lay you back onto the bed, supporting the back of your head as he gingerly lowered it to the cold sheets.

he lay propped onto his elbow as you recovered from your climax, nuzzling into him as you felt his weight next to you. he watched your face, observing the way your eyes were gently fluttered closed, a small smile on your lips; completely overtaken by the warm fuzz of pleasure. he was simply glad; that's all he wanted, was to make you feel good. he smiled.

floating in the clouds, weightless; your body like jello with how relaxed you felt. you lay there, lost in thought about what had just happened as your breathing slowly returned to normal. you thought about how good he is; just how amazing he is.

you thought about his face; full lips when they kiss you or draw up into a pretty smile. his dark eyes when candlelight flickers in them, like speckled marbles. the sound of his deep voice against your skin. you wanted him. you needed him. so bad.

heat pulsated between your legs at the thought of him inside you and his member was no secret as it nudged your thigh, wet spots on the plaid material of his boxers. without speaking, your bodies said it all.

you looked over at him as he was in the middle of gently tracing your collarbones with his fingertips. your heart ached for him; he was just so patient with you. in this moment, all you wanted was to satistfy him just as much as he did you, make him feel just as good.

without a word you gently grabbed his face and crashed your lips to his again, hungry; this time with all the more passion. he melted right in, the need for you prevalent in his mannerisms. he crawled over you, situating himself on top; a knee in between your crotch as you ground against it for some relief.

you helped his boxers off of him, throwing them far across the room like you did with every last article of clothing. with nothing between you now, his skin melted against yours like warm sand, running his fingers up your sides and into your hair as you lay beneath him.

his scent wafted into your nose with every of his movements, like warm cinnamon tea on a foggy morning; melting your brain with every inhale. you felt so warm and safe here, like you were in heaven. absolutely no worries or outside thoughts in mind, just beomgyu and this moment. this perfect moment.

he kissed and kissed you before gently grabbing both of your wrists, pinning them to either side of your head. the feeling of your arms exposed to the chilly air and out of your control had your stomach twisting and turning with desire, your skin burning for him.

"is this okay?" he softly asked against your lips, eyes starry and wide, filled with trillions of galaxies. it was almost funny how innocent he looked, yet how mischievous he was on the daily and how dirty he could be in bed. you loved it.

"more than okay," you whispered back, a certain intensity in your eyes left him mesmerized for a few moments, just wanting to stare for eternity. he smirked, burying his face into your neck so that his hair tickled your skin before kissing his way down to one of your breasts.

it was like he was tickling you and pleasuring you at the same time; you didn't know whether to moan or to laugh. a mixture of both came out, arching your back under his feathery touch. the deep bass of a song from your playlist seeped from his speaker; making the air thicker, hotter. he always made music sound better. he always made everything better.

wrapping your legs around his lower back to pull him closer, you began grinding yourself against the hardness that lay flush against his stomach. he teased you, beginning to thrust himself up against your wet folds, breathy moans escaping both of your mouths at how much you needed one another.

"beom- please," you whimpered against his lips, desperation prevalent in your eyes. he decided he had teased you enough, that he couldn't go any longer without being one with you.

nudging your legs further apart with his knees, he aligned himself with your entrance as he slowly entered you with his tip, nearly driving you crazy. he leaned down to kiss you, deepening the kiss as he deepened himself at an excruciatingly slow pace, eventually bottoming out inside of you with a subtle twitch.

"my god beomgyu," you sucked air through your teeth at his size, which you never quite got used to no matter how many times you had made love. the way he perfectly stretched you out simply left you speechless, needing every bit of him.

he always went slow so as not to hurt you, able to gauge when you were comfortable enough to go a little faster. his grip on your wrists slightly tightened as you fluttered around him, making it extra hard for him to control his pace. his breathing shuddered and he moaned into your lips, burying his head into your neck as he cursed at the sheer pleasure.

"fuck- you feel amazing" he groaned against your neck, slowly grinding his hips against yours, feeling every crevice inside you throb and flutter around him. you were the best feeling in the world.

both of your soft moans mixed with the patter of rain on the large glass windows of the hotel. only soft candlelight, fairy lights, and the city glow illuminated the room; casting your moving shadows onto the wall, along with the moonlight that peaked in through the curtains.

his dainty silver necklace tickled your neck as it dangled onto you, fingers intertwined tightly with his and still pinned over your head as you passionately made out. he thrust into you so sweetly, so perfectly you felt you could cry.

"you feel amazing too, gyu," was all you could say before your voice hitched and your eyes began to well. you don't know why you got so emotional all of a sudden; something about experiencing the utmost form of connection with the person you loved most had warm tears of happiness streaming down your cheeks.

his eyes were quick to fill with worry, searching quickly from eye to eye as he completely stopped thrusting into you.

"angel are you okay? what's wrong? did i do something?" his voice came out small and filled with worry, his fingers released yours and came up to wipe away the wetness on your face.

"yes gyu i'm okay," you laughed as the tears rolled out. "i just- i love you," you sniffled with a smile. he sighed of relief that you were okay, letting his forehead fall to yours. he softly chuckled after a moment, kissing the tip of your nose.

"i love you. more than you know," he whispered to you, staring into the depths of your eyes; to which you noticed were more shimmery than usual in the candlelight. he was tearing up too. your heart ached to see him cry, but crying during sex wasn't a complete rarity for the two of you. you felt better knowing they were happy tears rather than sad ones.

"is it okay if i continue?," he asked, his glossy eyes glittering in the candlelight as his lips curved into a small smile, a droplet hanging from the tip of his nose.

"please," you pleaded, wiping your face with the inner part of your arm. he began slowly moving in and out of you again, never once taking your eyes off of his. some of his tears dripped onto your face, making the both of you laugh. "oops," he smiled as he wiped them off with his thumb.

he got a frivolous idea: using his tongue to wipe your tears. you scoffed at him, scrunching your face at the feeling of his warm tongue tickling your cheek.

"mmm salty," he giggled, rays coming from that toothy grin of his that you so loved. you felt lost in the abyss of his eyes, just the two of you floating away in the space held in your hearts. a space that held only him and a space that held only you.

you noticed his smile slightly fade as his eyes searched yours, fingers finding their way to your hair.

"i remember the very first time i saw you. you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen. inside and out. and you always will be." another of his tears dripped onto your nose and slid down the crevices of your skin. he just stared at you, alternating from eye to eye, like he hadn't ever seen anything quite as fascinating as you.

"beomgyu you're gonna make me ugly cry," you chortled, eyes blurring and then spilling over. you reached up and gave him the tightest hug you could, feeling him bottom out inside of you and stay there, hugging you back even tighter.

these were the moments you realized you needed absolutely nothing else in life. just him. just him and you were the happiest girl on the entire planet. he's the center of your universe; there's nothing better on this planet than the love you share.

"i'm so glad i met you," your voice came out muffled in his warm shoulder, which you used to wipe off your wet nose. his back heaved as he exhaled, relaxing into the hug; pressing kisses to your jaw, then to your lips. both of your eyes and noses red and stuffy now, and you smiled in pure happiness as your teeth began to clash with one another's. "me too."

his tongue made its way to yours, kissing you so sweetly with little nibbles to your lip in between. he began to pick up his pace, deliciously grinding his hips against yours as he softly groaned against your lips.

the intensity of pleasure was a lot more amplified now; you don't know if it was because you had grown even more emotionally connected or if you were getting close to finishing again. but oh my, did he feel amazing.

you couldn't seem to quiet your whimpers as he thrust into you so deeply and steadily, wet sounds coming from in between your bodies. his hair clung to his forehead due to the condensation when you went to grab a handful of it, sweat dripping down his face and onto his neck. he hooked one of your legs with his arm, deepening his strokes inside of you.

"so fucking good," he panted against your lips as he pounded into you at a faster pace now, the bed beginning to creak with each of his thrusts. each time your name spewed from his lips, you felt your heart do a flip, absolutely weak at the way it rolled off of his tongue perfectly.

knowing that you made him feel so good only intensified your pleasure, feeling him throb and twitch inside you nearly had you at the edge again.

no matter how many different positions the two of you have tried over time, nothing could beat this one; your leg supported by his arm and bent over his shoulder as he rolled his hips against yours, hitting your g-spot just right with every thrust.

not only did it feel amazing, it granted you the ability to see every glimmer in his eyes and kiss him, feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, his weight pressed to you. you connected best, not only physically but emotionally.

you watched his face as he watched yours; his eyebrows knitted in pleasure, mouth agape and lips plump and red with how much you had kissed them. sweat beads dripped down his face and neck.

you simply couldn't put together the words that described beomgyu. you realized that the word beautiful was made to describe someone far simpler than him.

tasting the beads of salt pouring down his skin, you caught some that ran down to his lips as you sweetly kissed. his moans and grunts grew louder and more frequent, a telltale sign that we was right there, right at the edge. he dropped his forehead to yours, cold sweat sliding onto your skin from his, staring practically into your soul.

with one final deep thrust, he tightly shut his eyes and went completely over the edge, releasing his warmth inside of you. the sound of your name coherent through breathy moans and whimpers, sending chills up your spine.

although you hadn't yet finished, he sensed you were extremely close as he felt you tighten and flutter around him, slightly overstimulating himself with a few more thrusts to help push you over the edge as well.

your hips bucked and rolled against his as you came, his name escaping your lips lewdly as waves of pleasure carried you to cloud 9 once again, arching your back at the sheer pleasure.

he collapsed on top of you, both a huffing, sweaty mess; still twitching inside of you. euphoria coursed through your veins at the feeling of his body weight on you; both floating amongst the clouds, basking in the afterglow of pleasure as you recovered from your climaxes.

he buried his hands under your back, squeezing you into a tight hug. you stayed like this, feeling his heart strum through his chest and onto yours, sensing it slow with his breathing as he calmed down.

after a moment he brought his lips to yours in a soft kiss, tasting the saltiness of dried sweat and tears on his lips, not caring that you were both a total mess, hair completely plastered to wet foreheads. he gazed at you through smiling eyes, quietly giggling in joy, dawning over the amazing loved you shared. he propped his head in his elbow to gaze at you.

you just lay there for who knows how long, simply admiring one another, faces illuminated by candles reflecting from white bedsheets. lost in the flicker of the flame in his eyes, the warmth of his skin sept into yours as you traced the outline of his back. having memorized the map of each freckle and scar; taking in the utter beauty that was his existence.

you wondered how you lived before knowing him. because with him, colors shine brighter, music sounds better, life is happier. it is a life worth living a thousand times.

fog seeped from under the door of the rose-scattered, candlelit bathroom. scribbles of initials and small doodles of hearts and stars decorated the fog-stained glass doors of the shower.

it was an all glass, walk-in with water that fell like rain from a large square on the ceiling; by far the most luxurious shower you had ever used. man, had your boyfriend scored a great hotel for you both.

the two of you stood amidst the warm water, his back pressed to your chest as you shampooed his hair, taking note of how long it was getting as the silky strands fell through your fingers with the weight of soapy water.

he turned around to face you, a beard of bubbles on his chin. "what do you think?" earned a laugh from you, your giggles echoing throughout the spacious bathroom as you both goofed around like usual.

showering with beomgyu was as normal as breathing; you can't even remember the last time you showered alone.

your shower routine was different every time as it usually followed the flow of your emotions: sometimes it was more quiet, just observing one another through the clouds of steam, lost in gentle conversation about whatever it may be.

sometimes the room echoed with delirious noises as you doubled over with how hard you laughed, having to use the wall to keep you standing.

and sometimes your lips wouldn't come apart so much as to catch your breath as he lifted you up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his hips as your bodies did the talking.

but tonight, you were brimming with happiness as your playlist echoed from his speaker, mouthing the lyrics to him like you were the lead singer. he sang along with you, taking your hands in his and swinging them back and forth with the beat.

he watched you, completely enamored by the way your smiling face was illuminated by dim lighting, cheeks flushed with steam, the way your laugh echoed through the room. showering with you had always been one of his favorite parts of the day, it felt like your own little world where no other thoughts or people could enter. just you.

like always, you took turns washing one another. he rubbed soap onto your body with his hands, the feeling of your wet, bare skin entrancing him; using the excuse that he needed more soap as he poured a large amount into his hands, gliding them up and down your torso. you did the same, massaging his shoulders with the slick help of body wash, both addicted to the sensation of his skin and trying to loosen the ginormous knots he somehow carried in his muscles.

the clean scents of different soaps intermingled in the air to create one of your favorite scents in the world; the scent of washing off yet another day's adventure with your favorite person, freshening up just to start the day with him tomorrow to do it all over again.

you found yourself staring at him in absolute awe as he angled his head back under the shower head, time moving in what felt like slow motion as water drizzled down his bare skin; you could simply stare at him forever. he rubbed the water from his eyes, forehead exposed as his hair had been slicked back by the heavy stream. he stepped towards you, running fingers through it as some pieces fell messily on his forehead. it almost felt surreal that he was yours.

"i have some facemasks for us," he reached to turn the water off once you were all done rinsing off, grabbing you a towel from outside the glass door. your eyes lit up in excitement at the sound of these six words, the largest smile growing on your face. he wrapped the fresh linen around you like a burrito, giving you a big hug. the warmth he exuded transcended anything you had ever felt; like an eternal ray of sunshine right by your side. always.

after drying off, it was like the two of you were nineteen all over again. sitting on the bathroom counter wearing his oversized shirt and boxers, a laughing mess as he stood in front of you applying a face mask to your skin. his eyes met yours every few seconds, constantly drawn like two magnets; you could hardly keep a straight face with how close he leaned into you.

you closed your eyes in relaxation at the sensation of the mask's cooling texture, quickly interrupted as he tickled your nose with his pinky. you both doubled over in hushed laughter, trying your hardest to keep it quiet so not to disturb the neighbors as it was approaching 2 am. of course, your rowdy boyfriend wouldn't help with that.

your mind drifted to the last time you sat at this hotel's bathroom sink. it was when beomgyu had you bent over it a few nights ago before showering together; the room steamy as he gave it to you from behind, watching his face contort with pleasure in the reflection of the mirror, lip between his teeth.

the memory vividly came back to you, still fresh in your mind: he leaned in close so that his warm chest was pressed to your back. "you like watching me fuck you, huh pretty?" he breathed into your ear, eyes glued to yours through the foggy bathroom mirror. you simply melted at his dirty talk; he was just too good. all you could do was nod in response, whimpers for more filling the room with an echo. he looked at you a little longer in the mirror with before subtly smiling, pressing kisses down your back, slowing his thrusts into a more gentle, steady pace.

he had noticed you drift off into your daydream, waving a hand in front of your face to awaken you from the steamy memory. heat found its way to your face, looking at him with hazy eyes.

"i was just remembering the last time we...you know," you nudged him, a shy smile on your lips. which come to think of it, the two of you had made love almost every night since you had been on your trip.

you would come back to the hotel after a fun day and already be glued to one another as you entered the room; stumbling to the bed, his fingers intertwined in your hair and yours on his belt buckle. you simply couldn't get enough of each other.

"look at these photos i found from freshman year" drew you from your thoughts completely, paying mind to his phone screen as he scrolled far into his camera roll album of you, stopping on one that had you smiling from ear to ear.

it was a mirror picture the two of you had taken one of the nights you stayed up late, doing face masks in your dorm room; the night you gave him his adorable nickname. he made a silly face at you as you were in the middle of laughter, your arms around his waist.

you cooed at how adorable he looked with his blonde head of hair and soft, round facial features; you just wanted to pinch his cheek. he took note of how much you have changed since then too, and how you would always wear his green checkered, bear patterned cardigan like it was your own. you were still the same, beautiful person in his eyes; only now you had an obsession with his black and white plaid cardigan instead.

"let's recreate it," you looked up at him, who nodded excitedly in agreement. although it seemed like a small little memory, it still held both of your hearts like it was yesterday; a very special relationship was born from those delirious nights and you couldn't be more grateful for them.

he helped you off the counter as you got into the same position you stood in three years ago, hugging his waist he slung an arm around you, pulling you just as close as he wanted to that night; his nerves no longer in the way like how they once were.

you stared at one another in the mirror, cheeks burning with how much you smiled. just as he clicked the shutter, he made the same silly face, naturally coaxing a laugh from you, just like that night.

the rest of tonight was filled with memories that cradled your heart like a warm blanket; ones that made you fall so deeply in love, you could feel the warm glow of your heart radiating from deep within your chest.

and just like always in the dead of night, the two of you were in the most spontaneous, absolutely delirious mood. having a hotel room together only fueled this. you felt like you were in your own little movie; like you ran away to a new city and got new identities, finally free to do whatever you wanted without a care in the world.

a 3am vending machine run downstairs for ice cream and pocky left you out of breath, tip-toe racing one another down the hall; where trying your best to keep quiet was only part of the fun.

beomgyu brought his baby blue polaroid along with him, wanting to capture every memory he could. he took all kinds of candid photos of you; a few by the colorful vending machines, scratching your head as you struggled to pick an option. a hilarious one of your hoodie stuffed to the brim with all kinds of snacks that some might fall out; to which he took some blurry ones of you sprinting down the hall to pick up the ones that did fall out.

there were some selfies of the both of you once you had returned to the hotel room, capturing a stick of pocky in between the two of you as you raced to be the first to meet the other's lips. the polaroid camera was put down when he won, the taste of strawberry on his lips as he softly bit down on your bottom lip.

he took almost fifteen polaroids, you counted, as they lay spread out on the bedside table as some were still in the process of developing. you were excited to see how they would turn out, and add them to your polaroid album together.

he suddenly tackled you from behind, pulling you onto him and inviting you to a wrestling match on the bed, entangling your bodies in every way imaginable just to pin the other person down.

at 4am you lay silently under the rose-covered sheets and flickering fairy lights, entranced with the storm; pouring rain pelting against the large glass window. the way it was pushed and pulled violently by the wind outside made you feel even more cozy, laying on beomgyu's chest as he fiddled with your earring.

when the rest of the world sleeps, you both lie awake between the sheets and beneath the stars and that's how you spent every night together. your leg slung around his tummy as you both observed the blurry city, the subtle blue glow illuminating your faces.

you had always been infatuated with the red glow of the tokyo tower against the silver skyline, and now getting to see it in person made you want to lose sleep just to watch it glow. you took note as to how many small blinking lights flashed randomly on each building, matching with the lights of small cars in the distance.

after such a long day, you couldn't help but grow blanketed with sleep every passing second, fighting the urge of your eyes practically begging to close, just to watch the skyline a bit more, just to stay in this moment with him for as long as you could. that was when suddenly, you felt beomgyu's chest vibrate as he hummed a tune.

"you're the sun to the moon" he softly began to sing, immediately forgetting your sleepiness. every time he sang, it was like a gift to you

"you're my ocean painted blue," you faintly smiled, recognizing the song by lany as it was one of your favorites.

"you, i'm nothing without you." he concluded with a kiss to your head, followed by a large yawn. turning to look up at him, his eyes were gently shut, long eyelashes resting atop his cheekbones, just how he usually looked when he had fallen asleep.

with that voice he could be a famous singer. with that face, he could be a model. with that heart of gold, he could be a thousand more things. but it's not what he could be, it's what he is. in your eyes and in your heart, he is that famous singer. he is that model, he is yours.

you left a gentle kiss on his adams apple, finding your comfy spot on his chest again before replaying his honey voice in your mind again, drifting off into a gentle slumber. you hoped you would dream of him, like you did every night.

. . .

the scent of morning coffee reminded you of sophomore year of college, when you became the well-known couple at your university's coffee shop; as it wasn't a rare occasion that you pushed yourselves out of bed, groggily shuffling over to grab some coffee together before class.

you would ruffle his once blonde hair in line as you waited, heavy head on your shoulder as he yawned, the scent of coffee filling your nose. he would sip his iced americano sleepy eyed and you, a cup of sweet iced goodness as you walked to class, fingers interlaced.

you had only slept two hours, apparently, as the sun was now rising right before your eyes outside the large glass pane windows. you thought maybe you were just dreaming because of how unreal the sight was before you; a large, red orb peeking its bright eye over the city of tokyo.

"angel? oh good you're up," beomgyu pranced over to you with a cup of iced coffee, just the way you liked it. you barely pushed yourself up, head still extremely heavy with sleep. you would probably be annoyed if anyone else had woken you up this early, but because it was your boyfriend, you gladly fought the urge to fall back asleep.

"i thought we'd watch the sunrise," he plopped down on the bed, sitting criss-cross next to you with his own coffee in hand.

you happily nodded with half-closed eyes, not yet able to get out a coherent sentence as you were still practically asleep. you slowly sipped the cold goodness of your cup, feeling a bit more awake by the minute.

the sound of "train station in 10?" awoke you immediately, more than coffee ever could in that time span. he looked over at you expectantly, your eyes wide as you sat a disheveled mess in bed, wondering how the hell you would look decent in 10 minutes.

"make it 20, i know just the perfect place to take you," he kissed your cheek, jumping up from bed and running into the bathroom where he began playing music and getting ready for your next adventure.

the memory of getting dressed was just a blur of baggy jeans and white converse as you now stood on a moving train, head resting lazily on your boyfriend's all too familiar shoulder. eyes constantly glued to the hazy blend of warm colors ahead as the sun rose little by little. all you could do was wonder where this train was taking you, since beomgyu wouldn't tell you. not even one hint.

your only clue was that this time, the train traveled towards the city instead of away from it, reminding you of the last time when you went to the suburbs for the cherry blossom picnic.

"did you match with me on purpose?" his voice brought you from your thoughts as you looked him up and down curiously, snorting when you realized your outfits were pretty much identical to a tee.

he wore a loose, white button-up; rolled at the elbows and lazily stuffed into some light-wash baggy jeans, and a pair of white converse. this morning had been such a blur that you didn't even notice what you had thrown together, or what he had either, for that matter.

