#now that I’ve read through this in full

[elryuse]

Fond Of You

Danielle X Male Reader

Tags : Female Boss, Co-worker Sex, Romance, Kisses, Dirty Words, Risky, Public Sex, Teasing

Words : 3,920 Words

“What are you doing?” Danielle’s voice cut through the dimly lit hotel room, her tone sharp but laced with something else—something softer, like she already knew the answer.

I froze, halfway to the couch, a pillow clutched in my hands. “I-uh... I was just going to sleep here. On the couch. You know, so you could have the bed.”

She crossed her arms, her piercing gaze locking onto mine. The rain outside hammered against the windows, a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding in my chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. That couch is a death sentence for your back. You’re sharing the bed.”

“Danielle, I can’t—”

“You will,” she interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “It’s just one night. We’re adults. We can handle it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Handle it? That was the problem. I wasn’t sure I could. Not with her.

It had been a hell of a day. The kind of day where everything that could go wrong, did. The project deadline had been moved up, and Danielle had been in full boss mode—demanding, exacting, and utterly captivating. She always was. Her presence commanded the room, her sharp wit and even sharper eyes cutting through any flimsy excuses. I admired her. Hell, I’d had a crush on her for as long as I could remember. But it was more than that. It was the way she pushed me, believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. She made me want to be better.

But tonight, after hours of overtime and a torrential downpour that flooded the streets, we found ourselves stranded. The office was empty, and neither of us could get a cab or an Uber. The hotel down the street was our only option.

And now, standing in this room, the tension between us was thicker than the humid summer air outside.

Danielle sighed, running a hand through her dark, wavy hair. “Look, I’m not going to bite. Just... get in the bed.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. This was my boss. My boss. The woman who’d read me the riot act more times than I could count. The woman who made my heart skip a beat every time she walked into a room. The woman who, right now, was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. I set the pillow back on the bed and climbed in, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. The mattress dipped slightly as Danielle joined me, her warmth radiating across the small space.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the rain outside and the faint hum of the air conditioner. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

“You’re really tense,” she said after a while, her voice softer now. “Relax.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

She turned onto her side, facing me. I could feel her gaze on me, even in the dark. “You know, you’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are.”

“Hiding what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“How you feel about me.”

My breath caught in my throat. I turned my head to look at her, my eyes wide. “Danielle, I—”

Before I could finish, she leaned in and kissed me.

It was soft at first, tentative, like she was testing the waters. But when I didn’t pull away, when I kissed her back, her hand slid up to cradle my cheek, deepening the kiss. Her lips were warm, insistent, and everything I’d ever dreamed they’d be.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my heart racing. “Danielle…”

“I’ve always wanted this,” she whispered, her eyes searching mine. “But I couldn’t… I couldn’t let myself.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your boss. Because it’s complicated. Because…” She trailed off, her thumb brushing against my cheek. “Because I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of this. Of us.” She leaned in again, her lips brushing against mine as she spoke. “But I can’t fight it anymore. Not tonight.”

Her words sent a jolt of desire through me, and I pulled her closer, our bodies pressing together as our lips met again. This kiss was hungrier, more urgent, months—no, years—of pent-up longing finally breaking free.

Her hands slid down my chest, trailing over the fabric of my shirt before tugging it up. I helped her pull it off, her fingers immediately returning to explore my bare skin. Her touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine as she mapped every inch of me.

I reached for her blouse, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. She laughed softly, a sound that made my heart swell, and helped me undo them. When the fabric fell away, revealing her lace bra, I couldn’t help but stare. She was stunning.

“Like what you see?” she teased, her voice low and husky.

“You have no idea,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. My hands moved to her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away. Her breasts were perfect, full and soft, and I couldn’t resist touching them, my thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened under my touch.

She moaned softly, her hips grinding against mine as I continued to explore her body. My hand slid down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her skirt. She was already wet, her arousal evident as my fingers found her clit.

“God, you’re so wet,” I whispered against her lips.

“For you,” she breathed, her hips bucking against my hand. “Always for you.”

Her words ignited something primal in me, and I moved down her body, trailing kisses along her skin until I reached her panties. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, tossing them aside before spreading her legs. Her pussy was glistening, and I couldn’t resist the urge to taste her.

I pressed my tongue to her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Her hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as I began to lick and suck, savoring the way she tightened around me with every stroke.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed as I pushed two fingers inside her. She was tight, her walls clenching around me as I curled my fingers, searching for the spot that would make her scream.

When I found it, she arched off the bed, a loud cry escaping her lips. “Yes! Right there, right there!”

I continued to work her with my fingers and tongue, her pleasure building until she came with a shuddering cry, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm.

But she wasn’t done. As soon as she caught her breath, she pushed me onto my back, straddling my hips. Her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me as she positioned herself over me.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto mine. “I’ve always wanted you.”

She sank down onto me, her tight heat enveloping me as she took me in inch by inch. I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she began to move, riding me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove me wild.

Her breasts bounced with every movement, and I reached up to cup them, squeezing and teasing her nipples until she moaned. Her pace quickened, her hips rolling against mine as she chased her pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I groaned, my hands moving to her ass, giving it a sharp smack.

She yelped in surprise, but the look in her eyes was pure desire. “Do it again,” she demanded, her voice breathless.

I obliged, spanking her again and again as she rode me, each slap driving her closer to the edge. When she finally came, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

With a groan, I thrust up into her, my release crashing over me as I filled her. She collapsed onto my chest, both of us panting as we came down from our high.

For a long moment, we just lay there, tangled together, the sound of our breathing the only noise in the room. Finally, Danielle lifted her head, a soft smile on her lips.

"I’ve always wanted this," she whispered, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest. "But now that I have it, I don’t ever want to let it go."

I smiled back, my heart full. "You don’t have to."

She leaned in for another kiss, slow and sweet this time. But as the kiss deepened, I could feel the heat building between us again. Her hand slid down my chest, her fingers wrapping around my cock, already hardening under her touch.

"Looks like someone’s ready for round two," she teased, her voice low and sultry.

I groaned, my hips bucking into her hand. "You’re insatiable."

She smirked, shifting her body so she was straddling me once more. "You have no idea."

And as she sank back down onto me, I knew this night was far from over.

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear as her breath sent shivers down my spine. “You’ve been such a good boy for me,” she purred, her voice dripping with temptation. Her hips rocked gently, her wet pussy teasing the tip of my cock, barely letting me in before pulling back. The sensation was maddening, every inch of me begging for more.

“Danielle,” I groaned, my hands gripping her thighs, trying to guide her down onto me. But she resisted, her smirk widening as she looked down at me with those fiery eyes.

“Patience,” she whispered, her voice teasing. “I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

Her words sent a jolt of electricity through me, my cock twitching beneath her. She shifted her hips again, this time letting me feel the warmth of her entrance, the slickness of her arousal coating me. But just as I thought she’d finally let me in, she pulled back, her laughter soft and teasing.

“Danielle, please,” I begged, my voice strained.

She tilted her head, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Please what?” she asked, her tone innocent, but her eyes were anything but.

“I need to be inside you,” I said, the words coming out in a rush.

Her smile was wicked as she leaned in closer, her lips just inches from mine. “Say it again,” she whispered.

“I need to be inside you,” I repeated, my voice trembling with need.

“Good boy,” she murmured, finally lowering herself onto me, my cock sliding into her wet, tight pussy inch by agonizing inch. I gasped, my hands tightening on her thighs as she took me in completely, her moan mingling with mine.

She moved slowly at first, her hips rocking in a deliberate rhythm, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. Her nails dug into my chest as she leaned back, her head tipping back as she let out a soft moan. “So good,” she breathed, her voice filled with satisfaction.

I couldn’t take it anymore. My hips bucked up into her, setting a faster pace as I thrust into her, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the room. She cried out, her fingers tangling in the sheets as she rode me with abandon, her pussy squeezing me tightly.

“Fuck, Danielle,” I groaned, my hands moving to her hips, guiding her movements as we found a rhythm that drove us both wild. Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she got closer to the edge.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice desperate. “I’m so close.”

I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to make her come undone, to feel her clench around me as she fell apart. My thumb found her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as I thrust into her, the combination driving her over the edge.

Her scream echoed through the room as she came, her pussy tightening around me as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. I followed her soon after, my own climax hitting me hard as I spilled inside her, my body shaking with the intensity of it.

We stayed like that for a moment, both of us catching our breath as the aftershocks of our orgasms faded. Finally, she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

I smiled, my hands moving to cradle her face. “You’re amazing,” I said, my voice filled with adoration.

She chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes as she shifted off of me, lying down beside me. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.

I turned to look at her, my heart swelling with affection. “I’ve always wanted this,” I admitted, my voice soft.

“Me too,” she confessed, her eyes meeting mine. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

“I do,” I said, cupping her cheek. “I’ve always felt it.”

She smiled, her hand covering mine. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” she said, her voice filled with determination.

I grinned, pulling her closer as I kissed her deeply, our bodies melding together as we lost ourselves in each other once more. She moaned into the kiss, her hands roaming over my body, igniting the fire between us all over again.

Her lips trailed down my neck, her teeth nipping at my skin as she moved lower, her tongue flicking over my nipple, making me gasp. “Danielle,” I breathed, my cock already hardening again.

She looked up at me, her eyes dark with desire. “I’m not done with you yet,” she said, her voice a sultry promise.

She shifted between my legs, her lips wrapping around the tip of my cock, her tongue swirling around it as she tasted me. I groaned, my hands tangling in her hair as she took me deeper, her mouth a hot, wet heaven around me.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my hips bucking into her mouth as she sucked me with a rhythm that threatened to drive me out of my mind. Her hands gripped my thighs, her nails digging into my skin as she took me to the edge, her moans vibrating against my cock.

“Danielle, I’m gonna—” I started, but she pulled back, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Not yet,” she said, climbing back up to kiss me, my cock trapped between our bodies as she ground against me.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she moved against me.

She laughed, her fingers tracing my lips. “But what a way to go,” she teased, her hips rocking in just the right way to make me see stars.

I flipped her over, my body covering hers as I kissed her deeply, my cock sliding into her pussy again, both of us gasping at the sensation. She wrapped her legs around me, her nails scratching down my back as I thrust into her, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

“You feel so good,” she moaned, her voice filled with pleasure.

“So do you,” I said, my voice strained as I buried myself deeper inside her.

Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she got closer to the edge once more. I felt her pussy clench around me, her orgasm hitting her hard as she cried out, her body arching against mine.

I followed her soon after, my own climax hitting me with such intensity that I thought I might pass out from the pleasure. We clung to each other, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high, our bodies still joined.

Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “This is just the beginning,” she whispered, her voice filled with promise.

But before I could respond, her lips found mine again, her kiss filled with a passion that left me breathless. Her nails grazed down my back, sending shivers through me as she whispered against my lips, “I’m not done with you yet.”

The room was still filled with the heavy scent of sex, our bodies tangled together on the bed, slick with sweat and satisfaction. Danielle’s fingers traced idle patterns on my chest, her breath warm against my skin. Her nails dragged lightly, sending shivers down my spine every time they grazed over a sensitive spot. I could feel her heartbeat, steady but still slightly elevated, pressed against me. She tilted her head up, her fiery eyes meeting mine, and that smirk—the one that always made my stomach twist—played on her lips.

“You’re thinking too much,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. Her fingers trailed lower, dancing over my stomach, and I felt my body react instinctively. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Always so eager, aren’t you?”

I swallowed hard, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “You’re hard not to be eager for.”

Her smirk widened, and she shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. Her hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face, and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear. “Good answer,” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. “But I think I want more than just eager. I want you desperate.”

Her hand slid lower, wrapping around my cock, and I groaned, my hips bucking reflexively. She laughed again, a low, sultry sound that sent heat pooling in my gut. “Not yet,” she teased, her grip tightening just enough to make me ache. “I have other plans for you.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she pulled away, sliding off the bed with a grace that left me breathless. She turned to face me, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and my gaze raked over her body—the curve of her hips, the way her breasts moved with every breath, the faint marks I’d left on her skin earlier. She was perfection, and the way she looked at me made it clear she knew it.

“Come here,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. She didn’t wait for me to move, though; she reached out, her fingers curling around my wrist, pulling me to my feet. My body followed hers eagerly, my cock throbbing as she led me toward the balcony doors. The curtains were still drawn, the rain outside barely a whisper now, but the air was cool and damp.

She turned to me, her back pressed against the glass, and her hands slid up my chest, her nails scratching lightly. “You’ve always been so good for me,” she murmured, her voice dripping with temptation. “Always so obedient, so willing to follow my lead. I like that about you.”

I swallowed hard, my hands finding her hips, pulling her closer. “I’d do anything for you,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Her eyes darkened, and she tilted her head, her lips brushing against mine. “Prove it,” she whispered. “Let me ride your cock on the balcony.”

My breath hitched, and my grip on her hips tightened. “Danielle—” I started, but she cut me off with a kiss, her lips fierce and demanding. Her tongue slid against mine, and I groaned, my hands moving to cup her ass, lifting her slightly. She broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she stared at me, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and challenge.

“Do it,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Fuck me where anyone could see us. Show me how much you want me.”

The idea sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I hesitated for only a moment before I lifted her fully, her legs wrapping around my waist. She gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders as I carried her to the balcony, the cool night air hitting our skin as I pushed the door open. The rain had stopped, but the air was still damp, the city lights glittering below us.

I set her down on the railing, her hands gripping the edge as she leaned back, her body open and inviting. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a hunger that matched my own, and she spread her legs wider, her pussy glistening in the dim light. “Take me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I stepped forward, my cock sliding between her folds, and she moaned, her head falling back. I gripped her hips, positioning myself, and slowly pushed inside her, her warmth enveloping me in the most intoxicating way. She gasped, her nails digging into my arms as I filled her completely, and I paused, savoring the way her body clenched around me.

“God, you feel so good,” she moaned, her voice breathless. “Fuck me, baby. Make me yours.”

I didn’t need any more encouragement. I started to move, my hips thrusting into her with a rhythm that made her cry out, her body arching against mine. Her breasts bounced with every movement, and I leaned down, capturing one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard. She moaned louder, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

The sound of her pleasure, the way her body moved with mine, the way she clung to me like she never wanted to let go—it was all too much, and I felt my orgasm building, the pressure in my gut coiling tighter and tighter. But I wasn’t ready to let go yet. I wanted to make her come first, to hear her scream my name as she fell apart.

I shifted slightly, angling my hips to hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, and her breath hitched, her body tensing. “Yes,” she gasped, her nails digging into my back. “Right there.”

I kept the pace steady, my thrusts deep and deliberate, and I felt her pussy tighten around me, her walls fluttering as she got closer to the edge. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and she pulled my hair hard, forcing me to look up at her. Her eyes were filled with pure, unbridled desire, and she licked her lips, her voice trembling as she begged, “Make me come, baby. I need to come.”

That was all it took. I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit, and I pressed down hard, circling it quickly. She screamed, her body arching off the railing as her orgasm hit her, her pussy clenching around my cock so tightly it almost hurt. I groaned, my own climax crashing over me, and I buried myself deep inside her, spilling myself into her with a force that left me trembling.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies pressed together, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high. Finally, I pulled back, carefully lifting her off the railing and carrying her inside. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and I could feel her smile against my skin.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, her voice soft and filled with affection. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

I chuckled, my hands tightening around her as I carried her back to the bed. “Neither am I.”

[devixncy]

Hey! I’ve got a heavy hurt/comfort request here that is pretty angsty, so if it’s too much please just ignore this.

Anyway if you’re comfortable could I request a Thanos x reader (no games AU) where is read of the recruiter finding him in the bridge, the reader does? Maybe they were good friends before his career fell apart.

I just wanted to hug him so bad when he was telling his backstory to Minsu 😭 and I can in fic form

a/n: i wrote this one so fast. ty for this request (hopefully i did it justice)

✧ pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

✧ summary: you come face to face with your best friend on the bridge instead of the recruiter

✧ content: heavy themes (suicidal ideation, thanos at the bridge as mentioned in squid game), angst, no games AU, swearing, some comfort at the end bc that's how i roll

✧ word count: 2.3k

‘Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. The person you’re trying to reach is not available. At the tone, please record your mess-’

Your thumb hit the end call button, letting out a sigh of frustration. You weren’t sure why you kept trying, maybe it was because you always held out hope and your heart didn’t want to give up. At this point, your name had probably flashed across what used to be your best friend's screen hundreds of times–only to never receive a response. 

Su-bong’s radio silence worried you to no end. The two of you had been inseparable once, from pre-teens all the way into early adulthood. He was your best friend, your partner in crime. You helped each other through heartbreak, you consoled him when no one else understood what he was going through at home. You had shared countless late night talks, discussing quite literally anything you could think of because there were no secrets between you. Unfortunately, you hadn’t realized how much of a crush you had developed on him until it was too late.

When he began his rapping career, you were nothing but supportive. He was following his dream, wanting to make a name for himself under the alias ‘Thanos’. You always reposted his music on social media to help promote it, and always went to his shows once he began performing at small venues and clubs. As always, rising to fame didn’t come without consequences. It started with small, miniscule things that you brushed off as nothing at first. He started to take longer to answer your texts; what used to take seconds would now take him almost a full day until he was basically ghosting you. He began to “forget” to tell you when his shows were scheduled, disappointing you to no end because you wanted to be there for him.

Then, there was the night he showed up at your apartment, stumbling and pupils blown so wide you almost couldn’t see the blue of his eyes anymore. He was high out of his mind, coming to your door to beg for money so that he could pay back some of whatever debt he had accumulated. Your heart broke when you had to kick him out without sparing anything, as you had very little money to spare yourself. He was erratic and loud, and you couldn’t have him in your apartment that late in the state he was in. You had cried that night, seeing what was happening to your best friend.

After that night, you hadn’t heard from Su-bong again. Your desperate attempts to contact him were futile, you never received a response. It left you angry and defeated, wondering what you had done wrong. You missed him dearly, and it had been almost a full year since you’d spoken. 

A pebble went scattering across the concrete as you kicked it, lost in thought while you walked. It was getting late, the sun disappearing behind the horizon as the stars began to brighten the dark sky. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a shiver running down your spine as the cold air nipped at you. You wandered aimlessly, having no real destination–yet it was another reminder of Su-bong. Walks to clear your minds was something you both did together often, and now it was just you. He used to boast about how he would protect you and that no one would bother you if you were with him, not that anybody ever did. 

Something wet landing on the tip of your nose broke you out of your thoughts yet again, causing you to tilt your head up and look into the sky. The light patter of rain began to hit your face, starting as a sprinkle and gradually turning into a steady rainfall. Great. You grumbled, knowing you still had a while to walk and no umbrella. Pulling up your hood, your feet carried you in the direction of your apartment. Eventually, you began to approach the bridge that you had crossed not too long ago, signaling you weren’t very far now. A sigh of relief began to escape your lips, no longer wanting to be out in this weather as you were already soaked. However, whatever air you had in your lungs was immediately sucked out, leaving you frozen in shock. A figure was standing eerily still by the rails of the side of the bridge, their grip on the steel bar tight. 

You had no idea what to do in this situation. Your heart sped up, thumping against your rib cage. Your eyes diverted from the figure to the unforgiving river below, the dark water angry as rain beat down against it. Its currents roared, jagged rocks lurking beneath the churning surface. Your stomach twisted, hoping this wasn’t what you thought it was. Taking a deep breath, you began to move slowly and silently. You knew the person couldn’t hear you and you hoped they wouldn’t see you from their peripheral vision even though they had their hood up. Creeping closer, you almost had a heart attack as they suddenly hopped up onto the rail, swinging their legs around so that they were sitting facing the water. Moving quicker now, you were merely feet away.

Deep breaths. You had to act quickly. The glow of the city in the distance seemed dampened by the rain, and time seemingly slowed down. You took another slow step forward, not too fast or eager. The figure’s hands clenched tightly against the railing, knuckles turning white. Their breath came in shuddering bursts, visible in the coldness of the night. 

“You don’t want this.” Your gentle voice carried through the wind. 

They flinched at the sound of your voice, but didn’t turn around. 

“I know it feels like there’s nothing left. I know it feels hopeless, like the weight of the world is crushing you,” you continued. “But I promise this is not the way. Not like this. There is someone out there who cares about you, who would be devastated if you made this choice.”

They shivered. Whether it was from your words or from the chill in the air, you weren’t sure. You took another small step forward.

“Please,” you whispered. “You’re not alone. Please come down and let me help you.” 

For a moment, time paused. The silence was loud, and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. 

And then–slowly, cautiously–they turned.

And you felt as if somebody had punched you in the gut, all of the air sucked out of your lungs in an instant. The weight of a million tons felt as if it were crushing your body. The world blurred at its edges, sounds turning distant as if everything was underwater.

Su-bong, your Su-bong, was staring back at you. His cheeks were tear-streaked, noticeable even in the pouring rain. His eyes were distant, hollow–though you could clearly see the blue in his irises, meaning he wasn’t high at the moment. He showed no emotion in his face, something you weren’t used to seeing. 

