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vnti-vnxiety-recs · 15 days ago

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The Cat Burglar's Heist (M)

★ PAIRING: Ceo!Jaehyun x Cat Burglar! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 19.6k (sorry TT)

★ GENRE(S): Fluff, smut, angst, drama, strangers to lovers.

☆ SUMMARY: When you attempt to rob a wealthy businessman, things don't go as planned. Instead of calling the police, he offers you a job. Now, you're left uncertain about whether you can truly start anew or if your past will come back to haunt you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sex, unprotected sex, minor character death, loneliness, theft

☆★ NOTES: probably gonna be my last fic for awhile so enjoy!

People might call you a pickpocket, a burglar, a larcenist, or a simple thief. Whatever the label, it didn’t matter to you; you always slipped away unnoticed. You never hit the same neighborhood twice, always staying light on your feet and never lingering too long in one place. There was only one rule you lived by.

Don't Get Caught.

Maintaining a low profile was essential whenever you scouted a new neighborhood. As the sun beat down, you strolled through the area with a dog at your side, scanning for the easiest target. The shades you wore partially concealed your identity while shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. Your friend’s dog trotted happily beside you, blissfully unaware of the role it played in your plan. If your friend found out you were using his beloved pet as cover for your schemes, he would kill you. You had to keep this under wraps—after all, your friends were all you had. Stealing was the only way you could keep pace with the lifestyle your friend enjoyed.

You refused to be left behind, so the money you made from stealing became your lifeline for fitting in. Each successful job meant another night out, another round of drinks, and another chance to blend seamlessly into your friend group’s lavish lifestyle. You had built your world around them, and you’d do anything to keep up appearances, even if it meant walking a dangerous line.

Daegal fit right in with the neighborhood, his designer leash and collar catching the sunlight. You wandered deeper into one of the city's wealthiest enclaves, surrounded by towering trees that served as natural barriers for the sprawling estates. Luxury cars glimmered in driveways, while some homes flaunted their riches with intricate architectural designs that spoke of unspoken fortunes.

As you walked, Daegal suddenly slowed his pace, his nose twitching at the approaching scent of another dog. You felt your palms grow clammy around the leash; the fewer people who noticed you, the better. You were keenly aware of the risks, and any unwanted attention could spell trouble.

The older lady, her silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, approached with her fluffy Pomeranian in tow. A wave and a smile erupted from her, directed toward Daegal, and you cursed under your breath. The last thing you needed was a conversation.

The two dogs tilted their heads, inspecting one another with the calm demeanor that only well-trained pets possess. You could feel her gaze on you, and you forced a tight smile onto your face, betraying none of your rising anxiety.

Wonderful!

"He's so cute! What's his name?" you ask politely, forcing a bright smile.

"His name is Prince, but the kids call him Pudding," the older woman replies with a hearty laugh.

You let a small chuckle escape your lips. "How adorable!"

"And what about this handsome fella?" she inquires, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“His name?” Your mind races, almost short-circuiting. "He's… Fluffy!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and convincing.

You know rich people have more connections than they do money, and there's a good chance she could be linked to your friend Chenle somewhere down the line. It’s safer to spin a little tale.

"Well, he's quite the charmer! I'm sure he’s brought you many joys," she continues, obliviously cheerful, while tension coils tighter in your veins. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the neighborhood! Someone as young and pretty as you would fit right in!” Her compliment catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly at her kind words.

“Thanks!” you reply quickly, hoping to deflect attention from the flush creeping up your face. "I love it here."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, about a month ago, this really young CEO moved in just a block down. He's a bit too young for me, but my goodness, he’s quite the sight," she said, laughing heartily as she swatted her hand playfully, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

Rich people thrived on gossip, and you realized you didn't have to say much for her to fill you in on exactly what you wanted to know.

"A man like that has to be tied down, right?" you asked, bending down to pet her dog.

"From what I’ve heard, he lives alone," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently, he works all the time. Word is, he comes home late every night. My husband says he drives an Aston Martin."

Bingo

"Thanks for the heads-up about the neighborhood hottie, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," you joked, lightly chuckling to keep the conversation light. Just then, Daegal began to fidget, sensing your restlessness, and you took it as your cue to leave. "I’ll see you around, okay?"

As you walked a block down, your heart raced when you spotted a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a long driveway. The houses in this neighborhood were enormous. Although the properties weren’t far apart; the homes were set back from the road, mostly hidden by towering trees that provided an extra layer of privacy.

A young CEO who lives alone and works late.

You mentally sifted through the details you had gleaned from your earlier conversation. He was the perfect target.

Rich people were easy targets. Their homes, adorned with elaborate security measures, falsely reassured them of safety; all it did was signal that they had something worth taking. The flashy yard signs proclaiming "This home is under surveillance by _" told you their security company, which then told you the equipment they used. It wasn't hard to figure out how to disable it from there.

It had been a week since you first gathered your intel. Through careful observation, you had mapped out a schedule for when the house was empty and discovered how to bypass the alarm system. You’d managed to catch glimpses of the homeowner from a distance. The rumors were true; he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his undeniable charm.

Tonight was the night you would make your move. Clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, you pull your bag over your shoulder and approach the perimeter of the house. Your heart was racing with adrenaline. You navigated the landscape smoothly, well aware of the blind spots in the security cameras. Timing was critical; every second counted.

You pressed yourself against the side of the window, heart pounding as you carefully peeked through the curtain. The green light on the alarm system by the door confirmed it wasn’t armed. This was a stroke of luck. According to your calculations, he should still be at work, and it appeared he had rushed out without arming the system.

You hesitated briefly, knowing this part was your least favorite. Breaking a window was always an awkward and potentially noisy affair. No matter how silent you tried to be, it was impossible to avoid the sound entirely. Taking a deep breath, you picked up a nearby rock, and with a swift, calculated strike, you shattered the glass.

The clatter echoed in the stillness, sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins, but you quickly reminded yourself to keep moving. You reached inside and unlocked the window, then climbed through carefully, stepping over the brittle shards that crunched beneath your feet as they scattered onto the plush carpet.