"now i am convinced we actually share brain cells," you collapsed your head back onto his shoulder as both laughed. but he thought it was the cutest thing ever; that he would be walking around with his mini-me all day through the streets of tokyo. he always felt proud to walk with you, no matter what.

breathtaken, you stood at what felt like the top of the world as you witnessed the entire city from this altitude, mount fuji clearly visible through some clouds miles away. the sun made it's glowing appearance between slivers of buildings, which from this high up, merely resembled scattered grey blocks beneath you.

beomgyu had brought you to tokyo skytree; the tallest building in japan, and the place at the top of your bucket list since you could remember. you pressed your forehead against the glass, admiring the way the city was still blanketed in subtle mist from last night's storm, orange rays of muted sunlight peaking through clouds that rested their fluffy heads on buildings.

it seemed most of the city was still asleep, as the only small crowds of people were those headed off to work. the hour of dawn wasn't one you were usually awake to see considering you were certainly a night owl. but right now, it felt otherworldly; somber, filled with pure peace and quiet as the sun bled into the sky. like time was frozen.

beomgyu stood next to you, hands pressed to the glass on either side of his face, looking down at his feet, past the glass underneath them; lost as he stood at what felt was the edge of the world. you walked your fingers along the glass and over to his, gently resting your hand on top of his.

no matter how beautiful the view was in front of you, your eyes always found their way back to each other's; cheeks squished to the glass as you admired one another. the most beautiful sight wasn't the sunrise or the buildings or the city you were in; it was him and you. together.

there was more in store for you than you thought, as you now perused the skytree aquarium hand in hand, fully awake now as colorful fish swam all around you.

the large fish tanks stretched from floor to ceiling, carrying some of the most exotic sea life you had ever witnessed; some cute and some scary, some big and some small. a tiny fish called your attention as it reminded you of him, the way its large eyes gazed at you innocently. he laughed, comparing you to the clownfish in the next tank.

the brightest turquoise glow lit the entire place, almost convincing you that you would never see another color again but blue. but of course, he looked just as handsome blanketed under the turquoise light that you would easily get used to it; eyes glimmering with the magic of curiosity and wonder, swiveling his head all around in awe at the fish that swam everywhere imaginable.

you parted ways between a large tank at the center, finding each other again through the opposite sides of the glass. he placed his hand on the tank, inviting yours to mirror his. although you were thousands of miles from home in a foreign city where you knew absolutely no one. the glowing face on the other side of the glass, that was all you needed to feel right at home.

he motioned you over to a tank that caught his eye, reuniting with the interlacing of your fingers. "actually you remind me of a jellyfish," he pointed at the glowing creatures that floated in the water, gliding gently with one another. you pondered the idea, maybe he had good reason.

"they're graceful and elegant, just look at this one," he pointed at one that was a slightly different shade of violet than the others, a look of determination on his face as he described all of its attributes and how they reminded him of you.

"i think jellyfish are the most beautiful, that's why it reminds me of you." you looked up at him with a warm smile, his eyes still fixated on the glowing tank, then down to meet yours with an affirming nod.

"and also the clownfish because you're a clow- ouch!" you playfully slapped his arm as he rubbed it exaggeratedly, letting out a goofy laugh at his own joke. you rolled your eyes, not able to stay serious "if anyone resembles a clownfish here it's you!" you scoffed at him jokingly, laughing at his side eye.

he reclined on one of the tanks with his shoulder, observing the tank of clownfish and jellyfish. "i think if you were a jellyfish and i was a clownfish in this aquarium, i would swim up to the jellyfish tank every day just to watch the slightly violet one. i think in any universe, i would fall in love with you," he rested his head on the glass, looking down at you fondly.

you squeezed his hand gently in yours, loving every part of his imagination. he often liked to make up little (usually cheesy) stories about you and him in other universes and you loved every single one; today was the story of the clownfish and the jellyfish. what he didn't know was that you wrote them down in a secret journal, to hopefully retell them to him one day. the mere thought warmed your heart.

just as you were standing on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek, you noticed a familiar group of teenagers over his shoulder. it was someone familiar that caught your eye: a tall, serious looking black-haired boy with a middle part. he stood with two other girls and two other guys. it's them.

"oh my god beomgyu don't turn around," you stood in shock at the sight of the group, gaining memory of the poor boy's horrified face when you gave them the shrimp and ran away that one night at 3 am in shibuya.

"i think it's the same group we gave the shrimp to," you whispered into his ear with a cupped hand, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"the riki guy we jump-scared and then ran away?" beomgyu looked at you in half disbelief, cupping his mouth in hushed laughter. "yes him!" you whisper yelled in all seriousness, tugging at his arm in fear they would see you at any moment.

he carefully walked ahead of you, holding your hand tightly as he brought you behind one of the tall flounder tanks. putting his hands on your shoulders, he looked seriously into your eyes to devise a plan. "okay, we're going to make a run for it." to which you furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

"what?! beomgyu we can't just keep running away from them. they don't even know we're here." no response. pressing his back to the tank, he peaked his head around the glass like he was detective sherlock holmes on a top secret mission. once the coast was clear, he eyed you. "three...two," he began to count down and you readied yourself for the inevitable.

"wait!" he halted you with an arm, his whisper yell almost a little too loud. just before he could reach one, you both saw the shadow of the group's silhouettes project through the blue light of the tank. your first instinct was to duck, so you pulled him down with you.

the group now stood right around the corner from you, your heart racing at the thought of an awkward encounter. who knows how the riki guy would react at the sight of you two after what you did to him.

"let's just stealth it out," you whispered to him, checking behind the other side of the tank to find the coast was clear. "now!" you pulled beomgyu's arm but he wouldn't budge.

"how?" he asked. to which you began replying "we just tip toe quietly and not make a big dea-" but he cut you off.

"how you look so cute even when you're all serious?" he looked at you expectantly and you couldn't help but grin. even in the midst of the most serious of situations, he still made you loosen up and laugh, reminding you that nothing bad would happen when you were by his side.

you took a deep breath, realizing the situation wasn't as serious as you pictured it. so you stood up, bringing him up with you, and turned the corner; simply walking away like a normal couple, unseen by the group. you sighed in relief.

"hey!" a familiar voice of the boy called from behind you, your breath instantly catching in your throat. it could not be...

"oh. shit." you and beomgyu both looked at one another wide-eyed, both thinking the exact same thing RUN!

you completely booked it, running like your lives were on the line, butterflies fluttering through your stomach at the sheer thrill. he squeezed your hand so tight that it made your fingers white, and couldn't help but feel laughter bubble up in your chest at the whole situation.

"wait! the shrimp was good!" was all the raven-haired boy could say before the two of you disappeared around the corner, gone with a cloud of dust behind your heels.

but you didn't hear him with how focused you two were on getting out of there. people wondered what the hell was going on, probably just two unruly kids making a scene. and why are they wearing the exact same outfit? the whole thing was a comical disaster; definitely a memory you would look back and laugh at in the future.

a huffing mess, you finally stood outside the building, hands on your knees as you took a breather, "i can't believe we did that again," he laced his hand with yours as you continued walking further from the aquarium, just in case.

you shook your head, heart still pounding as you laughed it off. the damp wind felt refreshing as it blew on your face, taking it in as it tousled your hair in different directions.

"you know, you never answered my question," he looked over at you with a furrowed brow. "how?"

you remembered his prior question, not exactly knowing how to answer. you shook your head and looked down at your shoes with a soft smile.

he slung his arm around your neck and pulled you close as you walked down a docile street, your head falling to his shoulder.

"i know how. because you're the most perfect girl in the world," he kissed the side of you head as your hearts carried you wherever they desired to next.

. . .

cherry blossoms; the flower that symbolizes life and new beginnings, the beautiful, fleeting nature of existence. its pink haze decorated the ground on which you stood, locking eyes with the familiar, beautiful doe gaze you so loved.

his mouth fell open, absolutely speechless; feeling his heart strum against his chest at the sight of you walk along the path of flowers. you were so unbelievably beautiful to him, the way the setting sun bathed you in a golden glow as you walked; like an angel descended from heaven in his eyes. the air had escaped his lungs at the sight of you in your flowy dress, white as snow.

you felt your heart drum against your chest as you continued your gait to the arbour where he awaited; cherry blossom branches curved into a heart archway behind him. vigilant eyes observed as you carefully walked, but the only pair that ever mattered were his.

the pink and white flower glimmered from the dainty ring you watched the love of your life slide onto your left ring finger. a large grin decorating your lips as you faced one another, hand in hand. he stood there; jaw-droppingly handsome in an all-black suit, hair hugging the nape of his neck, grown out the longest it'd ever been.

the sun and the moon were both visible in the cloud-feathered sky, calling your attention just for a moment. the most beautiful day you had ever lived to see; everything about it radiated absolute heaven.

you may now kiss the bride were the six words that made you tear up more than you thought they would, your glittering eyes becoming visible under your veil as he lifted it up, revealing utmost beauty on both ends.

he held your jaw with gentle fingers, searching your eyes with his; tender-eyed, beautifully vulnerable. a gaze you thought was a portal to outer space, catching a glimpse of your future in an eternity of stars and galaxies. the countless kisses and embraces you would share for a life time.

a single blossom fluttered from the lush, swaying trees above and landed soft as a butterfly on his nose, drawing a sweet smile to your lips. a warm memory bloomed in your chest, remembering the soft petals between your finger as you picked it off of his nose several years ago at this exact spot.

you neared your faces in what felt like slow motion, slowly locking lips with the familiar plush comfort of home. he kissed you strong and deep, able to feel the bright energy radiating from him as he deepened his lips on yours. at the moment you closed your eyes, you heard the claps and cheers of the crowd.

an overwhelming rush of happiness welled in your eyes, heart pounding with the sparkle of elation, you just wanted to jump for joy. if you weren't in a public setting, you would probably break down crying because of how happy you were.

the two of you walked down the isle hand in hand, wearing the brightest smiles one could wear as cheers and kind eyes from familiar faces greeted you. four of beomgyu's college friends waved at you from their seats, snapping tons of pictures as if you were two celebrities walking the red carpet.

you caught the gaze of beomgyu's mom, her kind eyes as she happily nodded towards you, mouthing the words beautiful; to which you were beyond flattered and returned a rosy smile.

it was a small, outdoor venue, only joined by close friends and immediate family as the two of you decided to return to japan for your wedding. yoyogi park; the very same place you had your cherry blossom picnic several years ago when you vacationed here.

no matter how many years had passed since then, tokyo had always called your hearts back. the happiness and love you shared here was something so special, memories like no other place you had visited. it only felt right to return and live it once more. or perhaps, forevermore.

"never thought miss straight a's would end up marrying the class clown," one of beomgyu's college friends yeonjun came over once food and drinks were served at the reception, flashing you a warm smile before jokingly punching beomgyu on the shoulder.

"congratulations man," they shared a laugh and hugged, their conversation muted about the music as you observed beomgyu's gestures; he was beyond elated, eyes animated and sparkling as he spoke, face bright and shining with laughter with his head thrown back. your heart jolted; everything about his smile, his laugh, his everything. you couldn't help but fall in love all over again; watching him from a distance like he was a man you could only dream of being with, let alone marrying.

it really felt surreal; that you were able call your boyfriend your fiancé, and now your husband. it would take some getting used to, of course, since you couldn't help but get red in the face every time you even thought of him as your husband.

"congratulations mrs. choi," the black-haired man bowed to you after he had finished talking to beomgyu, and you returned the bow with a grateful smile, being sure to thank him for coming.

mrs. choi

you felt you could power a city with the pure jubilation that radiated in your heart at the sound of those words. this is going to take some getting used to.

fairy lights sparkled in the soft wind, a thin gust fluttering the polaroids pinned with tiny clothespins to the string lights that hung above the quaint, wooden dance floor.

it was your idea to hang some of your polaroids up at your wedding; strung from fairy lights on cherry trees around the venue. out of the hundreds you'd taken over the years, you selected your mutually favorite ones. he looked up at them, giggling every five seconds as a new one caught his eye. he loved it.

"look at that one!" he pointed up at the polaroids as he held you in your arms while slowly swaying to the music of the live band, others dancing around you.

he pointed to the polaroid you took of him standing in his plaid pajamas pants in line at your university's coffee shop, which was hung next to one of him standing at the vending machine at your old hotel, wearing the same pants. and next to that one a selfie of the two of you, the tokyo tower glowing red and white in the background. you could look at old pictures with him forever, just dawning over all the great memories.

"you're so thoughtful. i love this," he lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes wrinkling into a warm smile. "i love you," you responded, only widening his smile. his eyes lingered on yours a bit longer before darting over to the band and then to yours again, squeezing your hand.

"i have a present for you," he muttered after a few seconds of silence, the live band now silent. you noticed only a few notes of the guitar playing repeatedly, a new melody you have yet to hear in an existing song.

"this is a song called nap of a star, i wrote it for you," he smiled, gentle fingers coming up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. recalling his faint hum in the back of your mind from that rainy night. his promise.

and so he began.

I can see even if you're not by my side I feel you even if you don't say a word..

he sang just loud enough for only you to hear, the rest of the guests kindly observing your slow dance from afar, some teary-eyed.

the guitar melody sounded beautiful, one he crafted the late nights he stayed up in the little at-home studio he had built in your apartment together. nights you would often sit across from him, watching candlelight flicker from the reflection of his guitar as he lulled you with the depths of his voice.

I want to be your nap so I can dream with you no matter when.. As if nothing had happened..

beomgyu had gained more confidence with singing over the years, gaining enough to sing in a public space, even if no one could really hear him. all that mattered was that you did. you swayed with him as he held your waist, pressed flush against one another, his thumbs soft over the lace of your dress.

On a sunset evening, even in the night when the sky is dark.. My heart is full of you.

the full moon gleamed overhead as he sang to you, casting your swaying shadows across the wooden platform in pale light. you couldn't once tear your gaze from his eyes. both slighly teary-eyed as he sang everything he felt for you, putting it all into a song you never wanted to end. you just wanted to stay here forever.

all you yearned to see were the depths of his eyes where you found the promise of eternity. his lips where you found the promise of pure joy and lifelong kisses. his hands where you found never-ending warmth and comfort. that was all you wanted. all you needed, endlessly. you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

you could hardly see beomgyu over the tall, paper lantern that flickered between the two of you. that was, until he peeked over its brim, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"ready?" you asked him through a small giggle. only your nose and eyes visible over the lantern's bright glow. he tickled your fingers with the gentle brush of his.

"three...two..." you counted down, looking over at him in anticipation as you each held onto an end, watching the flame dance in his dark eyes.

at "one," you released the lantern together, watching it float weightlessly up into the night sky, carrying the promises and wishes you held in your hearts; ones of lifelong unity and happiness, which you knew were wishes that had already come true long ago.

other guests released their lanterns into the dark sky as well, watching them slowly accumulate in the sky like fireflies. beomgyu's four friends released theirs together as you heard their excited laughs echo behind you. you smiled, content that everyone was having a good time.

he held you, wrapping both of his arms around your waist as you watched your lantern become smaller and smaller in the speckled sky. looking up at the moon reminded him that this night would be completely dark without it. similar to how his life wouldn't be as bright without you in it. you and the moon; always there to brighten the darkness.

your head fell to his shoulder, simply breathing with him. you thought about your future together; about what it would be like to maybe move here one day. maybe open up a coffee shop or a cute little library and after many years, grow to be the cutest elderly couple in town. always by his side.

you looked up at him from his warm shoulder, his eyes reflecting the sky, you almost couldn't tell the difference between the stars in the night sky and the stars in his eyes.

no one sees his beauty quite like you do. the way his brown eyes catch the sun rays at sunset and turn gold at dusk, but also reflect the night sky like a mirror. his soft touch; the way his fingers gently graze upon your skin like a feather. the way his cheeks pull upward when there's an oncoming smile, revealing rays from his toothy grin. his thick, soft voice; the way it sings you to sleep or whispers that he loves you.

he looked down at you, the way your hair- like silk as it fell weightlessly over your ear, waiting to be tucked back into place by his fingers. like his fingers were made for you, made for that strand of hair. and they are. and the strand of your hair, falling perfectly, was made for him as well.

you were made for him. and he was made for you.

and so you watched the last bit of the lantern, like a speck now in the sky, disappear into oblivion. you both wondered where it went, deep in conversation about the possibilities. did it just disintegrate or will it survive beyond space? where there are billions of stars with dozens of planets. where there are a trillion comets, supernova explosions and new planets being formed. where there might be other life, but you're not sure. but there is one thing you both know for sure.

there is nothing in the universe

like you.

the end:)

a/n: alas, it's here! if you are reading this, thank you so so much for being patient with me, and with this sequel. this past year has been a rollercoaster, but the whole time i had this fic in mind and always wanted to finish it <3 thank you for all the love on tokyo and i really hope you enjoyed this one! i love you all, please know you are amazing, worth it, and so loved :)

more fics coming soon!! <3

©beomie3

tags: @enhasengene @soobsfairy444 @xiaoting999 @londonchuu @rpkth @dainsleif-when-playable @tatanbin @croissant-san @younglingslayer69 @readingmochi @bangtanattic

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xtrashmammalstefx · 2 months

Text

Chaos Monster & Her English Gent (A Callum Turner x Reader Smut)

Warnings: Smut, language, kiddos under 18 do not interact!

Notes: When I said I've become a total slut for this man and his bf Austin I wasn't fucking around. Lemme know if y'all want an Austin smut/sequel because I totes have some ideas I think you'll like.

Looking back I don’t think any of us expected this to happened. I certainly didn’t and I was the one who had the most to lose if things had gone sour rather than go the way they did.

I’m getting ahead of myself though so I’ll just start where this whole mess began: the first time I visited Austin on the Masters of the Air set. I’d sneaked up behind Austin, my best friend for life and possibly longer, as he was talking to a rather handsome man with the most unimaginably contagious smile. I put my finger to my lips once he’d seen me and jumped onto Austin’s back. “’Sup Elvis!”

“PRISCILLA?! FUCK!” Austin turned and scooped me up. “YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA ME BABE!”

I laughed and squeezed him back. “Well that’s what you get for taking for fucking ever to return my texts you ass!”

“Sorry ‘bout that sweetheart but duty called a hell lot more than I thought it would,” he said once I was back on the ground. “Oh,” he turned back to the smiling man. “By the way, Callum this is my best girl, Y/N, Y/N this is my new best friend Callum.”

“Nice to meet you my handsome replacement,” I said.

Callum smiled nearly bringing out a giggle from deep inside me. Fuck, he is good. “Pleasure’s all mine love, and I am definitely not replacing you. You’re more beautiful than I will ever be.”

Struck dumb by his buttery smooth British accent and killer icebreaker I turned to Austin. “He is a hell of a keeper.”

“Yeah I think so too,” Austin laughed. “So how long are you staying?”

“I’ve taken a week off work so I’m gonna be yours until about Sunday,” I said.

“Oh sweet. Can’t wait to show you off to the rest of the boys, they’re gonna love you,” Austin said as we started towards a couple other guys in period attire.

“Only until they get to know me,” I said. “Let’s see how they react once they see the true chaos monster you know and love.”

“Well, this is gonna be a right interesting week,” Callum said walking on the other side of me.

Of course he wasn’t wrong about that. The next few days were filled with me and Austin being a chaotic duo in front of his cast mates who were also quite chaotic themselves. I’m not sure how or when it started happening but whenever Austin was away either in costume or make-up, Callum and I started to talk. Barry would sometimes be there but most of the time it was just us.

“I’m really gonna miss having you around,” Callum said two days before I was due to leave. We were in his trailer. Austin was busy talking with his manager so I figured I’d bug Callum for a bit. He was changing out of his costume and into civilian wear while I hung out in his make up chair.

“You act as if you don’t have my number and social medias,” I said. “I’m heading home, not dying.”

“Well, talking with you on a phone or in DM’s isn’t exactly the same as having you here,” Callum continued.

“What can you possibly say that can’t be said over the phone?”

“It’s not what I wish to say but rather what I wish to do that can’t be done over a phone call,” he said starting towards me wearing nothing but his boxer briefs which left little to nothing to the imagination.

“And what exactly is it that you wish to do good sir?”

He smirked and started leaning down. “This,” his lips connected with mine. His plump lips were soft and warm as he kissed me. It wasn’t enough to send me off the edge and before I knew it I had my arms around him letting him carry me to the small couch. Once there he pulled back and brought his lips down to my neck. As he left what I was sure was gonna be a massive hickey I reached down and started palming him through his underwear. He groaned at the feeling, his body trembling on top of mine.

“I’m a bit overdressed don’t you think?” I breathed. He smiled and sat up. I reached down and lifted my shirt over my head. He took it from me and tossed it to the side before reaching for the zipper and button on my pants. Not even a minute later I was fully bare in front of him.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered pecking me on the mouth. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” As he started to kiss me again I nudged at his briefs, doing my best to get them off. Callum got the hint though and pulled them off tossing them with my clothes. I think he could see how big my eyes got at the sight of him for he chuckled softly and said, “Like what you see, darling?”

I had no idea how to answer. If I’d though he was big when flaccid it was nothing compared to how endowed he was when he was hard.

I looked from his crotch up to his face as he continued to look at me quizzically with that smile that didn’t seem to go away. “C’mere,” I said moving from the couch to the floor beside it. He laid himself on top of me sending a shiver through me as his dick brushed my folds, ghosting my entrance. He reached down, gave himself a tug and placed himself there.

“Okay, love?” he asked. I nodded and just like that he was inside me. I clung to him as my body got use to the stretch. Callum cussed a rainbow of curse words in my ear as I enveloped him. His thrusting began soon after.

Turns out Callum is a gentleman in every sense of the word. He kept his movements slow at first, not daring to go faster or harder without my say so. Once the stinging subsided I brought my mouth to his, kissing him harder before telling him, “Harder… I need you to go harder.” With that he picked up the pace, almost slamming completely into me. “FUCK!”

“You’re taking me so well darling, fuck!!” He took me into his arms and slowly lifted me up, still thrusting into me. I held onto him moving up and down as he sat back. I rode him like that for a while until he lied completely back, putting me in charge for a bit.

As I moved my body conscious of the fact that I could see a small bump pulsating in my lower stomach, Callum reached down and started rubbing me with his long fingers. I bit back a scream at the feeling but let him keep playing with clit. It made me feel alive in a way I couldn’t put into words and before I knew it I was riding him like my life depended on it.