“Su-bong…” You whispered, and it came out strangled, like somebody was squeezing your lungs. You stood there with your arm slightly outstretched, lips parted in shock. He stared back at you, unmoving, no words coming out of his mouth. The tremors began, your fingers shaking uncontrollably as the weight of the truth settled in like ice. Your best friend, the person you loved the most, was about to kill himself. 

“You shouldn’t be here, (Y/N).” His voice was strained, raw, like he had been screaming. It was devoid of emotion, but his eyes told a different story. There was conflict flickering in them, maybe uncertainty, you couldn’t tell. 

Your knees nearly gave out as he turned back around, seemingly having his mind made up whether you were there or not. Panic set in, adrenaline coursing through your veins like fire as you lurched forward, although stopping yourself before you made a dumb decision.

“Su-bong, please! Please don’t do this, don’t you dare,” You cried, your breaths coming in short gasps as desperation clawed at you. Logic went out the window, your mouth was moving faster than your brain. “I love you, please don’t do this. I need you here.” 

He didn’t say anything. But mere seconds later, his shoulders began to shake violently. You began to hear sobs escape from the man in front of you, tearing your heart into a million pieces. And after a long, excruciating moment that seemed to stretch on forever, he slowly turned back around. Your hand, although violently trembling, was outstretched towards him. “Please come down.” You tried once more, barely audible over the unrelenting rain. Your eyes betrayed you, his outline blurring as they were swimming with tears that wouldn’t stop coming. 

But you felt his touch, his hand hesitantly grabbing yours. Slowly, but surely he swung his legs back around until he was facing you instead of the water below. As soon as he was facing you, you yanked him towards you with all of the strength you had left. His body collided with yours, and like something awakened in him, he threw his arms around you. His grip was tight, crushing–but you paid no mind, your arms finding their way around his back and clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie so tight he might fly away if you let go. He sobbed, his head dropping onto your shoulder. His knees buckled and you followed suit, lowering the two of you onto the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), god I’m so fucking sorry,” He cried. You didn’t respond, you couldn’t find words. Your chest was heaving, emotions all over the place. You just rocked him gently, quiet hiccups coming out of your mouth as you tried to grapple with reality. “I thought your life, and everyone else's, would be better off without me in it. I’m so sorry, I-I wasn’t thinking, I’m just such a fuck up-”

You cut him off, leaning back so that you could grab his face. “Do NOT say that to me, ever! You are one of the most important pieces of my life, you always have been and that has never changed. My life got better the day you came into it. Even if you feel like you have nothing else, you have me. You always have,” You took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against yours, shame written all over his face. “I love you so much, whether you know it or not. But the point is, I will always be here for you. Through the good and the bad.” 

Su-bong closed his eyes, tears still running down his face. The rain chilled the both of you to the bone, soaking through every inch of your clothing. You wiped his tears, holding him close. 

“I want to get out of here. Please, let’s go anywhere but here.” He finally whispered. You nodded, not saying a word as you slowly helped him to his feet. You kept an arm wrapped around his waist, helping him keep upright as you walked as he was unsteady on his feet. He was exhausted–emotionally, physically, and mentally. 

No words were exchanged as you brought him into your apartment. You led him into your small bathroom, sitting him on the edge of your bathtub. Grabbing multiple towels, you stood in front of him between his legs. His trembling hands didn’t go unnoticed by you, your chest aching as you looked at him. He looked distant, but was watching you. You offered him a small smile, one that was filled with warmth and familiarity. With gentle hands, you began to towel dry his soaking wet hair, bringing back some of the vibrant purple as it no longer stuck to his forehead. You had him strip out of his wet clothes, bringing him some spare of his that had been left at your apartment from long ago. Making sure he was dry and comfortable was your number one priority at the moment. 

“You’re still soaking wet.” He murmured as you were hanging the towels up to dry, making you pause. You turned, frowning as that was the first thing he’d said in a while. 

“No, you’re not worrying about me right now.” You said sternly, dropping your hands to your sides. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling you towards him. You stopped in between his legs and he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into your stomach. Your hand instinctively came up to his hair, running through it like you had done many times before. After a couple of moments, he lifted his head, chin now resting on your stomach as he looked up at you. 

“Thank you,” He said softly, vulnerability shining in his eyes. “For everything. I owe you my life. I promise that I’m going to get help. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He whispered as you cupped his cheek. 

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, my love. Anything you need, I’m here. You’ll always have a home here.” You replied sincerely, your heart hurting for the man in front of you. 

“I know. I don’t know why I didn’t come home sooner.” He whispered, and the back of your eyes stung.

You went to bed that night with hope for the future, holding Su-bong close and him holding onto you all night like a lifeline. You didn’t know what exactly he had gone through in the time you were apart, but none of that mattered now. All you wanted was to protect him from his demons, and you so badly hoped that he would let you in. It would take time, but there was nothing more you wanted than to help him heal. 

[movingmusically]

hiiii, i just wanted to say i read all of your austin fics and is unbelievable how good you write him!! like, it feels so real and so loyal to him and it made me fall even deeper for him.

I especially loved Feyd’s Darling and I was wondering if you could write a similar fic with actress!girlfriend but this time is austin who visits the set of HER movie and is present when she is filming and reminds her how proud he is of her 🥺 thank you <3

Word Count: 5,657

Masterlist

No Doubt, It’s Funny

You were barely through the door when your phone buzzed with an email notification, the familiar name in the sender line making you pause mid-step.

That’s weird.

It wasn’t unusual for actors to keep in touch after working together, but you and Paul Rudd had never been more than friendly colleagues—occasional social media likes, a warm greeting at industry events. You’d filmed together once, a drama, and you had always admired his work, but it had never gone beyond that.

Curious, you tapped the email open.

SUBJECT: I Think You’d Be Perfect For This Hey Y/N, I know this is a little out of the blue, but I just finished working on a script with some people I really trust, and I kept thinking about you for one of the lead roles. It’s different from what you’ve done before—more comedy than drama—but it’s got a lot of heart, and I think you’d absolutely crush it. I’m attaching the script—give it a read when you get a chance. No pressure, but I’d love to work with you on this. Let me know what you think. Paul Rudd

Your stomach fluttered with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. A comedy? That was definitely new. You loved a well-done comedy, but you’d never seen yourself in one—your career had been built on dramas, character-driven films with heavy emotions and intense scenes.

Before you could overthink it, you hit the download button and opened the script. You’d just skim a few pages.

Except, you didn’t stop skimming.

By page five, you were biting back a smile.

By page ten, you were laughing under your breath.

By page twenty, you were fully cackling, hand covering your mouth as you collapsed onto the couch, phone balanced on your knee.

The dialogue was fast, witty, smart. It had all the beats of a great comedy, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity—genuine heart threaded between the humour. It wasn’t just a joke machine; it meant something.

And the lead female role?

You loved her.

The character was a mess in the best way—sharp-witted but emotionally guarded, with a tendency to deflect with sarcasm. There was a moment in the third act, a shift from all the laughs into something real, that hit you so hard you actually felt your throat tighten.

You wanted to play her.

The thought was immediate, instinctive.

And terrifying.

Because you had never done anything like this before.

Your mind was already filling with doubt, What if I’m not funny enough? What if I ruin it?, but before you could spiral, a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Alright, what’s got you giggling like that?”

You looked up to see Austin, freshly showered from the gym, his hair still damp and a towel draped over his shoulder. His expression was amused, but there was something softer in his eyes—the kind of curiosity that came when he knew something had gotten under your skin in a good way.

You hesitated, then held up your phone. “I just got sent a script.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly as he walked over, dropping onto the couch beside you. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s a comedy.”

Austin didn’t react at first—just reached for the towel on his shoulder and ran it through his hair. Then he glanced at you sideways, lips twitching.

“…And?”

You sighed, staring at the screen in your hands. “And I kind of love it.”

Now that got his full attention.

Austin sat up straighter, eyebrows raised. “Wait. Really?”

You nodded. “It’s so funny, but it’s not just comedy for the sake of it. It actually has heart, you know? And the role—it’s different from anything I’ve done, but I can see it.”

Austin grinned, already excited. “Babe, that’s amazing. Who sent it?”

You told him, watching as his eyebrows lifted in recognition. “Oh damn, Paul sent it? That’s huge. He’s a genius with this kind of stuff.”

“I know,” you murmured, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Which is why I’m freaking out a little.”

Austin frowned slightly. “Freaking out why?”

You exhaled slowly, tapping your phone against your knee. “Because I don’t do comedy, Austin. I don’t have that thing comedians have. I don’t know how to deliver a joke. I don’t—”

“Okay, pause,” Austin interrupted, holding up a hand. “First of all, yes you do.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Austin.”

He just grinned. “No, I’m serious. You’re hilarious.”

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. “That doesn’t count. You laugh at me when I don’t mean to be funny.

“Which is exactly why it does count,” he argued, nudging your leg with his knee. “You don’t try to be funny, but you are. And that’s what makes it work.”

You shook your head, not convinced. “It’s different on screen.”

Austin tilted his head, considering you. Then he reached for your phone. “You want me to read it?”

You hesitated.

Then, with a deep breath, you handed it over.

You watch as Austin leans back against the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the script with an unreadable expression. His brows furrow slightly in concentration, lips twitching at certain moments, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh as he reads. You try not to fidget, but the longer he stays silent, the more antsy you get.

“Well?” you press, unable to hold it in any longer.

Austin doesn’t look up immediately. Instead, he swipes to the next page, humming under his breath. “Hold on,” he mutters, eyes still glued to the screen. Then, out of nowhere, he huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

You sit up straighter. “What?”

He turns the phone toward you and points at a specific line of dialogue. “That’s what.”

Your eyes skim the line—the character delivering a dry, exasperated remark after a ridiculous situation unfolds.

“Oh, sure. This is fine. I always wanted to be covered in spaghetti in the middle of a funeral.”

You roll your eyes. “What? That’s just—”

Austin grins. “That’s you. That is exactly something you would say.”

Your mouth opens, ready to argue, but then you remember last week when you spilled an entire smoothie on yourself right before a press event and muttered something very similar. Austin had laughed so hard he’d had to sit down.

You groan, flopping back against the couch. “Okay, fine. But that doesn’t mean I can actually do it.”

Austin shifts closer, nudging your knee with his. “Babe. You are doing it. Just reading this, I can already hear you in the role. The way the humour is written—it’s natural, it’s quick, it’s sarcastic but in a way that’s not forced.” He taps the phone. “You don’t have to try to be funny. You just have to be you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, staring at the ceiling. The part of you that fell in love with the script wants to believe him, wants to think you can pull this off. But that nagging voice in your head keeps whispering that you’re not built for this, that you’ll fall flat next to someone like Paul Rudd, who could deliver a joke in his sleep.

Austin nudges you again, softer this time. “What’s stopping you?”

You sigh. “I just—I don’t know if I have comedic timing. It’s different when you’re doing drama. With drama, you just feel it, you know? But comedy—comedy’s like this whole other skill set. And Paul Rudd? He’s—he’s Paul Rudd, Austin.”

Austin smirks. “I am aware.”

You shoot him a look. “I mean it. He’s been doing this forever. He’s so fast, so sharp. I’ll be up there with him, fumbling, and it’ll be painfully obvious that I don’t belong.”

Austin studies you for a moment, then sets the phone down and shifts so he’s facing you fully, his knee brushing against yours. “Okay. You remember the first time I told you about Dune?”

You blink. “Yeah?”

“And remember what I said? How I told you I didn’t think I could do it? That I wasn’t sure I could be Feyd?”

You nod slowly, already seeing where he’s going with this.

Austin tilts his head. “And what did you tell me?”

You huff. “That you were already him, you just didn’t know it yet.”

His lips curl. “Exactly.” He leans in a little. “And guess what? I was terrified. I spent months overthinking every detail, worried I wouldn’t measure up, that I’d make an ass of myself. But you were right. I was him. I just had to get out of my own way.”

You sigh, arms crossing over your chest. “So now you’re throwing my own words back at me?”

He grins. “Absolutely.”

You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted at best. He knows it, too.

“Look,” he continues, gentler now, “Paul Rudd—yeah, he’s a legend. But you know what makes him so good? He’s reactive. He plays off his scene partners. He’s brilliant at making other people better.”

You exhale, your walls slowly cracking.

Austin moves even closer, his voice dropping. “You don’t have to walk in there and be the funniest person in the room. You just have to be real. And I’ve seen you—hell, I have been on the receiving end of your one-liners when you’re annoyed. Your comedic timing? It’s already there.”

You chew your lip, fingers drumming against your knee. “And what if I suck?”

Austin shrugs. “Then you suck. But at least you tried something new. And knowing you? You won’t suck.”

You stare at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of doubt. But there’s none. Just that steady confidence, that quiet certainty that somehow makes you feel like you can do anything.

Slowly, you reach for your phone, scrolling to the email from Paul.

Austin watches as you hover over the reply button, still hesitating. He reaches out, lacing his fingers with yours, squeezing once. “Come on, baby. Take the leap.”

You inhale deeply.

Then, before you can overthink it again, you type out a quick reply:

I’m in. Let’s do this.

And hit send.

Austin whoops, pulling you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile creeping up your face. “If this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Austin just grins. “Deal. But when it goes amazingly right? You better give me all the credit.”

You shake your head, heart pounding, a mix of fear and excitement buzzing under your skin.

No turning back now.

You just agreed to star in a comedy with Paul Rudd.

And for the first time, instead of feeling terrified…

You feel ready.

The moment you hit send on that email, the real work begins.

You’ve never prepared for a role quite like this before. Usually, your pre-film ritual involves weeks of research, emotional deep dives, and long, introspective walks where you try to fully embody your character. But this time?

This time, preparation involves watching people trip over things on purpose.

Austin walks into the living room one evening to find you curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, staring at the screen in deep concentration.

His brows furrow. “Is that… Dumb and Dumber?”

You shush him, scribbling down something in your notebook. “Yes, and it’s important.”

Austin blinks, then grins. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

And it is—for him.

For the next few weeks, you dive headfirst into comedy. Your watchlist expands to include everything from When Harry Met Sally to Anchorman to old-school screwball comedies. You analyse timing, delivery, the way physical comedy blends with dialogue, the effortless way comedic actors lean into the absurd instead of shying away from it.

Austin? He’s thrilled.

Because suddenly, he gets to turn your living room into an improv class.

“Let’s do a scene.”

You groan, burying your face in a throw pillow. “Austin, please.”

But he’s already standing in front of you, dramatically rolling his shoulders like he’s about to step onto Broadway. “Nope. You want to get better? You gotta practice. Now.” He clears his throat, then delivers the most over-the-top, melodramatic line imaginable:

“I never meant to fall in love with you, Delilah, but the way you butter toast has changed me as a man.”

You deadpan. “Austin. What the hell.”

He points at you. “React. Go.”

You glare at him for a long second.

Then, with the flattest voice possible, you say, “I hope you and the toast will be very happy together.”

Austin collapses onto the floor, clutching his chest like you just delivered the most devastating monologue of all time. “You—you monster.”

You chuck a pillow at him. “This isn’t helping.”

But secretly? You love how much he believes in you.

He gets you out of your head. Helps you stop taking yourself so seriously.

And when you start rehearsing with Paul Rudd, you need every ounce of that confidence.

The first table read goes fine. The second rehearsal? Less fine.

Paul is effortless. Annoyingly effortless. He can take a single line and turn it into comedy gold with the smallest inflection, the tiniest shift in expression. You watch him riff with the other actors, improvising new lines that somehow land even better than what’s on the page, and you feel like you’re watching a masterclass.

And then you step in.

And suddenly, your brain is a void.

You deliver your lines, but they feel stiff. Like you’re trying too hard instead of letting them flow naturally. Next to Paul, you feel sluggish.

By the end of rehearsal, you’re convinced you’ve made a huge mistake.

That night, you flop onto the couch with a groan, burying your face in Austin’s thigh.

He barely looks up from his book. “Rough day?”

You mumble something unintelligible.

Austin sets the book down and pokes your shoulder. “Try again. In English this time.”

You sigh, rolling onto your back so you can look up at him. “Everyone else on set is so funny. I feel like the unfunny kid in a class full of comedians.”

Austin tilts his head, considering you. “You do realise that’s not true, right?”

You scoff. “Austin, I spent an hour watching Paul Rudd improvise lines better than the script itself. Meanwhile, I sounded like a malfunctioning robot trying to keep up.”

Austin shifts, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing absent circles over your knuckles. “Babe. You don’t have to be the funniest person in the room.”

You exhale slowly, still unconvinced. “Feels like I do.”

Austin shakes his head. “No. You just have to be you in this story. That’s what makes it work. They cast you for a reason. You don’t have to out-joke Paul Rudd—that’s literally his job.”

You bite your lip. “What if I just… don’t have it?”

Austin squeezes your hand. “You do. And the second you stop trying to be ‘funny’ and just be, it’s gonna click.”

You stare at him, searching his face for any trace of doubt. But—of course—there isn’t any.

There never is.

You sigh. “Okay.”

Austin smiles. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you confirm. Then, after a beat—“If I do crash and burn, you have to promise you’ll still love me.”

Austin grins, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Babe, if you bomb, I’ll be first in line to make fun of you for it.”

You groan. “You suck.”

He laughs. “But you love me.”

You roll your eyes but squeeze his hand anyway.

And even though the nerves are still there, somehow—somehow—you feel lighter.

You’re running your lines in your head, hands clenched into fists at your sides as you pace the soundstage floor. The scene you’re about to film is one of the trickiest in the entire movie—fast-paced, rapid-fire dialogue, overlapping lines, physical comedy and emotional stakes all rolled into one.

Basically, it’s a damn minefield.

You love this movie. You love this character. But this scene? This scene is making you reconsider every life decision that led you here.

“Okay, places!” the first AD calls out, snapping you back into reality.

Paul flashes you a reassuring smile from across the set. “You good?”

You inhale deeply, nodding. “Yeah. Just… you know. Hoping I don’t completely humiliate myself.”

He grins. “That’s the goal, though. Comedy is humiliation.”

“That’s comforting,” you deadpan.

The director chuckles from behind the monitor. “Alright, let’s run it.”

You move into position, heart hammering in your chest. The scene is simple enough on the surface—your character and Paul’s are stuck in a ridiculously awkward situation, trying to talk their way out of it, but everything they say just makes it worse.

It should feel easy. Fun.

But all you can think is: Don’t mess up. Don’t kill the momentum. Don’t—

“Action!”

You open your mouth—

And freeze.

Because standing just behind the monitor, half-hidden behind the director’s chair, is Austin.

What the hell—

He catches your eye and grins, that wide, boyish smile of his lighting up his entire face, his cheeks bunching up just slightly, the way they do when he’s genuinely delighted by something.

Your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

The momentary distraction lasts less than a second, but Paul sees everything. He follows your gaze, spots Austin, and his grin turns downright wicked.

“Ohhh,” Paul drawls, smirking. “This just got interesting.”

You shake yourself out of it, shooting him a warning glare. “Paul.”

“I’m just saying, I feel like I should adjust my performance now,” he teases, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Amp up the charm. Really make you flustered.”

Laughter ripples through the crew.

Austin, still grinning, tilts his head and leans against the nearest set piece, resting his forearm on it like he’s settling in to enjoy the show. “Please. Like you could possibly fluster her.”

You groan. “Can we just do the scene, please?”

The director chuckles. “Rolling! Take two—action!”

You snap into character, locking into the rhythm of the scene.

And this time, it clicks.

The back-and-forth with Paul is effortless—his deadpan delivery bouncing perfectly off your exasperation. The lines flow like second nature, your reactions sharper, your confidence higher. And when the physical comedy beat hits—your character trying to subtly grab an object without breaking eye contact, only to knock over an entire table instead—you nail it.

The set erupts.

“Cut!” the director calls. “That was fantastic.”

Applause breaks out. Paul slaps a hand over his heart like he’s just witnessed a masterpiece. “Ladies and gentlemen, a star is born.”

And then—

From behind the monitor—

Austin laughs, the sound bright and unrestrained, before clapping his hands together.

“Holy shit,” he grins, shaking his head. “You’re good.”

Your face heats instantly. “Shut up.”

“I mean it!” He’s already moving toward you now, closing the distance with that easy stride of his, his hand immediately finding your waist as he leans in slightly, like he just has to touch you. “I knew you could do it, but damn, babe. You belong in this.”

Your instinct is to brush it off, make a joke—Yeah, yeah, tell that to my impostor syndrome—but the way he’s looking at you?

It makes your breath catch.

Because there’s nothing patronising in his praise, no teasing behind his words. Just pure, unfiltered pride.

You duck your head, suddenly feeling exposed. “You’re just being nice.”

Austin’s fingers press just slightly into your waist, grounding you. “Babe. No.” His voice is quieter now, softer, full of something real. “I mean it. You belong in this.”

You exhale shakily, chewing the inside of your cheek.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re finally starting to believe it.

The high from nailing the comedic scene lingers well into the afternoon. Between takes, Austin sticks close, teasing you relentlessly about your “secret talent for slapstick” and how he’s “never letting you live this down.”

You roll your eyes, but deep down, his praise sits warm in your chest.

Still, as the day wears on, the mood on set shifts. The crew moves with a quiet efficiency, the easy laughter from earlier replaced with hushed conversations, a different kind of energy settling in.