You found yourself in an open den, its decor exuding wealth and taste. Valuable paintings adorned the walls—masterpieces, maybe—but nothing small enough to pocket. You needed to keep going, focusing on finding something worthwhile.

Peeking your head out of the room, you scanned the hallway. Silence enveloped the house, amplifying the sound of your racing heartbeat. No sign of any pets, which was a relief. You made your way toward the primary areas, passing under the large winding staircase that commanded attention in the center of the home.

The layout seemed to follow suit with luxury; hallways branched off to what you assumed were the kitchen and living spaces. The primary room was likely upstairs, but there were many drawers and cabinets you could check on this level. Eager to find where the real valuables might be stashed, you decided to take a brief look around before venturing up the staircase. You shuffled quietly down the hall.

You glanced into a few rooms—one vast space was styled as a study, filled with leather-bound books and expensive-looking gadgets. A quick search through the drawers revealed a few electronic devices you could easily pocket. Moving on, you turned towards the kitchen, where gleaming countertops hinted at a lifestyle of lavish dinners and entertaining guests.

You couldn’t imagine why he would ever need a home this large if he lived alone; the sprawling floor plan was almost excessive. Each room you passed seemed to hold its own story, yet they stood untouched, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. The formal dining room sported an enormous mahogany table, set for a feast that would never happen, and the living room boasted a grand piano that echoed a silent invitation to a party long forgotten. The atmosphere felt eerie, the elaborate decor clashing with the emptiness—like a stage set for a play that had never opened.

Your eyes darted toward the staircase. The rich wooden banister glimmered in the ambient light, inviting you to explore the secrets that lay above. You took a deep breath and ascended carefully. As you reached the landing, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, the flicker of a light spilling into the dim corridor.

When you enter the room, the sweet aroma of cologne lingered in the air like a ghost, a faint reminder of its owner. The sheer magnitude of the space left you speechless. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you forward to the side tables flanking the expansive bed. There, you quickly spotted a discarded high-end watch, its polished surface glimmering in the light. Alongside it lay a selection of intricate rings, each one whispering tales of luxury and allure.

As you rifled through the drawers, your fingers brushed against something solid—a wallet. You opened it, and your eyes immediately fell on the ID card nestled inside.

Jung Jaehyun 02/14/1997

Beneath the ID, you found a stack of credit cards and a few loose bills, all waiting to be claimed. You quickly slipped the wallet into your pocket. You approached the closet, and a gasp escaped your lips as the sight hit you—it resembled a mini-designer store. Expensive shoes, luxurious clothes, and shimmering jewelry lined the walls and shelves, all begging to be claimed. You wasted no time, swiftly swiping rings, watches, chains, and even a pair of stunning shoes, each item adding to the growing bounty in your backpack.

As you rummaged through the treasures, something caught your eye: a safe tucked behind a row of suits. Intrigued, you pushed the garments aside to inspect the lock. Cracking your neck, you glanced at the time—plenty of hours remained before he would return.

Just then, you heard footsteps outside the closet, and your heart dropped. You instinctively moved to hide behind the rack of suits, heart pounding in your ears.

“What the fuck?” A voice sliced through the silence, unmistakably belonging to the man you had been eyeing all week.

You held your breath, peering through the fabric. The hope flickered that he might just turn away and call the police, giving you a chance to slip out unnoticed. But instead, he stepped further into the closet, and your heart raced as you caught your first glimpse of him up close..

His hair glistened with moisture, and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his skin, the steam from his shower enveloping him like a shroud. You had never seen him this close before, and the image was seared into your memory. He looked as if he had been sculpted from stone by the most masterful artist, every muscle defined, every feature striking.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the chaos—the discarded clothes on the floor, the missing racks of jewelry, the disarray of his closet. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips, and just as he seemed ready to turn away and leave, his gaze locked onto your hiding spot.

A jolt of panic shot through you, and you instinctively jumped back, trying to press yourself further into the fabric of the clothes. You held your breath, heart racing, as he took a step closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was a moment of vulnerability and danger, a breathless standoff between the two of you.

Don't get caught

His steps were cautious as he approached, each footfall echoing in the silence of the closet. One hand gripped his towel tightly, clearly trying to maintain his modesty, while the other reached out hesitantly toward the clothes.

If it came to it, you knew you would have to fight him off and make a run for it, but with each passing second, you realized just how difficult that would be. He was built solidly and his height towered over you, casting an imposing shadow.

What if he got his hands on you? The thought sent a wave of dread through you. There would be no escaping him then.

Fuck

In a surge of adrenaline, you dashed out from your hiding spot, heart racing. His eyes widen in surprise as you rush past him, but the exhilaration of your escape was short-lived. Just a few feet away, you felt a sudden tug on your backpack that yanked you backwards.

You hit the floor with a thud, groaning as the impact jolted through you. Before you could recover, you felt a strong grip pinning you down, his hand firm against your shoulders. Panic set in, and you thrashed against his hold, fighting to break free, but he was unyielding.

As your struggle continued, exhaustion began to creep in. The fight drained from you, and you finally stopped, staring up at the man who had you pinned beneath him. His wet hair hung down over you, droplets cascading down onto your face.. His stern eyes bore into yours—there was an intensity that made your breath hitch, a mix of disbelief and something else entirely.

"Let me go!" you demanded, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. If it weren't for the predicament you found yourself in, you would have been unable to stop your wandering eyes. The towel around his waist was precariously close to slipping, a detail that, in ordinary circumstances, might have made you blush. But now, survival instincts prevailed over all else.

“If you try to run, I’ll call the cops,” he said matter-of-factly, and the gravity of his threat sent a chill down your spine.

A beat passed, your heart pounding in your chest, and finally, you nodded, conceding to the reality of the situation. There was no escape now; he had you right where he wanted you.

He released his grip on you and pulled himself off the floor, adjusting his towel. “Back to the closet, now,” he commanded, and you shuffled reluctantly back into the space that had formerly felt enticing but was now suffocating.

As you stepped in, you found yourself standing in front of the center island, where the glimmer of jewels had once laid. He followed you, shutting the door behind him, his body leaning against it like a barrier between you and freedom.