We continued like that until I began to feel the pressure build up inside me. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“It’s alright, darling, just...just let go on my cock,” he said grabbing my ass and slamming me harder on his length. The pressure continued to grow more intense, until finally I was screaming and tightening around him. As I remained clamped down on his length Callum wrapped his arms around me and flipped us back over so that he was on top.

He continued to thrust as I came down from the most mind boggling orgasm of my life. I was still seeing stars when Callum’s thrusts became sloppy. Suddenly the gentle boy I’d been falling for became beastly, almost roaring as he twitched inside me, filling me up until there wasn’t a single drop left in him.

My body was still shaking, my cunt throbbing, as he pulled out and collapsed beside me.

“That was… incredible...magical even…”

“It was the best damn shag of my life,” Callum said breathless making me giggle. I turned my body to face him and cringed at the soreness between my legs. “You alright love?”

“Mentally and emotionally speaking I’m fucking great,” I said. “Physically speaking...fuck… Callum, I love you with every fiber of my being and will gladly do this again and again with you but god damn I think you just about broke me in half.”

He laughed at that and kissed my now swollen lips. “So, you agree then? To be my girlfriend I mean.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m pretty sure I’m more than that. I mean, I did just say I love you, and lord knows those are words I don’t say to just anybody.”

“Just to the lad who shags your brains out?” I slapped him playfully on his chest. “Only joking darling. I love you too, and I don’t say those words to just anybody either.”

“Just to the girl that rode you and milked you for every last drop of cum in your body?”

“Actually, I believe I just said them to the girl I want to marry.”

“Quite the fast one aren’t you?”

“Only when I know deep down in my bloody heart and bones that I don’t want to do this with anyone else,” he said.

“Alright, but there’s something we gotta do first… Something pretty damn risky.” He looked at me questioningly.

“And that is?”

I looked up and smiled nervously. “We gotta tell Austin.”

“OH FUCK!”

#callum turner #smut #callum turner x reader #austin butler

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krypticcafe · 1 year

Note

Can you do a part 2 of the platonic reader and the 141+Alejandro where reader gets kidnapped and comes back? I love your writing!

No One Can Hurt You

Sequel to As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x task force 141 + alejandro + rodolfo

warning(s): language, canon-typical violence, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, mild gore descriptions for a hot second, implied ghost zapping a guy's balls, reader is lowkey traumatized, comfort, no use of y/n, no beta read, possible ooc?

a/n: I did NOT expect to get such an overwhelmingly positive response on the first part?? I was worried that the writing felt bland, but you guys seemed to love it, so here's the highly demanded part two!

synopsis: the 141 and Los Vaqueros weren't going to stand for what happened to you. No one would.

alternative title— fuck around and find out

"We found the guys your sources claimed to be the men that were there, Captain. But they're refusing to say anything to us. Honestly, it looks like they're just another pair of lackeys." Gaz was speaking over comms with Price after locating a suspect with Roach. The two had found the pair in a dingy old building, a safehouse conveniently placed far from heavily populated civilian areas.

"Should we-"

He was cut off by a series of loud thuds and glass crashing, immediately grabbing his handgun and running into the room where Roach was keeping an eye on their suspects.

Roach had one of the men pinned to the ground, repeatedly decking him in the face whilst letting out frustrated yells and broken cries. Blood splattered across the floor and on his visor, but he could've cared less, it wasn't his anyways.

"Roach, get off of him, that's enough!" Gaz practically had to tear his teammate away from the man with how Roach flailed, grunting and clawing at Gaz's arms to let him go. "Roach, we can't do anything if you bloody kill them!"

Pushing off Gaz, Roach seethed with pained eyes, nearly tearing up out of sheer frustration. "He's hiding something, I know he is! That sadistic fuck started bragging about what they did to the sergeant and- and the smug shit look he had! These are the guys, but they're not telling us everything!"

He knew it was a terrible excuse, but his own gut feelings about reading people's expressions had never proved him wrong before, not when he had an eye for reading people through their body language. Gaz hesitated. He understood why Roach lashed out and didn't blame him for losing his temper, hell, he rarely did, and Gaz would've done the same in all honesty. You meant as much to him as you did to Roach. They were the first friends you made when joining the 141, the ones who helped acclimate you to the team, and the ones who trained under Price alongside you like you were their sibling. But it didn't help that they nearly broke protocol, which would've compromised the mission and made your sacrifice and suffering for nothing.

Looking down at the unconscious yet still-breathing man, Gaz then noticed how the blood pooled around him. It seemed to stop spreading at some point in the floorboards and spilled into an unusually large crack in the wood that looked suspiciously intentional.

"Roach, take the other one and call for exfil but don't tell them to leave just yet." Once his partner left, Gaz kneeled down to the floor and knocked on the wood. It was hollow.

Seems they would definitely need them alive now more than ever.

"I don't know who supplies us, I just work for them! Just ask-" The man let out a cry as Soap held his shoulder, digging his fingers into it and balling his other hand into a fist before landing a solid punch into his gut. A moment passed he choked on air, the wind knocked from him, his mouth painfully dry except for the tears that dripped from his eyes.

"Tell us who you work for or things are about to get real nasty for you like they did for your friend."

"You're in it if you think I'm gonna say shit! The 141 is just a freak show, ain't it? Bunch of you cowards hiding behind stupid callsigns, what the fuck kind of name is—" That earned him another beating. He wailed, writhing in pain against the tight restraints, but ultimately wasting his energy. He only stopped when he heard screams and crackles of what was undoubtedly electricity coming from behind one of the walls of the room.

"So you do know," Soap growled, beating him once more and backing up when he retched from pain. Blood dripped from Soap's knuckles, to which he scowled in disgust and irritation, his accent growing thick, "No, you just had to make things a fuckin' mess, dinnae you?"

Normally, it was Ghost who took care of interrogations, at least the more painful parts of it. But Soap needed to let out his anger in a useful way, he needed to hear the sickening crunch of ribs so that he could remind himself of what you went through and erase any sliver of doubt or sympathy in his mind for the enemy. Every splatter of blood that'd spill when he'd throw a fist across the guy's face was just another testament to how much he despised what happened and how desperately he needed to let it all out.

The man, in his bleary-eyed haze, made out another figure that entered the room. It was Ghost, with a box of electrical clamps in hand. "What is he doing here?"

Soap and Ghost made a silent exchange of words, nodding to one another in confirmation and speaking purely through eye contact. It only created more fear when Soap left the room and the man was all alone with the lieutenant.

"Hey hey hey where are you going you can't leave me with him! I did what I had to do, it's not my fault your friend was collateral—" The man choked on his words when Ghost pulled out two clamps and tested them, both emitting a spark and loud crackles that echoed off the walls. "—fuck! Oh god, no no no—what the fuck are you gonna use that for?!"

The lieutenant was a different situation. Sure, he wanted nothing more than to dig his hands into the man's open wounds, curl his fingers until flesh separated from bone, make them feel just exactly how much they got 'under his skin'. He wanted to hear the satisfying pop! of bones and cartilage. He wanted them to writhe like worms on a scalding sidewalk, pathetic and left for dead. But that wasn't enough, they didn't deserve the time, the effort, nor did they deserve the pleasure of a quick death. No, he needed to make them suffer.

Ghost brought one clamp up to the man's crotch with one hand and held a rusty knife with the other, lowering himself to look directly at his target. It was at that moment the man came to the realization that he wasn't captured, no, he fucked around, pulling off the stubborn shit act until they'd inevitably grow bored of him and move on, maybe put him out of his misery if he was lucky enough. But there was no moving on, there was no luck in this ring of hell. No, not with what had already been done and what couldn't be taken back even if he begged. The 141 was revered for their soldiers and their work, but it was a myth all at the same time. They were said to be efficient and ruthless, better to surrender to than to suffer at the hands of. Since they were off the books, it was a mystery as to what lengths they would go to, just how far they would push the limits.

He had fucked around, and now he'd find out.

They locked eyes, one pair filled with fear, the other devoid of any emotion. There wasn't the sympathy the man prayed for, nor the anger or violence of Soap, not even a hint of mercy or hatred. It was so empty of feeling that it almost felt dismissive, as if the man wasn't a human held hostage but an object, a book to be torn open for answers, then tossed aside. If Soap had been his judge and jury, then Ghost would surely be his executioner. He felt small, insignificant, and hopeless under the gaze as the man he truly believed was death incarnate responded to his question.

"Last. Chance."

One by one, Price and his crew had cleared the facility, evacuating workers and eliminating guards and cartel. After bringing their "guest informants" to the brink of delirium, wrenching them like wet towels to get every drop of info. Along with the intel Gaz gathered from a hidden basement where hard drives of transactions were being kept, they found the main supplier and other bases. If they took down the heart of the operation, it would cause a domino effect, shutting things down to a point where the Los Vaqueros would be able to handle them on their own. With every bullet shot, they were closer to their goal and closer to making up for what they considered a personal failure to protect one of their own and many more.

Maybe it was crazy that their primary motivation beyond recovering the drugs was to seek justice for a single soldier. But it was to prove a point. To prove that they weren't just a team of highly skilled and trained soldiers, to prove that they were a force to be reckoned with, and to prove that you were no less valuable of a member than the others, all of whom would lay their lives on the line for one another. After all,

The 141 was not to be messed with.

Making his way through the rooms and getting closer to the center of it all, Price was interrupted when a door to his side busted open from a man toppling back into it, falling to the ground. He tried to scramble back, a boot quickly stomping onto his chest. Alejandro towered before him, pressing a rifle to his head, growling in Spanish, "Where is your leader?"

The man responded, and without hesitation, the colonel gave him a quick and painless death for his obedience. Looking up, Alejandro nodded in acknowledgment at Price, "I'm not the only one that owes your sergeant, they protected my men, and I owed them a favor even before that."

That caused Price to chuckle, even despite their current circumstances. There was no denying how much of an unnecessarily reckless saint you could be with those you worked with. "I suppose you got a location from that poor bastard?"

"Yes. Have our teams regroup, it's going to be a long night for us all, my friend. But it's worth the trouble for Las Almas and the kid, no?"

"Yes, indeed." Price hummed, the two making their way out and on to finally settle the score.

You woke up blinded by a bright light, briefly contemplating if you were dead and if heaven was actually real all along. But after some time passed, your eyes adjusted to the all-too-familiar setting of the infirmary with its barren walls and sickly sanitized scent. With a groan, you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows until a hand gently pressed you back. Puzzled by the motion, you rubbed your eyes and found your captain looking back at you.

"Easy there, soldier." Price cautioned, and you kept your eyes on him as you laid back down. He had a small smile on his lips, but the way he looked at you signified that he was still concerned for your state, "You alright? Need the nurse or anything?"

"No," You shook your head, wincing at how hoarse your throat was. Price laughed softly and handed you a cup of water he had prepared at the side of your bed, and you started to wonder if he had always kept one there for you and if he even regularly changed it for you. You wouldn't put it past him to, the ol' sap.

Gulping the cool liquid down heartily, you took a few breaths before continuing, "How- how long was I out?"

"About a few days, no longer than a week." He shrugged, your eyes widening in response, "Cut yourself some slack. When you came back, you were bleeding out all over base and in hysterics. Doctor told us that if you got back any later, we would've lost you from the blood loss alone."

"Just the blood loss? Not the drugs? I would've figured the latter would be the end of me." You chuckled until you saw Price's expression, muttering a sheepish 'sorry, too soon?' and sipping your water cup, "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"Well, you did punch Garrick square in the chest, but he's been through worse. Wouldn't stop making puppy eyes at you the entire time after, I think you wounded his heart. Ghost had to restrain you afterward, and you were too weak to do any real damage at that point, just kept screaming your head off until you passed out."

"Shit," You cringed, your face burning hot with shame, "I'm sorry, Captain. I should've been more careful, I could've compromised the mission and-"

"Don't be. Sure, you made a bloody fool of yourself, but you saved your team in the process. And that's got to count for something, yeah?" He nudged you gently, "So don't beat yourself up, especially after you fought your way out of hell."

The sympathetic look he gave you held unspoken words, No one could've known. You couldn't have known. The urge to tear up right then and there was strong, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already apparently had. Biting back the sting in your eyes, you only quietly nodded in response.

"Good. I'm proud of you, got that?" Price stood from his seat, giving your head a firm pat, "Rest up after they're done with you, alright? Can't have one of my finest on the sidelines for too long, now can I?"

"Honored to be one, Captain." You faltered for a moment, "Wait, 'they'?"

Price only gave you a sly shrug and left the room. You remained to wonder what he meant for approximately ten seconds until Gaz and Roach burst in, the latter immediately glued to your side. So this is who he meant by "they", why were you even surprised?

"Feeling alright there?" Gaz smiled, taking a seat at your other side.

"I should be asking you that, didn't you get all heartbroken after I punched you?"

"I shouldn't have asked," Gaz groaned, shaking his head despite his smile, "Cheeky as ever, huh? Can't even be sympathetic without you trying to make fun of me."

"Well, I for one was pissed!" Roach interjected, "Right after you got here, we got to work on finding the assholes who hurt you and made them eat shit for dinner. Man, I wish I could've been in the interrogation room with Ghost and Soap but Price said I'm only finding an excuse to beat them up more."

Gaz raised a brow, "You were finding an excuse to."

"Well yeah, but I was only gonna mess with them a little bit, not zap their balls like Ghost—"

"I'm sorry, what?" You coughed, stunned by all the information coming out of them and hardly able to keep up. "What happened when I was knocked out?"

"Price didn't tell you? Oh, well," The two began to give you a run-down of events, from how Roach nearly beat the living hell out of your torturers, to the hidden basement, Ghost and Soap's whole interrogation (with great detail via Roach intel), and how both Price and Alejandro held a whole operation and shut down the suppliers.

Gaz shrugged, "Of course, it was mostly to shut it down and for the sake of Las Almas-"

"-but I mean, we also had to defend your honor!" Roach huffed, passionately signing to emphasize his point, "At least I wanted to. Seriously, how fucked up is it that they drugged you? It wasn't even helpful, they're just sickos that-"

Before Roach could further rant, Gaz tugged at the back of his uniform collar and glanced at his watch. "C'mon Roach, we've been here for a good hour and Price has us on duty right now." Roach only whined at Gaz in response but he ignored it, giving you one last glance, "Get some rest and get well soon, mate. I can't babysit all on my own after all."

"Hey!"

You broke out in laughter, watching the two leave and waving them goodbye. While you wished they could've stayed longer, your heart still warmed at the thought of how they cared, waiting for you to wake up and immediately being at your side. It reminded you of how you stayed at their side when they got sick from a mission in the rain and you didn't, so you felt somewhat obligated to help them as the 'survivor'. Perhaps they felt the same way too, that as your friends, they felt obligated and willing to stay by your side in return.

Hours passed since Gaz and Roach had visited, morning turning to late afternoon. The only ones who did pass by were either other soldiers on base needing medical attention or the nurses themselves, who regularly checked up on you. It wasn't exactly the company you wanted, but it was better than agonizing silence and isolation, which you quickly found to be the worst of it all. Not the scars, not the stiff bandages, not even the sickly clean smell, but just when things were silent. When things were silent, your mind went back to the time you spent, the hours you waited in between questions and beatings with nothing but you in your own head fighting for your consciousness. The buzz of the fluorescent lights in the infirmary drilled a hole in your skull the same way that singular overhead light had, drowning out your thoughts in an uncanny way. The IV drip was no better, it kept you awake the same way the rhythm of your own blood dripping had. You hadn't even noticed the way your breathing suddenly turned ragged just like it did when—no, you had noticed, but you didn't want to.

It shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did, it was only a few hours, you've been through worse, others have been through worse.

But god, the silence.

"You doing okay there, uh-" A nurse walked in through the curtains, pulling up the clipboard at the end of your bed and reading your name, "I'm just going to administer some painkillers real quick, okay?"

Unconsciously, you nodded and watched in a slight daze as she pulled up a cart of medical supplies. Your hands balled into fists to stop the trembling you weren't even aware of but somehow knew you had to hide. It hadn't quite registered to you what was going on or what she had said, even as you watched her fill up the syringe and flick it. But the moment you felt the needle against your skin, you roughly grabbed her wrist, causing her to yelp and drop it.

Your hands began to tremble again, growing clammy. You became all too aware of how muffled the nurse's panicked words were but how sharp the ringing in your ears was, piercing your brain. Words wouldn't come out of your mouth, replaced with small, quick breaths while your eyes darted around to find something, anything to focus on with your blurred vision.

"At ease, sergeant." A heavily accented voice spoke, ripping you from your haze and you turned to find that familiar skull mask standing by the curtains.

"I... I'm sorry," You mumbled, letting go of the poor woman's wrist and hanging your head apologetically. Your breaths returned to normal, the lights were less bright, and the noise was gone for now.

"I think it's best if you ask the doctor to try other kinds of painkillers with our friend here, miss. They aren't too fond of needles, ain't that right?" Soap appeared behind Ghost, trying to keep things lighthearted with how tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate in. The nurse nervously nodded her head before walking away with the cart, understandably still shaken by what had happened.

"I'd ask if you're doin' okay, but it seems a bit obvious now, ain't it, Ghost?"

The other grunted in response, sitting down at one of the chairs by your side. "You'd think they'd know better with these kinds of things."

"Don't be mean now, they're just doing their jobs," The scotsman chuckled, turning back to you, "Now, aren't you quite the sight for sore eyes? Sorry we couldn't make it earlier, we got tied down with paperwork after the whole fiasco, you know about that yet?"

"Yeah, I didn't expect you guys to get the job done so fast."

"Aw, did you want us to leave you some left over? If I'd known, I would've told Ghost to go a little easier on the lads." Soap was the only one trying to make any conversation out of this visit and you already knew the reason for Ghost's silence. It was just like in the helicopter after you took the blow for him, though you were pretty sure a pun wouldn't be enough to break him from "brooding" like last time.

"Sure. Would've loved to get a few punches back on them," You teased back, "But thank you guys. Really. I know it wasn't the main purpose, but I really appreciate that you guys had my safety in mind. Never figured joining the 141 would come with vengeance perks, or am I just that special to you guys?"

"You little shite, you," Soap cackled, ruffling your hair.

"Looks like they beat us here, Rudy." Alejandro's voice chimed out of the blue, appearing soon after.

"Too bad, I was hoping we'd have them to ourselves," Rodolfo hummed, followed behind with a gift basket in hand, "At least we bought something, eh?"

"Oi! We would've brought something too, we just wanted to get here as soon as we got back." Soap pouted, "Tell 'em Ghost."

"Actually I was hoping to get a 'get well' card on our way here." The masked man mumbled, ignoring his partner's offended gasp.

"You seein' this?" He whined, but you also ignored him, favoring the sweets that were in the gift basket.

"How'd you know this was my favorite?" You gasped, your reaction had the two Vaqueros looking at each other with proud faces.

"I have my sources."

"Ale, you just asked around base."

"That still counts as sources."

The whole lot of you started breaking into conversation, the boys exchanging their accounts of their ambush. In return, you shared what had happened when you were caught and how you escaped in a small summary of events, which led to them ranting about the men they interrogated and about the drugs themselves. Even Roach, Price, and Gaz popped in one last time for the day to visit you and join in on the discussion. Seeing them all like this, gathered around your bed, laughing and bantering, it almost made you forget all that had happened. You wanted to cherish this moment, keep a mental picture of it framed over the locked box in the back of your mind. Being in the military never allowed much room for friends gathering and all this chit-chatting outside of pubs, so it was a rare sight for sore eyes.

In a way, it made your life a little more meaningful. Reminded you that you weren't just a "good soldier", you were a teammate, a friend. You were important, someone worth fighting for. A purpose.

Although the job was harsh and you always felt like you had a gun to your head, that everyone wanted you dead on the battlefield, the 141 always showed you that someone out there still cared, still wanted you to fight and stay alive. Even if life tried to put you six feet under, they'd be there to pull you out without hesitation. You didn't have to doubt or question why, you already knew the answer.

You were family.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn't last for long, the poor nurse from before had been startled by the sheer volume of people around you, especially when most of them were high-ranking. Regardless, she chastised them for keeping you up when you needed your rest (you didn't) and began to shoo them all out. It was almost comedic how the group of giant, intimidating men left with little resistance in a pile of shame. Christ, they look like a pack of sad puppies, you humorously thought to yourself.

Ghost was the last to leave, hesitating to say something by the way he just stood there, curling his hands into fists. You had to force yourself not to laugh right then and there. For someone who was so silent and stoic for most conversations, he was easy to read. It wasn't hard to notice how his eyes kept flickering to your bandages the entire time he sat there, followed by the flashes of concern on his face every time you had coughed from laughing too hard or accidentally hurt yourself by shifting your body too quickly.

"I'll be alright, Simon." Giving him a reassuring smile, you hoped he'd take your words to heart, "Don't worry about it, I'll be on the field right as rain again in two days tops and you can kick my ass around all you want then. Promise."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and you began to worry that maybe your words were too cheap for him to believe, or maybe that he was more upset than you'd originally thought.

"You better be sure." He finally responded, "I take my promises pretty seriously, remember that, sergeant."

You stared at him all googly-eyed until your lips broke into a wide grin, beaming brightly at him and shouting as he left.

"Message received, L.T!"

a/n: AAAA I haven't written this much in so longgg. I had the first half already down from the last part because it went on for too long, but this one is nearly DOUBLE the word count. It's bound to have some grammar mistakes, but I hope that doesn't ruin the immersion too much. Let me know what you guys think!

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radioisntdead · 2 months

Note

Is there a possibility for a sequel to "The Radio Man's Wife" ?

Good evening my dear! Indeed there is I've had quite a few folks request it! Originally the radio man's wife was supposed to be a one and done deal but now it's progressed into a two and done deal! Hope you enjoy!

The radio demon's wife

Alastor x female reader

Warnings!!

Cannibalism, murder, there's slightly more Alastor in this, still victim blaming the dead people, this is a little messy

This is a part two to this fic here

Alastor's death was a weak spot for him, a shameful death in his opinion, he, the charming radio host Alastor was mistaken for a deer of all things and shot, bullet through his head and bitten by dogs.