Because this next scene?

This is the big one.

The moment where the comedy falls away, peeling back the layers of humour and quick wit until only raw, unguarded emotion remains.

Your character has spent the entire movie cracking jokes, covering every vulnerable moment with deflection, keeping the people around her at arm’s length. But in this scene—the emotional gut-punch of the film’s climax—there’s no more running.

It’s just her, standing in the wreckage of a relationship she’s spent the whole movie pretending didn’t matter. Finally, she breaks.

And suddenly, you feel all of those doubts creeping back in.

Comedy was one thing—it had structure, rhythm, a pace to latch onto. But this? This is the kind of thing that can’t be faked.

It has to hurt.

You shake out your hands, trying to focus, trying to shake the nervous energy building in your chest.

Then you feel it.

A warm, familiar touch at the small of your back.

You turn to find Austin, standing just behind you, his fingers brushing absent circles over your spine, grounding you.

He leans in, voice low. “You okay?”

You swallow, nodding. “Yeah. Just… trying to get out of my head.”

Austin studies you for a second, then exhales softly. His hand slides to your shoulder, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to try to be in it. You’re already there.”

You meet his gaze, searching for something—some kind of reassurance, some kind of anchor. And, like always, he’s steady.

Like he knows you’re about to do something incredible before you even believe it yourself.

“Places!” the first AD calls.

You step into position, heart hammering.

The set falls silent.

“Action.”

At first, your character fights it.

She smiles through the hurt, makes a joke that doesn’t quite land. You feel the moment stretch, the weight of the silence, the tension building in your chest as she realises—maybe for the first time—that she can’t laugh her way out of this one.

Then, the dam breaks.

The words come out softer than you expected, like they’re unraveling her piece by piece.

She admits it.

That she’s scared. That she thought keeping things light, keeping things easy, would stop her from getting hurt. That it wasn’t supposed to matter this much.

And just like that, the scene stops being a scene.

It feels real.

The tears come hot and fast, the kind that shake your whole body, the kind that don’t need any forced technique or conscious effort. You feel the grief in your bones, in your breath, in the way you struggle to hold yourself together and fail completely.

And in that moment, it’s not just a performance.

It’s the best acting you’ve ever done.

“Cut.”

For a moment, no one moves.

No one speaks.

The air on set feels thick, like the weight of what just happened is still settling over the room.

Then, slowly, the spell breaks.

You hear a quiet, shaky exhale from somewhere behind the monitor.

A throat clearing. A muttered “Jesus.”

Then—

One by one, the crew starts reacting.

A few nods, exchanged glances, murmured words between the director and producers. A grip wiping at his face. The script supervisor blinking a little too fast at her notes.

Paul exhales sharply and shakes his head, letting out a low, stunned laugh. “Well, shit.”

The director looks from the monitor to you, then back again, before nodding once. “That… was perfect.”

Your heart is still racing, your body still humming with the ache of the scene, and it takes a second to pull yourself back. You lift a trembling hand, wiping at your damp cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt.

Then you see him.

Austin.

Standing off to the side, hand still covering his mouth, the other braced on his hip like he’s physically recovering from something.

His eyes are red at the edges, like he’s been holding back tears, but the shine is still there, still glassy.

And then—

He drags a hand down his face, sniffing, and lets out the smallest, most overwhelmed laugh as he walks over to you.

You blink, disoriented, still half-trapped in the weight of the scene.

“Did I just make you cry?” you ask, teasing but hoarse from the emotion still clinging to you.

Austin sniffs again, shaking his head. “You just made me cry in front of a whole-ass crew.”

You grin, even as your throat still feels tight. “Damn. This movie must be magic.”

Austin huffs out a laugh, still looking at you like he’s trying to wrap his head around what just happened. Then, without hesitation, he steps forward, cupping your face so gently it makes your chest ache.

His thumbs brush along your damp cheeks, like he can’t decide whether to wipe away the tears or just hold you there, exactly as you are.

“No,” he murmurs, forehead pressing lightly against yours. “It’s you. You’re the magic.”

And just like that—

Everything feels worth it.

By the time you finally make it home, exhaustion has settled deep in your bones—the kind that doesn’t just come from a long day, but from feeling everything so fully that it leaves you spent.

The emotional scene still lingers in your chest, but so does something else—something lighter.

Something like pride.

You can feel it in the way the crew looked at you afterward, the quiet nods of respect from people who’ve seen hundreds of performances but still seemed moved by yours.

You can feel it in the way Paul clapped you on the back, grinning as he told you, “You know, I’d be mad about you making me look bad if I wasn’t so damn impressed.”

But mostly—

Mostly, you can feel it in the way Austin hasn’t let go of you since you walked off set.

Even now, as you sit curled up on the couch in his hoodie and sweatpants—though really, they haven’t been his in a long time.

You claimed them ages ago, stealing them from his suitcase one night when he was away filming. They’d smelled like him, felt like him, and ever since, they’d become your go-to whenever he was gone for too long.

At some point, he stopped pretending he was getting them back.

Now, they’re just yours.

The fabric is soft and worn, the sleeves pulled over your hands as you lean into him, the weight of the day settling into your bones.

A half-eaten takeout container rests between you, forgotten. The TV is on, some mindless show playing in the background, but neither of you are really watching. You’re both worn down, full in a way that has nothing to do with food.

Austin’s fingers trace slow, absentminded circles over the inside of your wrist, like he’s still grounding you, still holding onto the moment.

You watch him for a second—how at ease he looks, how warm, his smile just soft enough to make your heart ache.

And suddenly, the weight of it hits you all at once.

“If you hadn’t pushed me,” you murmur, voice quieter than you meant it to be, “I would’ve turned this down.”

Austin looks over, brow lifting slightly.

You shake your head, swallowing. “I almost said no, Austin. Because I didn’t think I could do it. Because I was scared.” You exhale, fingers tightening around his. “And now? I think this might be my favourite thing I’ve ever done.”

Austin’s expression shifts—something softer, something almost knowing.

Like he’d seen this coming before you ever did.

Like he’d always known you’d get here.

He smiles, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles.

“I never had a doubt.”

Austin doesn’t let go of your hand, even after his words settle in the air between you, warm and certain.

I never had a doubt.

You swallow, something thick and unspoken lodged in your throat. He always says things like that—things that knock the breath out of you, not because they’re unexpected, but because he means them. Every time. Without hesitation.

And tonight?

Tonight, you need him to know how much that means to you.

You shift, carefully moving the takeout container to the coffee table, then turn back to him, watching the way his blue eyes flicker with quiet curiosity as you move.

Then, before you can overthink it, you climb into his lap.

Austin’s hands settle on your hips immediately, like it’s instinct, like he was already waiting for you to be closer. His brows lift slightly, amusement flickering over his features, but there’s something else behind it—something softer, something deeper.

You press your hands to his cheeks, fingertips grazing the slight scruff along his jaw, and he exhales, his eyes fluttering shut for a second like the warmth of your touch just levelled him.

When he opens them again, his gaze is nothing short of devastating.

“Hi,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, like it belongs just to you.

You smile, stroking your thumbs along the ridges of his cheekbones. “Hi.”

His hands flex slightly where they rest against your waist, his touch warm, steady, like he’s grounding himself just as much as you are.

For a second, you just take him in.

The way his hair is still slightly messy from earlier, the way his expression is so open, so unguarded, like he’s letting you see everything he’s feeling without saying a single word.

Like you’re his entire world, and he’s not afraid to show it.

Your throat tightens, and you trail your fingers from his jaw to his temple, then through his hair, combing it back gently.

“I hope you know,” you whisper, voice thick, “how much you mean to me.”

Austin blinks once, his breath catching so softly you almost don’t hear it.

Then, his hands tighten on your waist, just slightly, like he’s bracing himself for the weight of your words.

You shake your head, swallowing. “I know I joke about it—about you being my personal hype man, about how I’d be a disaster without you—”

Austin smirks slightly, but he stays quiet, letting you say what you need to say.

“But, Austin,” you continue, voice dipping lower, “you believing in me—really, truly believing in me—it changes everything.”

His fingers press a little firmer into your waist, his eyes locked onto yours like he’s memorising every word, like he doesn’t want to miss a second of this.

“You make me feel like I can do anything,” you murmur, stroking your fingers through his hair again, watching the way he leans into it, the way his breath stutters just slightly.

Austin swallows, and when he speaks, his voice is barely more than a whisper.

“You can do anything.”

Your chest tightens, a small, breathless laugh slipping past your lips as you shake your head. “You say that like it’s the easiest truth in the world.”

Austin tilts his head slightly, gaze unwavering. “Because it is.”

And God, he means it.

It’s all over his face, in the way his hands slip from your waist to your back, pulling you just that much closer, his thumbs rubbing slow, lazy circles into your skin, like he’s telling you without words that he’s here. That he always will be.

Your breath hitches.

“Say it again,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

Austin’s gaze darkens, softens, sharpens all at once.

“You,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to cup your face, his fingers brushing so gently along your jaw that it sends a shiver down your spine, “can do anything.”

A slow exhale slips from your lips, and you don’t realise you’re closing the distance until your forehead is pressed to his, your noses brushing, his breath warm and steady against your lips.

And then—

Austin tilts his head, his lips catching against yours in the softest, slowest kiss imaginable.

It’s not rushed, not desperate—it’s something deeper. Something meant.

Like he’s sealing every word, every promise, into the way he kisses you.

Like this moment, this feeling, this certainty has been waiting to be spoken into existence.

Your fingers slide into his hair as you kiss him back, slow and deliberate, drinking him in, pressing closer until there’s nothing left between you but warmth, but longing, but the quiet, unshakable truth that Austin Butler is the safest place you’ve ever known.

His hands move, one slipping beneath the fabric of your hoodie, resting against the bare skin of your back, pulling you flush against him, his warmth sinking into you like a promise.

And when you finally pull back—foreheads pressed together, breathing uneven, hearts racing in tandem—Austin smiles, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your jaw.

“You always talk about how I believe in you,” he murmurs. But, baby… you don’t even realise what you do for me.”

Your fingers curl against the back of his neck, breath catching in your throat.

“You make me feel like I can breathe,” he continues, voice low, steady. “Like no matter what, I’ll always have a place to land. Like I’m more than enough, just as I am.”

His forehead presses lightly against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You make everything make sense,” he whispers. “Even when nothing else does.”

Emotion swells in your chest, too much, too big, and the only thing you can do is kiss him.

Slow, lingering, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, letting the weight of everything unspoken settle between you.

And when he kisses you back—deep and certain, fingers pressing into your skin like he never wants to let go—you know he feels it too.

[artsninspo]

004 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 003

♠ authors note: the first part of this chapter was meant to be at the end of 003, I hope it doest interrupt your reading flow.

♠ summary: Mr. Richmond and Lorence have their meeting. This ones messy 🌪️.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.2K

⌖ - St. Moritz, Switzerland

I send Joel a text and meet him on the enclosed rooftop. The view is one of one.

“You really know how to get under the boss's skin kid” he sighs, swirling around whisky in his glass.

“What I do”

“I had orders to inform you of our discussion. Now Rich thinks I didn’t speak to you”

“Sorry, I was cornered in an elevator”

“Well, face him sooner than later. Rip off the bandaid” Joel sighs.

“How was today? How many calls?” I ask.

“Thirty inquiries,” he smiles. “Even if the boss only chooses fifteen new contracts, that's a nice check for our team. I’m telling you you’re a natural.” Joel says but he’s always had faith in me.

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got you in trouble”

“I know, you know I love you kid don’t worry about it” he sighs getting up.

“Get some sleep” he says standing with a hand outreached for me. We make our back to the rooms and he walks me to mine. I send my loved ones goodnight messages and drift away.

…

Unfortunately I rise early without being well rested. The clock reads its five thirty in the morning. My internal alarm is so well set that there’s no resistance even abroad. Discipline keeps me going through the motions instead of motivation because there's a huge lack of that. My nerves skyrocket and I decide to stick to my routine. I reconsider using the gym today and have the equipment I need brought to me in my room. I’ll buy all the time in the world not to bump into him before nine. For the first time in my adult life meditation doesn’t bring me clarity. It’s unsettling and I wonder how Mr. Richmond rattles me so deeply. From our first meeting there was some friction. I’d spent a few weeks hearing Joel sing his praises while my colleagues of the fairer sex ‘oohed’ and ‘awed’ about how handsome he was. When he walked onto our floor a hush cut across the cubicles. All I could see then was his complexion, a side profile of facial hair and curls. The minute he was in his office a frenzy started all around me. Everyone was preparing presentations and reports just-in-case. Then there was the constant flow of colleagues into the ladies room to spruce themselves up. The lipstick tubes were being twisted, powder patted one, lashes curled, blowouts scheduled during lunch the whole nine yards.

That first time in Mr. Richmonds office was the only occasion I wasn’t rattled with nerves but it didn't last long. It was the Boss, his barber, Joel and myself. He glared at Joel before looking at me with a dissatisfied expression and outreaching his hand. There wasn’t a welcome or any fanfare, just a hello. His grip was firm and his hands far larger than mine radiating heat without being clammy. I sat there waiting my turn to speak as Joel presented my findings. I watched as Richmond was transformed from scruffy operative to the clean cut CEO right before my eyes. Still I kept my composure and presented my findings. Mr. Richmonds disposition then turned antagonistic as he probed and probed and probed trying to find fault with my research concepts. When there were none to be found he didn't smile and end the angry boss charade like I'd hoped. He gave a curt nod and told me it was good work in a flat tone.

Since then, I’ve given him a wide breadth at every opportunity. I’ve passed up on several opportunities to be in his presence and rub shoulders with him. It’s been almost three years and I don't understand why things have to change now. I’ve enjoyed maintaining a professional distance and avoiding his tirades. Increased proximity will surely erode all of the defences I had set in place and that's not what I need. I quit my morning meditations prematurely and decide on a walk outdoors hoping the movement will help clear my head, hoping the cold will bring some clarity but it doesn't. I return inside and skip breakfast opting for a hot steamy shower. The bathroom gets as cloudy as my thoughts. I turn on the dehumidifying fan and wipe the mirror. The eyes staring back at me are swimming with uneasiness, a deer in the headlights. Not liking my reflection I get my outfit ready for the day. I do my body care routine before my make-up and then slip into my outfit before letting down my hair.

Business, bombshell, barbie; is what it’s giving today. It's a ruse, a fake it till you make it, moment. Maybe if I present like the admins he won't see me as a contender for the director position. Fastening my watch on my wrist I see I have thirty minutes to spare. I make my way to his office for the interim. I walk over to the elevator and get in, hitting the button up one floor. One of my colleagues walks in with red eyes as I exit.

“Good luck” he swallows letting me know Richmond is on a warpath. I send him a sympathetic look making my way to where his secretary is stationed.

“Gordon” I greet and she smiles.

“I’ve told you a million times, call me Cassandra,” she smiles.

“Cassandra,” I amend.

“Lorence,” she smiles. “I hear I’ll be seeing a lot more of you - I’m excited there’s wayyy too much testosterone and serious characters among the executives” she whispers in a dark denim tailored canadian tuxedo.

“Where’d you hear that?” I ask and she rolls her eyes.

“I know everything” she winks, a stiletto nail on full display as she taps her temple with her pointer finger. It’s a cloak and dagger maneuver - Cassandra’s sharper than she looks and too many employees have fallen into her trap. She's Richmond Inc. Chris Hansen. Obviously there's an immense amount of trust between her and the boss.

“What’s it like working closely with Richmond?” I ask and she rolls her eyes.

“He’s a total asshole sometimes. But the man knows how to apologize well when the asshole can't be confined in that gargantuan frame” she says, openly mocking the boss. I snicker a little. “But usually he’s normal, fair, attentive, considerate,” she says. Cassandra’s the only person I’ve ever spoken to that has such a glowing review. I can't help but scoff.

“What’s that for? Has he yelled at you?” she asks, seeming genuinely upset at the prospect.

“No, I maintain my distance.” I tell her.

“Oh I know” she nods.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Terry’s noticed” she says using his first name which is a rarity in this place. I swallow hard, not excited by the revelation.

“Yay!” I remark unenthused.

Cassandra snickers. “Don’t be like that, he's good at everything he sets his mind to. I’m sure it’ll take him no time to learn the best way to work with you-” before she can say more his door opens and we look like a bunch of guilts gossips huddled close to each other with nothing more to say in his presence.

“Gordon, how do I look-” Richmonds baritone crescendos as he looks up from his watch. Cassandra and I straighten, and in an instant all the casual and playful energy is sucked out of the open space. Richmond straightens next before checking his watch.

A silent beat passes between the three of us.

“She’s early,” Cassandra quips. He swallows, sending her a glare but she doesn't cower plopping down into her seat seemingly defeated as she gets back to work.

“Cole” he steps back holding a hand out to his office. 

“Sir” I responded before leading the way. His cologne is an intoxicating mix of clean and masculine, while being a little dark. The room is large with an open concept, there are several seating arrangement options. To my surprise he motions to a sofa instead of the chair at his desk. I take my seat and he takes his, facing me, a coffee table between us. I cross my legs to the side, a habit from wearing skirts. I don’t dare look down into his sprawled legs and oversized thighs sitting in a dominant power pose. His words cross my mind again and I look him over. He looks fine, as usual. I wonder what that was about and look towards the door again. He clears his throat and I feel regret for how it probably looks as I look towards the door.

“Good morning” I greet him, trying to add some levity to the atmosphere.

“Morning” he responds, straightening slightly in his seat. “Well?” He asks.

“Well, what Sir?” I ask respectfully.

“You’ve spoken with Jameson about what’s on the table regarding your employment here. I’m here to answer any questions you may have. I’m open to discussion” he says with body language that reads anything but ‘open to discussion’.

“I was under the impression I had some time to decide,” I respond.

“Decide?” He asks like it’s absurd, like his offer is so good I shouldn’t refuse.

“My day has just started and I haven’t had time to read anything over” I add and he takes out his tablet confirming my words as truth. It only confirms he's a control freak, to be tracking email opens.

“Well then let’s do it now” he says tapping the screen and I hear the printer begin printing.

“Shouldn’t this be done in the presence of HR?” I ask and his eyes light.

“HR?” he repeats in question.

“In case I have HR specific questions…” I explain and he tosses his tablet onto the coffee table making a crash. I sit back and his nostrils flare. 

“Such as…” he responds. At a loss for words I shrug feeling like a mediator should be present already. “What’s your problem with me?” He asks.

“Your temper” I blurt out before my brain can stop me. My cantor takes him by surprise too. “I’m also insulted that instead of self-regulating you increase my therapy stipend” I add, since I’m already halfway to hell I might as well continue right?

“Self-regulating” he mutters and I’ve lit a fuse. He looks at me about going nuclear. “Get out!” he demands, his voice reverberating through the glass office. I swallow while maintaining my composure. 

“No! I’m not a dog, I won't be spoken to that way!” I stand my ground. It’s a surprise to me too. The expression in Richmonds eyes and the hard set of his jaw confirms he’s surprised and incensed.

“You’ve asked me to self-regulate but unless you get out of my face I'm going to continue to speak to you however I choose.” he says with closed eyes. 

“Finally those big ears listen” I quip going low. His eyes shoot open in shock as I get up and head to the door.

“Rescind last night’s email to Mrs. Cole” he shouts standing once I’m out of the office. “Now!” He snaps at Cassandra from behind me. I turn to face him. “You’ve overestimated your importance and outplayed your hand” he snaps and somehow his restraint feels more seething than his tirades.

“Richmond” Cassandra interjects.

“Do IT!” he shouts, blowing my eardrums. Both Cassandra and I wince.

“Do it your damn self!” I snap snatching the cords from Cassandra's docking station.

“You’re suspended.” Richmond swallows, fighting for control.

“I’ll do you one better; I QUIT” I snap giving him a taste of his own medicine slamming my phone and laptop down on the marble desk top. I hope they’re broken. I take my work pass from my hip and add it to the pile with careless abandon. 

“Lorence” Cassandra says with a soft tone.

“I’ll be out in the next hour, don't send me an off-boarding survey. I quit because the Boss is an asshole!” I add having reached my boiling point after three years of being subject to his tyranny.

“I’ll call housekeeping to help you pack and find alternative accommodations” Cassandra relents picking up her phone. 

“Thank you” I nod, swallowing hard. I cast a hateful look over my shoulder at Richmond before heading into the elevator. I swear I see the asshole smirking as the elevator doors shut. I manage to keep it together through packing up my stuff and the entire ride to the airport's hotel but once I'm in my new accommodations I bawl.

Hours later I sit in first class on my flight home and see the email is still there in my personal inbox. I left all my work items in the hotel with Cassandra in spite of her protest. Nagging guilt, curiosity and the prospect of regret makes me open the file. I put in my password fully expecting the file to go blank but it doesn’t. I swallow seeing one million dollars listed under salary along with a list of perks that would make anyone envious. Everything would be the best of the very best and a road to early retirement no doubt. I sigh, closing the document and calling for some champagne. When my flight lands I head to my parents home instead of my own to lick my wounds and recover.

game reveal: those of you who chose 2 and 5 were very much accurate. thankfully, there was no 1. No 4 either, unless you've found a spot for it. If you don't know what I'm taking about check out my page between chapters to play the games I post with us: Richmond Inc. Game & Poll

authors note: thanks to all who played and everyone who's been reading and liking, voting & commenting. What did you think about this chapter? Did you expect it to go the way it did? Are we proud of Lorence?