“Is everything you took in that bag?” He asked, his tone even, but there was an undertone of curiosity mixed with authority.

With a heavy heart, you hung your head and nodded, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and placing it on the floor in front of you. You could almost feel the weight of the stolen items pressing down on your conscience. You'd had visions of making thousands selling his valuables, the thrill of your heist driving you forward. But now, in the dim light of the closet, remorse washed over you like a tide.

“I’m really sorry, I—” you started, the words stumbling from your lips. What could you possibly say in a situation like this? Sorry, I almost stole a fortune from you? It felt absurd, but you didn't know how to express the chaos swirling within you.

He moved closer, looming over you as his intent gaze seemed to dissect every part of your being. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt small beneath his scrutiny. When he reached down, you thought he was about to pick up his possessions. But instead, he grabbed a discarded pair of sweats, and you felt a rush of a different kind of embarrassment as he stood up straight, his towel dropping to the ground. You instinctively looked away, sparing him what felt like an invasion of privacy.

Once he was dressed, he stepped back out of the closet, leaving you with a mix of relief and confusion. "Straighten this up, then come see me. Bring that bag and everything you tried to take with you," he ordered.

You swallowed hard. “Where are you going? Are you going to call the cops?”

Your mind raced with possibilities—how clever would he be if he made you tidy up while the police were on their way?

“Do as I say and you will have nothing to worry about," he replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "I don't like messes; clean that up before I change my mind."

Frustration mingled with a strange sense of gratitude. You were infuriated that he was ordering you around like a subordinate, yet the alternative—a police record—loomed much larger in your mind. Why wasn’t he calling the cops?

Taking a deep breath, you began to survey the mess you had made in your frantic attempt to bag his stuff.

It took you at least an hour to set everything back in its rightful place. You meticulously reorganized the jewelry, aligning necklaces and bracelets, smoothing over the disarray you'd caused. You busied yourself with invisible tasks afterward, finding solace in the repetitive act of pretending to straighten his shoes for the fifth time. Avoiding the inevitable confrontation with him was becoming a game of denial.

“I know you’re done; come here,” he commanded, and you froze for a moment. Biting your lip to gather your thoughts, you hesitantly grabbed your bag and stepped out into his room. He was seated on the massive California king bed, an imposing figure that radiated a mix of authority and casual dominance. Leaning back against his hands, he looked every bit like a king surveying his domain, and the sight sent a fresh wave of nerves through you.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but again, I’m really sorry,” you said, forcing the words out as you handed him the bag.

He took the bag from your grasp without much acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere. “Sit down,” he instructed.

You shifted uncomfortably, the anxiety bubbling to the surface. What more could he possibly want from you? He had said he would let you go, hadn’t he? “Sit where?” You looked around the spacious room, taking in the lack of chairs or any other furniture that might serve as a place for you to perch.

He finally lifted his gaze, his hair still damp from the shower, falling into his eyes. “Sit on your knees, right there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

You bristled at the command, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding through you. Kneeling before him felt like a submission you had not anticipated, and despite the gravity of your earlier actions, you hesitated to comply with his demands.

“I—" you stammered, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that didn't sound foolish or defiant.

Seeing your hesitation, his expression shifted slightly, a mixture of patience and something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. "You can either sit down like I asked, or we can have a much longer discussion about how this is going to go," he suggested, his tone low but firm, setting the stage for whatever decision you had to make next.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, feeling the cool surface beneath your knees, and looked up at him, preparing for whatever was to come next.

He reached behind him and pulled out his phone, an unmistakable sense of dread washing over you as he dug into your bag, retrieving the stolen items one by one. Each piece felt like another nail in your coffin.

He was definitely calling the cops TT

But instead of pressing the call button, he seemed to be calculating something. “$532,724,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your throat tightened at the reality of that number. You were going to jail. Panic bubbled in your chest, and you fought the urge to cry.

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident on his face. “Let’s see how well you clean up,” he said, standing up and ushering you back toward the closet with a wave of his hand.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as his eyes scanned the confines of the closet where you'd made sure to return everything to its original place. His expression was unreadable at first, a blank canvas that made fear swirl in your stomach. But then it softened, surprising you further.

“Not bad. What’s your name?” He asked, his tone almost casual.

You swallowed hard before nervously answering, “Y/N.”

“How would you like a job, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be a sick joke. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following,” you stammered, incredulous.

“You will work for me to pay off the debt that you owe,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, I didn’t actually take anything!” You argued, your mind racing to process his proposal.

“But you tried,” he shrugged, his casual demeanor shifting to something more serious. “It’s about principle. You made a choice, and now you have to make it right.”

“Are you seriously saying I have to work for you to pay off half a million dollars?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of indignation and disbelief gripping you.

“I could always call the police,” he said lightly, but the weight of his words sunk in with more gravity than you expected.

“Whoa now, no one said I wouldn't help,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood but failing to shake the anxiety coiling within you.

“Great! You start tomorrow. Come in business attire,” he said with a yawn, as if he were sending you off to a regular job rather than a complicated arrangement born out of desperation.

You turned to follow him out, not sure why you're trying so hard to argue him down “Wait, wha—”

Suddenly, a bright flash burst in front of you, and you stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. You blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings. “Ow! What was that for?” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes.

He smirked as he lowered his phone, the camera still pointed at you. “If you try to run, I’ll post this picture online and tell the world what you’ve done. Then I’ll hand it over to the police so they can track you down.” His gaze was icy as he scrutinized you, taking in every detail. “I have the resources to find you. Don’t make me have to look for you.”

You felt a mix of anger and fear bubble up inside you. “So you’re blackmailing me?” you huff.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” he corrected, his tone slipping back into that unsettling calmness. He stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Now get out.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a gentle push by your shoulders, urging you toward the staircase. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing. As you made your way down the stairs and out of his house, Your circumstances settled squarely on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a thief of your freedom; he was now your employer, your keeper—at least for the foreseeable future.

He walked with you to the front door, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Just as he was about to close the door in your face, he paused and turned back. “How did you get in?” he quirked a brow.

A small, nervous smile crept onto your lips as you fumbled for an explanation. “Uh, I broke a window,” you admitted.