Not only was the title of being a radio host ripped away, the job he had worked so hard for, that he had clawed his way up too, that he had killed competitors for, that he genuinely enjoyed, it was gone just like that! Now he'd have to start all over again, not to mention he had left his dear wife behind.

She'd join him eventually, she was just as messed up as he was, but still! It was such an inconvenience.

She died quicker then he would've thought, not even giving him a chance to properly prepare for it,

she'd always been resourceful, one of her traits he was fond of, perhaps the heartbreak had gotten to her? How flattering.

She had managed to hunt down find Mimzy and well, knowing Mimzy she just HAD to reunite the lovebirds, or deers in this case.

She was in Mimzy's speakeasy, sat at the bar sipping on some type of alcoholic drink as she watched the performer on stage sing, she looked different, with deer ears much like his own, they twitched ever-so-slightly, her skin was a more unnatural color, candy shaped markings could be seen from just beneath the hems of her dress.

She was just as lovely as when he saw her last.

Static filled the air as he walked in, and Mimzy called him over, he saw as his wife's face change at the mention of his name, twirling around her face lit up at the sight of him.

Shouting his name she stumbled out of her seat, drink hastily placed on the bar counter as she rushed over, eyes bright and filled with pure adoration as she linked her arm with his.

She'd tut at the state of the home her dear Alastor stayed at, drenched in red, a deer head hung on the wall and there were a concerning amount of radios, she worried her Alastor was becoming a hoarder, she added her touches in rather quickly, banishing the radios to their own room much to Alastor's displeasure, but compromise was expected in marriage.

Now that the two were reunited nothing could tear them apart, as Alastor climbed the ranks she did too, taking down overlords and collecting souls on their own merits.

She would grimace at his new found fondness for cannibalism, making him brush his teeth several times before she would give him a kiss or his weird haircut, much preferring his hair from when he was alive but much like the cannibalism, it for whatever reason wasn't a deal breaker, after all if sinners didn't want to be eaten they shouldn't have pissed off Alastor, or ended up in cannibal Town!

She encouraged Alastor as he aimed for power, power he would've never been able to attain in life for multiple reasons, and he encouraged her to rise the ranks with him.

She kept the sickly sweet persona even if it wasn't needed, it came in handy with taking souls.

She became friends with Rosie, she was involved with the friendship between Vox and Alastor, at least until Vox got weird and tried to seduce Alastor, and when that didn't work tried to seduce his wife too, trying to get both of them thinking that was the issue.

The married ace deer man, and the also married ace deer woman, very smart of him to try to seduce them.

She was near Alastor throughout the years, it wasn't odd to see the pride ring's sweetheart and the radio demon walking around side by side.

But it was odd when she was often seen alone, repeatedly for the seven years Alastor had vanished.

She didn't need Alastor to survive but she did prefer him around, especially as others took his absence as a chance to woo her.

It did not end well for them, either perishing in a painful way, souls stolen, given to Rosie as a gift or another way she had thought of.

It was their fault for trying to take Alastor's place in her heart afterall!

As the years dragged on painfully slow, she built on her territory, gaining influence and power.

The night Alastor returned she was fast asleep, arms wrapped around the feral catlike creature that resembled him.

Alastor slid in a key to the door of their home, quietly entering and closing the door behind him.

Not much of their little ol' home had changed in his absence, the same decorations hung on the walls, the mounted deer that his [name] disliked was still there in the living room, although now with a tacky top hat on it for whatever reason, the couches were the same, there was a vintage TV set Infront of the couch that he frowned at, he would have to dispose of that later.

He walked through the room and into the halls, hooves tapping against the floors as he traveled,

His grin widened as he opened the bedroom door creeping in and standing above his sleeping wife, watching.

He shook his head at cat creature, making a motion for it to move, it refused, resulting in Alastor picking the lil' guy up and tossing him to the side of the bed before looking down at his now awaking wife.

She screamed at the glowing red eyes staring at her in the dark, grabbing a pillow and launching it at Alastor before she reached for the lamp.

Alastor had another pillow thrown at him after the light was turned on and she recognized him.

While Alastor had proclaimed the position of being the Facility manager of the Hazbin Hotel She had called dibs on promoting the hotel via different means, newspaper, social media, [much to Alastor's disapproval but he couldn't do much about it, sucks to be him]

Did she completely believe in the whole redemption idea? Not really but watching things progress in the hotel as time went on was fun!

She was known as a sweetheart, a saint when she was alive, she was known for being charming and being married to the equally charming radio man.

she was known for luring people in with her sweet venom coated words, for being ruthless when the situation called for it.

She was now known by her friends at the hotel as the cheerful publicist that for whatever reason married the creepy smile guy even though she could do better, she was known for being somewhat supportive of Charlie's aspirations.

She eventually would stand back and watch as Alastor aimed to take advantage, more then likely betraying them in the end, trying to undo his deal that not even she knew the details of, but for now she would sit comfortably at the bar, sipping on some type of sweet drink watching as Charlie organized another exercise with Angel dust cracking an inappropriate joke, with Vaggie giving him a disapproving look, with Husk taking a swig of his drink, with Niffty doing Niffty things, with Sir Pentious and his eggs listening intently, and with Alastor standing by with that neverending smile of his.

Good evening folks! This isn't my best work, I didn't know how to really make a part two to the Radio man's wife but hopefully y'all enjoyed! Assuming everything goes to plan a platonic Rosie fic should drop tomorrow! So tune on in to that, until we meet again folks!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you

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randomshyperson · 7 months

Text

As It Was (Part 2) - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Once the truth is out, will you be able to forget and forgive the past, or the weight of choices be heavier than the feelings you and Wanda never learned to outgrow? | The Second Part is more based on "Satellite" than "As It Was" tbh. | Part One

Warnings: angst(ish) with happy ending, milf!Wanda, age gap, ex-lovers meeting again, witchcraft lore, some making out but nothing explicit in this part | Words: 6.552k

A/N-> At the request of many, I managed to write a sequel to that one "As It Was". It was much longer than I expected, but I managed to write things that I hadn't done before, so the result pleased me. Forgive me for the lack of smut, it ended up not fitting within the context and rhythm of the story, but there is the possibility of specials. I hope you all enjoy your reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

It occurs to her that you are distant.

Physically speaking, it's quite evident - Wanda hasn't seen you for five days. Not even on her secret getaways from family dinners, school reunions, or anything typical of an American suburban mom's routine so perfectly set up for herself, brings you back. You don't visit her on any of the days that follow, not for lunches or late afternoons, nor do you send either quick or long messages made up of intense declarations that always shake her with all the emotions she might have.

Wanda has no idea where you are, and the lack of control over the situation almost suffocates her.

But there is something new that occupies her enough not to take action on it. Or rather, someone new.

It's true that time passes differently in Westview. The leaves are starting to turn orange when Pietro Maximoff arrives on her balcony. Wanda is trying to find her footing with so many ghosts from the past coming back at once and she has to admit that her twin brother's presence impacts her enough for her not to escape her house and family in an attempt to find out if you were still in the same motel where she left you in the early hours of one morning almost a week ago.

Wanda tries to focus on the good things in life; she has the family she always dreamed about, complete at last. A husband, children, and even her long-missed brother. She has friends and a house. She should feel happy and fulfilled, or so she tries to convince herself while she tries to ignore the not-so-easy feeling in her chest when she lies next to Vision at night.

He doesn't mind that she's distant herself. Sometimes, Wanda thinks he doesn't even notice. Maybe it's her will, playing with everything around her and ensuring she's not disturbed. In fact, Vision has stopped noticing many things since the last heated argument they had, on the same night that Pietro reappeared. He's just as distant as she is as if he has a whole life going on outside those walls. Wanda could say the same.

She falls asleep with difficulty, and it’s one of those nightmare nights once more.

When she opens her eyes, she knows she’s still dreaming.

Nevertheless, she allows herself to fall into that fantasy with peace of mind.

The atmosphere is familiar, and the smells and sensations too. Wanda remembers well how things were before Hydra, and before the outbreak of civil war in her country. In the few years of tranquillity at the end of her adolescence, where the revolution group was almost a pastime for irritated young people, for a moment, she could imagine herself as nothing more than a schoolgirl.

Of course, the war would get worse, and almost the entire group of her former colleagues would leave the universities to occupy the streets, but in the safety of the dream, none of this would happen.

Wanda could leave the soft bed and follow the smell of food. She knew she would find you in the kitchen, moving your hips softly to a gentle melody because this was a memory Wanda had never learned to erase.

Her voice came out raspier than she expected once she tried to call your name. But luckily, you were distracted enough by the food to notice the tears welling up in her eyes. After a whole week without hearing from you, she truly believes she lost you once more.

But in this dream, things were saved. Your hands just continued to separate the mixture. “Morning, krasotka (gorgeous). Sit down, there's coffee on the table."

Wanda swallowed, controlling her temper. She watched your back for a moment, trying to memorize every feature of that appearance in case this was the last time and she wouldn’t have another chance before that fantasy ended.

When she didn't sit down you looked at her, offering her an easy smile from a face marked with flour and youthfulness.

"What's wrong, Wanda?"

She moves instead of answering, determined steps until she reaches you at the counter. Your confused eyes close as Wanda, who has just grabbed your belt, pulls you close and kisses you firmly.

It takes you by surprise, but you respond without hesitation. The position isn't ideal, but you kiss her eagerly, as breathless as she is once she breaks the act. Wanda's tight grip around you makes you chuckle softly.

"Hey, Pietro will wake up soon." You warned in the same casual tone, rubbing your nose against hers. "He'll kill me if he finds out about us like this..." Your mouth pecks down her jaw to her neck.

Wanda giggles tearfully. She had forgotten about that. The teenage fear of telling her protective twin about you. Thinking back at how obvious you two were, she was sure that Pietro knew. To be fair, anyone could notice the way you looked at each other.

You tried to pull away, but Wanda didn't allow it. A sigh escaped your lips, which formed a mischievous smile.

"Behave yourself, Wanda." You warned softly, but she raised her hand to your cheek, the touch surprising you a little. Your curious expression didn't intimidate her.

"Where are you?" She questioned and curiosity gave way to confusion.

"Here, dorogoya, what do you mean-" But green irises turned red, and the confusion vanished once your eyes reflected her magic as well. Your shoulders tensed, and you sighed as if you were tired.

You tried to pull away and this time, Wanda allowed you to. Your hands reached for a cloth, and the flour from her favorite pastry that you had prepared for her in that memory was leisurely wiped from your skin.

When you sighed again, more calmly you were leaning on the counter, with your arms crossed and your gaze distant.

"That's different." That was the first thing you said, with a small smile at the corner of your lips. Wanda swallowed, pushing her emotions down. She looked in the same direction as you next. "The sofa was dark blue, not brown."

"Some things..." She cleared her throat, trying to hide the urge to cry. "We remember it differently. Some things, they're just... different."

You hum thoughtfully, shrugging. "Yeah, like ourselves."

Wanda fiddles with her fingers. "Y/N..."

"I wasn't afraid to tell Pietro." You cut her off with no emotion in your voice, but seriousness in your gaze. "You were. I was always ready to shout out to the world that I loved you, but you were terrified of his reaction. Why did you change that?"

"I didn't." Wanda fights back immediately, defensive. You look away with a dry laugh, and she sighs. "I didn't do it on purpose. I... It's only been a long time, Y/N. It's hard to remember exactly what it was like."

"I heard that grief changes things." You retort more softly, and Wanda is sure she's going to start crying. She hugs her own body, and you sigh. "When..."

"No." She cuts you off, her voice breaking. "Why can't you just give me this day? This memory? Just... stay here. Let me live it again." She practically begs, but you don’t flinch, stepping away for the kitchen counter to move closer.

Your hands hold her arms, and your gaze makes something in her spark.

"Don't you think you deserve more than a fantasy, Wanda?"

She chuckles tearfully because this has to be a joke.

"And what choice do I have?" she retorts, tears running down her cheeks. Wanda doesn't have the opportunity to wipe them away, you do so almost immediately. Your instinct is as quick as hers to lean into your touch. "God, there isn't... a day that I haven't missed this. Us."

You smile tenderly at her confession, and Wanda closes her eyes for a moment. She’s just enjoying the feeling while you wait. It takes another sigh for her to ask: "Where are you?"

Being asked again doesn't surprise you. You caress her cheek, and your other hand entwines around her waist.

"It doesn't matter."

She sighs impatiently. "Of course, it matters!" She insists. "I want-I need to see you." She corrects herself and you frown slightly. Wanda lets her hands grasp the collar of your blouse, and her red eyes are almost desperate in yours. "Tell me. Please. Where-"

You kiss her, hard enough for the protest to turn into a needy moan. The hand around her entwines her completely to lift her onto the counter, and Wanda melts. She kisses you as she manages, almost overwhelmed by the longing she has felt over the last few days for the sensation of your lips again.

When you part, she's tingly all over, but your hands don't go beyond her clothes. Your affected breath hits her cheek before you look at her again.

"I remembered."

Wanda almost breaks down in a sob but she manages to keep her emotions around her border. With a sniffle, she guides pleading eyes to yours. Her legs tighten around your waist as if she fears your escape.

"Please stay with me." It comes in a whisper.

You chuckle and Wanda can feel her cheeks burning, her heart breaking. She fears your answer more than she's ever feared anything else in her life.

"You don't understand, Wanda." That's what you say, pulling away and grabbing her hands. Before she can despair, imagining that you were pushing her away, your hands entwined with hers, your eyes tender and intense. "Tell me what you remember."

She looks at you with confusion before denying it with her head. "I don't like... thinking about that day."

"I know, but I need to talk about it." You say, kissing her hands for a moment. "I'm not a memory, Wanda. I'm here. I really am here."

But she shakes her head, her shoulders tensing and her breathing going out of rhythm. "My mind is playing tricks on me... First you, and now Pietro. None of it makes sense. The only thing I know is that I don't want to lose you again. Please don't leave me again."

She doesn't even realize she's started crying. You hug her, trying to calm her down with pats on her back as she wets her shirt.

Wanda clings to you as if you're going to disappear, but you stay there until the tears dry.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise." You whisper. "Never again, Wanda. I can't change what happened to Pietro, but I'm staying. Screw the consequences, I'll never leave you alone again."

She looks at you with confusion, wiping her wet face with the hem of her blouse. " What consequences- what you talking about?"

But you smile, kissing her cheek quickly. "It's time to wake up, my love. Meet me when you're ready to leave. I'm waiting outside for you."

Wanda tries to grab you by the blouse, but she wakes up in a jolt. Vision complains low in bed so that she stops making so much noise and Wanda hides her tears in her pillow.

She dares to try to search for your presence around the house, every floor, every room but all there is is Vision and her twins.

Her mind is playing tricks on her. A stupid dream just to try to break the perfect life she has now.

She goes back to sleep and makes sure that she won’t dream of anything else.

-&-

It's not the ideal place or your favorite setting, nor does it have the best food, but the dinner is the closest outside the Hex that you could find, so it's enough.

The back table becomes the mystery traveler's spot (that's how you hear the waitress and some truck drivers refer to you) for the next few days.

It takes almost two for Agatha to show up.

"You're late, witch." That's how you greet her, outside in the parking lot. The cigarette is hanging unlit from your lips, and Agatha snatches it from your mouth before you have a chance to light it. Your relaxed posture breaks, and she hits you over the head with a slap.

"Insolent child! Irresponsible! Arrogant-" You let her hit three more, they don't hurt, and it's good for her anger. The next time she's about to swear at you for something else, you hit her first.

"Get a grip, you grumpy old woman." You snap. " Don't cause a scene, huh?"

Agatha raises a finger in warning, her eyes blazing with fury before she walks away with an annoyed grunt.

"You're unbelievable." She retorts, taking up your personal space again. She pulls a box of cigarettes out of your leather jacket pocket and takes one for herself. You roll your eyes but watch her light one, and blow the smoke away. Agatha keeps muttering to herself “Challeging a direct order; what will the council say? In the worst scenario, they will know I helped you and I’m done. This little shit…”

You adjust your posture to lean on one of the parking lot irons, your hands in your jacket pockets. You pull the witch out of her complaints with a question:

"What's the matter with you anyway?"

Agatha chuckles dryly, the cigarette between her fingers. "Your girlfriend."

Your posture doesn't change, but the glint in your eyes is almost sinister. "Watch your next words carefully, Miss Harkness."

It's her turn to laugh dryly and take another drag before turning her face toward you. "What is with little show you put on anyway? Standing guard outside, waiting for Rapunzel to leave her tower?" Her teasing only makes you chuckle. Agatha sighs impatiently. "You laugh now, but the whole place is surrounded. If that crazy witch ends up getting shot, I won't sell you any spells to fix it."

You roll your eyes, snatching the cigarette from her fingers. "Stop talking shit, Agatha." You retort. "There are no agents inside, I kept my part of the deal. Now, if the whole thing's still on, it's you who's not doing yours."

Agatha clenches her jaw, looking at you angrily. You just flick the cigarette, and she rolls her eyes.

"I've had unforeseen difficulties."

"Right." You laugh. "You're getting soft, that's for sure."

The cigarette flies out of your hand with her hard slap. You snort in annoyance, but Agatha is busy pulling something out of her purple suit, back now that she's out of the Hex. It's an old piece of paper that she presses hard against your hand.

"Do as written, it will be irrevocable. He'll be forced to show up." She guides between her teeth. "I doubt Mephisto will explain, but just getting his presence should do some good. And don't talk about me. I still need a big job to get back on his good side."

There's something like gratitude in your gaze, and Agatha waves you away, turning her attention to the barrier not invisible to magical eyes a few meters from dinner while you tuck the paper safely away in your pocket.

"I'm going to end all this crap today, Y/N." She declares, and you look up immediately. "Are you sure you won't-"

"No." You cut in, forcing a smile. "I'd just be getting in the way. Either side, I suppose. Wanda thinks I died, and well, I have no idea how to break the whole story to her. 'Hey baby, you thought I died but I kind of sold my soul to keep you and your brother alive. When that didn't work out for him, I ran away for fear of fucking up your life too, but whatever your magic rank, it's high enough to summon one of Mephisto's riders against his will. Any chance you would want to date me again?'”

Agatha laughs softly at the statement, shaking her head. "Don't forget the part where you're helping a witch take down her little fantasy town."

You grunt slightly. "In gratitude for my memories, only. You're a tricky merchant, Miss Harkness."

The woman chuckles, shrugging. Before she can walk away, you clear your throat and Agatha looks at you curiously. "Anything else?"

"Our arrangement, don't forget." You retort. "You won't do anything against her, or the boys."

Just to torment you, she raises an eyebrow. "No request for her husband's safety?"

You snort, rolling your eyes. "He's already dead." You grumble, and Agatha laughs darkly.

"Until recently, you were too."

"I wasn't really!" You retort indignantly, but Agatha is already turning and waving goodbye.

Alone in the parking lot, you feel the weight of the summoning spell in your pocket. Your boss would have to listen to you at some point.

-&-

Being betrayed by what seemed to be her only real friend for some time felt like a punishment.

Well, maybe it was karma. For what she was doing to Vis, and by God, to all those people trapped and subjugated to her wills, fears, and desires. But Wanda wasn't to blame, or at least, she wasn't ready to take on any of it. There was only emptiness at first, and then there was contentment. Crude and meager, but there. Her peace was as superficial as the magical fantasy surrounding her, and it didn't take long for the fear to creep back in; until finally, she was confronted with the reality of what she and her brother had never been able to accept in their youth: there is no magic formula to fix things. Just as Hydra didn't save Sokovia and cost her her twin, her magic didn't fix her grief but made it even worse.

Wanda would have to say goodbye to her children, and for this kind of pain, she had never been prepared.

Agatha seemed to take some amusement from her agony; a lot of ironic jokes as she searched through her memories. But even centuries of experience didn't rid the witch of her innate arrogance, and just as the Black Widow had once taught her, Wanda saw the opportunity to exploit her opponent's weakness.

The victory was not that satisfying, even if Wanda felt more powerful than ever.

And Agatha, in a last desperate act, said the name of the one person who would make Wanda hesitate.

With her fingers still in the air, the redhead narrowed her eyes at the witch lying on the ground, powerless and frightened.

"I know you're bluffing."

"I swear I’m not!" Agatha assured hurriedly. "I'll take you to her. I can-"

"She was one of your tricks, then? It's as cheap and cruel as using my brother, Agatha." Cut the redhead off coldly, but the witch held up her hand, asking for time.

"Wanda, by the wizard oath." She insisted, letting out a laugh exhausted by the effort of the fight. "She was one of your tricks, not mine. You summoned her to this place."

Wanda nodded, sniffling a little. "Stop lying! I know she's dead."

Agatha shook her head. "She's not! Let me go, I promise I'll take you to her."

Wanda hesitated, in her gaze, in her posture, in her heart. Agatha continued to insist, and she looked back at her family waiting for her and all those agents around.

She turned to Agatha, who fell silent when her hand was raised again.

"I'll say goodbye first. And I swear if I find that you’re trying to trick me again-"

"I know." Agatha cut in, forcing a smile. "I promise."

That seemed true enough to Wanda, and Agatha's determined look convinced her. She sighed and nodded, then turned away to hug her children, who were already running towards her. A mask of happiness, despite the heartbreak, stamped her face.

When it was all over, Wanda was physically and emotionally exhausted. She said goodbye to Agent Monica too, realizing bitterly that perhaps that woman was the only real friend she had made since Natasha and that she would have to lose her now too.

And as she crossed the city limits, she assumed that Agatha had taken the opportunity to escape, and came to the conclusion that she didn't care about that at all. Something inside her broke the minute she had to put her children to bed for the last time. No silly rivalry could really bother her.

"Look alive, Maximoff." The joke was unwelcome, but Agatha didn't mind. Nor did she get out of the parked vehicle.

"Have you ever heard of magic portals? Or, I don't know, flying?" Wanda asked as soon as she noticed the witch waiting for her from inside the car parked outside the city. Wanda didn't understand how the witch had kept the SWORD agents away from that edge, but her mind was elsewhere to ask.

The older woman chuckled at the question, adjusting herself to lean her arms on the window and look at Wanda. "Did I mention I like the new look? Did I leave the oven on or is that heat coming from you, hot stuff?"