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

[idkanymark]

[Coming back to you]

haechan x f!reader | past life | inspired by See you in my 19th life

INTRO: Sometimes the lines between the past and present blur, and the memories of past lives seep into the present, creating a tangled web of forgotten promises. What happens when you and Haechan are bound by a vow made in another time? A promise to find each other in every lifetime, no matter the distance, no matter the obstacles. Can love truly transcend time, or are you doomed to repeat the same heartbreak over and over again?"

warnings. Death mentioned

wc. It pretty long but I don't know how many words

NOTE: I am sorry its not read proof but its exams season and I cam barely have time to do something

----

- FIRST LIFE -

It’s the year 1950. The Korean War has begun, and the once serene landscape of South Korea is now marred by chaos. Smoke rises where villages once thrived, and fear seeps into every home. The world feels as though it’s been split apart, and for you, life as you know it has been wrenched away.

You sit at the small wooden table in your modest home, the faint scent of cooking lingering in the air. Donghyuck is seated across from you, his head bowed as he stares at the military uniform laid out before him. His lips are pressed into a thin line, the usual light in his eyes extinguished.

“You don’t have to go” you whisper, your voice trembling. You grasp his hands tightly, as though holding onto him might keep him from slipping away.

Donghyuck looks up, his gaze heavy with conflict. “I don’t have a choice, Y/N. If I don’t go…” He pauses, struggling to find the words. “If I don’t go, they’ll call me a coward. A traitor.”

“You always have a choice” you insist, tears brimming in your eyes. “We could leave. Run away. Go somewhere far from here. Please, Donghyuck…”

He shakes his head, his expression softening as he reaches out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “The war is here, love. There’s no escaping it.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. You want to scream, to beg him to stay, but deep down, you know he’s right.

The sun has set by the time he puts on his uniform. You stand by the door, holding his coat in your trembling hands. “Come back to me” you say, your voice breaking.

Donghyuck turns, his eyes shadowed with uncertainty but filled with love. “I will.” he promises. “No matter what, I’ll come back to you.”

He kisses your forehead, lingers there for a moment as though memorizing your warmth, and then steps out into the cool night. His silhouette disappears into the chaos of soldiers and civilians, leaving you standing alone in the doorway

[ - ]

Weeks pass.

The days without him are agonisingly quiet. Each passing moment feels like a lifetime.

Life feels impossibly still without him.

Then, one day, a letter arrives—your first from Donghyuck. It’s worn from travel, the edges frayed, but his handwriting is unmistakable.

You tear open the envelope with shaking hands, reading the words over and over:

My Dearest Y/N,

The days here are long, and the nights even longer. I miss you more than I can say. Every day, I wake up and think of you, imagining the life we’ll build together once this is all over. The soldiers are kind to me, and I’ve made a few good friends. One of them, a man named Mark, is always talking about his kids—his little ones, running around the house, making noise, making life feel full. Every time he talks about them, I can’t help but think of you, and how badly I want that for us too.

Mark says that having kids changes everything. I want to believe him. I can’t wait to come back to you, the thought of it is what keeps me going through these hard days. I think about our future together, how we’ll fill our home with laughter, our own little ones running around—just like Mark’s kids. Maybe we should get to work on that as soon as I return, yeah?

I promise to return soon, Y/N. Until then, hold onto our love—it’s what keeps me going in this darkness.

With all my love, Donghyuck.

Tears spring to your eyes as you reread his letter. The words are filled with such tenderness, such hope. And yet, the more you read, the more you feel the heavy weight of the war pulling at your heart.

Every promise feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment

Over the next few months, you receive more letters. They speak of daily life in the military, of the fear that hangs over everyone, and the growing tension as the war intensifies. Despite everything, his words remain full of love, and you hold on to them like lifelines.

But even in his letters, there are hints of the strain—the long nights, the worry of the men around him, the uncertainty of what will come next. And yet, every time he writes, he reassures you:

I will return, Y/N.This war will not take me from you.

Months pass, and the war drags on, with no sign of relief. The letters from Donghyuck become sporadic, the tone growing more strained. There are mentions of rumors—whispers among the soldiers—that the enemy may be closing in. The tension is palpable.

Then, one day, you receive a letter that shakes you to your core.

Y/N,

I don’t know when or if you’ll get this, but I need to tell you what’s happening here. There are rumors that some soldiers are being accused of aiding the enemy. It’s a terrible thing, but the pressure is immense. The higher-ups are accusing good men of being spies or traitors without proof. There’s nothing I can do. I don’t know what will happen, but I promise you, I am not a traitor. I am loyal to this country. Please, don’t lose faith in me. I just want to come home to you

I love you, always, Donghyuck.

You stare at the letter in disbelief. Your heart races, the words seeming to blur together. Accused of aiding the enemy?How could that be? The man you love, the man who swore to return to you, who had written to you with such love, suddenly caught in a web of suspicion and lies?

Fear consumes you. The uncertainty of the war, the brutality of those in power—it’s all too much. But you have no way of knowing what’s really happening. You can only wait and pray that the man you love isn’t being torn apart by the very system he believed in.

The days drag on, each one feeling like an eternity. The letters stop. Then, one morning, a group of soldiers arrives in the village. They bring news—news that changes everything.

Donghyuck has been executed for treason.

You can’t breathe. The world tilts beneath you, and you feel like you’re going to collapse right there on the street. You ask questions, but the soldiers offer no answers, only cold, mechanical statements. Donghyuck was accused of being a traitor, and in the chaos of war, there was no trial, no defense. The accusations were enough to seal his fate.

You go to the place where his body is laid out. His face is pale, his body still. The world has taken him from you. The promise, his vow to return, lies broken in the dust. You fall to your knees beside him, your heart a shattered echo of the love you shared.

With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers brushing his cold skin. You whisper through the tears:

"Donghyuck, you promised. You swore you would come back to me."

But there’s no answer. The world is still, and for the first time, you realize that even love—no matter how strong, no matter how pure—can’t always defy fate.

You feel the cold weight of finality as you sit by his side, the silence enveloping you. The years ahead of you stretch out like a void. The war takes everything, and the love you shared is now a memory that will haunt you forever.

You die not long after. Some say it’s from heartbreak, others from the toll of the war on your body. But you know it’s something else. You are broken without him. You drift away, the last thing you hear being his voice—a distant echo.

“I will find you. In every lifetime, I will come for you.”

----

- SECOND LIFE -

The year is 1980, and life in South Korea is buzzing with change. Disco beats and synth-pop dominate the airwaves, and the streets are alive with colorful fashion—flared jeans, oversized blazers, and bold patterns. In your teenage world, life revolves around school, friends, and navigating the unspoken rules of being a young woman.

You’ve always been one of the girls everyone notices. Pretty, smart, and sharp-tongued, you carry yourself with a confidence that keeps most boys at arm’s length. And honestly, that’s exactly how you like it.

“You should date Sungchan. He’s, like, the coolest guy in school” Miyeon says as she flips through her notebook, doodling little hearts around her crush’s name: Kim Sunwoo.

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I will never date a man. Ew.”

Miyeon gasps dramatically, clutching her chest as if you’ve just insulted her entire worldview. “But that’s what a woman is supposed to do! Find a guy, fall in love, get married…”

“I’d rather die” you say with a dismissive wave, leaning back in your chair.

Miyeon shakes her head, exasperated. “You’re impossible.”

Maybe you are. But you’ve seen how boys act—loud, gross, and overly confident in ways that make you cringe. Why would you ever want to deal with that?

A few days later, you’re rushing through the empty hallway, carrying a precarious stack of textbooks. Your teacher had asked you to bring them to the staffroom, and you were too polite to say no. But as you turn a corner too quickly, the books slip from your hands, tumbling to the floor in a loud, chaotic mess.

You groan, crouching down to gather the scattered books, muttering under your breath about how unfair life is.

“Need some help?”

The voice startles you, warm and smooth, and when you look up, you freeze.

He’s standing there, holding one of the books that had slid across the floor. His uniform fits perfectly, his tie slightly loosened in that effortlessly cool way. His hair is neatly combed but just messy enough to seem natural, and his smile—it’s disarming in a way that makes your chest feel weirdly tight.

“Are you okay?” he asks, crouching down to meet your eye level.

You nod quickly, your voice caught somewhere in your throat.

He raises an eyebrow, his smile softening. “I need you to say it to be sure.”

“I—I’m fine” you manage to stammer, your face heating up.

“Glad to hear that…”he says, glancing at the name tag pinned to your uniform. “Y/N, huh?”

You nod again, cursing yourself for being so tongue-tied.

“I’m Donghyuck” he says, handing you the last book. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too” you whisper, cringing inwardly at how awkward you sound.

Donghyuck chuckles softly, standing up and offering you a hand. You hesitate for a second before taking it, his grip firm but gentle as he helps you to your feet.

“Try not to carry so many books at once next time” he teases lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You nod, biting your lip to keep from saying something dumb.

As he walks away, you find yourself staring after him, your heart pounding in a way it’s never done before.

“What just happened?” you whisper to yourself, clutching the books tightly.

For the first time, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, not all boys are so bad.

[-]

After that encounter in the hallway, you started noticing Donghyuck more around school. It was as if he’d suddenly stepped out of the shadows and into the spotlight of your world. He was handsome—undeniably so—and his natural charisma drew people to him like moths to a flame.

It wasn’t just Donghyuck, though. You began hearing whispers about the trio—Donghyuck, Renjun, and Jeno. They were legends in their own right, each famous for different reasons. Renjun was known for his sharp intellect and artistic talent, Jeno for his athletic skills and quiet charm, and Donghyuck… well, Donghyuck was the heart of the group, known for his humor, his quick wit, and that unmistakable confidence that made him impossible to ignore.

But above all, they had one thing in common: their beauty.

It was a cool afternoon, and you were walking home alone. Miyeon had stayed behind for a club meeting, so it was just you and the quiet rustle of the wind as you made your way down the familiar streets.

You were halfway to your way home when you noticed two boys from school trailing behind you. Their voices were loud, their laughter harsh, and you tried to ignore them, quickening your pace.

“Hey, slow down!” one of them called, his tone teasing.

You ignored him, clutching your bag tighter.

“Come on, show us what’s under that skirt" the other said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Disgust rose in your chest, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to put them in their place. But before you could respond, another voice cut through the air, firm and commanding.

“Is there a problem?”

You turned, your heart leaping in surprise. Donghyuck stood there, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, flanked by two other boys you immediately recognized as Renjun and Jeno.

The two troublemakers froze, their bravado vanishing in an instant. “N-no problem” one of them stammered, their faces pale. Without another word, they turned and ran off, tails between their legs.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asked, stepping closer.

You nodded, still a little shaken. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he offered, his voice softer now.

For the first time in a long while, you didn’t hesitate. “I would love that.”

Donghyuck smiled and turned to his friends. “Give me a second, guys.”

Renjun and Jeno immediately started whistling and teasing him, their voices full of playful mockery.

“Don’t mess it up, Romeo!” Renjun called, smirking.

“She’s cute!” Jeno added with a wink in your direction.

You blushed, lowering your gaze as the two of them walked off, leaving Donghyuck behind.

“So” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Which way?”

You pointed to the right, trying to hide your smile. “That way.”

He nodded, falling into step beside you.

As the two of you walked, the initial awkwardness began to fade. He asked you questions about school, your favorite classes, your favorite music. You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him, how his warmth and humor seemed to put you at ease.

By the time you reached your house, you realized something that startled you: Donghyuck wasn’t just handsome, funny, and popular. He was kind.

“Thanks for walking me home” you said, pausing at your front gate.

“It was my pleasure” he replied, that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but watch him go, your heart doing strange little flips in your chest.

Not only was Donghyuck a gentleman—he was also a superhero in your eyes now.

[-]

The moment Donghyuck started greeting you in the hallways, your world shifted. It wasn’t just the glances or the way he said your name—it was the fluttering in your chest, the warmth that spread through you like sunshine breaking through clouds. He was everywhere now, flashing that lopsided smile, making the world seem brighter.

Of course, Miyeon noticed.

“So” she started, her voice dripping with smugness, ���Miss I Hate Boys finally found one worth liking?”

You squirmed in your chair, avoiding her piercing gaze. “Uhm… maybe?” you mumbled, unsure whether to admit what you were feeling.

Her eyes widened, and then she let out a shriek. “YOU LIKE HIM?!”

Panic surged through you as you clamped your hand over her mouth, shooting daggers at her. “Be louder, why don’t you?” you hissed, glancing around the classroom to make sure no one heard her.

Miyeon pulled your hand away, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Sorry, but seriously, do you like him?”

You sighed, knowing there was no escaping her interrogation. “Yes… okay? I like him.”

She gasped, clasping her hands together as if she’d just witnessed a miracle. “Oh my gosh, this is HUGE! You know what you have to do, right?”

You blinked at her. “What?”

“You have to give him your name tag!”

Your stomach flipped at the suggestion.

It wasn’t just a casual gesture—at your school, giving someone your name tag was like putting your heart in their hands. It was bold, terrifying, and incredibly romantic.

“Miyeon, I can’t” you said, shaking your head. “What if he doesn’t want it? What if he doesn’t like me back?”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you gently. “Y/N, you’re one of the prettiest girls in school. If he doesn’t accept it, he’s an idiot. He should be groveling the moment you hand it to him!”

Her words gave you courage—or maybe it was the way Donghyuck had smiled at you earlier that day. Either way, you found yourself standing at his lunch table, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Hey, Y/N" Taeyong, a famous senior, greeted with a grin, pulling you back into reality.

“Hi” you replied, your voice a little shaky. Your eyes darted to Donghyuck, who was watching you curiously. “Donghyuck… can I talk to you for a second?”

The table fell silent. Renjun raised an eyebrow, while Jeno smirked knowingly. You could feel their eyes on you, but you forced yourself to stand tall.

“Sure” Donghyuck said, standing up. His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. He followed you outside, leaving his friends whispering behind him.

Once you were alone, the weight of the moment crashed over you like a wave. You felt your breath quicken, your palms damp with nerves. What were you thinking? What if you made a fool of yourself?

“Is something wrong?” Donghyuck asked, his voice laced with concern.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, fumbling with your name tag. Your fingers trembled as you unpinned it and held it out to him, your gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

The silence was unbearable. You felt like your heart might shatter at any second.

“Oh?” he said softly, his voice tinged with surprise.

You squeezed your eyes shut, certain he was going to hand it back. He didn’t feel the same, did he?

“Y/N” he said again, his tone gentler now.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Then, you felt something cool pressed into your hand. You opened your eyes and stared down at the object he’d placed there.

It wasn’t your name tag. It was his. “Lee Donghyuck" it read in neat lettering.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“I’ve been hoping for this” he said, his smile soft and genuine. “Would you like to go out with me?”

The world seemed to blur for a moment as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You nodded quickly, your lips trembling into a smile. “Yes” you managed to whisper.

His grin widened, his own cheeks flushing slightly. “Good. Because I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as you held his name tag close, his words echoing in your ears. For the first time in your life, you were certain: boys were gross but Donghyuck wasn’t just a boy. He was your boy.

In that moment, Donghyuck didn’t just hold your name tag—he held your heart, too.

[-]

It was a Wednesday, but not just any Wednesday—this was the Wednesday you had your first date with your crush, Lee Donghyuck.

You had spent hours debating your outfit, trying on everything in your closet. Nothing seemed to feel right until you landed on a pair of slightly baggy jeans, a high-collar shirt, and a pair of black boots that gave you just the right amount of height. To complete the look, you threw on a leather jacket. Simple, yet effortlessly cool.

As you arrived at the cinema, your heart skipped a beat. There he was, standing outside, leaning casually against the wall. He was dressed similarly, as if you’d coordinated—black skinny jeans, a plain black shirt, and a leather jacket that made him look like he’d stepped out of a magazine.

When Donghyuck spotted you, his face lit up. He waved enthusiastically, his other hand holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“Hey” you greeted him as you walked closer, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey” he replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He held out the flowers.“These are for you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you accepted them, a shy smile breaking across your face. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“I already bought the tickets” he said, nodding toward the entrance.

“Wow, you’re so prepared” you teased, and he grinned.

Inside the cinema, you looked at the ticket and raised an eyebrow. The Shining.

“You picked a horror movie for a first date?” you asked, amused but a little nervous.

“I wanted to see if you’d grab my arm when you got scared” he said with a mischievous smirk.

“Confident, aren’t you?”

“Always.”

The theater was dimly lit as you settled into your seat, the soundtrack of the movie filling the air, making the atmosphere heavy with suspense. You were already on edge, the tension building in the room with each passing moment. The eerie scenes on the screen didn't help—your heart raced as you gripped the armrest, trying to focus on the plot.

Suddenly, during a particularly suspenseful moment, you felt a presence beside you shift. Donghyuck leaned toward you, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

“You okay?” he asked, his breath brushing against your ear.

You jumped slightly, your heart skipping a beat. “Shut up” you hissed, trying to suppress the way his nearness made your pulse quicken. But you couldn't hide the small laugh that escaped you.

It was then that you noticed him stretching in his seat, the movement fluid and casual, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His arm moved slowly, inching closer to you, before wrapping around your shoulders with a smooth, practiced motion. It wasn't sudden or forceful—it was gentle, as if he had done it a hundred times before, but this was the first time, he practiced with Renjun.

His arm stretched across your shoulders, pulling you just a little closer, the warmth from his body radiating against yours. It wasn’t uncomfortable—far from it—but the sudden closeness sent a slight shock through you.

Donghyuck gave you a teasing smile, his gaze flicking to the screen. "You know, the movie's not that scary" he teased, but his voice had a certain softness, as if the playful tone hid something else.

You hesitated for a second, but with the darkness of the theater and the haunting sounds from the screen, you didn’t push him away. In fact, you found yourself leaning into the embrace, just for a moment.

The movie played on, but the screen’s chilling scenes were nothing compared to the warmth you felt against Donghyuck’s side.

By the time the movie ended, you were both buzzing with energy, talking animatedly about the scariest parts as you walked out into the cool night air.

The streets were quiet as you walked toward the crossing near the theater. The conversation flowed easily between you, laughter breaking through the stillness of the night.

“I can’t believe you screamed during that one scene” you teased.

“Hey, I wasn’t scared” he defended, his grin betraying him. “I was just… surprised!”

“Sure you were” you said, rolling your eyes, the teasing tone in your voice making him laugh

For a moment, the world felt simple, like it was just the two of you and nothing else mattered. But then, Donghyuck stopped walking, his hand gently brushing your arm to halt you too.

“Hey” he said softly, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Can I ask you something?”

You turned to face him, surprised. “Of course. What is it?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the ground before returning to yours. “Do you ever feel like… like you’ve known someone before you even met them? Like, maybe in another life?”

His question caught you off guard. “You mean like a past life?”

“Yeah” he said, nodding. “I don’t know why, but… being with you feels like that. Like we’ve done this before, like I’ve been waiting to meet you again.”

His words sent a strange, warm sensation through your chest, something you couldn’t quite explain.

“I don’t know if I believe in things like that” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But… it’s a nice idea.”

Donghyuck’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes soft. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

The two of you started walking again, the conversation lingering in the air like an unspoken promise. But as you reached the crosswalk, everything changed in an instant.

Out of nowhere, a man came speeding with his car, crashing into you both. The collision was sudden, throwing you both off balance. You fell to the ground with Donghyuck’s arms instinctively wrapping around you, shielding you from the worst of the impact.

Your head spun, and the world seemed to blur as you struggled to focus. “Donghyuck” you managed to whisper, your voice shaking.

He was lying beside you, his arms still cradling you as if shielding you from harm. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, and his breathing was shallow. His eyes fluttered open, finding yours with effort.

“Y/N” he murmured, his voice faint but steady.

“Don’t talk” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “We’ll get help. Just stay with me.”

His hand trembled as he reached for yours, his fingers curling weakly around yours. “I’ll come back to you, I promise” he whispered, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t say that” you cried, gripping his hand tightly as if it could keep him tethered to you.

But he only smiled, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. “I always find you… every time” he said softly, his voice fading as his eyes closed.

“Donghyuck, don’t leave me...” you sobbed, your heart shattering as his hand went limp in yours.

Pain surged through your chest, your breath coming in short, labored gasps.

The cold crept in, stealing the strength from your limbs. You knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t survive this either.

As your vision blurred and the world dimmed, you whispered your last words into the still night.

“I’ll find you too… no matter what.”

The world fell silent, and for a brief moment, the universe seemed to pause, carrying your shared promise into eternity:

“I’ll come back to you again.”

- THIRD LIFE -

The streets were bustling as you made your way to the newly opened café your friend raved about. You had been searching for the perfect spot to work outside of your apartment—a place with just the right balance of calmness and energy. When she mentioned Dream Café, she swore it was a hidden gem.