Jaehyun regards you with an unimpressed stare.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow!” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh… add it to my bill?”

The door slammed shut in your face, the sound echoing in the cool night air. You turned away from the door and took a few steps down the front path, your mind racing.

The situation was certainly absurd.

—

You roll out of bed at 6 a.m. with a groan, the early morning light cutting through your curtains. You’ve never been a morning person, and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. After washing up, you slip into an outfit that fits the dress code he set for you—a blend of professional and approachable that feels foreign against your skin.

As you glance at your reflection in the mirror, a fleeting thought crosses your mind: what if you just ran away? With the money you’ve saved up, you could leave everything behind and start anew.

Dont make me find you.

His words echo ominously in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. Jaehyun was an enigma; you could hardly wrap your mind around him, but one thing was clear: he had the resources to track you down, wherever you might try to escape.

You gather your things and head out. When you finally arrive and buzz through the gate surrounding his property, it feels surreal to be walking through the front door. Just a day ago, you’d been climbing over his fence and breaking windows—now you were entering as if you belonged.

As Jaehyun lets you inside, you take in the surroundings anew. The sunlight floods the foyer of his mansion, revealing the space you'd barely noticed in your previous haste.

“Stop gawking. I’ll be back down in a bit; I need to finish getting ready. Go clean up the glass you broke,” he commands coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he strides back upstairs. His words and the task ahead settle over you as you prepare to face the mess you made, both physically and metaphorically.

“StOp GawKinG….gO CleAn Up thA GlasS,” you mumble under your breath when he’s out of earshot.

You roll your eyes at his cold demeanor, dismissing it as you head toward the den where you had sneaked in during your last visit. Peeking into the room, you’re greeted by a messy carpet littered with shards of glass. At least the window has been boarded up now. As the daylight streams in, you start to appreciate the paintings that line the walls, each one vibrant and expressive in its own right.

One piece catches your attention more than the others—a striking red canvas that emanates an intense energy. The angry strokes twist together in a way that’s both chaotic and mesmerizing, leaving you to ponder what the artist was trying to convey. As you peer closely, you can’t help but notice the name “Jung Jaehyun” inked subtly in one corner. Your gaze travels around the room, noticing the easel and paints tucked away in the corner; it dawns on you that this isn’t just a display but his workspace. The hard wood beneath your feet breaks the carpeted expanse, revealing about a third of the room transformed into an art studio. Impressed by his talent, you find yourself captivated, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten as you admire the skill behind the chaos.

You shake yourself out of the trance, the allure of the art momentarily fading as you remind yourself of your task. You need to find a vacuum and a trash bin—cleaning up that glass is a priority. Determined, you set off through the rest of the house.

You remember stumbling upon the cleaning closet during your earlier escapades, and you make your way back to it. As you wander, a sense of loneliness hangs in the air, and your suspicions about Jaehyun’s solitary lifestyle only deepen. There was no waitstaff, no other residents—just him in this grand mansion.

You finally locate the vacuum in the cleaning closet, and with the trash bin in hand, you retrace your steps back to the art studio. You kneel on the floor, methodically clean up the shards of glass and place the larger pieces into the bin. You finish cleaning just in time for Jaehyun to come back downstairs.

He fixes the cufflinks on his suit before grabbing his keys. “What else should I tidy up for you? Is there a list somewhere?” You ask.

Jaehyun gives you a puzzled look. “You’re coming with me,” he replies.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought I was…" You trail off.

He lets out a laugh, one that surprises you—it's light and genuine, completely at odds with his usual demeanor. His eyes crinkle up, revealing warm dimples that you find surprisingly charming in that moment. “You thought you were going to be doing housework?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, what else is there for me to do?”

His expression becomes more serious, though the hint of a playful smile still lingers. “I said I had a job for you, and I meant it. Come on.” He opens the door for you, locking the house behind him with a click.

As you both walk toward his car, you can’t help but ask, “Where was your car yesterday?” Strapping yourself in, you feel a mix of bitterness and curiosity about how you ended up getting caught snooping—you really should have paid more attention. If his car had been parked outside, you’d have known he was home.

“It was in the shop,” he replies casually, turning the key in the ignition. “I needed new rims. Have you eaten yet?”

Your stomach growls audibly, and you nod in agreement and Jaehyun stops to get breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscuits fills the car as he orders.

As he goes to pay, you watch him rummage through his pockets, brow furrowing in frustration. It’s then that you feel a pang of guilt. You had meant to return his wallet, found tucked away in your pocket after your first encounter. Nervously, you pull it out and offer it to him, trying to lighten the moment. “Whoops, how’d that get in there?” You joke lightly, but when you glance up, you notice the glare he’s giving you.

“Seriously?” he replies.

You stutter out an apology as you take a cautious bite of your biscuit, almost choking when you see where he’s pulled into next. Your eyes widen as you take in the imposing tall building—it’s sleek and modern, with huge glass windows reflecting the bustling streets of downtown. The heart of the city is alive, and your heart races with both excitement and nerves.

Jaehyun turns to you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Surprised? I did say I had a job for you.”

“Uh, I thought we were just going to tidy up at home?” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

As you walk through the lobby beside Jaehyun, you can't help but notice the stares that follow you. Heads turn, whispers flit around as employees greet him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Jung!" They say, beaming at him with admiration. When their gaze finally shifts to you, you catch a mix of confusion and curiosity on their faces. It’s both flattering and mildly embarrassing standing next to someone so well-regarded and polished. You try to maintain your composure, forcing a smile in response, even as you feel a bit out of place.

After navigating through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices, you finally enter Jaehyun's office—spacious, elegantly designed, with a view that overlooks the bustling city streets. The decor is smart and sophisticated, reflecting his professional persona. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk to settle into for the day.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a serious expression. “You’re going to be my secretary,” he states plainly.

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, what? A secretary?” The idea is almost absurd. “Isn’t that a bit… much? I mean, you do realize I’m not exactly qualified for that, right?”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Plus, it’ll pay way better than doing house chores.”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, letting determination creep in. “Whats there to lose?”