Wanda chuckled with more indignation than anything. When she was close enough, she sighed. "Just do what you agreed to do."

Agatha smiled mischievously. "Well, you're the one with your back to the show." She retorted, pointing at something behind her.

When she turned, she saw two figures, too far away to be identified. The sunlight didn't help either. The people had been talking for some time and it didn't seem to be a peaceful discussion.

"Who...?"

"Who do you think?" Agatha interrupted somewhat ironically. Wanda's heart leaped, and her stomach did a complete flip. It couldn't be you, could it?

"B-but she... she was-"

"Yeah, the confusing world we live in." Mocked the witch in the car seat. "She wanted to explain everything to you but she has been a pain in the ass so I'll do it. Your friend made a deal with the devil, in the literal sense of the expression. Whatever Hydra did to her, it almost killed her. Mephisto, being the good opportunist he is, offered her a deal and perhaps because she had two people to protect and a hole in her chest, she accepted without reading the terms." Agatha smiled at her own narration, while Wanda continued in shock, being able to imagine the whole story. "And of course, like any deal with the devil, nothing goes according to plan. Mephisto must have known that the boy would die in battle, so he lied to get your friend's soul. She chickened out, by the way, after she heard about her brother. She thought the same would happen to you if she got close, of course at the time neither of you must have known your true power and authority..."

"Authority?" She interrupted hoarsely, getting a laugh from the other witch.

"By Hecate, young witches these days don't know anything," muttered the woman. "As I said before, Wanda, you are the Scarlet Witch. You're the greatest magical authority on earth. And the fact that you don't know this is exactly why I'm needed." Agatha explains. "You need a magical tutor, Miss Maximoff. Someone to train you, and explain important things, like your magical power to break a contract of souls and summon one of Mephisto's ghost riders as you please."

After everything that had happened, absorbing and accepting the madness of this whole story seemed like just one more little push for Wanda to collapse.

Lucky for her, she wasn't alone this time.

You finally started walking towards her, until the figures became clearer, and without needing to ask, Wanda was sure that the man with a skull pipe walking next to you was Mephisto.

Everything about his posture was intimidating, and the air seemed much heavier and darker once he was close enough. But Wanda didn't mind the audience, she threw herself into your arms and was greeted in an equally enthusiastic embrace.

Mephisto waved to Agatha from the car, letting the two of you have a moment of reunion as he commented quietly to the older witch:

"I send you to collect an undeserving one and you not only fail, but you make me lose my best rider."

Agatha swallows dryly, annoyed by the scolding. But if there's anything she feels besides fear, it's pride. And that's something she and the man share, and Agatha knows it very well.

"No creature, not even the Lord of Hell, has power against the Scarlet Witch. The humiliation of losing is strong, but you get used to it." She teases, and Mephisto loses his temper, punching the car hard and trying to grab Agatha by the neck.

A scarlet tug pushes him away.

"You filthy hag, how dare you-"

"Watch your temper, Big M." You interrupt with a serious expression, despite the provocative nickname. You gently put Wanda down, who until now had been lifeted in your arms, but you continue with a hand around her waist.

The man huffs angrily, but visibly struggles to contain his anger, while Agatha hides a little smile and Wanda tries to gain confidence in her new title and the respect that comes with it.

When Mephisto addresses her, he is much more submissive than anyone would expect after the scene.

"My Queen, please, there has been an agreement. With both of the present, this treacherous witch owes me favors and the rider owes me her life. It's not fair that I go unpaid. If I'm not compensated, I'll obviously have to withdraw the loans..." He speaks but Wanda raises a hand in the air, interrupting him.

"I think I understand what you mean. You saved my friend, and if she doesn't serve you, she dies?"

"Yes, my lady."

You tried to protest, but Wanda put a hand on your shoulder and looked at you quickly: in her eyes was the simple request that you let her handle this.

Agatha didn't interrupt either, nor did she react when Wanda approached Mephisto.

"I've been told that the title of Scarlet Witch makes me the highest magical authority." She begins, and somewhat begrudgingly, the man nods in agreement. Wanda sighs. "I don't understand this power entirely, but I will. What I do understand now is that if I am the authority, you must obey me."

"My lady-"

"I am not done talking." Mephisto bites his tongue, but doesn't risk challenging the red irises again. "Let's make a few things clear, sir. These two don't belong to you, I do not care about the debt. I don't know how to settle it yet, but I will. So for now, you should know that they're off-limits. Agatha will be my tutor, and any extra activity must come with a guarantee that she'll return to lessons in one piece, and as for Y/N, well..." Wanda takes a step forward, a dry laugh escaping her. "She's mine, do you understand? You're not going to harm her in any way. Not ever. You've kept her away from me long enough, toying with her perception of the truth. Of that, I think we both understand well."

Mephisto clenched his jaw, seeming to fight the urge to end you right then and there. You exchanged a proud glance with Agatha at the witch's posture in front of you.

"This will be my only warning, Mephisto. I'm taking her with me, and it's better that she keeps breathing after we leave."

Irritated but restrained, he retorts: "A rider must serve, my lady, and I don't say that to contradict you. Even if she doesn't obey me, she won't be able to ignore the call. Her soul only stays in this body because of its usefulness."

"We'll deal with it without your intervention in the matter, don't worry." Wanda assures him. "And as for your payment, I still don't fully understand how this realm works, but I'll learn with the help of Agatha and the Darkhold. I believe the Lord of Hell can wait."

To Wanda's surprise, he grew friendlier, with a smile full of evil intentions. Without her realizing why the mention of the book made him so excited, Mephisto bowed again briefly. "I see a promising future for our professional relationship, Scarlet Witch."

He adjusts his hat as a sign of farewell, and it's as if the sun changes direction only for rays to obscure her vision for a moment. Just long enough for Mephisto to disappear.

"He's always rude, don't take it to heart."

The older witch commented, but neither you nor Wanda were paying much attention to her. Wanda came back to you, wrapping you in a tight hug as a confirmation that things were really happening. And as you held her, you exchanged a quick glance with the witch in the car, a grateful one, and all Agatha did was offer the first sincere smile of the day before breaking the moment with a loud honk.

"I'm sorry, but your girlfriend is a fugitive, and flirting in the middle of the street isn't really appropriate for this moment." Mocked the witch, remembering the dozens of federal agents in the area all too willing to ask Wanda for a statement. It wasn't really a problem - but it was a nuisance.

Your girlfriend ignored Agatha's warning to kiss you on the mouth. It almost takes you by surprise, the intensity, but you manage to match it until the older witch honks again and you and Wanda break into a shared giggle.

"Don't worry, we'll have time." You meekly assure her, kissing her cheek before pulling away to open the car door. Wanda doesn't seem too keen to let you go - not that you'd want anything different - so you follow her into the back seat. Even under Agatha's warnings about behaving or she'd throw the car off the first bridge.

Once on the road, the witch met your gaze through the rearview mirror.

"My place or yours?"

You sigh. "Mine's fine."

-&-

The first fight happens as soon as Wanda finds out that for years, you've lived nearby.

So many days when she could have taken a different route from Avengers Tower downtown to the Compound and bumped into you.

Of course, you assured her that you kept a safe distance and that New York was full and big enough for that, but the justifications only made it worse.

And Wanda started crying and locked herself in the first room she found on the way.

You tried to look at Agatha on the sofa - very much comfortable in other people's homes, by the way - but the witch shrugged as she used her magic to bring food from your kitchen to where she was.

With a sigh, you leaned your forehead against the door.

"Wanda, I'm so sorry I left you alone. I swear to God, I lost count of how many times I wanted to break into that tower and just say that I was with you. But I couldn't. I went to the memorial, to visit Pietro. I saw the news about the fight. I saw him die, and I kept seeing it, every time I closed my eyes. And my nightmares replaced him with you. I was sure that if I got close, you'd get hurt, and I'd rather live away from you than lose you." You confessed with emotion, knowing that she was listening even if she didn't answer now. With another sigh, you continued. "I kept my distance, but I never left. I went to all your public events, I even sent you gifts as an anonymous fan. I almost risked everything so many times. And when your friends got into fights and you disappeared to the Raft, I lost my mind. That's when... he made me forget you. It was the only way I could keep doing the jobs and not go after you. But I still lived here, and there was this lack in my chest and I had no idea what it was. Then one day I heard your voice, like a whisper in my heart, and I followed it. I ended up in Westview, and the lack was gone. It was Agatha who gave me back my memories, and we ended up here. With me trying to make you understand that there hasn't been a day since we were separated that I haven't missed you, that I haven't loved you. Please, Wanda. Forgive me."

It takes a long moment, almost long enough for you to think about letting her have more time to think about it, for Wanda to open the door.

She hugs you by the neck, very tightly, and you waste no time in reciprocating.

"Agatha has to leave." That's what she says as she releases you, making you assume a confused expression. You're ready to recall that the witch, despite her mistakes, helped you when Wanda pulled at the edges of your shirt while hiding her face in your collarbone. The way she speaks again makes you understand. "We've lost a lot of time, my love. She needs to go, so we can make up for it."

You nod foolishly, glancing quickly at Agatha who is already getting up without abandoning a bottle of your most expensive drinks that she opened without permission. Not that you're paying attention to anything other than the woman clinging to you.

"You two are disgusting, I'm out." Complains the older witch, practically running out the door as Wanda kisses your neck again and you sigh.

The door had barely closed and Wanda had already pulled your face back to hers, meeting your mouth in an intense, passionate kiss that almost made you lose your bearings.

Your hands wandered across her cheeks in a foolish attempt to gain some control of the kiss, then towards her hair and down her arms to her waist, squeezing and earning a satisfied sigh in return. Wanda's hands were busy undoing your clothes, bursting buttons, and finally throwing your belt aside.

Your blouse ended up somewhere in the room after you kicked your shoes away and while using the interruption and distance necessary to undress, Wanda spoke again.

"All this time you've been keeping watch... tell me, how far have you gone?" she asked between kisses, leading the way to the sofa as she pulled you up by the straps of the barely hanging pants on your hips.

You fought your own arousal to reply: "Hm, never very close. Except, once..." You try to count between kisses, almost losing your train of thought when Wanda pushes you sit up and looks so stunning with her flushed face and out-of-rhythm breathing standing in front of you. "On your birthday. I went to your window, and I just... watched you sleep."

Wanda let out a curious giggle. "Do you fly now?"

"Not really, it's something called astral projection, I'm sure Agatha will teach you." You mumble quickly, and it's your turn to tug at the straps of her jeans. "Can we talk later? U-unless of course, you don't want to do this anymore, because then I'll need a minute to stop shaking and then I can tell you everything-" She interrupts you with a determined kiss, taking the opportunity to sit on your lap too.

With another sigh, she assures you, "We'll talk later." Those are the last firm words of the evening, really. After that, all that leaves Wanda are begging moans and whimpers of pleasure calling out your name.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

-&-

It's a simple routine, within the normal range of living with two witches and having your soul in imprisonment with the Lord of Hell at least.

Agatha becomes a tutor - it suits her, even if she is grumpy and mean and doesn't have much patience for teaching magic. She ends up doing a good job, and in a few months, Wanda already has the same knowledge that a witch who has spent half her life in a coven would have.

As well as classes with the grumpiest teacher on the planet, Wanda has the Darkhold. You don't see her use it that much, because she always chooses the times of your rider duties to study. That, and well, that book gives you a very bad feeling. But Wanda always makes sure that everything is under control and kisses you until you forget about it.

Of course, over time, people tend to waver in their lies and perhaps because it's a Rider's business to feel dark magic, you end up discovering exactly how bad the Darkhold is for your girlfriend.

Or maybe the black fingers gave you a hint.

"It's not too much to ask that you be careful!" You were arguing - no, discussing - Wanda's intense study routine with a book that apparently condemned all readers. "Actually, it's quite reasonable for me to worry-"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you!" She interrupts you. Even though she is now twice the age you first met her, Wanda Maximoff is still as beautiful as the first day you saw her. And just as stubborn as the angry teenager she once was. "Do you want to talk about being reasonable? Do you think you made a good decision when you decided to sell your soul, or when you believed you could stay away for ten years and act as if it didn't affect our relationship?"

You hesitate. "I-I... you said you forgave me."

But Wanda snaps back: "Forgiving isn't forgetting! And why do you think I'm doing all this? I have to learn to control my magic, and I have to learn to be the Scarlet Witch. But most importantly, I have to learn to undo a deal with the devil because at some point you thought it was a good idea to be the Dark Lord's little slave!"

"I did it for you!"

"I know you did!"

"Then why are you angry?"

"Because I love you, you idiot!" she retorts breathlessly. "I love you and I hate how stupidly loyal and impulsive you were to do something like that. And I hate the pain we were forced to endure, and I hate that we wasted so much time."

"Wanda, I-"

"I know." She interrupts with a sigh. "I love you too."

You smile. "Stop reading my mind."

She returns the same smile. "There's not much to read." She teases, wasting no time in bringing her hands to your shoulders when you take her by the waist. You chuckle with a false offense.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how evil you can be." You retort in the same playful tone, nipping at her jaw and lowering your mouth to her collarbone.

Wanda sighs, hugging you for a moment. In the bedroom mirror by the wall, she can see her true reflection and all the Darkhold's influence on her hidden appearance. She blinks away from the demonic appearance to focus on the person holding her so dearly.

"You have no idea, my love." She whispers, forcing a smile when you look at her again. "I just want to keep us safe. Nothing and no one will ever break us apart again. I'll make sure of that."

You don't want to worry, or at least, you don't want Wanda to notice your hesitation about the frightening determination in her eyes. So all you do is kiss her forehead and hold her close.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #as it was

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stayinlimbo · 2 months

Text

Returned Call

wc: 765, genre: exes to lovers(?), warnings: cursing in beginning, slightly unedited

note: although i feel this could be read as a stand-alone, here is the sequel to Missed Call you guys were asking for. i hope you enjoy ♡

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system: You know. Lee Minho. Not available. Voicemail. Speak.

Fuck you, Lee Minho. No, seriously, fuck you.

Tell me why I was contacted by not one but three of your dancing buddies within the past twenty-four hours about how you’ve been moping around and trudging through your routines for the past week.

They were all essentially the same. You haven’t been the same since we broke up, is there any way we could reconnect, give you one more chance, blah blah blah.

You must be doing really bad if one of them was Hyunjin, of all people.

Two months too late, don’t you think?

As if any of this was my fault.

…

I was getting better before you called, you know?

I finally fixed my sleep schedule. I won’t lie, it took longer than I’d like to admit to break the habit of staying up late for you. At least I was already used to sleeping alone.

I reconnected with some old friends since I couldn’t talk to Jisung as much without being reminded of you. They can still read me like a book, even after all these years.

I even went on a date.

Granted, it was with myself, but I like to think it still counts.

…

You know what I realized on my “date?” And while out with my friends? And on the sleepless nights I spent staring up at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling?

I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be appreciated. To be loved.

It seems like you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re right. I deserved better. I deserve better. I may have ended our relationship, but I wasn’t the one who left first.

I remember our last kiss, paired with another one of your lies I foolishly kept believing in until I finished the movie night you promised you’d be home in time for. And I remember waking up on the couch with a sore neck to see your fatigued silhouette entering the front door, barely sparing me a glance as you dragged yourself towards the bedroom.

You didn’t even look sorry.

How could you, I guess, if you left everything back at the studio?

…

I used to admire your passion, Minho. I hate that I still do. You pour everything you have, everything you can possibly give, into what you love. So why couldn’t you do the same for us? For me?

You say you love me, but why does it feel like I lost something I'm not sure I ever had?

…

Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? I gave everything to you. I gave you my heart, my body, my entire being. I gave you everything until there was nothing left to give.

I never asked for anything outlandish. I think it’s reasonable to want to talk with your partner, to share your lives with one another. I think it’s reasonable to ask about when you’ll be home for our anniversary without being yelled at in front of your friends.

You want me to be proud of you? You want me to be happy about one of the very things that ripped us apart?

Yes, you’re selfish, but I’m no better.

…

Maybe this is my fault. After all, no one should feel obligated to love someone. I just never thought it’d apply to us.

…I wish I could hate you. I really do.

But all I see is your stupid face smiling at me when I close my eyes. I hear your laugh ringing in my ears when I remember the ways you said or did something ridiculous to make me feel better after a stressful day. I still feel the warmth of your body wrapped around mine when we did wake up next to each other, our legs entwined together to where it was impossible to escape. Not that I ever wanted to.

I want you to keep smiling at me. I want you to hold me. I want you to miss me. I want you to want me.

Because I still want you.

…

I want to give you a second chance, Minho. If things could be different this time, if we could be different. If we could share ourselves, wholeheartedly, as lovers, and not strangers.

I want to fall in love with you again, Lee Minho.

…

Call me back, when you get the chance. You can keep the shirts for now.

Just please, don’t make me regret this.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

ending note: I hope this didn't disappoint. I really tried my best to make it work with all the angst in here :D. I also tried incorporating parallels from Missed Call so hopefully that wasn't too annoying or anything <3

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whiskersz · 4 months

Note

Ok yay someone who writes for husk!

So could you(if you don't wanna that's fine)

Do an x reader for husk where the reader works at the bar with him

I'm so new to the fandom, people don't write for him? Don't worry, I'm here to save the day!

This is kind of a ficlet, I could write a sequel if anyone is interested, left it somewhat open ended.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Actions speak louder

Give a beer glass a scrub, rinse, pass it to Husk so he can dry it up and then repeat; check the counter for stray stains, then wipe it down with a cloth dampened with dish soap and warm water in case there’s any; mix the occasional cocktail, wishing you’d be the one downing it on some days.

This is how most of your time is spent at the Hotel, working behind the counter of the bar with grumpy Husk, filling your days with repetitive tasks you were used to even before ending up in Hell. You’re comfortable here, some might even say it’s your own element.

You remember what it was like during your life, working at the bar, and the only word worthy of describing the experience would be ‘boring’. Chaotic on some particular days, yes, but it was mostly dull as your co-workers were a bit too accustomed to leaving all the hard work to you.

At the Hotel though, you find it almost therapeutic. Not too many residents, and you get along with the few that are there, plus it means no constant drink making nor cleaning; although the personality of your only co-worker is what you find most pleasing about this job.

There’s no use for useless small talk between the two of you, you’ve grown accustomed to each other enough that silence is well accepted during most of the day, and especially at night. It’s not rare for both of you to stay up late, anxiously waiting for the return of one of the other residents of the building, Angel Dust.

There’s no hiding that he struggles a lot, and you and Husk can do nothing but be there for him, unfortunately.

But once even he’s off to bed, you can finally give the bar one last quick clean and close it up together. And so again, give Angel’s glass a scrub, rinse, and then pass it to Husk so he can dry it up and put it away; he takes up the task of checking for stains on the counter and cleaning them up, telling you to hurry up and go to sleep.

You refuse, and say you need to tidy up the glasses one last time, something looks out of order.

It’s not true though, but you can’t simply say you’re waiting for him, surely that would make things between you a little awkward.

Which is why you’re surprised when you feel a light pressure on your back; Husk is shorter than you, shorter than most at the Hotel actually, and there seems to be nobody else around, so the only possible explanation for the pressure you’re feeling in the middle of your back is, well, your co-worker.

Relaxing into his touch you let out a soft sigh;

“Turning into a softie?” you say it mostly to cover up your shyness, glad he’s facing your back so he’s unable to see the tint of your cheeks.

“Shut up.” He retorts, voice low and tired.

The dim lights of the bar are soon after turned off, and a slow, drowsy kiss is shared on the top of the stairs leading to the various rooms of the Hotel. You and Husk depart for the night, both excited to scrub, rinse and repeat with each other tomorrow, though with newfound unanswered questions this time.

#husk x reader #husker x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #husk hazbin hotel #husker hazbin hotel

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months

Text

Your Body is Not a Graveyard

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been over a year since Frank and you decided to expand your family, but all you've managed to give him is more loss. Struggling with grief and depression, you've tried your best to hide your pain from him, but one afternoon, Frank stumbles on you mid-panic attack.

Warnings: 18+; miscarriage, pregnancy struggles, panic attacks, depression, grief, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, but I promise there's hope at the end

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: So I have written a lot of Matthew Murdock content, but this is my first ever Frank Castle fic and my first ever one shot (but I could be persuaded for a possible sequel). Honestly, I wrote this for the Frank comfort because I've been struggling through some things and needed it myself so expect soft Frank. I am also working on a Frank series that will be coming soon. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tagging @danzer8705 since you asked!

For a long while you stood there, the faucet running as the warm water gradually grew hotter over your hands. You barely felt the temperature difference, though. Nor had you noticed that the soap had long since been rinsed from them. You were too focused on your eyes and the blank way they were staring back at you through the bathroom mirror.

Because at first you’d felt numb.

That bit of bright red noticeable on the toilet paper before you'd flushed had caught your eye. Part of you had expected it. It was, after all, about that time of the month. Again. At the very least, your body was nothing if not predictable. Which was why you hadn’t exactly been surprised to see the telltale crimson of your period beginning.

You’d gone through the motions after. Grabbed a tampon out from under the bathroom sink and finished your business before you'd washed your hands, yet all the while it felt like you’d somehow disconnected from your body. As if the hands inserting your tampon and flushing the toilet, the same ones pulling your underwear and jeans back up before turning on the bathroom faucet and lathering the soap along them, were suddenly not yours. You didn’t recognize them.

And that face in the mirror, the one staring unblinkingly and so sullenly back at you, was unfamiliar, too. When had the bags under your eyes become so prominent? When had your eyes themselves grown so dull?

But the longer you stared, the blurrier that face in the mirror became.

And that’s when you felt it.

At first it was small–just the stinging of tears in your eyes. The all too familiar prickle began to build before you felt the first few large, wet drops spill forth from them. They left a trail of heat as they slid their way down your cheeks, catching in the frown lines around your trembling lips.