As you pushed open the door, a small bell chimed softly, signaling your arrival. The scent of freshly baked pastries and coffee wrapped around you like a warm hug. The atmosphere was serene, with soft music playing in the background and cozy seating scattered throughout.

“Welcome to Dream Café, what can I get for you?"

The voice came from behind the counter, where a tall barista with a sweet, easygoing smile greeted you. His nametag read Na Jaemin, and his charm was effortless—bright eyes and a calm aura that seemed to match the café’s vibe.

“Hi, I’d like a vanilla latte, please” you said, glancing at the menu behind him.

Jaemin nodded and leaned slightly on the counter. “Would you like anything else? The chocolate cake’s a favorite.We also have Carat cake which is a carrots cake.”

You glanced toward the display case, where desserts were arranged neatly. The chocolate cake stood out, rich and decadent.

“Sure, I’ll take a slice of that too.” you said.

“Good choice,” Jaemin replied, his hands moving swiftly to input your order. “Feel free to grab a seat. I’ll bring it to you.”

You chose a spot near the window—a cozy corner with a view of the busy street outside. It was the perfect spot, bathed in natural light with just enough privacy for you to focus. Unpacking your laptop and notebook, you settled in just as Jaemin arrived with your order.

“Here you go” he said, placing the plate and cup on the table.

“Thanks” you replied, smiling politely.

Jaemin grinned. “Enjoy your work session.” Then, with a small wave, he headed back to the counter.

Though he was undeniably friendly, you barely gave it another thought as you focused on your tasks. The latte was warm and perfectly sweet, and the chocolate cake practically melted in your mouth. Your friend hadn’t exaggerated—Dream Café had the right atmosphere to keep you productive.

As the hours passed, you found yourself at ease in the café’s calming space. The occasional hum of customers and Jaemin’s faint chatter with patrons added a pleasant backdrop to your work. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace, as though you’d finally found the perfect haven to balance your hectic routine.

Little did you know, this café would become more than just a place to work. It would be where you’d meet someone whose presence felt familiar, as if their existence was already intertwined with yours.

[-]

Days turned into weeks, and Dream Café quickly became your go-to spot. The cozy atmosphere, delicious coffee, and quiet charm made it the perfect place for your work. You’d even gotten to know some of the staff, like Jaemin, who always greeted you with a bright smile, and Jisung, the shy but endearing barista who often seemed to disappear into the background.

Then one day, everything shifted.

You walked in as usual, the soft chime of the bell announcing your arrival. The familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries greeted you, but this time, someone new stood behind the counter. His tan skin glowed under the café's warm lights, and his brown eyes caught yours, holding them just a moment too long.

“Hi, welcome to Dream Café. What can I get for you?” he said, his voice warm and inviting. His name tag read Lee Haechan.

“I’d like a vanilla latte, and do you have any chocolate cake left?” you asked.

“You’re lucky—we’ve got the last slice,” he replied with a smile so radiant it almost left you breathless. Could a smile really have that much power?

You thanked him, taking a seat at your usual spot by the window. From there, you couldn’t help but notice him moving around, restocking pastries, chatting with Jaemin, and attending to customers with that same easygoing charm. You told yourself not to stare, but somehow, your eyes kept wandering back to him.

[-]

A few days later, as you settled into your routine at the café, Haechan approached your table with a curious expression. “Hey, mind if I ask what you’re always working on over here?” he asked, setting down your order with a grin.

“Oh, um…” You hesitated, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. “It’s work. I’m a computer scientist, so I’m mostly coding or analyzing data.”

“Wow” he said, eyebrows raised. “Sounds complicated. I can barely figure out how to set up my email without help.”

You laughed softly, his comment breaking the ice. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Honestly, I just sit here staring at my screen half the time.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you look really focused. Very intimidating, actually” he teased, leaning slightly on the chair across from you.

“Intimidating?” you repeated with a chuckle. “I’m not intimidating.”

“Sure you’re not” he replied, his grin widening. “But seriously, you’re here so often, you’re practically a part-time employee. Do we get to call you one of us yet?”

“Only if you start paying me in chocolate cake” you shot back.

“Deal” he said without hesitation, his playful tone making you smile.

From that day on, Haechan made it a point to stop by your table whenever he had a spare moment. Sometimes, he’d ask about your work, genuinely curious despite admitting he didn’t understand a word of it. Other times, he’d tell you funny stories about customers or Jaemin, whose antics seemed to keep the café lively.

One quiet afternoon, the café was nearly empty, giving Haechan a rare break. He wandered over to your table again, this time with his own cup of coffee.

“So” he began, sitting down across from you without asking, “is Dream Café officially your favorite spot, or do we still have to work on earning that title?”

You smiled, setting your laptop aside. “I guess I keep coming back for a reason.”

“Good answer” he said, looking genuinely pleased.

Slowly but surely, Haechan became more than just another barista at Dream Café. His charm, humor, and warmth added a new kind of comfort to your visits.Slowly but surely, he became more than just a barista at your favorite cafe- he became someone you looked forward seeing every day

[-]

The day was unusually gloomy, the kind that seemed to sap the energy out of everything. The sky hung heavy with gray clouds, and the faint drizzle outside cast streaks across the café windows. You stepped into Dream Café, brushing off your damp coat, and settled into your usual corner by the window. The warm glow of the café lights contrasted with the bleakness outside, offering a temporary escape.

Haechan was at the counter, chatting with Jaemin as he wiped down the coffee machines. His laughter was soft, almost subdued, as if the weather had dulled its usual brightness. Still, every now and then, his eyes flicked toward you. He caught your gaze once and smiled, just enough to send a small spark of warmth through your chest before you turned your attention to your laptop.

The hours passed, the café slowly emptying as the drizzle turned into a steady rain. You lost yourself in your work, the gentle hum of the coffee grinder and the low murmur of soft jazz creating the perfect background noise. Occasionally, you’d look up and see Haechan bustling around—restocking pastries, adjusting the thermostat, or clearing tables. Once or twice, you thought you caught him glancing at you, but it was hard to tell through the dim lighting and raindrops on the windows.

As the evening wore on, the café grew quieter. It was just you and a couple seated near the entrance. The rain outside intensified, now a rhythmic patter against the glass. You glanced at your watch, realizing how late it had gotten, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself away from the work still left to finish.

When the couple finally left, Haechan began wiping down their table. You felt his eyes on you again, and this time, when you looked up, he didn’t turn away. Instead, he walked over, a warm yet hesitant smile on his face.

“Hey” he started, leaning against the chair opposite you. “Still working?”

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, I lost track of time. I didn’t realize it was already so late.”

He glanced outside, where the rain was now coming down in sheets. “It’s pouring pretty bad out there. Do you have a ride home?”

You hesitated, looking out at the wet streets. “No, I was just going to call for a cab or something.”

Haechan tilted his head, his smile softening. “I could give you a ride. My car’s parked just around the corner.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “Oh, I don’t want to bother you. It’s out of your way, I’m sure.”

“Not at all,” he assured you. “Besides, I wouldn’t feel right letting you head out in this weather on your own.”

You studied his face, noting the sincerity in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, grabbing a chair and sitting down for a moment. “Absolutely. Besides, I’m off in ten minutes, so it’s perfect timing.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Okay. Thank you, Haechan. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, standing up and glancing at your laptop. “Just don’t let your boss know you’re this dedicated, or they’ll start piling on more work.”

You laughed softly. “Noted. I’ll keep my workaholic tendencies a secret.”

Haechan returned to the counter, finishing up his closing tasks while you packed up your things. When he was ready, he grabbed his coat and umbrella, holding the door open for you as the two of you stepped into the rainy night.

The ride home was quiet but comfortable, the sound of rain against the car windows filling the silence. Occasionally, you’d catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, and you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter despite the gloomy weather

The rain had stopped, but the unease in the air lingered, wrapping around you like a cold embrace. That night, sleep came slowly, like a pull that took longer than usual to break through your conscious thoughts. When you finally slipped into slumber, your mind carried you away to a different time, a different life—one that felt both distant and familiar at the same time.

The first dream was peaceful.

You were older, you found yourself in a small, cozy house, the sunlight filtering through the windows in soft golden hues. The air smelled of fresh herbs and home-cooked meals, a quiet and comforting routine.

You were married—happily married to Haechan. You could feel the warmth of his hand in yours as you sat on the porch, the world quiet around you. His laugh filled the air, easy and carefree, and you found yourself smiling at his every word, every touch. You shared simple moments: laughing together over meals, holding hands during walks, and spending long evenings sitting in front of a fire.

This is what happiness feels like, you thought to yourself as you stared at his face in the glow of the firelight. He looked at you with such tenderness, and the love between the two of you felt endless.

At first, you thought you were going crazy, that your little crush on Haechan was starting to turn you into a delusional version of yourself. But then each time you closed your eyes, you found yourself in a different place, a different time. But somehow, they felt familiar, like pieces of a puzzle that belonged together, but the image wasn’t fully clear.

One night you found yourself standing in a dimly lit room, its walls cracked and stained with the remnants of war. The air was thick with smoke, and the distant sound of artillery fire echoed through the hazy sky. It was the Korean War, but something felt... wrong. You weren’t supposed to be there. The world around you seemed to be falling apart, yet you stood in the middle of it all, strangely calm, as though you had lived through this before.

And there, across from you, stood him—not Haechan, not the playful barista from Dream Café, but Donghyuck, older, battle-worn, and wearing a military uniform. His face was different, yet his eyes—those familiar brown eyes—pierced through the chaos, locking onto yours with a look of quiet recognition.

“Y/N” he called, his voice rough yet tender. You had heard him call your name before, many times, but this time it felt like it carried the weight of years, of battles fought and lost, of time slipping through your fingers.

“Come with me” he urged, his hand outstretched, but you hesitated.

Why does this feel so familiar? And why his name is Donghyuck?

You followed him anyway, stepping through the broken streets of a city that seemed to have once held life, now reduced to nothing more than ash. There was a sense of urgency in his movements, but there was something else, too. A bond. The bond between you both felt unbreakable, like you had always known each other, always been tethered in this strange dance of fate.

“Don’t look back” he whispered, guiding you through the ruins.

But as you ran, you couldn’t help but glance back. The faces of soldiers flashed by, their lives cut short by the cruel hands of war. But none of it mattered. It was him that mattered. Always him.

You didn’t know how much time passed, but suddenly, you were on the ground, the weight of his body pressing against yours, the distant echoes of gunfire fading into silence. His brown eyes looked at you once more, filled with a deep sadness that left a hollow ache in your chest.

“I’ll come back to you” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

“Donghyuck” you breathed, your heart tearing as you reached out for him, but the world around you began to crumble, pulling you away from him.

His hand slipped from yours, and the dream shattered like glass, sending you hurtling into another life.

Then the dreams started shifting again. This time the world was different. The air was warmer, the sky clear and bright, and you were back on familiar ground—back in the 1980s. You could smell the scent of fresh school uniforms and the hum of teenage excitement in the air. You were younger now, walking through a bustling street, the world full of possibilities and innocence. And there he was again.

Haechan.

But now, he was not the soldier you had known before.

He was wearing a crisp school uniform, his hair styled in a way that made him look effortlessly cool, the swagger of youth in his every step. And those eyes—the same brown eyes—caught yours across the street, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background.

His smile was as playful as ever, the confidence of youth radiating off him. But there was something else in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, are you ready?” he asked, and the familiarity of his voice sent a rush of warmth through your chest.

And that was all it took. With that smile, that carefree laugh, you felt your heart start to beat faster, something stirring deep within you. The feeling of déjà vu crept up again, but this time, you embraced it.

You walked with him through the streets, the rhythm of his footsteps matching your own. His laugh echoed in your ears, and for a moment, you felt at peace. But deep down, something gnawed at you. Had you been here before?

Your head started spinning, the confusion flooded your mind as the memories shifted, start pulling you through time like a kaleidoscope of fragmented lives. But when it stopped you looked up and you saw Haechan—no, Donghyuck—fall once more, this time in the chaos of the streets.

You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t save him again. And you felt that loss like a sharp pain in your chest.

You screamed for him, but his eyes closed, and he was gone.

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, but you knew, deep down, that you had heard them before. And it always ended the same way.

You couldn’t save him.

You woke up, your heart racing, the images from the dream lingering in your mind like fragments of a story you couldn’t quite understand. You tried to shake them off, to focus on the present, but the memories refused to fade. Each life felt like an echo of something that had always been.

It wasn’t the first time you’d dreamed of these lives, but it was the first time you realized that each version of him—each Donghyuck, each Haechan—was always the same. And each time, you lost him. No matter how much you tried to change it, no matter how many lives you lived, you could never escape the inevitable.

And as the days passed, the memories began to intrude on your waking life, flashing before your eyes in the quiet moments of your day. You could feel them, feel the weight of every life you had lived, every time you had lost him. You couldn’t outrun it.

You couldn’t outrun the truth.

And as the memories of the past lingered, you couldn’t help but wonder... would this life, this one with Haechan, be the same? Would it end with him slipping away again? Or was there a way for you to change the ending? Were you cursed?

You didn’t know. You thought you were going crazy. You needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. Chenle, your best friend.

You spotted Chenle at a corner table, already sipping on his drink, his sharp eyes watching you the moment you stepped inside.

Sliding into the seat across from him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s worse than that.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Okay, now I’m interested. Spill.”

You hesitated for a moment before lowering your voice. “I’ve been having dreams. But not just any dreams—memories. Past lives. And in every single one of them… he’s there.”

Chenle blinked. “Who?”

“Haechan.” The name barely left your lips before you saw the confusion settle on his face. “Or… Donghyuck. He had different names in each life, but it was always him.”

For the first time, Chenle didn’t have a sarcastic remark ready. He studied you carefully. “And what happens in these dreams?”

You swallowed hard. “We always find each other. And then… I lose him.” Your voice wavered. “Every single time.”

Chenle let out a slow breath, tapping his fingers against his cup. “That’s… insane.”

“I know,” you whispered. Your throat tightened. “But it feels so real. Every time I see him now, it’s like I already know him. Like I’ve already lost him before.”

For the first time, Chenle didn’t have some sarcastic remark ready. He just stared at you, the weight of your words settling between you both.

“Y/N…” he started, but then stopped. His fingers drummed lightly on the table, deep in thought. “So, do you think he remembers too?”

You inhaled sharply. That was the one question you hadn’t let yourself dwell on.

What if he didn’t? What if, to him, you were just a stranger?

Or worse—what if he did remember?

What if he was waiting for you to realize it?

Chenle must have noticed the shift in your expression because his gaze softened. “You have to talk to him.”

Your pulse quickened. “What if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted. “If this is real—if he remembers too—you deserve to know.”

The words settled deep inside you. The truth was, you already knew you needed to talk to Haechan. You had known it from the moment you started dreaming of him.

Chenle glanced at his phone. “I have to go, but…” He gave you a pointed look. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

You hesitated before nodding.

He sighed dramatically. “Alright, but don’t come crying to me if it turns out you’re just obsessed with your barista.”

You rolled your eyes, but his teasing tone made your shoulders relax just a little.

As he got up and left, you stayed behind, staring down at your untouched drink. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

And then—

“Still deep in thought?”

You looked up.

Haechan was standing by your table, wiping his hands on a towel, his usual teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your throat went dry. Now or never.

“Haechan, can I talk to you?”

He blinked, surprised by your serious tone. But then, something shifted in his expression. Slowly, he placed the towel down and slid into the seat across from you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your dreams, your memories, your entire existence pressed down on you. But just as you opened your mouth—

He smiled. A knowing, almost expectant smile.

“I was waiting for you to remember, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The world around you seemed to freeze.

“I—” you started, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Haechan leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His gaze softened, but there was something else there—something deep, something sad.

“We’ve been here before” he murmured. “Not just here. Every lifetime. Every version of us.”

The air felt heavier. You gripped the edge of the table. “Then… it’s real?” Your voice barely came out as a whisper.

He nodded. “You’re not crazy. I remember everything too.”

The revelation sent a shiver through your entire body. “But why? Why does it always end the same?”

Haechan exhaled, looking past you, as if staring at something only he could see. “Because we were cursed.”

Your heart pounded. “Cursed?”

He finally looked back at you, “A long time ago, in one of our first lives, we did something that angered the wrong people. A love like ours wasn’t supposed to exist, they said. And so, they cursed us—to find each other in every life, only to be torn apart before we could have our ending.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. Images of your dreams—the war, the school, the deaths—flashed before your eyes. So you lived even more than three lives?

“So that’s why…” you trailed off, your voice shaking.

Haechan nodded. “Every time I see you, I hope maybe this will be the life we break free. That maybe, this time, we change the ending.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “But how? How do we stop it?”

His hand reached forward, brushing your cheek, grounding you. His warmth seeped into your skin, a reminder that this was real.

“I don’t know” he admitted. “But I do know one thing.”

You swallowed, eyes locked onto his. “What?”

“I love you” he whispered. “Every time, in every life. And I will always find you.”

Before you could even process his words, his hands cupped your face with a tenderness that sent a jolt of something deep into your soul.

And then—he kissed you.

The second his lips met yours, it was like a floodgate had opened. Memories crashed into you, overlapping with the present. The warmth of his embrace in a small war-torn house. The laughter of your teenage selves echoing in the 1980s streets. The desperate reach of his hand as he was ripped away from you in battle.

Every life. Every moment.

And now—this.

This life.

This kiss.

Your fingers clutched onto his shirt, afraid to let go, afraid that if you did, he would slip away like he had so many times before.

But he didn’t.

Not this time.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, wide and searching. He smiled again, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“I told you I’d come back to you.”

Tears spilled down your face, but you laughed, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.”

This time, you believed him.

Because this time, you weren’t going to lose him.

Because this time, you were going to break the curse.

THE END.

[deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist]

I just adore Russell so much here - the charm, the banter, the veiled threats, the kids nicknames… Absolute perfection. these are my favorites:

“He chuckled between your tits, a deep hum against your ribcage. “No, they’re definitely not, sweetheart.” He pecked your collarbone and glanced up at you with a grin as your fingers carded through his long hair – you supposed you could get used to it. “But, uhm–,” he bit his lip, grin widening underneath it, “–they’re about to be damn clogged. Hold on!” BWAHAHA!!!!

“Do the words ‘extraordinary rendition’ mean anything to you?” you asked and instantly heard Russell tossing the spatula aside to throw you a full look this time. / “That’s what you call goddamn sugarcoating?” Russell cocked a brow at you.” Tee hee hee - it’s like you know me…

“You snorted a laugh. “I used to call him Ducky because he kept following me around everywhere.” head cannon completely accepted – makes perfect sense.

“Funny sometimes how the CIA harped on unveiling the truth but kept more secrets themselves than a magician’s hat. When did you become part of the problem?” Exquisitely true! 

“Maybe you should’ve dipped out with Russell years ago when you still had a chance to do something else with your life. When you’d first started dating. When you’d had a massive fight on that first Thanksgiving, which turned to love confessions before the night had ended.” Imma need this Thanksgiving story stat - I just love Russell Shaw so much…

“You were pulled back in, and Russell followed like your canary in a mine shaft. It was a never-ending circle you couldn’t seem to escape from. Back then, you’d been scared of the future. You’d only known him for two months and the two of you had already been through hell together before you realized you loved him. But you didn’t want to toss aside all your beliefs and ambitions for him. Now, you’d do it in a heartbeat.” I also need to know the story about how she realized she loved him… I am so, so glad you are doing a prequel, I can’t wait!!!

“Hi there, ace,” Russell said, smiling and swallowed the gigantic fucking lump in his throat. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…”. that goes for me too, Russell… So incredibly sweet!

I’ve never read the books, and now I don’t want to, because you are writing my head cannons for Russell, they make perfect sense given what we’ve seen of him on the TV, and I absolutely adore them. Thank you so much for sharing this with us !!!



The Exit Strategy – Part 5

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language & implied/light smut, fluff, angst, the darkness of the CIA, death threats, blackmail, mentions of murder & torture, psychological warfare, feels, Dad!Russell

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: We have reached the end of yet another series! Although, as the title of this chapter suggests, this is more of a start than an end 😉

Can't wait to see you all back for the prequel! Big thank you for all your sweet comments throughout this 🥹🩵

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 5: This Is a Start

Half-awake, you inhaled deeply, his scent – earthy notes of pine, oakmoss, and agar wood – clinging to every air molecule that flowed into you and filled your bloodstream till your entire body was made of nothing but him.

You could feel the sunlight on your skin, even though your eyes were closed. But it wasn’t what gave you warmth at that moment. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel his heartbeat against your spine, feel the breaths of his shallow snores brush the shell of your ear and reach down to your neck, and you remembered all the mornings where you’d felt exactly like this.

Calm, safe, loved. Because you were with him.

You’d missed those mornings. And the nights. And the… everything.

You rolled in his arms, and your eyes opened, searching for his face. The freckles on his skin almost glistened golden in the tangerine glow of dawn. You dipped your head and caught his plush lips, kissing him awake.

When his palm snuck to your cheek, covered it fully, and pulled you closer, the kiss turned heated rather quickly when your tongue slipped inside his mouth. His hands gripped you tightly and dragged you on top, your legs straddling him as you felt his hardness between your thighs.