—

Being Jaehyun's secretary meant answering his calls, scheduling meetings, and running errands. Of course you could do those tasks… you just couldn't do them well.

A little desk had been set up in Jaehyun's office, where most of your day-to-day tasks took place. His office boasted expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. At night, the bustling streets below transformed into a magical landscape, with streetlights, headlights, and stoplights twinkling like stars.

You couldn’t help but blame the close proximity of your workspaces for your increasing difficulty with even the simplest tasks, like getting his coffee order right.

You had brought him his morning coffee, like he asked. You still hadn't gotten used to running his errands in his car. You felt so out of place at the office and the whispers and curious glances from your “coworkers” only heightened your anxiety.

When you finally brought him the morning coffee he had requested, your heart raced with hope for approval. But as he took a sip, his focus remained elsewhere, and he set the cup down without meeting your eyes. “It’s wrong, but you’ll get it right next time,” he said, casually brushing off your mistake. “There's plenty of time for you to improve.”

You bit your lip, anxious to prove that you could handle this role. You didn’t want to be seen as a screw-up, but everything felt overwhelming lately. Jaehyun shoos you away, giving you a task to retrieve printed papers from the printer. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts as you returned, but when you stumbled slightly, you fumbled the stack of papers in your hands.

As the papers fall from your grasp, you accidentally knock over a coffee cup, sending the contents spilling across the desk. The dark liquid splashed over papers, pooling on the surface.

Heart racing, you froze, staring at the mess you had just created. “Oh no!” you exclaimed, scrambling to grab napkins from the nearby drawer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Just breathe,” he said, reaching over to help you clean up the spill. “How do you call yourself a cat burglar with how clumsy you are?” Jaehyun asked, the bemused look on his face suggesting he genuinely wanted to know.

The napkins did little to absorb the liquid, and you could feel the heat seeping through, burning your fingertips. You let out a small wince, instinctively pulling your hand back. Jaehyun sighed at your reaction, and you flicked your wrist in an attempt to shake off the pain while still trying to contain the mess.

“Just hold on,” you muttered to yourself, picking up his laptop and elevating it to protect it from the potential disaster. The last thing you needed was to add an expensive repair bill to the debt you already owed him.

As you awkwardly juggled multiple items that had once laid neatly on his desk, trying to salvage the situation, you suddenly noticed Jaehyun stand up. He took off his suit jacket and, before you could protest, he used it to mop up the spilled coffee.

You gasped as the coffee splashed onto his jacket, but Jaehyun seemed completely unfazed. With purposeful strides, he walked over to you and gently took the items you were juggling, placing them down safely on a part of his desk that wasn’t sticky. Without a word, he grasped your hands, examining your fingers, which were twitching from the pain and already showing signs of red irritation from the hot liquid.

He blew softly on your fingertips, and for a moment, the world around you faded as you met his gaze. The warmth in his chocolate depths almost pulled you in, but before you could lose yourself in that moment, you quickly pulled away.

“I’ll go grab a towel. That’s going to make the wood sticky,” you stammered, turning quickly to leave, your cheeks burning from the tension that hung between you.

You hurried to the bathroom, running cool water over your fingers to soothe the slight burn. Leaning against the edge of the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. After a moment, you gathered a few items from the cleaning closet, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

As you walked back, you passed the break room and inadvertently overheard a conversation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“She’s probably sleeping with him. Mr. Jung has never taken on a secretary before,” one voice whispered.

“That’s what I heard. Not to mention she’s terrible at her job. She just gets in the way. Last week she accidentally printed 300 copies of a page because she didn’t know to hit the cancel button! We ran out of ink because of her, and now I have to go downstairs for my copies until a new order comes in!” another voice chimed in, laced with irritation.

You bristled at their accusations, knowing they were talking about you. It stung, but you pressed on, scurrying past and heading back to Jaehyun’s office. After giving a soft knock, you stepped inside.

Jaehyun had moved away from his desk, now seated on the couch in the corner of his office. He was typing away on his computer, still nursing the little coffee he had left that you had brought him earlier—a cup you knew he didn’t like, judging by the face he made when he first tasted it. His sleeves were rolled up, the tie discarded on the armrest, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

You tried not to stare, focusing instead on the mess at his desk. Moving over, you began cleaning up the sticky residue left by the spilled coffee.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat. “Is it okay if I drop this off at the cleaners?” you asked, holding up his soiled jacket.

He didn’t look up from his screen, continuing to type away on his computer. “Go ahead, but please be careful,” he replied, pulling his keys from his pocket without sparing you a glance.

“That’s okay; I can just walk. There’s one not too far from here,” you said, attempting to dismiss the need to take his car.

Finally, he looked up at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “You never had a problem with driving my car before. Did something happen?” He asked, setting his laptop aside, his focus entirely on you.

“Well, no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I mean, I just kinda showed up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m moving into your office and driving your car,” you tried to explain, feeling your anxiety spike. “No one knows why I’m really here, and I can only imagine the types of things people are imagining.”

“What kind of things could they be imagining?” He replied, staring at you blankly.

You laugh at the statement but when you realize he's not being sarcastic, your face drops. You often wonder what kind of person Jaehyun was and what he did for fun. He always seemed to be looking at the world for the first time.

"Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “Imagining the types of things I would’ve had to do to get this job,” you said, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He waited quietly, eyes steady on you, prompting you to continue. “Things like sleeping with you to get this job,” you finally admitted, your heart racing as you vocalized the thought.

Jaehyun's eyes widened, and you noticed his ears reddening, making you wonder if he truly hadn’t known about the whispers circulating around the office. Clearing his throat, he seemed to collect himself.

“You don’t need to worry about things like that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want you being gone long. Take the car, and if anyone has something to say, they can come to me about it.”

His gaze was stern, the kind that made you feel as though challenging him would be futile. You could sense the protective edge in his words, and it surprised you. There was a part of you that appreciated his willingness to shield you from the gossip. “Okay, if you insist,” you replied, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. The gesture felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ll be quick.”

He seemed to relax a little at your compliance, his expression softening. “Thank you. And, uh, drive safely,” he added, almost shyly.