Next came the sharp, burning pain that hit you right in the stomach. Gradually it crept its way up towards your chest like a growing fire right before you felt your ribcage abruptly compress around your heart and your lungs in a single, abrupt seize. A shuddering gasp tumbled out of your lips, your eyes snapping shut. Breath coming in shallower, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip as you tried to fight back the muffled sobs slipping out of you. You knew Frank had just returned home from the store and you didn’t need him to overhear one of the panic attacks you always hid from him.

The ringing in your ears soon became louder than the sound of the running water from the faucet, tears continuing to slip past your lashes as your own racing pulse pounded rapidly in your throat. But above all of that your mind was becoming the loudest thing in this bathroom, quickly drowning out everything else around you.

Because another month had gone by and you still hadn’t conceived. It had been over a year since you and Frank had stopped trying to not get pregnant and let things happen. Yet here you were. Enduring another monthly menstrual cycle.

You still remembered that late night conversation with him curled up in bed together, the one that changed the trajectory of your past year. Both of you had been wrapped limb around naked limb in bed, your finger tracing mindless patterns along his bare chest as you both laid there together, panting and flushed from the exertion of your previous intimate activities. Frank had been rather sweet with you that night, too. Sweeter than usual. He’d taken his time with you, appreciating your body and touching you only with the most delicate of touches. Something about the way his hands had even just lingered on you that night had felt different. And then afterwards, he’d been the one to break the peaceful silence in the bedroom. You could still hear his voice perfectly in your head even now.

“I want that with you.”

Those five words had sent your heart into a frenzied flutter. Granted, you’d been uncertain if he’d meant them in the context of the conversation the pair of you had the night before when you’d curiously asked him if he had ever given more thought to wanting a family. It had been a question you’d assured him had come with no pressure. You knew about Frank’s past–the life that was not Peter Castiglione’s–and you’d always made it clear that you respected his boundaries either way. All you wanted was him. But before he’d ever proposed to you, he had on multiple occasions told you that maybe someday he could see that again–having a family–but only with you.

So you’d been curious that night before, almost six months after you had eloped with him and legally become Mrs. Castiglione–though in private Frank called you Mrs. Castle. You had wondered if he would ever want something more. Something more than just the little family the two of you had created together in your cozy house. Because for a while now it had been just Frank, you, and Bear–the pitbull you’d seen on the local animal shelter’s social media page shortly after you’d both moved in together. You’d shown that picture to Frank and the very next day you had come home from work to find Bear wagging his tail and greeting you excitedly beside Frank in the living room. The three of you had quickly become a family.

But sometimes you still wondered about more than that.

So you looked back on that night fondly with Frank once he’d clarified what he’d meant. When he’d opened the door to something more for the both of you. Because you knew what that meant for him. You knew what a big step that was after what he’d lost.

You vividly remembered the excited squeal you’d let out when he gripped your chin so gently between his fingers and said he wanted a family with you and that he knew you’d make an amazing mother. You’d flung yourself on top of him and excitedly kissed his laughing mouth over and over while he’d joked about getting a head start on making a baby and trying a second time that night. And of course you did have sex again that evening, though you hadn’t removed your birth control implant until almost three weeks after that night, wanting to wait to make sure Frank was entirely certain before you did. And when you had, you’d both been ecstatic about what the future would bring.

But now, a year later, you found yourself growing further and further disheartened and depressed. You’d eventually begun to silently take the blame upon yourself that you hadn’t managed to get a pregnancy to full term yet. That you couldn't seem to give Frank a child. Because maybe you were broken. Maybe your body was broken.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten pregnant at all–you had. Twice now. But you’d lost both pregnancies. And the second loss only hit you harder than the first because your second pregnancy had gotten farther along. You had been almost eleven weeks pregnant and starting to feel like things were going to be alright. You knew that the rate of miscarriage significantly dropped after the first twelve weeks.

You had cautiously let yourself begin to get excited. To discuss nursery plans with Frank when it came to the extra, unused bedroom in the house. Teasing him about how many times you'd be likely to change your mind about the paint color, joking about how often he'd be repainting it for you. But he always just wrapped you in those big, strong arms of his, a broad smile on his face as he promised you the same thing every time.

"Don't matter to me," his deep voice would rumble out with a soft chuckle. "I'll paint it every goddamn shade of the rainbow for the next nine months if that's what you want, sweetheart."

Frank had even finally let himself get excited, too, and it had warmed your heart to see.

Oftentimes you'd wake up, rolling out of bed to hear him down the hall and in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. He was usually awake before you in the mornings and talking to Bear, but you had begun to overhear him telling Bear that he was going to need to be a good boy and look out for you and this baby whenever he wasn't home. Or you would overhear him telling Bear about how much he'd love playing fetch when the baby was a little older, and how this child would become Bear's best friend. It had always put a smile on your face when you overheard those one-sided conversations as you made your way into the kitchen in the mornings, greeted with the sight of a grinning Frank and Bear sitting beside him, wagging his tail so hard you could hear it thumping against the wood floor repeatedly.

You remembered how excited Frank had gotten about that first appointment with your obstetrician, too. He had insisted he took off early from work to be there to hear the baby’s heartbeat and see that very first ultrasound. And you would never forget the way Frank looked at you when you’d both first heard that rapid, fluttering heartbeat. His eyes had welled up with tears, his face a mixture of awe and sheer joy as his large hand tightened around yours. You had always thought Frank was an attractive man, but in that moment, with the way his face had lit up with so much happiness as he gazed back at you, you’d never seen him look more handsome.

Though you hadn’t seen that look on his face since. A few weeks after that appointment you’d woken up from a dead sleep, your abdomen aching and in pain. Getting up out of bed, you remembered stopping in your tracks when you felt that warm gush between your thighs and your throat had instantly closed up. You’d nearly sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, a groggy Frank calling out after you as Bear sat whining outside the bathroom door.

You were bleeding and it just wouldn’t stop.

Frank had known exactly what was happening the moment you'd begun openly weeping in the bathroom. With a focused calm he managed to get both of you dressed and ready before he brought you to the hospital. He kept uttering words of comfort in your ear, holding your hand as you sobbed into his shoulder in the ER’s waiting room. Eventually a nurse wheeled you back to a room in a wheelchair where Frank continued to hold your hand and hover at your side as the nurses drew blood and set up an IV.

That whole time you were at the hospital Frank never let go of your hand, not until they needed to take you away to conduct an emergency ultrasound. You’d been terrified to go without him, not wanting to be alone if they couldn’t find a heartbeat, but the staff had refused, claiming it was hospital policy that he needed to stay back and wait for you. You swore you almost saw the Punisher firsthand in that hospital room with the sheer rage present on Frank’s face as his nostrils flared at the nurses. Inevitably you had to be the one to tell him it was alright, that you’d be fine with him waiting for you.

And then you’d broken down in the darkened little room by yourself as the doctor conducting the ultrasound offered you stiff and practiced words of condolences when that rapid, fluttering heartbeat couldn’t be found again.

You’d spent the next few days afterwards unable to leave your bed. Bear stayed cuddled up beside you, resting his head on your legs as you cried into your pillow on and off. Whenever Frank had gotten home from his shift at the local factory, he’d grab a quick shower before he lay with you, soothingly rubbing your back and not saying a word. Because there wasn’t anything to say.

It was a few days later that you’d felt guilty for wallowing in your own grief. Despite that calm, comforting exterior Frank always approached you with, you knew he was hiding his own grief from you. That underneath all those sweet words and meals he had cooked for you, he was struggling with his own pain. And you’d stumbled on the truth of that one day when you’d woken up from a nap on the couch, heading to the bedroom and catching Frank sitting on the edge of the mattress bent in half with his face in his hands, the ultrasound photos laying on the nightstand beside him.

You’d never felt like you’d let him down more in the time you’d known him than in that very moment and it had broken you. Because instead of adding joy to Frank’s life–like you wanted to do after everything he’d been through–you just kept adding more loss. So you’d stopped openly wallowing and crying after that, shoving your emotions all the way down until moments like this–like right now–where you were alone and could feel them. Just a little bit. Because you didn’t need to add anymore to Frank’s pain. You didn’t need to be another burden on his shoulders–he carried enough weight on them.

A couple of quick raps came from the bathroom door, the noise abruptly breaking through your thoughts.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Frank’s gruff voice called out from the otherside of it. “You good in there? Sink has been running for awhile now, just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Biting down harder on your lip, a choked sob slipped out between your teeth before it broke on a hiccup. Immediately you heard the bathroom door handle twist open, your damp lashes flying open to reveal Frank’s panicked expression reflected back at you through the bathroom mirror.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

Swiftly stepping beside you, he reached a hand out and turned off the faucet that had still been running. He muttered another curse when he realized how hot the water had been, reaching across you to grab the hand towel from the nearby towel rack.

"Hey, c'mere," he whispered.

He wrapped the soft towel gently around your trembling hands, drying them off carefully as he turned you towards him. Your hands ached just from the light touch; you'd certainly left them under the hot water for far too long.

Sniffling, you turned your face into the sleeve of your shirt, trying to dry the tears still flowing on the fabric along your shoulder. Gritting your teeth together, you fought to even out your sharp, shallow breaths and get them under control. You didn't need Frank to see you like this.

"Somethin' happen?" he asked softly, removing the towel from your hands. "You hurt?"

You shook your head quickly, unable to trust your voice.

He lowered his face to yours, trying to catch your gaze. Sniffling again, your eyes gradually slid up towards his, guilt flooding you at the sight of concern in his warm, brown eyes. Immediately the tears began pouring out of you even faster, your face scrunching up as you tried to bury it back into your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, c'mere," he murmured, tossing the towel onto the bathroom counter.

Frank's hands encircled your shoulders before he firmly pulled you into himself, burying his face into the top of your hair. Your hands were trapped between both of your bodies, sliding their way up to Frank’s chest before you desperately grasped onto the fabric of his black shirt and balled it into your fists. Pressing your face into his solid chest, you struggled to fight down the rasping breaths that kept leaving your mouth as you cried.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Frank whispered into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "I've got you. It's alright. You're alright."

One of his large hands began smoothing your hair soothingly as he continued gently shushing you and muttering words of comfort. Closing your eyes, you inhaled a deep, rattling breath and tried to focus on his calming voice. The familiar scent of him filled your nose, something warm like pine mixed with cinnamon. It was a smell you'd come to associate with him and it always brought you comfort–just like Frank’s entire presence always did. When you felt his lips leave a lingering kiss along your temple, the apology slipped out of your mouth before you even knew it had.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

Fingers curling tighter around the fabric of his shirt, you pressed your lips firmly together as you tried to bury your face further against his chest. You hadn’t meant to let that slip. The guilt and shame welling inside of you for months was something you much preferred to keep to yourself. You didn’t want Frank to carry the weight of that, too.

But you felt the way Frank had swiftly withdrawn his face from your hair, his large hand sliding around from where it had been stroking your hair to instead gingerly cradle your cheek. Slowly he drew your face from where you’d tried to hide against his chest, his hand gradually turning it up towards his.

His brows were slightly drawn together, a few creases visible between them. The corners of his lips were downturned, his eyes narrowing as they searched your face for answers. You could feel the tremble of your own lips as you studied his face in return, seeing exactly what you hadn’t wanted to see in it. Frank Castle was not going to let this go without an answer.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he repeated.

Licking your lips nervously, you knew you were going to have to tell him this time. Though having this particular conversation didn’t remotely calm the racing of your heart. And you knew you were going to break down again in front of him; that thought alone brought the burn of tears back to your eyes.

“I–I got my period,” you stammered quietly.

Frank’s eyes only narrowed further at you, confusion briefly slipping onto his face as his frown deepened. But then understanding washed over his features mere seconds later and you saw his expression soften. He immediately began to shake his head at you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

"Frank, I–"

"No," he stated, shaking his head again. "No. You did nothing wrong."

Throat tightening, you struggled to get your next words out, your fingers still curled around his shirt.

"I lost them both," you choked out.

Frank's other hand came up, both of his hands now carefully cradling your face between his palms. His lips twitched at the corners as his hardened eyes stared fiercely back at yours.

"That wasn't on you," he stated. "None of it was your fault, sweetheart. You hear me? It was out of your control. I don't blame you for a damn thing. How could you even think you need to apologize?"

The calloused pads of Frank’s thumbs began tenderly wiping away the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. Despite how dangerous you knew Frank could be–despite knowing the things he’d done–he’d only ever been gentle with you.

You inhaled a shuddering breath, another truth slipping out of your mouth. "Because I let you down, Frank," you whispered.

Frank's head tilted to the side, confusion once again drawing over his face as his brows furrowed further together. "You–you what?" he asked.

Eyelids lowering, you tried to control your breathing, taking a deep breath in and holding it. You couldn't properly explain what you needed to if you were going to start hyperventilating on him. And you sure as shit felt like you couldn’t look him in the eye right now, either. Not with that look on his face, the one full of earnest desire to understand you. To help you.

"I know what it–it means that you wanted this, Frank," you began in a whisper. "Wanted a family with me. I saw how happy you were both times I told you I was pregnant. I saw the way your face lit up at the ultrasound. And I–" you winced, your grip tightening so hard on Frank's shirt that your nails were digging into your own palms, "–I saw you. After. Crying in the bedroom over that ultrasound. Because I can't–can't seem to just get pregnant. To keep a pregnancy."

A humorless, strangled laugh fell out of you, your eyes still closed because you couldn’t bear to see his face. But you felt Frank’s hands holding your face a bit tighter between them in response to the harsh, bitter noise you’d just made.

"It seems so fucking easy for everyone else," you continued, everything suddenly tumbling out of you after months of repeatedly shoving it down. "Everyone but me. And I'm–I'm so tired of being asked by my family and friends every couple of months if I'm finally pregnant. So tired of them brushing off my pain like it's nothing, like the two pregnancies I lost were nothing . Telling me things will happen in time or–or there's no rush to get pregnant. That everything will work out like some empty fucking platitude is going to fix this. Because none of them have gone through any of this. And I'm happy they haven't. I am. But they don't know what it's like. How–" your eyelids flew open, your focus on your hands still wrapped around his shirt, "–how upsetting it is to be repeatedly asked if I've gotten pregnant yet, especially when it feels like my body is…" your voice trailed off, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to finish your sentence.

Frank's large hands carefully tried to turn your face up towards his, his eyes once again attempting to catch your own. Nervously you met his gaze and the hurt and pain clear in them only had your lips quivering yet again.

"When it feels like your body is what, sweetheart?" Frank asked softly.

Swallowing hard, your sad eyes held his as you spoke. "It feels broken," you whispered. "Like there's something wrong with me. Like it's–it's a graveyard."

The moment the words left your mouth, you entirely lost your composure. A sob barreled its way up out of your throat, your eyes snapping shut. Frank didn't stop you when your hands released his shirt and wrapped around his neck instead, your body collapsing forward into his. He only held you tight to himself, his hands rubbing calming patterns along your back as you wept. Your fingers dug into Frank through his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing grounding you.

“You’re not broken,” he whispered after a few minutes, his mouth beside your ear. “You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not broken.”

You felt him shifting beneath you, his hands making their way up to your shoulders before he gently pulled you away from himself. Reluctantly you loosened your grip around his neck, your own hands holding onto his broad shoulders as you drew back from him, spotting the damp spot on his shirt from where your tears had soaked through the fabric. One of his hands slid along the length of your shoulder, continuing upwards until he was lightly grasping underneath your jaw, his thumb affectionately brushing back and forth along the line of it.

“Look at me,” he said, the command so gentle it was more of a plea. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly your watery gaze left that damp spot on his shirt and returned to Frank’s face, taking in that tender look in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given you when he’d dropped down onto one knee and asked you to be his wife. It was a look he’d given you so often since that night. And right now that look was breaking down all the walls you’d been building to keep Frank out of your pain.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he assured you. “ Nothing . And there is absolutely nothing you need to be sorry about.”

His eyes quickly clamped shut, hurt briefly screwing up the features of his face as you silently watched him. When his eyes opened again, they held yours firmly with an intensity you didn’t see often in Frank. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again, but it didn’t waver on a single word.

“Your body is not a graveyard,” he stated. “You hear me? What happened does not define you. It doesn’t make you a–a disappointment or a failure. You had no control over any of that. And you don’t owe me a single goddamn apology, sweetheart. Not a single fuckin’ one.”

“But you’re hurting, too,” you whispered.

Frank shrugged, your hands rising and falling with the movement as they still rested along his shoulders. He gave you a single, resolute nod of his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It hurt me to lose both of them, too. But it hurts me more to see how much you’re hurting. And I’m sittin’ here feeling like there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“You’ve already been doing so much for me,” you countered, shaking your head at him. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through any of this without you.”

“I’ll always be here for you. Always ,” he assured you. “But do you still want this?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly nodded back at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I want this with you, Frank. More than anything.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face. “Do you wanna keep trying? Or do you wanna look into other options?” he asked next. “Because I’m with you, whatever you want.”

Your arms slowly wrapped back around his shoulders, drawing him down towards you until his forehead was resting against yours. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the back of his cropped hair. Frank immediately leaned in, lightly pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. A small smile slipped onto your mouth when he pulled away.

“I want to keep trying,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” he asked, a playful coyness in his voice.

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of you in response as he wrapped his arms around you in another embrace. Turning to rest your cheek against his chest, your eyes fell closed and you felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’m on my period, Frank,” you reminded him.

“So?” he asked. “Didn’t stop us those times before.”

Laughing lightly, you shook your head against him. “Probably not likely to result in a pregnancy,” you pointed out.

“Who says that’s the only reason I need to make love to my wife?” he countered.

Slowly you shifted in his arms, your chin coming to rest along Frank’s chest as you looked up at him. He drew a bit back from you, glancing down at you with a cheeky grin on his mouth. When you quirked a brow at him, he sent you a wink.

“Make love, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he replied with a smug smile. “Which reminds me, I got somethin’ for you.”

Brows curiously drawing together when Frank’s arms released you from their hold, your arms dropped to your sides as you watched him turn and head out of the bathroom. You followed out of the room behind him, Bear greeting you in the hallway with a wagging tail. You smiled down at him, giving him a quick pet on the head before you continued on your way towards the kitchen after Frank, wiping the backs of your hands against your damp cheeks.

When you rounded the hallway corner, you spotted Frank in the kitchen holding a vase filled with a beautiful floral arrangement. Your jaw dropped as you came to an abrupt halt. The bouquet was a mixture of white, deep red, and pink flowers and you couldn’t take your eyes from it. It certainly looked like he’d stopped at a florist after he’d picked up the groceries because the arrangement was far nicer than what you’d find at the store.

Eyes making their way up to Frank’s smiling face, you felt the tears beginning to well up in them again. Though this time it wasn’t because you were upset and hurting, it was because you were full of so much love for the man you’d been fortunate enough to marry.

“You brought me flowers?” you asked in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “Seemed like you could use some cheering up. I also picked up one of those coffees you always order,” he continued, turning and gesturing at the cup on the kitchen counter behind him. “I know how much you love your coffee.”

Rapidly crossing the distance between you and Frank, you quickly reached up and grabbed his face in both of your hands before roughly pulling him down towards you. Your mouth was on his, kissing him like it was the first time you ever had all over again. His own lips were moving just as earnestly against yours, matching the same intensity as one of his hands landed on your hip, pulling you into him.

After a moment you broke away, trying to catch your breath as you stared up at Frank. He stood there, one hand holding your hip while the other continued to hold the vase of flowers, a bright smile spread wide over his mouth.

"I love you," you told him.

Leaning forward, Frank placed a kiss on your forehead. A smile grew along your mouth when his warm lips lingered against you.

"I love you, too," Frank murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

He gave your hip a gentle squeeze before he released it, turning and setting the vase of flowers back onto the counter behind him. He picked up the cup of coffee before he turned back towards you, holding it out. You accepted it from him with a soft thanks before drawing the cup to your lips for a deep drink. Eyelids fluttering closed, you reveled in the comforting liquid as it ran over your tongue.

"Somethin' you want to do this afternoon?" Frank asked. "'Cause I'm all yours the rest of the day."

Chewing your lip, you turned at the waist and looked over at Bear sitting in the space between the kitchen and living room. The moment your eyes fell on him he perked up, his head tilting to the side as his tail began to thump against the wood floor. Focusing back on Frank, you sent him a smile.

"I'm happy to do whatever as long as I get to spend the afternoon with my two favorites," you told him.

Frank’s attention shifted to Bear before he jutted his chin at the dog. "Hey boy, how's a long walk on that trail sound? You think a little family outing will cheer our girl up?" he asked.

Bear let out two deep barks, rising up onto his feet. His front paws happily danced back and forth, his nails lightly clicking along the wood floor. You laughed at how excited he was, your gaze eventually drawn back to Frank standing just before you.

"What do you say, sweetheart?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "You up for a little family outing?" He gestured his chin at the coffee in your hands. "You can bring the coffee."

"I say that sounds like a good afternoon," you replied.

Taking a step towards him, you tilted your face upwards. Frank immediately leaned down towards you, knowing exactly what you wanted and allowing you to press your lips to his in a light kiss. Your heart stuttered when you felt the way his mouth drew into a smile against yours before he broke away.

"And what about afterwards?" he asked, tone light and teasing as his face hovered just an inch from yours. "You up for a little love making in the shower?"

An amused snort fell out of you, Frank's smile only growing at the sound of it. Grinning back at him, you felt like some of the weight of your grief had lessened after finally opening up to Frank today. Not that the pain you felt had miraculously disappeared and the emotional wounds had suddenly healed over, but you didn't feel like you were drowning in it anymore. For the first time in months you felt like you could breathe a little easier.

And you owed it to the man standing in front of you.

But you also knew there was pain hiding behind those brown eyes gazing so fondly back at you. That Frank had his own hurt that needed to be addressed because he seemed to be doing the same thing you were–shoving it all down and pretending it wasn't there. You'd have to talk to him about it, ease him into opening up next. Maybe he'd be receptive on this walk since you'd both finally begun to talk.

Shrugging a shoulder lightly, you held the cup of coffee tighter between your hands. "I think that sounds like a great way to get cleaned up afterwards," you answered.

Frank shot you a wink that had your cheeks heating, even after all this time together.

"That's my girl," he whispered, a note of pride in his voice. He tossed an arm around your shoulders, whistling over at Bear. "C'mon boy, we got a beautiful woman to cheer up."