“I forgot you do that,” he said against your lips, pleasantly amused.

“Forgot, huh?” Smirking teasingly, you kissed down the scruffy column of his throat till your lips pressed against his spacious chest. He groaned lowly underneath you, nose nuzzling in the crook of your neck as his hands explored your soft curves.

Russell’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, focusing on the blinking red light in the air vent. He chuckled slightly when your hands keenly moved further south. “Don’t you think we’ve already given them enough of a show?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, laughing, and mischievously rolled your eyes. “What’s one more tape at this point?”

“You’re probably right.” Russell laughed softly and placed several kisses on your crown before dragging you fully into his embrace.

With a blissful sigh, you rested your head on top of his beating heart and closed your eyes for a moment. Why couldn’t the two of you just stay here forever?

But then you felt the springs of the uncomfortable mattress again and groaned. You missed your own bed. You missed your house, your kids, and your husband. You missed your own goddamn wardrobe – your own life.

“God, I can’t wait to get home. Just be with you and the kids,” you murmured against his skin. A smile rose on your lips as you glanced up at him. “I like this retirement plan of yours.”

“Yeah? You think we can swing it? Get out for good?” Russell asked, his conversation with Colter last night running on a loop. You took note of the unsureness in his voice. “I think you might have been right. Maybe I can’t retire just yet until I’ve finished this thing.”

You laughed knowingly. “Colter’s not gonna back down, is he?”

“No, I don’t think he is. Can’t let him do this alone,” Russell sighed, torn between his dreams and his duties.

“Look, wherever you lead, I’ll follow, okay?” you assured him and pressed a loving kiss to his lips, sealing your promise. “But you and me are not separating again. ‘Sides, you guys are gonna need my help. You know my real superpower is a keyboard.”

Russell chuckled, his fingers caressing mindless circles on your spine. “Sure you can leave the field for good? I mean, you’ve had a desk job before. What’s different this time?”

You grinned at him. “I finally found my anchor.”

Russell laughed, the sound vibrating against your ribs. “Well, I hate to drag you down, sweetheart.”

You giggled, placing another kiss to his collarbone. “You’re not. You’re tethering my ship to the ground during storms. I’d like to think there’s a difference.”

“Wow, very poetic for a Radiohead fan,” Russell teased you.

“Hey!” Laughingly, you lightly slapped his chest.

“When did we see them again? 2008? That was a good show…” Russell hummed with a smirk curving his lips. You knew he was thinking less about the band and more about the little fun adventure he had with you in the restrooms of Madison Square Garden.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure it was for you. Your head didn’t bang repeatedly against the flusher,” you retorted, causing Russell to laugh so deeply that tears stung his eyes. As his laughs rippled out, your gaze wandered to the clock – 6:24 AM. “Colters gonna be here soon.”

“Almost forgot how much I haven’t missed this…” Russell groaned exhaustively in response, causing you to quirk a brow in amusement.

“Excuse me?”

“No, not you. Not this,” he quickly assured you, chuckling. He kissed you deeply and rolled on top of you, his large and strong body covering yours entirely, muscular arms caging you in on both sides. You giggled underneath him, your fingers tracing his tattoo on his bicep as you gazed up at him. “But you do realize I have to get dressed, sneak outta the house, only to ring the doorbell on said house a second later.”

Your lips rose to a broad and teasing grin. “Yeah, isn’t it fun?”

Russell laughed and kissed you again. “I don’t know why I bother. Are you guys even being watched?”

“Probably not,” you admitted. The congressman wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and was clueless beyond belief. His associates seemed to be none the wiser as well, although they were being naturally careful. “But we still have neighbors, though.”

If your enemies were careful, so were you.

Russell scoffed casually. “Operation’s almost over, anyways. Let ‘em think the Christian housewife is knocking boots with some hot, rugged plumber or somethin’…” He mumbled the last words into the slope of your neck, his hands keenly trailing down your frame.

“Or somethin’,” you repeated and giggled as his beard tickled your skin. He interlaced his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head. “You know, my pipes aren’t broken.”

He chuckled between your tits, a deep hum against your ribcage. “No, they’re definitely not, sweetheart.” He pecked your collarbone and glanced up at you with a grin as your fingers carded through his long hair – you supposed you could get used to it. “But, uhm–,” he bit his lip, grin widening underneath it, “–they’re about to be damn clogged. Hold on!”

You squealed and laughed as he disappeared underneath the covers.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the sizzling sounds of bacon on the stove that Russell was preparing. He watched you and his brother from the corner of his eye, Manny and Tom discussing strategies as they crouched over their laptops on the island.

His old friend had shown up shortly after the Shaws had arrived. Russell had met his younger brother in the driveway with the broadest grin, to which Colter only quipped he didn’t look like he’d slept a lot – and he hadn’t. Three years was a long fucking time…

His grin widened again as he thought about it before he felt the nudge in his ribs from your elbow.

“Upstairs brain, Russell,” you reminded him with a playfully scolding tone and hid your own saucy grin behind your coffee mug.

Twenty years, and Russell still had no fucking clue how you always knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Best we go in tonight,” Manny said in his blue overalls that read Jesus on the name tag on his right chest. He’d shown up this morning disguised as a plumber, a wide, pearly-white grin on his face when he stood on the porch and said to you, “Heard there’s some clogged pipes in this house, ma’am?”

While you had almost killed him with a single look, Russell had chuckled under his breath and appreciated the joke. The guy only had an hour to get the appropriate outfit – that took some goddamn dedication.

“We’re just gonna knock on his door?” Colter questioned with an arched brow. There was amusement in his voice. He was waiting to hear the real plan.

You set your mug down on the counter and looked up at him, feeling Russell watching from his periphery. He’d told you to sugarcoat as much as possible, well aware that your approach was usually a little more direct.

Russell always carefully eased people into the frigid water, while you… well, you pushed them. Hard.

“Let me ask you this, how morally ambiguous are you?” you asked, earning you a somewhat chiding look from your husband.

“Uhm, some,” Colter replied with a cock of his head and didn’t seem fazed by the question. “Are we breaking in?”

“Yup,” you replied simply. “His wife is staying with her mother in North Carolina for two weeks. He’ll be home around eight. We’re gonna wait for him in his study. I need you and Russ to occupy his security detail. It’s just two guys, former law enforcement. You should be fine. Manny and I are gonna help, but we need you to stay with them and keep an eye out at the entry points for other surprises.”

“Alright.” Colter gave you a nod. “So, what end result are you aiming for here? I’m guessing you guys aren’t arresting him.”

Clever, you thought. Like his older brother, Colter had a gift of reading between the lines.

“The goal is to recruit him as a double agent and get him to turn on his associates, so we’re gonna show him a few things and hope he comes to the right decision,” you said and took a sip of your coffee. Fucking sugarcoating…

“You’re gonna blackmail him,” Colter deduced but still didn’t seem shocked to his core.

You really should stop judging Shaws by their pretty covers…

“Yes.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

Musingly, you pursed your lips, feeling Russell’s eyes narrowing at you. The pause wasn’t caused by a lack of answers, however, but by contemplating how you could possibly package the term torture and kill with a nice bow and wrapping paper.

“Do the words ‘extraordinary rendition’ mean anything to you?” you asked and instantly heard Russell tossing the spatula aside to throw you a full look this time.

“That’s what you call goddamn sugarcoating?” Russell cocked a brow at you.

You offered him a shrug. “Literally no good way of saying that, Russ.”

Colter chuckled. “You guys don’t have to sugarcoat on my behalf. My sympathy for the guy is pretty low.”

“That’s what I said!” you pointed out, sharing a look with Russell.

“Just out of curiosity, though, how exactly do you plan to-…” Colter tried to find the right words. “I mean, he’s a congressman.”

“Ah.” You knew what he was getting at – a public figure would probably be missed. But another glance at your husband made you think twice and poke the insides of your cheeks before answering that one honestly. “How about you guys just focus on the guards and let us worry about the rest?”

Russell seemed pleased with your answer for once, although you could tell Colter was itching to prod further. However, he decided to change tune instead.

“So, what was Russell like when you met him?” Colter asked, a both curious and teasing smile grazing his face.

“I don’t think we need to talk about that,” Russell tried to deflect with an awkward chuckle.

“Ah, well… weird,” you replied tongue-in-cheek.

“Thank you?” Russell furrowed his brow at you, but you could tell he found your answer rather amusing and agreed with that assessment.

“Little nervous,” you added playfully.

“You made me nervous,” Russell emphasized and muttered into his coffee, “Not like we met in a traditional setting…”

You snorted a laugh. “I used to call him Ducky because he kept following me around everywhere.”

Colter tried his hardest to stifle his laugh upon Russell’s glare.

“Oh, he was so cute,” Manny chimed in with his signature grin. “Shoulda seen him when he walked into that safe house on that first day, man. With his little babyface and heart eyes.”

Exasperatedly, Russell threw his arms up and looked at his little brother intently. “Alright, don’t listen to them. None of that is true. You know they lie professionally, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re lying, Russ,” Colter deadpanned.

Manny and Tom then excused themselves to the basement, leaving you alone with the two Shaw brothers.

“So, what exactly made Russell weird in your eyes?” Colter leaned forward on the counter, an amused smile tugging at his lips, unbothered by the deepening of his brother’s frown.

“I don’t think we need to get into that…”

“Well…” you mused, ignoring your husband’s protests, too. “It was just little things, honestly. He was a bit, uhm…”

“Reclusive?” Colter offered.

You tilted your head in surprise. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. How did you know?”

“Don’t,” Russell warned as soon as Colter started to part his lips.

“Do,” you encouraged, much to Russell’s chagrin.

“Well, uh, that was our dad’s nickname for him,” Colter replied with a bit of hesitance.

“Huh,” you uttered, sipping on your drink. “Never heard that story before…”

“Alright, are you two done with your little bonding session on my account?” Russell threw both of you a pointed look.

You and Colter raised your hands in surrender, announcing your capitulation.

“For now,” you said, smiling mischievously.

The mansion loomed a few yards away, the sun hurrying behind the suburbs of Washington DC as your team stood in position in the perfectly manicured garden of the estate, hiding among hedges and bushes.

Your eyes scanned the doorways and windows before you heard the soft hiss of your crackling ear piece. “All clear. Eyes on tango. ETA seven mikes.”

“Copy that,” you said and motioned to your team, giving the signal to move toward the house.

You and the guys slipped like shadows to a side entrance, already spying one of the guards. Manny was the first to engage, delivering a strike to the guy’s neck before he dropped silently to the ground. It was always good to have a Marine on your team.

Russell then took out the second guard, zip-tying his hands behind his back before the older Shaw moved the body to the other unconscious guard with Colter’s help.

“Alright, you two stay down here while me and Manny wait for Mueller upstairs in his study,” you said to the brothers before watching Russell exchange a look with the other operative.

“Lemme go with you,” Russell said, but his tone and expression suggested it wasn’t a proposal. He’d go with you, no room for a discussion.

You threw Manny a raised look, but he only held up his palms. “Not getting between this,” he said with a small chuckle.

You blew out a sigh between your lips and gestured wordlessly for your husband to follow you inside.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” you reminded him.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. But I want to.” Russell grinned slyly. “‘Sides, it’s been a while for you.”

He was right. You’d been hiding behind a screen for the better part of six years. You’d done smaller interrogations in the safety of a CIA building, but not something like this – something that forced you to use the more brutal tools of your skill set.

Your faith in an institution you once had heavily believed in was already dwindling before you’d become a mother. Each new mission would make you doubt and question the controversial means to a prophesied end of terror more and more.

You had always followed orders and done as you were told, even when you would quietly disagree. Well, sometimes you had disagreed quite loudly – but you had always believed collateral damage was just a necessary sacrifice for the greater good.

Duty, honor, and country.

But did you really ever make a difference?

And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

Funny sometimes how the CIA harped on unveiling the truth but kept more secrets themselves than a magician’s hat.

When did you become part of the problem?

Russell looked at you as if he knew what you were thinking – he probably did. He always did. No matter what lurked in the dark, he had your back, whether it was to protect you or to ground you when all of it came crashing down.

Maybe you should’ve dipped out with Russell years ago when you still had a chance to do something else with your life. When you’d first started dating. When you’d had a massive fight on that first Thanksgiving, which turned to love confessions before the night had ended.

You should’ve asked him to get out with you, then. Figure out your new life together. Instead, you’d asked him to come to Pakistan with you, he’d said yes, even though you’d seen the hesitance in his eyes, and you’d spent the next six years in the Middle East together.

You’d almost gotten out again when the two of you got married. You’d settled on the outskirts of Vegas, rented a nice house, and worked a somewhat steady job at Homey Airport north of the city. Russell worked as a security guard there, and you helped with research for… stuff.

You both would agree that it had been your first real home together. There was routine and familiarity and quietness and expectancy in a good way.

And then, just like now, carrot.

You were pulled back in, and Russell followed like your canary in a mine shaft. It was a never-ending circle you couldn’t seem to escape from.

Back then, you’d been scared of the future. You’d only known him for two months and the two of you had already been through hell together before you realized you loved him. But you didn’t want to toss aside all your beliefs and ambitions for him. Now, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Wherever you lead, I’ll follow…

For tonight, though, Russell still followed you – up the stairs and into a naughty congressman’s study.

Russell lurked against the wall behind the door; you sat comfortably on the big leather couch in front of the fireplace and had poured yourself a whiskey. You emptied it by the time a car’s headlights flashed across the wood-paneled walls as it veered into the garage.

“You look very hot in that tactical gear, by the way,” you teased Russell, who only punished you with a scolding look. But you could tell by the slight grind of his teeth and the deepening crinkles around his green eyes that it certainly had the desired effect on him. He’d probably do you on this couch right now if it hadn’t broken his concentration.

Not long after, the office door swung wide open, flooding light from the hallway into the dark study. Mueller flipped on the sideboard lampshade in the room, his eyes still studying a stack of letters in his hands before his gaze lifted and found you.

His head tilted to the side, brows firmly creasing above the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowing. “Mrs… Laurier?”

Different hair, different eyes, full tactical gear – you didn’t blame the man for doing a double-take.

“Okay, let’s cut the bullshit,” you said as you rose from your seat and sauntered to the bar, pouring him a glass of whiskey. “I know about your friends. I know what you’ve been doing.”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, Mrs. Laurier, but I’d like to ask you to leave my house right now.”

You snorted a laugh at his denial. “No.”

“No one’s leaving, buddy,” Russell said and gently pushed the door shut behind the man.

Mueller startled when he realized there was another person in the room besides you, his eyes warily assessing your husband’s tall and broad stature. “Who is this?”

“None of your concern if you sit down and have a chat with me, Congressman,” you said nonchalantly and motioned to the matching couch opposite you.

With a swallow and a glance over his shoulder at Russell, Mueller reluctantly took a seat and downed the whiskey in front of him.

“Refill?” Russell offered kindly, to which the older man only nodded before your husband gave him a rough pat on the shoulder as he strolled to the bar.

“I’m a congressman. You can’t do this to me! There will be dire consequences for you both and whoever else is involved in this,” he threatened with a losing hand.

“Oh, I know you’re a congressman, but who am I?” you asked and leaned forward with a scrutinizing look.

His eyes averted to the carpeted floor for a moment before he swallowed. “You’re CIA,” he realized.

“Good job! Got the first one right,” you taunted with a smile. You sounded like fucking Ms. Rachel whenever your kids got a color right. “And do you have an inkling why we might be here?”

He swallowed thickly once more, nodding. “I do.”

“Very good, buddy,” you praised. “See? This is easy, right? No need to be nervous. We just wanna know some things about your friends and were wondering if you could help us.”

He thought for a moment, letting his head hang before he met your eyes. “I’m not saying anything without my lawyer.”

“Wrong answer. You’re not under arrest,” you said, your mask of the friendly Christian housewife fully falling now. “You think I give a shit about the Department of Justice? They’re concerned with overcrowding prisons with criminals. The CIA’s job is to neutralize threats to national security. What are you right now, Mr. Mueller?”

Judging by the slight twitch of his face, he seemed to know exactly which one he was. “You can’t kill me! You’re operating on US soil!”

“Oh, we can always arrange a plane,” you said casually and got up from your seat once more. This time, you ambled to the massive oak desk and rummaged through the second, left-side drawer. “How do like Eastern Europe this time of year? Ever been?”

“You know, most people don’t know this, but Bulgaria has some really nice beaches along the Black Sea. I mean, not that you’re ever gonna see any of them, but we could go,” Russell played along, shooting you a cheeky smile before his attention returned to Mueller. “So, what d’you prefer? Handcuffs or zip-ties? You know what? I’m gonna go with the zip-ties. Still might need the cuffs for later.”

He shot you a wink. You chided him with a raised brow.

“I’m a congressman, for crying out loud! Don’t you think people are gonna notice when I disappear?” Mueller protested, shaking in his seat with a fuming red head.

No wonder the guy had a heart problem.

“Ha! Found it!” You emerged victoriously with a rattling pill bottle. “Eight o’clock. Time for your heart medication, right? How about we do two for two? Two pills for two wrong answers?” As you sat down again, you were studying the fine print on the label. “Huh. Not more than 3 in 24 hours,” you mumbled the inscription and gave the graying man a shrug. “Should be fine then. Take them.”

Russell subtly adjusted his shoulder strap, causing the M4 he had slung around to rattle before he took out his butterfly knife and began to play with it like he was bored. Mueller watched him with unease in his eyes and tension in his shoulders before he stared you down with a glare, defiantly popping both pills into his mouth and pouring them down with more whiskey.

“You’re right. We can’t put a bullet in you, but obviously, there are other, more natural ways,” you said and shook the orange bottle in your grasp once more. “Probably could even make it look like a suicide. Especially after you feared your poor wife would leave you when she found out you were fucking your secretary for months. Very original, by the way,” you said smugly. “But that would surely flush your political career down the shitter.”

“Yeah, no offense, but you’re no Clinton, buddy. Can’t pull it off,” Russell quipped.

“What do you want?” Mueller finally asked through gritted teeth. His voice was calmer, but his brow was still densely folded.

You were close to breaking him – you could feel it with your spidey senses.

“We need you to keep doing exactly what you’re doing, but with a little… extra homework,” you explained and gifted him a small smile. “Instead of going back to your cozy mansion after every meeting with your friends, you will meet with one of us afterward and tell us everything. And I do mean everything. Who they are, where they are, what they’re planning and when. If one of them takes a shit and you see it, you better fucking tell us. Understood?”

“Are you insane?” the man gasped in upset, eyes wide in horror. And then, his political façade finally crumbled, too. “If they find out I’m working with the fucking CIA, they’re gonna fucking kill me! You’re sending me like a pig to a goddamn slaughterhouse!”

You pursed your lips, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah…”

“What she means is, we don’t really care ‘cause you wanted to blow up little kids,” Russell clarified and stared daggers at the cowering man from above.

“Yeah.” You grinned almost sadistically at the congressman. “We’re also gonna bug you every time, so really, you’re more like a stuffed Christmas goose.”

“It wasn’t even my idea,” Mueller argued, and you would’ve almost snorted if you hadn’t been so angry at his lie.

“Oh, that is a big one,” you said and pulled out your phone, playing a recording for him.

“Yeah, I made a deal with them, but it was my idea in the first place to target the mall. If they want all the files and blueprints, they better be prepared to pay me more…”

“Do I need to play more?” you asked with an arched brow, receiving a meek shake of the congressman’s head in return. He looked like a lectured school boy in front of you. “How about two more pills for that fucking lie, huh?”

You shook two more out of the bottle and into your palm, offering them to him. He took them wordlessly, but the boiling look in his eyes was surely plotting to kill you.

“By the way, your secretary is one of ours,” you noted provocatively. “Probably should look for a new one. I’m guessing she’s gonna hand in her resignation by tomorrow.”

Russell quirked a brow at that, although he should’ve figured you had more players in the game. Mueller, on the other hand, was quietly simmering in his seat, fists clenching with a crack of knuckles.

“Were you seriously trying to blackmail more money out of terrorist organization?” Russell cocked a brow at the man. “How stupid are you? You know they would’ve just killed you after and taken the money back, right?”

“It’s what I would’ve done,” you agreed without a drop of sympathy. “And they’re also gonna kill you when your career as a congressman goes south. You think they’ll just keep you alive with all that knowledge and no use?”

“Sounds to me like you don’t have a lot of choices,” Russell pointed out.

“But look, if you work with us, we’ll make it worth your while,” you said and hated saying it. You didn’t want to pay that asshole a single dollar, much less a few million. “You keep working with them, and they’ll kill you. If we out your little extra-marital secret, your career ends, and they’ll kill you. And yeah, if you work with us and they find out, they’ll kill you, too. But at least your wife won’t be homeless, poor, and utterly destroyed by what you did. Be a good husband and serve your fucking country. And maybe, by some goddamn miraculous stroke of luck, you’ll even survive this and crawl out of the hole you dug – unscathed.”

Mueller’s eyes darted from you to Russell, his demeanor shifting between fury and fear. He ground his jaw, surely trying to think of an exit strategy. His throat tightened, sweat gathering along his salt and pepper hairline before it ran down the back of his neck. He struggled to swallow the bitter truth you were offering him.