As you walked to the car, you found yourself reflecting on his words. Maybe it was time to focus on proving yourself here, to rise above the whispers and make your mark in the company. Regardless of how you came to be in this position, you were determined to show them—and yourself—that you were worth it.

—

Ever since that day, when you arrived at the office, the halls were silent, and no one stared at you and Jaehyun as you walked side by side.. The building buzzed along like usual. You were relieved. Your shoulders felt lighter in the absence of judgmental glances, and instinctively, you walked a little straighter, head held high, eyes forward rather than downcast.

As you entered Jaehyun's office, you set your things down at the little desk he had allotted for you, diving into your daily routine of answering emails and organizing his meetings. You found your rhythm quickly, the morning shift feeling productive as you ticked off tasks. The sound of your typing filled the room, creating a comforting background noise.

Halfway through the shift, you stretched your arms overhead, stifling a yawn. Out of curiosity, you peeked over at Jaehyun to see how he was faring. He had leaned back in his chair, his neatly combed hair falling over his closed eyes, looking surprisingly peaceful in the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light danced around him, illuminating his desk, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked.

Even after a month of working together, you still didn't know much about Jaehyun's personal life. You had gone over the basics: he lived alone, was single, and kept his family life largely private. Each interaction left you with more questions than answers, and you found yourself scratching your head at the blank spaces in your understanding of him.

You assumed that the high-ranking position had simply been handed down to him—a legacy passed through generations. But you had never heard any whispers about a preceding CEO or what led Jaehyun to take the helm.

Amidst the riddles, the only one you had solved was his coffee order: a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot, plus three drip coffees with room for milk. It was a peculiar detail to cling to, yet it felt like a small piece of Jaehyun you could call your own, a little insight he had unknowingly shared during your numerous morning coffee runs.

Your thoughts whirled as you watched him sleep, a wave of warmth washing over you. It was strange how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence and how much you found yourself wanting to know about the man behind the polished façade. What did he do on weekends? What made him laugh? What were his dreams and aspirations beyond this office?

Suddenly, he’s awake and staring back at you, and you stop smiling, turning to busy yourself. You clear your throat. “You have a meeting at 3 PM,” you mention, making an excuse.

“Thank you,” he responds.

He yawns and cracks his neck before standing from his desk. “We should go grab something to eat before then.”

You don't expect him to take you halfway across town; normally, you just grab him something from the cafe down the street. A bit apprehensive, you worry about making it back on time with the traffic ahead.

Silence engulfs the car as it inches through the congestion. Jaehyun sits relaxed in his seat, his thumb tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel as he looks ahead. You decide to kill the time with some conversation.

“How do you manage living in that large house all by yourself?” you ask, trying to chip away at the silence.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat. “You get used to it, I suppose. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”

“Yeah, but don’t you ever feel lonely? I mean, it’s a huge place. I can’t imagine wandering through all those empty rooms.”

He pauses, eyes still on the road. “Loneliness is…relative. I find solace in my work. It distracts me.”

“But work can only fill so much, right? Everybody needs someone sometimes.”

“Not everyone has someone to lean on, A. Sometimes it’s easier to just…keep to yourself.” Jaehyun looks over.

“I get that. I guess I’ve been on my own for a while too. Never really had a stable family or anything. Just me and the streets.”

“So, what was it like? Living like that?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“It was tough. You learn to be resourceful and to adapt. But it also gets exhausting.”

You had a rough upbringing; your parents were neglectful, and as soon as you turned 18, they kicked you out. You turned to the streets to get by, making connections with a few questionable figures, but they taught you what you needed to survive. Soon, you were taking care of yourself and hanging out with better crowds.

“Why don’t you talk about your family or friends? It feels like you’ve built up walls—like you’re living in that house, but you’re not really there,” you ask.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “It’s complicated. I’ve lost people—friends, family… When you start at the top, it’s hard to trust anyone. Everyone has their own agenda.”

You wince slightly at his words; of course he didn’t open up to you. Trust issues are understandable, especially after you tried to rob him.

“Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith and give people a chance. You never know who they might turn out to be,” you suggest gently.

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air, before responding with a nod of acknowledgment. As traffic finally begins to move, you turn to look out the window, watching the world blur by.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cozy little bakery nestled on a side street. The overgrown greenery surrounding it gives the place a charming, almost hidden feel. A LED sign in the window brightens the words “Doughyoungs.” Stepping inside, a small bell chimes, and the delectable aroma of freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug. Your mouth waters as you glance around.

The bakery is empty, but it exudes warmth and invites you further in. The display case is filled with tempting treats: crusty artisan breads, flaky croissants, colorful macarons, decadent cakes, and an assortment of cookies. Your heart feels lighter in this space; it seems like a hidden gem, the kind of place that just might feel like home.

“BE RIGHT WITH YOU!” a voice calls from the back of the shop. A tall man in a flour-dusted apron steps into the front room, wiping his hands on the fabric, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, Jaehyun! It’s been a while!” He steps closer, his tone filled with a sense of familiarity. “You brought a friend?”

You glance at the man’s name tag—Doyoung. It clicks; he must be the owner of the bakery.

“Yeah, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Jaehyun introduces, gesturing toward you. “And Y/N, this is Doyoung. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“His only friend,” Doyoung corrects with a playful wink before extending his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you!”

The three of you settle down at a small, round table in the corner of “Doughyoung’s,” sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the inviting atmosphere. A warm plate of croissants sits in the center of the table as Doyoung pours steaming cups of coffee for you and Jaehyun.

You reach for a flaky croissant, the buttery aroma enveloping you. You’ve just met Doyoung, but your instant fondness for him grows as he recounts hilarious stories about Jaehyun, leaving you wiping a tear from the corner of your eye at one particularly embarrassing tale.

“How long have you two been friends?” you ask, still chuckling.

“We go way back to college,” Doyoung replies, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We were both fresh out of high school, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. He was this focused, ambitious guy trying to conquer the world, while I was just… well, trying to figure things out.”

You nod, picturing the difference between the two of them. “What about you?” Doyoung adds, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did you manage to land such a serious guy as your boss?”

You stuff your mouth with croissants, desperately trying to think of an answer that isn’t a lie.