Bear let out a happy bark before you saw him race across the kitchen past the pair of you, heading straight for his leash beside the door. Frank’s deep chuckle at Bear’s ever-present enthusiasm for walks filled your ears, and when he looked back down at you beside him with those soft brown eyes of his, all you saw reflected back at you was love and acceptance.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle x you #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle

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orbitalmirror · 2 months

Text

Grand Days and Small Gestures

Pairing: Hunter x Reader

Word Count: 9152

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence.

Prompt: “Why can’t you just be normal?”

Summary: You didn’t expect to end up in Separatist prison cell. You definitely didn’t expect to be accidentally rescued by a squad of clones.

A/N: This fic is a gift for @ladyanidala, who gave me SUCH a fun prompt!! I’m gonna be honest with you, this got rather out of hand…I’m not used to writing romance, and then this pesky little thing called plot got involved. It’s not the most traditional reader-insert fic, but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was my first foray into a second-person POV, and it was so fun that it inspired me to start dreaming up a (possibly fluffier?) sequel. Thank you so much to @cloneficgiftexchange for creating this event!

Today isn’t the worst day of your life.

Granted, the bar is pretty low; the worst day of your life was probably that time you were undercover in a sect of fascist insurrectionists on Brentaal IV, and you discovered that your encrypted comm was irreparably fried. You were stuck in that hellhole for nine weeks before somebody back in the Corellian intelligence HQ thought, “You know, maybe she didn’t suddenly go dark on purpose.” By the time they came to rescue your ass, you had finally decided to quit this job and go become a baker or something. Then you got back to Corellia and…didn’t quit. Didn’t even draft your resignation letter. Nothing in the galaxy makes you feel quite as alive as espionage does—what else could you do?

So now you sit on the concrete floor of a detention cell, your tailbone aching and your fingers stiff from the chill, and you remind yourself, today isn’t the worst day of your life. The idea spins itself into a sort of mantra: It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be worse.

Your stomach growls in dissent.

Hours have passed since the battle droids caught you, and you don’t know why it’s taking so long for a real Separatist officer to arrive for an interrogation. Clearly there are no living beings in the compound, which means clearly your intel was wrong. The datapad you’re after is too valuable to leave in the clumsy, three-fingered hands of droids. The B2s guarding your cell left about twenty minutes ago, and you’ve spent the past ten minutes trying to pry open a panel on the wall with your little transparisteel knife, the only weapon of yours that wasn’t found by the droids and their metal detector.

The panel finally pops off, and you almost groan in dismay. The only things visible in the wall are a thick bundle of electrical wires and some pipes. The pipes look too sturdy to be damaged by you and your little knife, and anyway, flooding your cell probably wouldn’t do anything except electrocute you. Cutting the wires might cut off electricity to your cell door, but that’s just as likely to leave the door locked as it is to open it, and it also might electrocute you. You’re no technician. It isn’t worth the risk.

It could be worse.

The passing of time is almost visceral now, like the ticking of an analog clock in your ribcage. You shove the panel back on the wall. Time for the ceiling. The cell’s metal bench—you can’t even call it a cot—is just tall enough that you can reach up to pry around the edges of the ceiling tiles. You start on the one in the corner, hoping that there’s a ventilation shaft above it. The left edge is just starting to come loose when—

Click.

Darkness.

That definitely wasn’t your doing.

Half a second passes, and then a loud pneumatic hiss heralds the miraculous opening of your cell door, and the adrenaline really kicks in. Has someone finally come to collect you? But why…

You listen. No footsteps.

You hop down from the bench to peek out the cell door. Nothing to see, either.

Another hiss startles you, and you dart into the hall just as the door suddenly closes again, deafening in the eerie silence. The overhead lights are still off, and only the weak blue emergency lights lining the corridor offer you any sense of direction.

You’re free, and nobody is around.

Well, this just got interesting.

~~~

As you make your way through the base, you quickly realize that something very strange is going on. That something strange is probably best exemplified by the droids lying in scrap heaps all over the place, most of them burned through with blasters, but some of them dismantled in a way that you can’t even identify. Whoever or whatever is in this base with you, you do not want to meet them.

So, of course, you meet them less than ten minutes after escaping your cell.

You’ve picked up a blaster from a fallen B1, and are carefully scouting out the control rooms, looking for anything that can help you find your confiscated ship. Unfortunately for you, the walls and blast doors of the compound are so thick that they’re effectively sound-proofed, making it difficult to tell what lies behind each door before you open it. Despite the fact that you haven’t yet run into any functional droid or living being, you feel a spike of adrenaline every time you enter a new room or hallway.

The next one, you think, opens into the hallway where the main control center is housed. If you were paying enough attention while the droids frog-marched you through the base.

When it opens, you don’t find droids.

You find clones.

There are four. Their armor looks different from the clones you’re used to seeing on the major core planets: all of it is painted a dark grey, their helmets heavily customized. Two of them immediately turn to look at you. One is holding a pistol. The other is holding the scariest sniper rifle you’ve ever had pointed at your face. (And you’ve had quite a few sniper rifles pointed at your face.)

Nope, you think. Not happening.

Immediately, you dart around the corner and slam the button to close the door. Shouts ring through the hallway. You shoot the access panel for good measure. Corellia may be a member of the Republic, but that doesn’t mean you want anybody working for the Senate to know what you’re doing here, least of all soldiers.

Time has suddenly become far more pressing.

You abandon some of your previous caution and take off at full speed through the compound. A few active battle droids wander the halls, their tiny electronic brains seeming utterly flabbergasted by whatever turn of events lead to a group of at least four clones carving through an entire Separatist base. You pick them off with ease. They’re not the enemy you’re worried about.

Where are the rest of the clones?

There’s no way in hell a squad of four men could do this much damage…right?

But there are more pressing matters. There’s no signage in the base, which means you’re relying on memory and educated guesses to make your way to the airfield where you know a wide array of starships are parked. You’ve finally made your way up to the ground level of the base, only minutes away from where you think the airfield is.

Unfortunately, the stars are not on your side today.

Footsteps—organic ones, by the sound of it—are coming towards you down the hall.

You duck into an alcove in the wall and press yourself as deep into it as you can, hoping desperately that you’re hidden from view. A few moments pass, and then a clone in that strange grey armor sprints past you. Then a second, and a third, and a fourth.

A few seconds pop by, and you’re about to peek out of your alcove when a grey helmet pops back into view, startling you so badly that you bang your elbow against the steel wall.

“Who are you?” the clone yells.

“Who are you?” you retort, for a lack of any better things to say.

“Sergeant CT-9901. Call me Hunter.”

You blink at him. He tilts his head at you.

You say nothing.

“Hunter! We need to go!” a voice shouts.

“Are you a Separatist?” the clone called Hunter asks you.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then come on!” he exclaims, motioning you to follow him.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re escaping.”

“You’re going the wrong way!” you exclaim. “The airfield is in the direction you came from.”

“Yeah, and we just rigged the airfield to blow. Now come on!”

Well, shit. What other choice do you have?

Hunter takes off running, and you follow as closely as you can. The tall clone with the sniper rifle is waiting for you at the end of the hall, and he says something to Hunter that you can’t quite make out. They’re probably talking through their helmet comms, you realize. The three of you make your way away from the airfield, through a part of the base that you don’t recognize. Here and there, you catch glimpses of the other two clones up aheads, but they don’t seem to be slowing down at all. Metal carcasses of battle droids are strewn around you.

Finally, you break out of the compound and into the sunlight. It seems to be early afternoon, if you’ve been tracking both the passing of time and the cardinal corrections correctly. The base is located in a valley between rolling mountains, surrounded on every side by thick forest and strange rock formations. You follow the two clones to a large boulder, where the other two clones you saw earlier are standing. One is tall, with goggles in his helmet. The other one is even taller, so tall that you could reasonably call him a giant.

“Who is this?” asks the one with goggles.

“Not a Separatist,” says Hunter. “Which is good enough. Wrecker, are we good to go?”

The giant—Wrecker, apparently—gives Hunter a thumbs up, and hits a button on his vambrace.

The airfield behind you blows up. Somehow, it’s one of the most normal things that’s happened all day.

“That should keep them distracted for at least thirty minutes, which is long enough for us to escape the range of their scanners,” says goggles.

“I don’t want to take any risks. Let’s get moving,” says Hunter. He turns to you. “Alright, Miss ‘Absolutely Not a Separatist’. You coming with us?”

“Is that an option?” you ask.

“As long as you don’t shoot us.”

“Didn’t even occur to me,” you say, honestly. “But where are the other clones?”

“What other clones?”

…you’re joking.

“You did all of that yourself?” you ask, utterly incredulous.

“Sure did!” Wrecker exclaims. “It was fun, too.”

“We specialize in smaller operations,” says Hunter. “Wrecker’s our munitions guy. Tech is pretty self-explanatory. Crosshair’s our sniper. We’re Clone Force Ninety-Nine.”

There’s so much information to be taken in right now, you don’t even know where to begin.

“Alright,” you say, because really, you’re completely out of options here. “I guess I’m in.”

~~~

Cool air burns in your lungs. Everything hurts. Everything hurts. Keeping up with the clones’ long strides has forced you to jog in places, and even then, you’ve fallen to the back of the group. Twenty minutes have passed since the airfield was blown to bits, and in that time, you’ve finally made sense of the incredible influx of information you’ve been given. You’ve also developed a veritable laundry list of questions. Chief among them:

“Where are we going?”

Crosshair turns around, and though his helmet covers his face, he’s definitely glaring at you. “To our cache. Keep up.”

“How much farther?” you ask, trying—and mostly failing—to keep the despair out of your voice.

Crosshair says nothing.

Such a conversationalist.

“What’s going on?” calls a low voice—Hunter’s. All four clones are looking at you now, peering through their unreadable masks.

“I asked where we’re going.”

Hunter pauses, tilts his head. Then he starts making his way back down towards you, his posture tense even as his steps are light and fluid. You eye him closely; despite Crosshair’s rifle, and Wrecker’s size, and Tech’s explosives, you’re getting the feeling that Hunter is the dangerous one here. You just haven’t figured out why, yet.

You straighten as he approaches, expecting him to size you up. Instead, he walks right past you, and sits on a fallen tree.

“When was the last time you drank something?” he asks.

…what?

The question sounds downright concerned. You say nothing. The duration of your imprisonment is not information you’ll give out willingly.

Hunter is unclipping something from his belt, now. It’s a small bottle with a colorless, slightly cloudy liquid inside. He holds it out to you, and says, “Drink.”

“What’s in it?” you ask.

“Water, a mild stimulant, electrolytes, and sugar,” Tech rattles off.

Helpful.

Hunter shoves it towards you a little further, and you push it back. Poisoning is not on today’s agenda…not that literally any of this was on today’s agenda.

“You, first.”

Hunter nods, and pulls his helmet off of his head. His face is…not what you expected. His skin is a light brown, dotted with a few faint freckles on the left side, and dominated by a dark tattoo of a skull on the right. His nose is aquiline, his jaw is strong and rounded, his cheeks ever so slightly hollowed. Dark curly hair falls in a tangled mess to his shoulders, held back only by a red bandana tied across his temple. A few flyaways have escaped its hold, as if yearning for freedom.

You’re a professional. You do not ogle the handsome soldier. Instead, you watch closely as he lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a small sip. Swallows. Your eyes follow the motion of his throat.

Satisfied, you nod, and take the offered gift. The liquid is sweet and a little salty, but otherwise bland. A faint bitterness lingers on your tongue when you’ve finished taking a few gulps.

When you hold the bottle out for Hunter, he waves you off. “All of it.”

It takes you a minute, but you finish the bottle, and thank him as you hand it back to him. He nods silently in response. What a repartee you’ve established.

“You feel better?” Wrecker asks.

“Sure do. Thanks.”

“We stowed the rest of our gear at a spot fifteen klicks away,” Hunter says. “Can you make it that far?”

Now that’s the real question. The fluids and the short rest have certainly helped, but your legs still ache, and the mountain in front of you is only getting steeper as you climb. Fifteen klicks is just a very long walk over normal terrain. Fifteen klicks now…

“Definitely,” you say, with confidence. “Shall we?”

Hunter motions the group forward, and you fall in behind him.

What a day.

~~~

Time starts to blur, after that. Your world reduces itself to the diffused ache of exhaustion in your legs and the tree roots under your feet…and Hunter. More precisely, the mud-splattered heels of Hunter’s armored boots, as you follow close behind. The clones’ pace is almost punishing; you start to worry how long you’ll be able to keep up, as the soldiers plod along without complaint. Well…almost without complaint.

“I’m hungry,” Wrecker groans, only for the fourth time in the past ten minutes.

“With only three ration packs left, protocol dictates that we reserve our food supply until we restock, or until nutrition becomes an immediate concern,” says Tech.

“This is immediate,” Wrecker insists.

“Your appetite has been an ‘immediate concern’ since we were three years old,” says Crosshair.

Your own stomach growls in affirmation, as if feeling left out of the conversation. When was the last time you ate? Hours have lost their shape. At this point, you feel like time is being measured by the number of feet you’ve climbed.

Abruptly, Hunter halts. Without saying a word, he swings his rucksack to his front, pulls out a foil ration pack, and tosses it over his shoulder. It sails through the air in an elegant arc, right into Wrecker’s waiting hand. You try not to be too impressed.

(You fail, because it was impressive. Actually, you’re not even sure how it was possible.)

There’s a pause as Hunter’s hand hovers over his rucksack.

Then: “Catch.”

The warning seems only an afterthought, delivered as the ration pack is already airborne. You manage to catch it anyway, and you turn it over in your hands. It’s cold-start, the kind that’s mixed with water to form a vaguely edible mush. Hunter is already moving forward again.

“Do you have any more water?” you ask.

This time, he doesn’t even bother with a warning as the metal canteen comes hurtling at your head. It stings your hand as you catch it. You tuck the ration pack into your belt so you have a hand free to open the—

To open—

To—

What the hell?

“Is this sealed?” you call out, even though the canteen is clearly half-empty, and you remember him drinking out of it just minutes ago.

Hunter turns and starts to make his way back down to you. Not for the first time on this bizarre trek, you wish that you could see his facial expressions. His body language betrays little, his movements as elegant and efficient as a supersoldier’s should be. When he reaches you, he holds out his hand. You drop the canteen into his palm with a little more force than is really necessary, but he doesn’t react, simply twists open the lid without any visible effort.

“The ration,” he says, holding out his hand again.

“I know how to mix a ration pack,” you grumble.

But you’re tired, and your hands are stiff from the cold, and you’re starting to wonder whether this is an elite super-soldier’s equivalent of kindness. You won’t bite the hand that feeds you. With a nod, you hand over the ration pack. Hunter mixes it with the sort of automaticity that betrays a thousand repetitions of the motion. Your fingers brush when he hands it back.

One swig of the stuff makes you wonder if it’s not too late to go back to the Seppie prison.

“Urghh,” you groan.

Hunter makes a sound that’s almost…oh stars, he’s laughing at you. You’re dying of hunger and thirst and trying to drink what tastes like cardboard in puréed form, and he’s laughing at you.

“Never had GAR rations before?” he asks. “They’re not like what you civilians get for your backpacking trips.”

“That was…rude, I’m sorry,” you say, kicking yourself for reacting that way when he just offered you help.

“That’s the usual reaction,” he says. He swings his rucksack over his shoulder and turns back up the mountain. “Come on, we’ve got a long way ahead of us. Drink it while we walk. You’ll get used to the taste.”

“Stars, I hope not,” you mumble.

Hunter’s rumbling laugh floats back to again, and you smile despite yourself. For a moment, you wonder if you’ll get along after all.

~~~

It turns out rations for six foot tall super-soldiers are really energy-dense. With a stomach full of food—if you can call it food—the day starts to feel a lot less like a catastrophic mission failure and a lot more like a strange little side quest. Wrecker seems to feel the same, a bright levity emerging in his booming voice.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Hunter took on three regs at one time because they were picking on Crosshair?”

“When would you ever have had time to tell her that story?” Crosshair asks.

“There were only two,” Hunter corrects, “and they were almost a year younger than us.”

“What are regs?” you ask.

It’s a can of worms that you’re glad you’ve opened.

Wrecker seems to delight in having an audience, and the other three can’t help but contribute to the conversation. Their stories are all out of chronology, and the discussion is frequently derailed by your complete lack of knowledge about the Grand Army of the Republic. The Senate wants it that way, you know. Honestly, it’s incredible how much intel you’re getting right now…not that you feel like you could use it for anything productive. It paints an ugly picture that the clones don’t seem to realize is ugly, a tale of forced conformity and a brutal life.

The landscape goes by. You learn that most clones like them are considered defective and relegated to maintenance duty. You learn that, although the clones as a whole view themselves as brothers, there’s nasty people in any group. You learn who “regs” are, and about the ones who picked on the 99s—Crosshair especially, who grew up tall but unusually thin, unable to develop the impressive muscle mass that most of the clones possessed. You learn that Hunter, the only one not visibly defective in some way, learned to bridge the gap between his squad and their other brothers.

(You learn that, when his diplomacy failed, he was always willing to throw punches in their defense.)

A story unfolds, of four boys who turned into four men, all so different in temperament that it seems impossible for them to be held together by anything except circumstances. Wrecker starts fights because he thinks they’re fun, but cares far more about what other people think of him than he’s willing to let on. Tech simultaneously lives in his own head and is inextricably steeped in the world around him, every phenomenon looking more colorful through his goggles, every system of nature a machine that can be disassembled. Crosshair is a cynic, through and through, but his loyalty to his brothers runs so deep that you wonder if it might be affection, rather than a sense of duty, that drives him. Hunter…

In all of their stories, none of the other clones truly describe Hunter to you. There are no off-handed compliments that he’s brave, or that he’s kind, or that he’s level-headed. Wrecker tells you, “Crosshair is the best lookout in the entire galaxy.” Hunter tells you, “Wrecker has this habit of offering to help people at very inconvenient times,”—an amusingly brotherly way to say that Wrecker is a generous soul. Crosshair tells you, “Tech saved our mission because he read a book about karking butterflies.”

But still, in between the tales of rescues and hijinks, you weave together the threads, and you find yourself looking at a very different person than you thought you had met when your day began. Hunter’s facade of gruffness is hastily constructed and easily chipped away, and beneath it he is not a complicated man. Above all else, he is singularly devoted to protecting others, and everything else about him seems inconsequential in comparison.

Evening falls, and you make it to the place where the clones have stored their gear. Their ship, Hunter explains, is another twelve klicks away, near a small outpost that they initially investigated, and then decided not to infiltrate.

After you’ve finished your dinner—which includes some real food this time, even if it is canned—you find yourself sitting by a tiny brook, too small for anything to swim in it. A day’s worth of stories tumble around in your mind.

You only hear Hunter coming when he’s a few feet behind you.

“I won’t ask you what you were doing in a Seppie detention cell.”

Smart man, you think.

“But,” he continues, “whatever it was you did, they’re going to be after you as much as they’re after us. You need to be able to protect yourself.”

You resist the urge to respond with a dry, “Yeah, no shit, Sergeant.” Instead, you offer a non-committal hum.

“I’ve got a spare DC-17 pistol. You should learn how to use it.”

You turn to look at him. He’s standing with one hand on his hip and the other holding his blaster, empty of a power cell. He looks very serious.

You try to resist the urge not to laugh. You’ve had a blaster in your hand since you were twelve years old.

Instead, you say, “Sounds like a good idea. Now?”

“No better time,” he says.

He makes his way over and sits down next to you, and you find yourself leaning in to watch as he turns the blaster over in his hands.

“So we’ll start with assembling it…”

You’re only half paying attention to the actual words tumbling from his lips. Like a sweater catching on a bush, your mind catches on the low, rumbling timbre of his voice. The sound buzzes in your ears. The sun is going down, but you could swear it’s getting warmer. Was he always that—

“Were you paying attention?” he asks, breaking your reverie.

“Yes,” you lie. Well, half-lie, because you were paying attention…to other things.

“Repeat back what I just told you.”

Well, that definitely isn’t happening. In lieu of an answer, you pluck the blaster and its power cell from his hands. Your conscious mind is barely engaged as you assemble it with steady hands, as quick as you reasonably can without jamming it. A DC-17 isn’t your preferred style of pistol, but the principle is the same.

And if you’re not mistaken, the subtle arch of Hunter’s brow means that he’s impressed.

“Good. Now, this blaster handles a little differently than the ones you’ve probably used…”

Maybe it’s the smooth confidence in his voice, or maybe you’re just desperate to learn more about the man, but you find yourself going along with it. You nod as he explains the kickback of the weapon, its effective range, its possible styles of blaster bolts.

Finally, he stands behind your left shoulder, and quietly instructs you to aim the weapon. It’s as easy as breathing. His hands come up to adjust your grip; his fingers are warm and rough, heavily calloused by his own use of weaponry. The heat lingers even as he pulls away, apparently satisfied with the positioning of your hands.

You immediately slide your grip back to where it was.

“My hands are smaller,” you explain, even though you don’t owe him an explanation, because you’ve been doing this at least as long as he has. You almost tell him that, too, but it would reveal more about you than you actually want him to know.

“Mmm,” he hums, his face now tantalizing close to your ear. “See if you can hit that hollow tree.”

The tree is maybe thirty feet away. Half of you is wildly offended by the suggestion that you couldn’t hit such an easy target. The other half of you is ruled by the pounding of your own tyrannical heart, Hunter’s mere proximity throwing you out of your disciplined calm.

You breathe in. Breathe out. Aim. Squeeze.

There’s now a burning hole in the center of the dead tree.

“Good!” Hunter says, and good heavens, could he not stand so close? “Now—”

Fweeoo.

Maybe you should feel bad about cutting him off. You don’t, at all.

Fweeoo.

Hunter is silent, now, just standing there watching you draw a neat little line of smoking holes in the tree. The petty part of you is winning your internal war, so you line up a sixth shot, turn your head to meet his gaze, and pull the trigger. His dark brown eyes flicker away, then back to yours.

“You’ve made your point,” he murmurs.