Well, it might have been the four heart pills, too.

Russell shifted, the glint in his eyes sharp and calculating. “You think you can still play the game, huh? Get out of this? Newsflash, Congressman – you’re already too deep. Take the deal.”

“You want two more pills to help you make a decision?” you offered and tilted your head with a cold smile.

“Jesus Christ, you two are sick,” Mueller muttered, the words thick with venom, but there was no real strength behind them.

“No, just doing our jobs,” you said, your voice low and steady, even when his words hit you like a Mack truck. “And you should do yours.”

Russell placed the pill bottle back on the desk with a soft click, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Shoulda made a different choice, buddy. This life? It doesn’t end well for guys like you. Trust me.”

The congressman’s lips trembled before he set them into a thin, defeated line, the cost of his decisions weighing on him. He finished his whiskey, setting the tumbler down, and fixed his tie with the last flickers of arrogance.

“You think you’re heroes? You’re just as dirty as the people you hunt,” he spat.

“Maybe,” you replied honestly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the creaking leather. “But we’re holding all the cards.”

“I want three hundred million and whatever evidence you have of my affair. Pictures, tapes, everything,” Mueller formed his conditions.

You clicked your tongue and leaned forward, looking into his pathetic eyes. “No,” you said bluntly. “You get twenty, which we’ll leave in Clara’s name, we keep everything we have, and you shut the fuck up.”

“Not a big poker player, are ya?” Russell mocked the man with an arch of his eyebrow, shaking his head at the stupidity.

Mueller’s chest heaved, nostrils flaring. A guy like him hated losing more than anything. “Fine. You have a deal, alright? Can you get the fuck out of my house now?”

“Gladly,” you said and rose, joining Russell’s side. “Stay in touch, or we’ll come back.”

“Next visit will be even less friendly,” Russell warned sternly.

The door slammed harshly shut behind you two, rattling the whole house in its core. Then silence engulfed you as you descended the stairs, Russell’s footsteps echoing in sync with yours as the weight of your choices settled on your shoulders.

Russell kept his hand on the small of your back as he led you through the house, the occasional flicker of tension running through his jawline. “Good idea about leaving the money for the wife. Didn’t wanna pay that douche a dime.”

You smiled inwardly. “Yeah, me neither…”

Russell nodded his head pensively. “Got a tight leash on him now, but I’d be careful. The guy’s scared… and pissed. He ain’t gonna roll over easy.”

“Well, doesn’t have much of a choice, does he? It’s either that or… well, we both know the other option,” you replied.

Russell gave a small grunt of agreement. “Yeah, well, he might get cold feet. Tell your team to keep their guard up.” His eyes flicked to you for a brief moment, that familiar, concerned look in his gaze. “You okay, sweetheart? You know the asshole was just lashing out. He wasn’t right about us.”

You scoffed quietly under your breath and met his green eyes. “Wasn’t he, though?”

You were tired. Physically and mentally. Tired of the games, tired of the constant shifting between light and shadow, good and evil.

Russell grabbed a hold of your hand, pulling you to a stop. He sent you a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear that had escaped the tight ponytail. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Talk to me.”

As you gazed up at him, the walls cracked a little, starting to come down for the first time since the start of the mission. You released a slow breath. “This constant war. It never ends. It just… drags you back in, over and over. And for what? So we can keep pretending we’re the good guys? All this lying, manipulating, and hurting people for a cause we don’t even understand anymore. We were supposed to be better than this.”

Russell sighed, scratching his jaw. “Sweetheart, you know we didn’t exactly sign up to be saints. The world isn’t black and white. I mean, hell, you’re the one who told me that twenty years ago.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong,” you muttered bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t think you were,” Russell said, an arm around your shoulder pulling you to his frame.

“I used to believe I was making a difference. That we were doing something important, that we were saving lives. But maybe I’m just another cog in the machine, and the machine doesn’t care who it runs over,” you said, the lump in your throat growing.

Something cracked open inside you, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel the truth of what you and Russell had been through. The toll it had taken on both of you. The sacrifices. The scars.

Russell’s lips pursed, not answering right away. Instead, he squeezed you a little tighter in his embrace and pecked the top of your head. “Well, you always made a difference to me,” he replied and offered you a warm smile. “Small wins, baby. We’re not stopping wars, but we’re still saving people. How many frequent that mall in December, huh?”

“About 200,000 a day,” you replied and knew where he was going with this.

“See? That’s not even a small win. That’s a big win, sweetheart,” Russell said almost exuberantly, trying to get you out of that dark corner in your mind.

“They don’t even know about it.”

“Yeah, so? We know this is an ugly, ungrateful job. Kinda like parenting,” Russell retorted. You narrowed your eyes a little at him, amusement poking your dimples. “‘Sides, everyone goes home and can sleep in their beds safe and sound, none the wiser. Isn’t there beauty in that?”

“Look at you, getting philosophical in your old age,” you teased. But you gave him a few nods of your head. “One step at a time?”

“One step at a time,” Russell agreed, intertwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand as he brought them to his lips.

“Everything go alright?” Colter’s voice broke the quiet as you walked through the side entrance and reached the garden.

“Yup, folded like an old lawn chair,” Russell replied.

Colter gave a satisfied nod. “Good.”

“Everything go okay down here?” you asked, lifting a brow. By Manny’s expression you could tell he had fun with the younger Shaw.

“Everything went fine, chiquitita.” Manny sent you a pearly-white grin.

“Yeah, while we waited, Manny told me some crazy stories about you guys. Learned a lot,” Colter quipped with a sly smile.

“Oh God…” Russell huffed exhaustively, rolling his eyes back. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

He tugged you closer under his arm, the four of you strolling down the lawn and back to the van.

“What about Pastor Jeff?” Colter then asked, glancing at his brother.

Russell nodded, his hand instinctively diving into his pocket and fumbling with the handful of heart pills inside. “Don’t you worry about that. Already figured something out…”

The overgrown front yard of the blue suburban home was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, Russell already noting down his first chore – getting the lawn mower out. His fingers fidgeted nervously in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels.

You’d taken the first flight out to Philadelphia this morning to pick up the kids. They’d spent the summer with their aunt and uncle on a farm there and apparently had a blast.

And, well, Russell’s heart had been hammering nonstop since he’d dropped you off at the airport. He racked his brain for hours but still didn’t know what to expect. His nerves jittered at the mere thought of seeing them, blood bubbling through skin with a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.

A new adventure. A fresh start.

A soft breeze stirred the leaves of the oak tree at the corner of the yard. And then, your car came into view and stopped a few houses down. A small kid jumped eagerly out the backseat, then stopped with a heavy sigh in the driveway of a neighbor’s house as you yelled something through the open passenger’s side window.

Russell watched the scene with smile till the heaviness settled back into his chest. His breath halted, thundering heartbeat filling his ears. His son had gotten so… big. The guilt came crashing back like a hurricane.

You parked the car in the driveway by your house then, fighting a second with your daughter’s seatbelt. As you sat her down, her big, googly eyes already spied the stranger in her yard.

Russell kept his distance – or he was frozen in shock. You weren’t quite sure.

Clutching your pointer finger, Amelia eagerly dragged you a few steps through the long grass that was blooming with a rainbow of wildflowers. She halted a foot short of her father, a man she had never known or seen before. Her hand then let go of your finger and held onto your leg instead, halfway hiding behind it with a shy smile. In quiet curiosity, she tilted her head and swayed from side to side, a small finger tucked into her mouth as she studied the man in front of her.

Russell crouched down to meet her gaze, trying to keep his emotions in check. She was only two – so small. He didn’t want to overwhelm her or scare her or freak her out by being the weird, strange man who sobbed in her front yard.

“Hey, Amelia–,” you knelt down with them, pointing a finger at Russell, “That’s your daddy. Wanna say hi?”

She grinned toothily and nodded, raising her hand quickly once before dropping it back down. “Hi!”

“Hi there, ace,” Russell said, smiling and swallowed the gigantic fucking lump in his throat. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

“Ace?” You quirked a brow in amusement. “Russ, she’s two, not shooting down enemy aircraft.”

“I like it,” he retorted with a playful smirk and then talked straight to his child, “Who says you can’t be an Air Force captain, huh?”

She giggled with full dimples. “Tha’s cute.”

“And here I was worried Lewis was gonna be like us,” you joked.

“Lewis? Nah.” Jesting, Russell shook his head with a doubtfully creased brow and looked back at Amelia. “Your brother’s gonna be a doctor, right? ‘Cause we finally need a medic in this family, especially with future Ms. General of the Air Force here. Isn’t that right? Earhart’s got nothing on you, ace.”

“You silly,” your daughter uttered your exact thoughts, giggling. “You play?”

“Oh, I’d love to. What do you wanna play with me?” Russell agreed happily, his eyes shimmering brightly green in the sunlight, the crinkles around them more prominent due to his wide smile. Your heart might as well have exploded from its sheer swelling in your ribcage.

Your daughter contemplated for a moment, pursing her lips. “I make cake!” she announced and then kept babbling incoherently in Amelia language.

“Oh, wow, you’re going to bake me a cake? Well, you certainly haven’t gotten that from your mother,” Russell quipped and grinned slyly at you.

“Watch it. Thin ice, Shaw,” you playfully warned him.

“You come?” Amelia looked expectantly up at her father. After airports, planes, and car rides, she was eager to move her little feet.

“Where am I going with her?” Russell blinked at you, and you managed to stifle your amusement at his helplessness.

“Sand box, backyard,” you said, smiling as the two-year-old already tugged him along by his hand.

“Mom! Mom! Have you seen my baseball glove?” Lewis’s voice suddenly pulled you from your momentary trance.

Swiftly, you spun around and saw he was close – too close. He stopped in his tracks as he reached the edge of the lawn. His little brow furrowed, green eyes narrowing at his tiny sister with a stranger at the backyard gate.

But you could tell he recognized his father from the picture on his nightstand, even with the longer hair and beard. His eyes locked on Russell’s face in an instant.

Carefully, you approached him. “Lewis, you okay?”

He nodded slowly but was clearly unsure. Russell was paralyzed for a split second. And then, before anyone could stop him, your son bolted to his father, arms flung wide.

“Dad!”

Russell fell to his knees and opened his arms as his son launched himself into his embrace. He was crying, clutching his father’s neck with all the strength his little frame could muster.

“Hey, trailblazer,” Russell said softly. His chest tightened, his arms wrapping around Lewis as if holding on to everything he had missed. He buried his face in his son’s hair, the scent of him bringing back a flood of memories he’d tried so hard to push away.

“I’ve missed you, Daddy,” his son whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“It’s okay. I’m home now, buddy,” Russell said with a smile, comfortingly patting his son’s head.

After they held onto each other for a long moment, Lewis then slowly let go of his father and glanced up at you.

“Is that why you were gone? To get Dad back?”

“Uhm…” Not exactly, you thought, but Russell answered before you could.

“Yeah, your mom thought she’d surprise you,” your husband said, smiling widely. “Is it a good surprise or a bad surprise?”

“Good.” Lewis grinned broadly, but then a little drop of doubt entered his mind. “Are you staying?”

“Oh, there’s nothing that can tear me away again from you, trailblazer,” Russell assured the little boy. "I promise, okay?"

“You wanna play catch with me?” Lewis asked him then, and you could tell Russell had never heard better words in his life, including your ‘I do.’

“Let’s do it!” Russell agreed and opened the gate, letting both kids pour into the backyard.

“Glove is in the garage!” you called after them and watched them storm through the yard.

You then noticed a shadow shift in your periphery and glanced at the porch where Colter stood with a smile and a cup of coffee in his hands. Apparently, he had quietly observed the whole scene but refrained from interfering, letting his older brother have his moment with his kids.

Russell was finally back where he belonged.

“Well, I-, uh, I’m gonna head out soon,” Colter said once your eyes met.

You figured he would say something like that. Russell and you had both been surprised he even took you up on your offer to stay one night at the house.

“You're coming back, though, right?” Amused, you arched a brow at the younger Shaw.

His head bobbed with a twitch of his shoulders. “Yeah, sure.”

“Once a month.”

“Well, uh–“

“I’m not asking, Colter. I’m telling,” you said, deadpanning. “You know, I made a digital copy of your phone. You have a lot of female contacts in there…”

Colter’s lips pursed as he blinked at you sideways, half-amused. He quirked a brow. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Absolutely,” you confirmed and hid your grin behind tight lips.

“Alright, got yourself a deal, sis.” Colter nodded with a caving smile. “So, uhm, there was still something I wanted to ask you…”

Knowingly, you looked up at him. “About your father?”

Russell had already warned you about an approach, knowing his little brother wouldn’t listen to him.

Colter smacked his lips, brows shooting up. “Wow, you are good…”

“Check your glove compartment. Already left a folder there,” you said and smugly folded your arms over your chest. "And yes, I did break into your car."

“Huh.” Colter scratched the nape of his neck. “Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Consider it a gift from your spook sister-in-law.” You smirked.

If the folder contained the truth, however, Colter would have to discover on his own. Russell might have gone through it with a black marker…

“So, you and Russ are out now? You’re gonna live here?”

“Uh, we’ll see…” You inhaled and exhaled a contemplative breath, your eyes fixed on the quiet, suburban street. Husbands mowed lawns, kids played ball and sold lemonade. “We’ve been talking about moving back to Nevada, maybe. God knows your brother’s been dreaming about a hot tub under the desert sky for ages...” You giggled, shaking your head.

“So, not quite an exit but a start,” Colter concluded.

Smiling softly, you let out a gratified sigh. “Yeah, it’s a start."

The End (for now) ➡️ PREQUEL – Coming Soon!

We've reached the end, but I do plan to pick this up at some point again (in sequel form). Just wanna let the show progress a little with the family drama before I dive back in 😉

Thank you to everyone who has read this story and shared their wonderful thoughts with me! Your feedback is so appreciated!!! Announcement for the prequel will follow soon 🩵

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[medusa-was-innocent]

Wow this sucks

[mycological-mariner]

And a hint of this character’s trauma, and a pinch of this character’s inferiority complex, and a touch - a light touch - of homoeroticism

[supersaiyantist]

I made very good progress on Dance With The Devil today…and by that I mean I finally moved a cute scene along

It only took me several hours 🥲 but it’s okay, the brain fog was defeated today

Tomorrow, who knows

[spikeisawesome456]

.

[exopelagic]

outgrowing characters is the weirdest thing

[davinawritings]

Burglar Orc Breaks Into Your House and Your Pussy

Pairing: Orc Male x Human Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, Non-Con, Creampie, Squirting, thigh fucking

Note: If you are NOT comfortable with the above warnings: DO NOT READ.

Stepping out of the bathtub, you wrap a white fluffy towel around your dripping body. It is finally the weekend, and you have decided that tonight will be a night for relaxation. You have already had dinner, painted your nails, completed your face mask, and now your bath is complete. The only thing left to do now is to crawl into bed with a nice book and a glass of wine.

Pulling the towel tighter around your body, you open the door separating your bathroom and bedroom, only to freeze in the doorway. Standing in front of your dresser and searching through your jewelry box is a massive orc. He hasn’t seemed to notice you yet, and you instinctively try to make a run for the door. 

The orc catches sight of your movements immediately and blocks the door before you can run through. In a panic, you turn to try to run back to the bathroom, but you don’t make it even halfway before the orc grabs you by the arm and pushes you towards the bed. 

He bends you over it, and you go to scream when a large hand covers your mouth. His voice is rough when he says, “No screaming, little human. I have no interest in killing you”. His words do little to put you at ease, and you begin thrashing back and forth, trying anything to get out from under his hold. He lets out a deep moan as you move against him, thrusting his hips against your barely covered ass.

You freeze once again as the realization dawns on you that you have no way out from under him, and his stiff shaft is rubbing against you. He chuckles lowly and says, “I’ve always wanted to try one of you humans. Never had the chance, but I guess this is the perfect opportunity”.

He quickly pulls the towel off of you and pulls his pants down far enough to free his cock. You try to clamp your thighs shut as tight as possible, but he still manages to shove his dick between them. He thrusts his cock repeatedly, fucking your thighs like a tight cunt. He groans with his thrusts, the tip of his cock hitting your clit with each stroke. 

You want to die of embarrassment at the wetness that begins to gather in between your legs, even more so when the orc starts to laugh. “Such a good human whore, getting wet for me. This little pussy is just begging to be filled by orc cock isn’t it?”.

You try to shake your head, but his hand keeps you from doing so. He pulls back, and on his next thrust, he enters your dripping hole. You scream into his hand at the stretch, never having been so full. 

He leans his body over yours, his muscular torso pressing against your back. He starts pounding away, and all you can feel is him.

He moves his hand from your mouth for only a moment before shoving two thick fingers into your mouth, groaning as your saliva pulls around them, and you instinctively start sucking on them. 

His hips don’t stop as you are brought to the edge of ecstasy. You try to keep yourself from cumming, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but you quickly realize it is a loosing battle. Each thrust has his tip rubbing against your g-spot, his hips pushing your needy clit into the bed.

You moan and cry out as you start cumming. He pulls his wet fingers from your mouth, wanting to hear you moan and scream for him. He quickly moves his fingers, to your puffy clit, pushing you into another orgasm before the first has even ended.

He doesn’t relent until you squirt all over his cock, dragging his own orgasm from him and he fills you with his cum, grinding you further into the bed, just to draw a few more whimpers from your mouth. 

You wince slightly as he pulls out, feeling the mixture of both your fluids rush out of your gaping pussy now that his cock is no longer there to keep ypu plugged up. 

He gives your ass a firm pat as he says, “I think you might be my new favorite toy, little human. I’ll be back tomorrow; maybe if I’m feeling generous, I’ll even bring a friend”. You say nothing, still trying to catch your breath as you watch him climb out of the large window leading to the fire escape. You know the smart thing to do would be to get up and immediately lock every window, but you can’t help the way your overworked cunt clenches at the thought of tomorrow.

I hope you enjoyed <3 <3 <3

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[rafesangelita]

bf!rafe x thick!reader.

i’ve been thinking about how reader is insecure about her thick thighs and ass so rafe fucks her dumb in the mirror forcing her to look at herself as he says how perfect she is <3

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, mirror sex, mentions of body image issues and insecurities, body worship, praise, hair pulling, slapping, dirty talk, pregnancy kink (but rafe is serious about it??)

a/n: if you want to read more thick/bigger girl!reader, read this ‘thinking thot’ if you haven’t <3

“fucking look at yourself!” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before forcing your head up to stare at your reflection. besides the obvious fact that you looked like a fucked-out mess, rafe wore a smirk that had you squeezing around him with a broken sob. “you’re so insecure and for what?” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, the loud sound making your cheeks heat, “if it wasn’t for this body i wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this..” you cried out when he let go of your hair and grabbed your hips, planting a foot on the mattress before drilling into you even deeper.

in this position he was easily nudging your cervix with every thrust, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as you struggled to keep your eyes on the full length mirror in front of you. “you make me so fucking mad when i hear you talk bad about yourself,” rafe said through gritted teeth, “saying you wish you looked better,” he scoffed, “..it doesn’t get better than this.” your knees nearly gave out from under you when he snaked a hand around your waist, his fingers working on your clit until you felt that familiar heat starting to simmer in your tummy.

“you’re so pretty, baby, it freaks me out sometimes,” rafe leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear, “you have no clue how many times throughout the day i have to resist the urge from bending you over and fucking you dumb— just like the way i am right now.” your eyes rolled back at his words, his praise shooting straight to your soaked cunt. “you make me hard without even doing anything, you know that? these curves are so fucking perfect, i could squeeze you and grab and rough you up just the way i want to. you drive me fucking crazy.” you weren’t only crying because of the way you were being pounded into right now, but because you knew rafe was coming from a place of genuine love.

you couldn’t help but feel insecure when you saw the kind of girls that always tried to get at your boyfriend, some even going as far as flashing you a wink when they stroked his arm while passing by. all of them looked flawless in your eyes, your insecurity creeping up on you and making you question why on earth rafe was even with you. questioning rafe’s devotion was exactly what got you in the position you were in right now. “look up, ‘pretty, i need you to see what i see.” he clasped a hand around the back of your neck, dragging you up so your back was flushed against his chest.

your body was on full display, your teary gaze meeting rafe’s as he fixed your head in place to make you look at yourself. “starting with this face,” he was still thrusting into you when he stroked your cheek, “i don’t think you’re real sometimes. especially when we wake up in the morning and the sun is hitting you just right..” he planted a kiss in the curve of your shoulder. “you don’t even know this but on the days i wake up earlier than you i just watch you. admire you.” you moaned when you felt him hit your sweet spot, your eyebrows knitting together as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“these tits,” rafe took both of his hands and cupped you, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers, “this is why i love it so much when you’re on top.” you laughed softly, a small smile playing on rafe’s lips as he continued rocking into you. you knew rafe wasn’t lying, he always looked hypnotized and dazed whenever you rode him, his eyes glued to your chest while you bounced on top of him. “these thighs are the same thighs that i always need my head in between. whether you’re sitting on my face or i have you pinned down on your back, i fucking love them.” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he began approaching his high.