“Sorry to cut story time short, but I have a meeting at 3,” he says, finishing his coffee and rising to push in his chair. You follow suit, a little relieved that your escape has come so soon. Doyoung was kind and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, but you couldn't exactly tell him you had attempted to rob his best friend.

“It was really nice to meet you, Doyoung,” you wave goodbye, offering a genuine smile as you shuffle out after Jaehyun.

Doyoung smiles and waves as you leave, his infectious energy lingering in the air. The drive back is quiet, but this time, the silence feels different—more comfortable. The gentle hum of the engine and the sounds of the outside world fade into the background as you steal glances at Jaehyun, who remains focused on the road ahead.

—

Since you started working with Jaehyun, today was probably the first time that everything seemed to go your way. You even managed to finish your tasks early. As you straighten up your desk, gathering papers and tidying the space, you’re on your way out when he walks in, his expression curious.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, making his way toward his own desk.

“Yeah, I finished up early,” you reply, grabbing your bag. “I was just going to catch the bus home.”

He nods, pausing for a moment. “Did you organize that pile of paperwork I gave you?”

“All organized and labeled,” you confirm, a sense of pride swelling in your chest.

“What about that email I sent you to look over? Did you make sure everything was in order for that conference?”

“Done and scheduled,” you say, feeling accomplished.

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something more, as if he’s searching for another reason to keep you there. “Well, if you’re finished, we can head out together,” he suggests, beginning to pack his briefcase.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “If there��s something you need to finish up here, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can finish it at home,” he replies, already standing and heading toward the door.

You share a brief glance, and there’s something in his demeanor that tells you he genuinely wants your company. You can’t help but smile as you follow him outside.

When you get back to Jaehyun's house, you expect him to finally let you off the hook, but instead, he keeps you around a little longer. He finds minuscule tasks for you to do while he works in his study—organizing his files, dusting the bookshelf, separating his pens by color—anything to keep you in his office with him.

“Jaehyun,” you yawn, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ve done everything! I’ve even organized your books by the Dewey Decimal System. I think it’s time for me to head home.” You really don’t mind Jaehyun’s company at all; in fact, you enjoy being around him. Plus, every task you handle for him counts toward the debt you owe, but it’s getting late, and the last thing you want is for him to fuss about you driving home in the dark.

He glances around the room, searching for another task to assign you, but all he finds is a sigh of resignation. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned. “There are plenty of rooms for you. It’s getting late, and you seem really tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” He closes his laptop, giving you his full attention.

You think it over. Spending a night in his mansion feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. Staying here is akin to a luxury hotel experience. You weigh the pros and cons in your mind, but then a concern arises. “I don’t have any extra clothes,” you say.

“You can wear mine,” Jaehyun offers, and your face heats up at the prospect of slipping into one of his shirts—an oversized garment that would probably swallow you whole.

“I guess that would save me the commute of having to drive back over here in the morning.”

You can’t help but smile back, finding his stubbornness endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize he might be holding onto you not out of obligation but rather because he enjoys your company. After all, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep you around, perhaps because he is alone most of the time. You’d probably become the closest person to him after Doyoung.

"Well, if that's all, I'm going to go get in the shower,” you say.

“Ill meet you upstairs, I just want to finish this up,” he says

You head upstairs, navigating your way to Jaehyun's room with an ease that comes from having spent so much time in his space. You step into the bathroom connected to his room and turn on the shower, relishing the luxurious feel of the gold dual heads—it’s almost like being in a spa.

As the warm water envelops you, the stresses of the day wash away. The towels are fresh and warm as you step out, feeling utterly pampered. You can't help but marvel at the abundance of skincare products lined up on the counter, likely a key contributor to Jaehyun's flawless complexion. After cleansing your face and brushing your teeth with an unopened toothbrush you found in his bathroom pantry.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom door, you confirm that the coast is clear. With nothing but your towel wrapped around you, you make your way toward his closet. As you rummage through his clothes, memories flood back to the first time you were here—a completely different feeling, one of nerves and uncertainty. Little did you know that you’d be invited back as a guest, spending the night in his company.

Finally, you find a large shirt that looks incredibly comfortable and toss it over your head. Pairing it with some pajama pants that are a bit loose around your hips, you tie them with the strings, feeling cozy and at ease.

With a determined smile, you head back downstairs, wanting to say goodnight to Jaehyun. As you enter his study, though, you find him fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of documents. His hair is pushed back by a pair of glasses you haven't seen before, and you can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. You never realized how taxing it must be for him to carry the weight of the company on his shoulders.

Gently, you shake him awake. “Jaehyun, come on, let’s go to sleep,” you whisper softly.

His eyes open slowly, taking a moment to adjust as he rubs them and slides his glasses back on. Confusion flits across his face before recognition sets in, and he begins to put his things away, a little disorientedly, but it makes you chuckle lightly.

You watch him for a moment, your heart swelling with fondness. You wish you could do something to help him relax—an idea pops into your mind. “I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” you say before darting back up the stairs.

You run a warm bath; you make sure to adjust the water to just the right temperature. Bubbles foam up and you lay out his clothes neatly on the counter—a clean, comfy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, paired with some fresh socks. The soft tune playing from a speaker fills the air, adding to the calming ambiance.

You hear the heavy footsteps of Jaehyun making their way up the stairs, and you work quickly, eager to ensure everything is perfect for him. When the door finally opens, he lumbers into the room, flopping onto the bed still clad in his work clothes.

“Come on, I ran you a bath,” you coax, gently taking off his glasses and tugging him up from the bed. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn’t resist, letting you guide him toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you say, pointing out the set you prepared for him. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

As you start to step away, eager to give him some privacy, he unexpectedly grabs your wrist. His grip is gentle yet firm, and he turns you back to face him. The air is thick with tension as he pushes you up against the sink.

“Help me undress,” he says sleepily, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes—a sight that makes your heart race. You’re practically chest to chest, and the proximity sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Your face heats up and you find yourself a stuttering mess. Jaehyun seems to realize what his words imply “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he fumbles, suddenly a little more awake. “Excuse me, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him quickly, your cheeks ablaze. “I want to help you relax. I can do that.”