You glance at the tree, where a wisp a smoke rises from a knot in the bark. It’s not a perfect bullseye, but a victory nevertheless.

“I’ve made better points,” you retort, smiling. Four precious seconds pass before Hunter finally steps away.

“So, no target practice for you, then. I set up your bedroll. You should get some rest.”

“Which watch should I take?”

Hunter frowns slightly. “None of them. I’m going to scout out the area for a bit longer, then I’ll take first watch. Crosshair and Tech take second and third.”

“Do you want a second pair of eyes?”

“Don’t need them.”

You nod, and suddenly realize what an awkward thing that was to say. “Well then, I’ll head back up to camp.”

“Goodnight,” says Hunter, softly.

You don’t manage to summon a response.

(Your heart still pounds against your ribs.)

~~~

Despite the food, rest, and water, the morning’s trek is harder than yesterday’s. The terrain turns rocky and the foliage becomes sparse, leaving you exposed to the cold wind. The group’s pace slows as you make your way down the mountain, carefully stepping around loose stones that could send you tumbling. Your eyes are once again trained on Hunter’s heels. You trust him more than you trust yourself to pick out a safe path on the treacherous slope.

Still, the difficulty of the endeavor doesn’t seem to dampen the squad’s mood. Hunter’s helmet is off, strapped to the top of his pack, and he often tilts his face towards the sun. The wind blows his curly hair in every direction, until the bandana is only keeping half of it out of his face. Tech is delivering a detailed lecture about geology. You have no idea what he’s talking about. Wrecker seems as confused as you are about the subject, but while you simply let the words wash over you, Wrecker eagerly interjects with questions and commentary. Their dialogue is far from socratic, but it starts to intrigue you, and you can’t help but smile at the exchange. Every once in a while, the conversation is punctuated by a comment from Crosshair, dripping with sarcasm and yet received with good-hearted laughter. Hunter’s contributions, frequent at first, begin to taper off. The other three don’t seem to notice, but then again, it’s not their job to study people. It’s yours.

You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he answers your question preemptively.

“Someone’s in the ship,” he says, turning around to face the group.

“Clankers?” Wrecker asks.

“No. I would have felt them if they were droids. I’ve been sensing something else: comms, or another type of small electronics. But just now, they turned on power in the ship.”

The cogs in your head are turning. Did you hear him correctly?

“How do you know?” you ask. “What do you mean, you felt…”

You trail off as Hunter holds up a finger to silence you. His brow is drawn into a tight scowl and he closes his eyes, tilting his head as if listening for something.

Tech makes his way over to you. Quietly, he explains, “Hunter can feel electromagnetic frequencies. He can sense droids, or the electronics that people carry on them if they’re quite close. When the electrical power on the ship is turned on, those frequencies change, so he can feel those, too.”

“How could somebody turn your ship on without a key fob?” you whisper.

“The ship has no key fob. It would be dangerous to rely on a small object, which could easily be lost or damaged during a mission, to access our only means of escape. One can enter the ship and activate some systems with no restrictions, and the engine can be started with a key code.”

“And somebody just got on your ship?”

“Apparently, yes.”

You glance up at Hunter. His right thumb is rubbing absently at the scuffed paint on his vambrace.

After a long moment, he says, “There are definitely no droids. I think there are locals here, and we didn’t realize it. We need to move. The ship is only a fifteen minute run from here.”

“Should we leave the packs?” you ask.

“Leave everything except weapons and combat gear. We’ll put the explosives and grappling hooks in Wrecker’s pack.”

“Aww, yeah!” Wrecker cheers, albeit quietly. The rest of the group is in motion immediately, rearranging their burdens and leaving all by the necessities tucked under a rocky outcrop. You have no rucksack, so you help Wrecker in carefully repacking the explosives into his. You’re almost finished when you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.

“You’ll want these,” Hunter says. He hands you two spare power cells for your blaster.

“Two? But you only have three spares.”

“I’m hoping we can reason with the locals,” he says, “or scare them away. But if things got really bad, I’ve got this.”

There’s a metallic hiss as he slides a vibroknife out of the sheath on his forearm. He twirls it in his fingers a few times, a display of skill so casual that it feels almost unreal.

Wait.

“Back in the base, did you stab those droids?” you exclaim.

Hunter grins, a full smile that seems so out of place in your current situation. And yet, you find yourself mirroring it right back at him.

“Let’s go get our ship back.”

~~~

Jagged rock digs into your skin as you lie on your stomach on a ridge, peering out at the clones’ ship. Hunter was right; you can vaguely make out the shapes of at least three humanoids milling around it. From where you are, though, you can’t see any more details than that. The group’s only pair of binoculars is currently in Crosshair’s hands.

“Three outside the ship,” he says. “Armored, helmeted, and carrying blasters. These might be more than just locals.”

“Anything else?” Hunter asks.

“They’re waving their hands at each other.”

Hunter holds out his hand for the binoculars, and Crosshair hands them over.

“Sign language,” says Hunter. “Either they don’t want to be heard, or they can’t hear. I can’t feel how many there are. The ship is interfering too much.”

“Are they doing anything to the ship?” you ask.

“Not from the outside. Who knows what they’re doing inside of it.”

“I have encrypted all information present on board our ship,” says Tech from next to Crosshair. “It would be nearly impossible for them to elicit any intelligence from its databanks.”

“I’m more worried about them gutting it,” says Hunter darkly.

To your surprise, he does not hand the binoculars to Tech next—he hands them to you. Nodding in thanks, you take them, and try not to think about the way his shoulder presses against yours. You fine-tune the focusing knob until you have a clear view of the people standing in front of the ship.

Then you almost drop the binoculars.

Hunter notices the jerk of your hand immediately. “What’s going on?” he asks, alarmed.

What’s going on? What’s going on?

What’s going on is that you are never getting that ship back, and you’re all in deep shit, and you’re starting to wonder if you really will quit your job this time.

Kark. This.

“Those are Third Hand,” you say.

“Third Hand?”

“Mercenaries. They’re…” you trail off as you watch one of the distant figures make a wide sweeping motion with his right arm. You wrack your brain trying to remember what it means, but it’s been years since you’ve encountered one of the Third Hand. Usually, the correct response to encountering one is to run very fast in the other direction and pray to anybody who will listen that they don’t follow you…and not to ask them for sign language lessons. The only reason you even recognize them is because their appearance is so distinctive: Ubese filter helmets and cortosis-weave plate armor, painted in swirling multicolored hues with jagged black symbols on top, studded with spikes. The effect is like a monstrous creature emerging from a beautiful supernova. These ones have relatively few spikes each—a good sign, but not a great one.

“What?” Hunter asks.

You refocus yourself. “They’re Ubese mercenaries. Very good ones. Usually contract with the Spice Cartel.”

“So what are they doing out here?”

“Nothing good. If there are six here, there are probably at least twelve in the area.”

“How do you know there are six? Can you see them?”

You’ve mentally catalogued everything you’ll be able to learn from looking, so you hand the binoculars back to Hunter.

“Third Hand always travel in groups of threes. There are three outside, so there will probably be three inside.”

“Six is manageable,” he says.

…manageable? He’s joking. He has to be joking. The man who used to start fist-fights to defend his brothers would not turn them into target practice for the Third Hand.

But his voice is deadly serious.

“Six against four?” you ask, incredulous.

“Six against five.”

“I’m not wearing armor. I’m not a soldier. I don’t count.”

“I’ll still take those odds. We need to complete the mission, which means we need to scout the other large bases on this moon. And for that, we need our ship.”

“They’re armed to the teeth and don’t shy away from killing people like you do.”

“We’ve had worse. We need to complete the mission,” he repeats.

“Hunter, what is wrong with you?” you whisper-scream, utterly furious but fully aware of how exposed your position is. “Do you actually think it’s a good idea to take on six extraordinarily well-trained mercenaries just for a ship? Any sane officer would turn his men around right now and send for evac!”

“We don’t need an evac!”

“Stars help us, Hunter, stop trying to be a hero! Why can’t you just be normal?”

Hunter goes deathly still.

Silence falls upon you; the air seems to turn brittle. You glance between the men. Crosshair is staring at you coldly. Wrecker is fidgeting, his eyebrows raised in alarm. Tech is glancing between you, Hunter, and the display on his Hud, his fingers still tapping against his wrist comm.

Hunter isn’t looking at you.

“We have never been normal,” he mutters.

The word seems laced with poison, and your chest clenches. Of course you had to go and put your foot in your mouth. Of course you picked the one adjective that would feel so personal to him. His expression is angry, but somehow you get the feeling that it runs deeper than that.

“Hunter,” you say, softer this time. “This is a suicide mission.”

“Then don’t come.”

Stubborn man! “Has it not occurred to you that I don’t want you to die? Any of you?”

Hunter does look at you now, his face a mix of so many emotions that it’s become unreadable. You meet his dark eyes and hold his gaze, willing him to understand. Willing him to trust you.

“We’ll be going home with one less ship and no information,” he says. Damn him. “We don’t even know where the datapad is, now.

Something about that sentence catches in your mind. You don’t even know where the datapad is. You don’t…

…no, you do.

It all clicks together.

“Yes, we do.”

“What?” the men chorus, sounding more alike than they ever have.

“You told me that there’s a small outpost near here, right?”

“That outpost was far too small and poorly-manned to contain the datapad we’re looking for,” says Tech. “The Separatists would never leave something so valuable so vulnerable.”

“But what if it is well-guarded? Just not by droids.”

Hunter shifts, turns to look at you for real now. The anger hasn’t entirely faded from his face, but there’s something else there now, a new glint. “Are you saying that the outpost is guarded by these mercenaries, and the datapad is actually being kept there?”

“It’s the best explanation. How much do you know about the outpost?”

All four men glance at each other. Wrecker grins.

“Well,” says Tech, “when I sliced into the Separatist servers…”

~~~

The plan is insane.

The plan is so utterly insane that you wonder if it wouldn’t be better just to take on six mercenaries in a firefight to get the ship back.

The outpost is less than an hour’s hike from the ship; the clones were able to land close to it because it lacks the long-range ship detection system that the large base had. The mercenaries have only been at the ship for twenty minutes or so, and based on what you know of the Third Hand, they will pick it apart piece by piece before they’re satisfied. That takes six men out of the running, but the second the alarm sounds at the base, your countdown will begin.

Hunter and his bizarre superhuman abilities prove invaluable. From this range, he can tell you that there are somewhere around forty droids, and that they’re remotely controlled. Tech has been able to override certain models of remote-control battle droids in the past, and he’s confident in his ability to do so here.

Crosshair will set up on the hill overlooking the outpost and cover Wrecker, who will launch an artillery attack against the east end. You, Tech, and Hunter will sneak in through the north entrance, where Tech will slice into a terminal and take control of the droids to attack the mercenaries. You and Hunter will look for the datapad, and once you have it, you’ll steal a ship and escape.

So, just normal Taungsday things.

“If anything goes wrong,” you say, “we scrap the mission. If their scanners are strong enough to detect us, we quit. If the droids are the wrong model, we quit. If there are more than fifteen men, we quit.”

Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair agree.

Hunter just glares at you.

The trek to the base is made in silence. Your trigger finger is itchy, and you startle at things that shouldn’t bother you: small animals darting between the rocks, your foot sinking to deep into mud, Crosshair clearing his throat. The group walks in single file: Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, you, and Crosshair. You can’t see Hunter from here. It’s better that way.

At one point, Wrecker falls back a little to walk side by side with you. He leans down a little, as if to whisper conspiratorily. The effect is comical—he really just ends up hovering far above your head.

“We, uhh…we failed our last two missions. It was bad. The Admiral said that Hunter made a bad call, and if we couldn’t do the next one, we’d be sent back to Kamino. Said if we couldn’t function like a normal squad, we shouldn’t be here.”

“So if you fail…”

“Tech and me go to maintenance. Hunter and Crosshair have to teach the cadets. Hunter doesn’t mind it”—you remember his careful instruction with the blaster, and a smile flickers across your face—”but he’d rather be out here.”

“Well, then,” you say, shoulders straightening. “We better not fail.”

~~~

The first ten minutes are a dramatic, spectacular victory.

There’s more firepower packed into Wrecker’s rucksack than you could possibly have imagined. The ground shakes when he begins his assault, and a small part of you worries that he might do his job too well, and send the outpost crashing into a pile of rubble. But, though Wrecker might not always come across this way, you spent much of yesterday listening to stories about him: the man is brilliant with explosives. What you wouldn’t give to be watching the display through Crosshair’s scope right now.

Tech, Hunter, and you manage to sneak into the base with little issue. All of the alarms in the base are already going off, so your illicit entry adds nothing new to the cacophany. Quick as a flash, Tech slices into the outpost’s computer system, and then the real fun begins.

The droids are only B1s, but the great strength of B1s is their numbers and their complete disregard for their own safety. Through the outpost surveillance system, you watch the Third Hand mercenaries scramble to deal with the chaos wrought by explosions on one side and traitorous battle droids on the other. There seem to be nine of them here, and before you and Hunter even set out to look for the datapad, four are already dead or seriously wounded.

(Although you know that they’ve all killed more people than you could count, you still wince at the carnage.)

When all of them seem sufficiently occupied, you and Hunter set out, blasters locked and loaded. After three turns—right, left, right—Hunter motions down a narrow corridor.

“You go that way, look on the west side. There’s nobody there, and there’s a communications room about fifty feet down. I’m going south, this way.”

You resist the urge to argue with him, as much as you want to. He took a chance, trusting you, and now you need to do the same for him.

“Comm me if you find anything,” you say.

“I will.”

You’re sprinting down the hallway when you hear him call out, “Be careful!”

One by one, you sweep the rooms off of the hallway. Most of them are small storage rooms or engine rooms, with one small dormitory. At last, you reach the communications room. Knowing that this is the room most likely to have people in it, your heart pounds as you open the door as fast as you can, blaster raised. It’s empty.

Adrenaline keeps coursing through you as you search the entire room, looking for the datapad. There’s nothing. On your way out, you notice a box of empty data sticks. It’s not what you’re here for, but you shove one of them in the nearest console and wait for it to download the basic schematics of the computer. There’s no time to go searching through the computers for information—there’s probably nothing useful on them, anyway—but you’re hoping that knowing what kind of tech the Separatists are using might help somebody back at HQ.

Bzzz. Your comm goes off.

“Hunter?”

“I found the datapad. It’s at the end of the south corridor I went down, at the very end on the left.”

“On my way,” you say.

In the privacy of the empty room, you allow yourself a sigh of relief. This is not your standard sort of operation. Explosions are still shaking the compound, though they’re beginning to slow down, and you eject the datastick even though it’s not quite finished. You’re here for one thing, and Hunter has found it. Only a few more minutes. Then you can all get off of this planet.

Luckily, you encounter no mercenaries during your sprint to where Hunter is. When you arrive, you find him leaned over a datapad that’s been detached from the main console, a strange-looking datastick plugged into its main port. Hunter glances back and nods a greeting at you.

“Almost done,” he says.

You fiddle with one of the datasticks that you swiped from the communications room, ready to switch yours with his the moment that his download is finished. The next twenty seconds feel like eternity.

Then: green light.

Hunter yanks his datastick out of the console. Then, wiith a flash of movement so fast you can barely processed what just happened, he sinks his vibroblade into the datapad and tears it down the center, splitting the machine into two sparking hunks of ruined metal.

~~~

Here’s the thing:

You’re a spy. Spies have rules. Perhaps chief among those rules is, “Don’t trust anyone.” Especially, “Don’t trust foreign special operatives who you just met yesterday.”

Here’s the thing:

That intel was kept on an encrypted datapad that could not be accessed remotely. It was not backed up. And Hunter just destroyed it beyond any hope of recovery. While his mission is safe and secure in his pocket, yours is a complete loss. And he did that on purpose.

Here’s the thing:

Until five seconds ago, you actually liked him.

It takes a moment before your brain truly catches up, and by then he’s moving towards the exit.

“Let’s go!” he calls.

You hate your traitorous legs for the way they heed his order without question, pounding against the concrete floor as the two of you sprint through the halls of the compound. You hate your traitorous hands for firmly gripping your blaster, not once reaching out to grab him by the shoulder and stop him. You hate your traitorous voice for not crying out in protest, for not calling him a liar and a cheat and a terrible excuse for a human being.

You hate yourself for doing as he says, even as his betrayal lies in a smoking heap behind you.

Your body moves automatically, dodging behind a corner when you see a mercenary. Hunter strafes in the opposite direction and takes a few shots at the man. By the thump you hear, you presume that one of them landed.

“Bet you’re glad you don’t have a ‘normal’ soldier with you right now,” Hunter quips.

Anger rises in your throat. Is that really what he’s hung up on? Your single comment, that’s what made him destroy that datapad, ruining your mission? Maybe you’d understand better if he’d done it for the sake of the Republic, but this just feels like a low blow.

As you round the next corner, Hunter pulls off his helmet and tilts his head, apparently listening for something. Briefly, his eyes flicker to yours, and he gives you a cocky half-smile.

Asshole, you think. It’s a petty word and a petty thought, but your anger is pulsing through your body with every beat of your heart, every memory you’ve formed in the past day suddenly tainted. Quieter, but just as poignant, is a deep feeling of shame. Were you really fooled by a handsome face and a few acts of kindness? Is this the man he’s been all along?

You shake your head to clear the thoughts away. Right now, you need to focus. This is the final leg of the plan: you and Hunter have to get to the far north-east side of the compound, where three ships are kept in a tiny hangar: two fighters, and one shuttle.

Hunter is yelling at Tech through comms: “Tech! Open the door into the hangar and get over here!”

You can see the door slowly open up ahead.

So close.

You’re nearly to the door, making a beeline for the nearest fighter, when you hear Hunter shout.

Then something slams you into the wall. Heat envelopes you, carried on a strong gust of wind. You struggle to take a breath.

One second passes.

The sound of blaster fire rings in your ears.

Two seconds pass.

You finally realize what’s happening. Hunter is pressed against you, his arms held up to protect your head. It wasn’t a something that threw you against the wall just now; it was him, pushing you out of the way of what seems to have been a grenade.

“Got ‘im!” Wrecker yells over comms. The sound rings in your ears, tender from the sound of the explosion.

“If my counting was correct, that was the last of the Third Hand,” says Tech.

“Not the last,” says Crosshair. “I see the other six. They’re on their way here. Four minutes.”

Hunter shifts away now, and you try to take a full breath through the smoke.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

You nod. Your voice feels too raw to work right now.

“Come on, we don’t have much time.”

Emotions are bouncing around your head like a damned pinball machine, and you push them all away, focusing on the task at hand: you need to get to a ship. You need to escape. So you follow Hunter through the door and into the hangar. The wind has changed, blowing the smoke of Wrecker’s explosions away from you, and you breathe deeply as you run.

To your surprise, Hunter doesn’t make for the shuttle. He makes for the nearest fighter, instead. Across the hangar, you can see Wrecker wave.

“Wrecker!” Hunter yells. “Start the shuttle!”

“On it!” Wrecker calls back.

“I thought you were all going together,” you say.

“We are. I need to give you this, first.”

Hunter takes your hand and presses something small and hard into it. The tips of his fingers are warm and calloused, and though you could count on his hand the number of times you’ve touched, he feels as familiar as a home.

“Here,” he says. The warmth is gone as quickly as it came as he pulls away, ducking around the fighter to look around the hangar, scanning for enemies.

All you can think to say is: “What?”

“You can access it with the code 223-228-24!”

“What is it?”

“The datastick. Don’t access it until you’re in a secure position.”

“I don’t understand. You destroyed the datapad.”

Hunter turns to look at you and cocks his head. “I got a copy first.”

“Just one, though.”

“I downloaded it to my wrist comm. This is the original.”

Oh.

Oh!

You want to sigh-laugh-sob with relief. Hunter was never leaving you out to dry. His comment about being a normal soldier…that was teasing. You were running for your lives, being shot at, and he was teasing you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, because your voice can’t be trusted in full.

Hunter only shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. We’d have been dead men without you.”

“Not…not the datastick. I just…”

Words stick in your throat. There’s an ocean between you and Hunter that you can’t seem to cross, the crash of its waves inaudible over the pounding of your heart. There’s an ocean between you, and it’s only an arm span across. Words stick in your throat, but your feet…

Your feet are as light as ever, and you find yourself standing in front of him, looking up into dark eyes that finally seem readable. Hope and fear flicker across them in equal measure.

You move slowly, telegraphing your movement to give him a chance to pull away, but he doesn’t. The world stills, and you brush the gentlest kiss on his left cheek, where ink meets blank skin.

(If it were quieter, you would hear his delicate inhale as your lips touched him.)

“Thank you,” you murmur.

You start to step away, hoping—praying, maybe, to all the stars that will listen—that your message was received and decoded. Then a warm hand, calloused from war and gentled from compassion, takes yours. This time, there is nothing for him to give you; there is only an affection that feels so out of place and so, so right. His other hand tilts your chin up.

When he kisses you, all you can think is, finally.

It’s everything that the past two days haven’t been: slow, unsure, and tender. You feel yourself smiling despite yourself. You feel him smile back, and the kiss is broken in the best way possible: with soft laughter.

Time is slipping like water between your fingers.

You kiss him again. And a third time. You’re starting to wonder whether you’ll ever tire of it when the rumble of a ship tugs you from your bliss. It’s Hunter who pulls away first.

“You’ll be okay?” he asks.

The ghost of a smile still lingers on his face, but his brow is knit together with concern.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Really. I’m a professional.”

Hunter snorts. “We found you in prison.”

“Occupational hazard!”

Hunter’s laugh is brighter than you’ve ever heard it, and sadder all the same. You brush a finger along his jaw, as if you can catch that laugh in your hand and tuck it in your pocket.

“I’ll see you around, Sergeant,” you say.

Hunter nods. “I’ll see you around.”

The way he turns is abrupt, as if forcing himself to move before he changes his mind. You waste precious seconds watching him sprint across the tarmac and up the ramp of the ship,

Hunter doesn’t look back, but as you watch the ship’s engines ignite, you can almost feel his gaze still lingering on your face.

Time to go.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a goodbye.

#clone fic gift exchange #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #hunter x you #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #TBBE24

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