“your hips and your waist..” your mouth fell open in a silent moan when he found your clit again, “you’re gonna carry my kids, i’ll make sure of that.” you gasped when he picked up his speed, his words hitting you right where you’d feel them most. “m’gonna make you have my babies, ‘give you even more reasons why you should love your body the same way i do. you understand?” you nodded frantically, turning your head so he could take you in a searing kiss. that was all it took for both of you to fall over the edge, rafe carefully laying you down on your tummy as he filled you up.

you two stayed like this, your kisses growing more feverish once he pulled out, rafe wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. he traced the curve of your lips, thumbing away the tears from your eyes as you sighed. “i don’t ever want you to question the love that i have for you, do you understand?” you cozied up to him, whispering a ‘yes.’ before he hummed sleepily.

[seraphdreams]

GOT MILK? | TOJI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. what happens when you invite an unexpected guest into your home? lucky for you, this one cares about your health!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader / milkman!toji, smut, cliche porn trope, size kink, coercion, food play, a bit prey/predator dynamics, 1950s-esque setting, toji’s huge, unprotected “love-making”, mdni <3.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m so so sorry i’ve been away from writing :( but trust me, we’re so back !! this is actually my first full length toji fic n i’m so excited 4 you all to read it . . i wanted to keep it light and cliche for all of our pleasure. this took me about two months to write on n off, but !! if you like this n enjoy it, please comment / reblog ! i’ll make you all a glass of seraph’s special milk, thank u ♡ a big shoutout 2 @gh4ul for beta reading ! i love u so muchie!!

fluorescent shimmers of the setting sun pierced through your living room window, beyond pastel curtains, and onto the curvature of your face as if the sun itself used you like its own canvas while you lounged upon the couch. soft murmurs of whichever television show you had fallen asleep watching hummed within the four thin walls of your flat, creating the perfect ambiance for a peaceful late afternoon nap.

it wasn’t as though you had done much during the day, aside from indulging in your boredom with the mundane baking of cookies, taking two batches to get right, alongside tidying your room.

although currently, you slept soundly in a way that came off as daunting to others; torso clad in a thin tank top paired with little pink shorts that could’ve been mistaken for underwear by any onlooker, with your hand rested just below your abdomen, chest rising and falling in the most harmonious synchronicity.

vulnerable, like prey unknowing of its predator.

fortunately, the neighborhood you resided in was safe. some sweet suburban city where everyone knew each other more than they knew themselves, and the thought of anything being remotely out of place sent residents into a frenzy. it was innocuous to assume that not much out of the ordinary took place. or that was the case, until —

knock, knock.

“delivery for y/n?”

stirring in your sleep, you prayed that the owner of the baritone voice that had woken you up was just some figment of your imagination, some effect of unintended lucid dreaming perhaps. yet, upon blinking open unfocused, bleary eyes, and the loud couplet of knocks on the door following soon after, you were pulled out of dreamland and into the vexing reality.

three more firm knocks paired with a gruff tone calling out flatly, “delivery,” was enough to have your body sashaying involuntarily to your front door.

whoever was outside was insinstently persistent. if they had thought to put even an ounce more strength into those compact knocks, your door would have been long gone by now.

“coming!” the dulcet tone of your voice was riddled with exhaustion and you were unsure if the sound had resonated with the stranger on the other end, your internal query being answered once the relentless abuse of your front door had ceased.

you had ignored the fabric of your meager top, not quite noticing the way the strap so slightly dropped from your shoulder, leaving such a beautiful expanse of skin exposed to, and for, anyone. swiftly, you had opened the door for your unexpected visitor.

there, stood some dark haired man, taller and bigger than any other man you’ve known in the neighborhood. he must have had to be over 6’0, with a stature so broad, chiseling muscles barely hidden underneath the thin fabric of his uniform. his white hat tilted upward, and as your eyes descended, you caught his matching suit worn just a bit too taut. it was as if the first two buttons of his shirt were hanging on for dear life to cover what massive mounds his chest was. not to mention, how his thighs were close to breaking free from their confines.

to the right of the struggling buttons, sat a little pin that read “toji.”

he didn’t put any effort into a friendly introduction, the only hint of expression you could trace was the furrowing of his brows at his forehead as he gave you an unreadable stare.

“was told to drop this off here.” toji spoke. he held out a small wired basket with two glass jars of white liquid, seeming to be milk. maybe it had been your fuzzy, half-awake mind, and what little thoughts were up there, but you couldn’t recall a time where you had placed an order for some strange fluid.

was it a thing the neighborhood would do every once in a while?

as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and gave the handsome stranger a soft pout, you spoke airily. “what’s in the jar, sir?”

his demeanor shifted into pure displeasure, not fancying the query your hollow brain came up with. it remained undoubtedly clear that he wasn’t the most amiable of folks.

“it’s milk, darling.”

“i didn’t order any milk, sorry.” that same pout remained on your lips as you shook your head for the milkman to end a seemingly quick conversation, but just as you were about to close the door back, the pressure of his strong hand against the wood made your attempt futile.

to your surprise, a miniscule smirk was evident on his scarred features. “no?” his narrowed eyes drank you in from the bottom up as if you were lemonade on a scorching summer’s day. those same eyes skillfully darting from the spill of your breasts in your little top, up to your pretty pursed lips and doe-like orbs.

anyone could tell from a mile away what type of girl you were — the type that toji devilishly enjoys.

it wasn’t often he was presented with a doll such as yourself. sure, he could pick the mind of others increasingly well, could tell just when someone was planning to set him up (like some sort of off-duty criminal) but with you, it was as though not a thought could be lodged behind vacant eyes. everything about you was pure, untainted.

he stepped closer toward you, his foot conveniently placed between the barrier between your home and the outside. “try it for yourself. it’s fresh, and organic.” as he spoke, the glint in his deep gray eyes had overturned into a sly darkness. and when you shook your head at his advance, he only scoffed, peering in closer until he fully stepped foot into your abode.

“oh, c’mon,” vexation laced his tone. “don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

his hauntingly large frame eclipsed yours, the sun casting a backlit shadow behind his silhouette, like something out of a 50’s horror film. at that moment, you were in no position to deny his simple request.

it was just milk, perhaps he wanted an honest review.

your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly as you hoped that courage would fill the void in the pit of your stomach. “how much for a glass?” softly, your question floated in tense air. a smirk upticks on his face as he reaches into the basket, holding up the larger jar of the two settled in the basket.

“for you, it’s free of charge.”

maybe you should’ve questioned the insubstantial value, for nothing in this economy was truly ever free.

you take the bottle from him, popping open the lid and taking a sip. the unnerving feeling of greedy eyes caused goosebumps to form over your skin. the liquid certainly had a thicker texture to it, possibly an ode to its organic nature; and as you sipped and sipped, you failed to notice the drippage that rolled amply down the side of your mouth to your chest. toji, however, caught sight of it — because, of course he did.

after you had your sample size, you took a manicured thumb to glossy lips, wiping your bottom lip to collect the remnants before taking your tongue to your thumb to lick up the remains.

in that moment, you reminded him of a kitten, some meek animal vastly trusting of the others in its environment.

his smirk grew wider and he closed the door behind him as he stepped closer, now merely a few inches away from your figure. “oh, but miss,” his voice full with anything but a genuine concern for you, he traced his finger along the trail of milk that lingered at your chest. “you missed a spot.”

his sudden touch startled you in such a way that shifted your body to jolt once you felt his cool fingertips. that same motion forced you to completely forget about the open jar in your hand, accidentally spilling an even larger amount of milk all over yourself in the process.

drenched in the liquid, your top became practically see-through with only the sight of your pert nipples showing underneath. it's candy for the eye, toji’s at least.

“you gonna keep that on, princess? you’ll catch a cold.” his voice feigns concernment towards you, as if he pitied the pathetic state he put upon you. in that moment, sheepishness clouds your empty head, and if you could cower away, you would; but instead, you took him up on his suggestion, turning your back to him and doing away with the thin barrier.

“gimme a minute to change.” you shyly said as you looked back at him with a hand barely covering your chest.

how cute you were, so willing to invite a stranger into your home and even strip for him — were you always this welcoming?

before you could scuttle to your room, you felt a firm grip on your arm. toji, now clearly having fun with you, had given you a menacing smirk along with a tsk of his tongue. “you’re still all wet,” he turned you back around to face him in one swift motion. “let me clean you off.” his hand slowly trailed up your arm and to the swell of your breasts where he cupped one in his large, calloused palm. the feeling of his rough fingertips over your bare skin caused you to break out in a shudder. “s-sir, i don’t think..”

he shushed you the moment his thumb rolled over your hard nipple, milk still dripping down your skin. with one hand, he pulled you in tight by your waist, and with the other, he aided himself in wrapping his lips around your nipple. you could only describe his touch as hungry, rough as if the opportunity to take advantage of your vulnerability would slip away into thin air. he locked steel grey eyes with you as he did so. once he got his fill of toying with your sensitive mounds, he switched his sucking motions into little bites.

his deep groans and your soft whines filled the space instantaneously. he’d rotate from one breast to the other until he felt you growing weak in his hold, the squeeze of your thighs telling him everything he needed to know about your desire. and when he felt satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he unlatched.

it felt as if all air had rushed out of your system from the raspy whines you had let out during his ministrations. you took a moment to catch your breath and regain composure as he stood up tall to his original position.

oddly enough, comfortability grew within you, possibly the adrenaline of a handsome stranger feeding your mind with illicit thoughts. “am i all clean now?” your voice comes out shaky, feeble with lust, and as your eyes scanned his formidable appearance, down to the bulge that left his sheer size to anything but the imagination, you grew greedier.

“squeaky fucking clean.” his response comes off as a growl. “how about some real milk as a reward, sweetheart?”

you tilted your head, as a confused puppy would, looking up at him with spacey eyes. “real milk? i thought i was just drinking it?” he smiled at your perplexity, finding you too cute to let go. “that milk,” he pointed at the bottle you set on the counter beside you. “isn’t as organic as it claims. you need the real thing in ya.”

toji fumbles with his belt buckle, unfastening it until he could comfortably whip his cock out. you had never seen something so large, so girthy that it instilled a blend of fear and excitement within you. “on your knees, pretty thing.” he demanded. “gotta make sure my girl grows big and strong.”

you complied, obviously. when someone as sturdy as him tells you to do something, it’s only natural that you do it.

with your weight now rested on your knees, your job was easy. you wrapped a feeble hand around the base of his cock, mouth agape in bewilderment that he could barely fit in the cusp of your hand. toji let out a hiss under his breath once your hand began to diligently slide up and down his shaft. slick dribbled into the rapture of your enclosed fist from just how turned on he was. as you continued to teasingly pump him, your tongue darted to place gentle kitten licks paired with tender kisses to his angry tip. “you’re real confident now, aren’t ya?” he goads, though not necessarily in a mirthful manner.

a soft pout forms at your lips upon hearing his words, urging you to increase your pace by a minuscule amount. once you had gotten familiar with the monster in your palm, you wrapped your lips around the head, slowly inching yourself down his shaft until your nose met the unruly hairs of his pelvis. he was heavy in your jaw, a telltale sign that you’d end up with a strong ache that’d take days to soothe; and the throb of his length only led to the gush in your panties.

as you began to bob your head, toji threw his head back, large hands gripping at your jaw to keep you nice and puckered for him. the sensation of his plush tip bullying the back of your throat causes you to moan, a sound, and a feeling, that toji doesn't miss. you pick up your rhythm, but shortly after, toji starts up his; slamming his cock into your unexpecting mouth with no remorse.

rough ministrations urged you to gag until you came to ignore the feeling and focus on his pleasure, innocent and teary eyes showing through a wall of thick lashes up at him. what a cocky bastard.

“c’mon, you can take more, can’t ya?” he goads, his vocables resonating in a choppy cadence underneath the guise of his groans. “dontcha want milk?”

the mix of saliva and his precum trailed from your mouth as his heavy balls slammed against your chin. you took notice of how his vigorous pace faltered, signally an orgasm just seconds away.

one thrust. two thrust. three.

he’d managed to hold your face to his pelvis as he fucked through his orgasm, a deep groan bellowing through the air while he painted your throat in his seed.

what a liar. he didn’t taste anything like milk.

slowly, he pulls away and spurts the last few drops of cum onto your swollen lips, where he took much needed amusement in your starry eyed gaze.

your heavy pants were like music to his ears, something he wished he could etch into his memory for years to come.

“it’s all messy.” you mewled, licking at the seed that dripped to your lips. his hands were glacial as you felt them on your face while he leaned down to be eye level with you. “oh, i know. lemme take care of that.” he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, drinking in his own orgasm before taking you into a heated kiss.

it was a brief moment, so brief you were too lightheaded to even realize how he manhandled you into the perfect position — bent over to touch your toes.

he pulled away, roughly tugging at your little shorts until they pooled at your ankles. you felt him slide his cock over your panties just before pushing them to the side to line it up with your slit.

all toji wanted to do in that moment was slide right in, but he knew he couldn’t. you just weren’t wet enough to handle all of him. and besides, he definitely didn’t want to deal with a whining princess suggesting that it “doesn’t fit.”

instead, he slid his sensitive cock between your folds. “gotta get you nice ‘nd ready,” he spoke while reveling in the way that his tip catched at your poor, neglected clit. “feel flattered, i don’t do this for everybody.”

each slide jolted your body as the slightest tinge of pleasure coursed within you. it wasn’t enough to get you feeling close, no, but it was ample in gushing more slick from your hole.

“t-toji, sir, please..” you had let out a soft, vexed sigh at the lack of feeling, wiggling your hips to create friction in any type of way.

it reigned pointless, as most things did with toji. he was too busy focused on the sheen covering his cock from just toying with your angelcunt that whatever nonsense you were spouting was irrelevant to him. he continued his motions until the tightening of your core and fluttering of your pussy told him everything he needed to know.

satisfied with the level at which he teased you, he halted. just before you could fucking cum. you let out a frustrated whine that didn’t mean much to him, agitated by the loss of sensation.

in mere moments, he was pushing himself past your walls, stretching you out while your little cunt struggled to accommodate his size. “w-what if it doesn’t fit..?” you managed to babble out in your pathetic state.

oh, if your nosy neighbors knew that sweet little princess down the street was getting her cunt stretched out by the milkman, they would have a conniption.

toji smirked at your concern, ultimately brushing you off while continuing to urge himself even deeper. “let’s just make it fit then.”

the feeling of being stuffed full was unlike anything you’d experienced in the past. your past partners weren’t much to moan at, but toji? he had you grasping at any surface to give you leverage. as soon as he bottomed out, you could feel the tip rubbing so deliciously against the hollow of your cervix, the tinge of pain going unnoticed from how riddled with desire you were for him. with confirmation that he was fully inside, toji began to set a rough pace, strokes deep and firm enough to have you jolting forward with every thrust.

you scrambled to hold onto anything for dear life, afraid that your knees would grow weak and give out underneath your own weight. though, he kept his hands taut at your hips, only speeding up his potent thrusts to taunt you even more for your lack of stability.

fucked dumb within the first few seconds, drool dribbled past your lip, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you tried to take everything you were given.

with the intense way your walls were hugging around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out something of a deep, guttural groan. you had reached behind you to press a feeble hand to his abdomen, hoping it would ease his ministrations, yet your adorable action only caused the opposite.

he took your wrists in his one hand, pulling you up to hit deeper within your walls. “fuck! ‘s too d-deep!” you cried out, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening within your being, and to your dismay, he only held you closer against his chest, other hand gripping at your jaw while his cock milked your gspot for all it’s worth.

“too deep? this too deep for ya?” toji taunts. “i thought you knew how to take dick, you sure looked like it.”

his grip at your face only tighten an ounce more as he waited for whatever nonsense you could muster out.

“i-i can..! i c’n take it!”

only seconds later did your high come crashing down, sending your body into a flutter of shocks. a sensation so perfervid, it had your mind hazy while you creamed all over his cock.

following suit, in a bout of thrusts, toji was painting your insides with his warm wet seed, only pulling out once he felt you go limp in his hold.

“don’t tap out on me now, you haven’t even paid for the milk.”

[rafeysbangs]

ꪆৎ𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖↷ ex!bf!rafe sneaks into your room late at night...

warnings ; MDNI !!, ex!bf!rafe, soft!rafe i guess, oral f. receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, rafe calls reader baby, creampie, aftercare ! yippee

notes ; phew... enjoyyy !

the cool night air swept through your open balcony door, carrying the distant hum of cicadas. you were curled up in bed, trying to focus on the book in your hands, when the faint scrape of shoes against metal made your heart leap.

"rafe?" you whispered harshly, your pulse quickening as his familiar frame hauled itself over the edge of the balcony.

"don’t freak out," he said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm you. his hair was a mess, his eyes wild, and he looked more desperate than you’d ever seen him.

"are you insane? you can’t be here, especially not at this hour," you hissed, glancing nervously at your door.

but rafe wasn’t listening. he crossed the room in two long strides, his voice cracking as he said, "i had to see you. i can’t- i can’t do this without you."

you folded your arms, trying to stand your ground, even as your chest tightened at the raw edge in his tone. "we broke up, rafe. i broke up with you. and you know why. i can’t keep pretending it doesn’t kill me every time i see you flirting with someone else."

"i wasn’t-" he started, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

"don’t lie to me. i saw you. over and over again. it’s too much, rafe. i couldn’t do it anymore."

his hands raked through his hair, his frustration evident. "it wasn’t what you thought, i swear. i’m... i’m a mess without you, okay? i’ve been losing my mind since you left. no one else matters- no one but you. i’m obsessed with you, and i’ll prove it. i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right."

"rafe," you began, your voice softer now, but he stepped closer, his hands gripping yours like his life depended on it.

"it’ll never happen again. i swear on everything. just... just give me one more chance," he pleaded, his blue eyes locking onto yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

you tried to resist, tried to remind yourself why you ended things, but the way he looked at you, like you were his entire world, made it nearly impossible.

"i don’t know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling.

"you can," he said, his voice steady. "i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if i have to."

before you could argue further, his lips were on yours, cutting off your words in a kiss so desperate, so full of longing, that it left you breathless. your resolve crumbled as his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer.

the kiss deepened, his lips trailing to your jaw and down your neck as your back hit the bed. he hovered over you, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured your name like a prayer.

your fingers tangled in his hair as his lips travelled down your body, heat pooled in your lower stomach watching him grow closer to the waistband of your tiny pyjama shorts.

he stopped there, slowly littering kisses as he looked up at you, you chewed at your bottom lip as your eyes were stuck on his, "rafe..."

"i'll make you feel good baby... don't worry" he whispered against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. his course fingers connected with your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing circles to make you squirm.

he grinned when he saw you twitch at his touch, your clit aching from the lack of direct contact. as if he could read your body, he pulled your shorts to the side, now faced with soaked panties staring back at him.

rafe sighed gratefully, "you're so soaked already, god you're perfect" he mumbled. his long fingers traced your slit and he chuckled a little to himself before pulling your panties to the side too.

without warning, his mouth connected with your wet cunt, sloppy kisses and flicks of his tongue made your eyes roll back before he slid a finger through your folds again. he tapped at your aching hole before sliding a finger in, watching your face contort as you got used to the welcome intrusion.

you groaned, "god-" rafe's smirk perking up against your heat, he came up for air for a second, "rafe's fine baby.."

you threw your head back as he licked a stripe down your pussy, grinning as he slid another finger inside, curling them before mercilessly pumping them in and out.

one thing leads to another, you're bent over the bed, rafe's cock bulging out of your stomach as his hips snap against your ass. a loud whine escapes your lips as he's rearranging your guts. your tight walls clamping desperately around his cock as your ass bounces with every thrust.

his tip brushes your cervix as he thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and flipping you over mumbling, "need to see your pretty face.."

he shoves your body further onto the bed before climbing over you with his classic smirk. your breathing ragged as your eyes locked with his, he tapped his cock on your pussy before dragging it through your folds. he knew the teasing drove you crazy, your eyebrows cinched together as his ego grew.

a pornographic moan escaped your lips as he slid in again, rolling his hips against yours he pumped his cock at a heavenly pace. your nails left crescent shaped indents as you gripped on rafe's arms, the pleasure sending the both of you into overdrive.

rafe cursed as his thrusts grew sloppy, the way your gummy walls were squeezing him made him dizzy, his release creeping up on him. you too could feel a familiar coil tightening in your stomach, unsurprised at the discovery that rafe was the only one to be able to make you cum, even when you're technically broken up.

he lifts a hand and connects it with one of your tits, his tongue darting between his lips as he massaged the fat, your nipple between his fingers. you whimpered as his cock kissed your cervix before finally you felt the coil snap, your orgasm overpowering you.

the way your pussy clenched rafe's cock as you finished around him caused him to groan gutturally, spilling his release into your sopping hole. he collapsed on top of you, littering your neck and cheeks with kisses as he heavily breathed.

"fuck.. i love you baby" he said finally before getting up and slowly pulling out, his release leaking from you a little. he grinned at the sight and pumped to fingers into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside you. "i'll get us a wet towel" he mumbled, walking towards your bathroom after kissing you on the forehead.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @doeletteprincess ( feel free to ask to be added! idm! )