He looks down at you, and you briefly meet his gaze before you shyly avert your eyes. As your hands shake, you manage to unbutton his shirt one by one, the fabric parting to reveal flawless skin beneath. He stands there, shirt completely undone, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you find yourself captivated by his happy trail, your knees feeling weak beneath you. Jaehyun’s hands gracefully move to his belt, taking charge of the moment. You watch, entranced, as he slowly removes it, each movement deliberate and inviting. Your heart races in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out the soft music still playing in the background. You could practically feel the air thickening between you—a magnetic pull that makes you want to fall to your knees for him—to surrender.

His belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet bathroom, but then a hand catches under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. You’re drawn into the depths of his eyes, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ve got it from here, thank you,” he says, his voice low and confident.

Reality crashes over you like a wave, pulling you back with a jolt. You process the situation: Jaehyun standing before you, his pants hanging loosely around his waist, his shirt sliding from his shoulders. Heat floods your cheeks.

In a rush, you scramble out of the bathroom, the words tumbling from your lips in a hurried mess. “R—right, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Good night, Jaehyun!” You don’t dare look back, your heart racing as you leave the bathroom, and you swear you hear a deep chuckle escape him, warm and teasing.

You slip into the bedroom across the hall, the plush bed feeling foreign and oddly comforting at the same time. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking off the feelings that swirled between you two.

The silence of the house wraps around you. It’s an odd comfort, yet it amplifies the sense of isolation that looms over you. You stare at the clock on the nightstand, ticking slowly towards the early hours of the morning. You toss and turn under the covers, unable to settle. Thoughts of Jaehyun haunt you—thoughts of the way he looked, the way he made you feel—the anticipation, the nervousness. You cover your face with the pillow in an attempt to silence your racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a soft but loud crash reverberates through the house, breaking the stillness. You sit upright, heart pounding in your chest. A sense of dread settles in as you carve your way through the shadows, crossing the hall to Jaehyun’s room.

“Jaehyun?” You call softly, knocking gently on the door, but it creaks open at your touch, revealing a scene that makes your breath hitch. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled; his face pales from what you can only assume was a nightmare. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and you can see the stark tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?” You take a step in, closing the door behind you.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I just—I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He waves you off, but you can see the unsteadiness in his demeanor.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you assert, walking closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You can talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours—a fleeting vulnerability. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you say softly.

“I dreamed about… losing my family. It’s a nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count.” He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the pain that runs deep.

You quietly urge him on, your heart thrumming within your chest. “What happened?”

He swallows hard before continuing. “I used to live here, in this house, with my family. It was our summar home. Life was chaotic but… it was fun. My parents were always busy with the company, but they made time for us. Then…it just all fell apart.”

You can hear the tremor in his voice, the unsteady strength behind each word. “There was an accident,” he finally admits, his brow furrowing as if the very thought is a wound that never heals. “A car crash that took them away from me in an instant. I inherited everything. This houses the company and the money. Sometimes I feel like an imposter, like I’m not good enough for all of this. It helps that there are fewer memories here. Its emptier.”

Your heart aches for him, the stark reality of his loss weighing heavily in the air. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling a surge of compassion for the boy he once was. You couldn't imagine how alone he felt. The weight of an entire company thrust upon him at such a young age. You understand why he found it hard to let people in.

“It’s been years,” he continues, “but every now and then, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling their absence like it was yesterday. Sometimes Its so bad I won't sleep at all.”

You step closer and sit beside him on the bed, your heart aching to comfort him. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel. You deserve to express that pain instead of bottling it up.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your own past pressing against your chest. It feels only right to share your truth with Jaehyun now that he’s opened up about his own pain. “I get it, you know—feeling like you’re not enough. I felt that way growing up too,” you begin, your voice steady yet soft as you look into his eyes. “I didn’t have the stability of a family like yours. My parents were often absent, lost in their own world, and I was left to navigate everything on my own. I longed for connection.”

You pause, letting your words sink in. A part of you feels apprehensive, but telling your story also feels liberating. “I did meet some friends along the way. They were a bit snobby, but I loved them. They were everything I wanted to be—popular, carefree, surrounded by laughter. I wanted to fit in so badly that I was willing to do just about anything to be part of their world.”

Jaehyun nods, his gaze understanding as he absorbs your story. You take another breath, your heart racing slightly as you reveal more of your past. “I started to steal. Not just to survive, because there were times when I truly needed food, but mostly to impress them. To show them I could be just as cool, just as daring. Those friends were all I had, and I felt like I was grasping at straws. I never wanted to feel alone again.”

As you speak, you can see the pain in Jaehyun's eyes—he understands the need to connect, the lengths people go to feel accepted. “Most of the time, I felt like a fraud. Like I was pretending to be something I’m not. Their world wasn’t mine, but it was better than being alone. I guess in some way, I thought being with them would fill the emptiness, but it never did.”

“I know what it feels like to wear a mask,” he says, his tone gentle yet earnest. “It’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small but relieved smile creeping onto your face. “But sharing it feels freeing. I think that’s why I wanted to tell you. Seeing you so vulnerable made me realize that maybe it’s okay to let myself be seen, too.”

Jaehyun reaches out, tentatively placing his hand over yours. It’s a small gesture, but it ignites warmth where your hands connect, sending a comforting pulse between you.

But just as the moment deepens, a loud crack of thunder rumbles outside, reverberating through the walls, making the lights flicker. A flash of lightning illuminates Jaehyun’s startled expression, momentarily freezing both of you in place until you’re instinctively drawn closer. A storm rages outside.

“Let’s… let’s just stay like this, okay?” You murmur, catching his gaze before looking down at your joined hands. “Just for tonight.”

He nods slowly, the tension shifting into something more profound. You slide under the covers beside him, and even though there’s a noticeable space between you, his warmth envelops you. The moment sinks into something intimate, something that goes beyond the mere physical closeness or the warmth of shared body heat.

— Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you hesitate before answering an unknown number. But curiosity compels you to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?” The voice on the other end drips with annoyance. Taeyong. Just hearing him makes your stomach churn. It's a voice you've been avoiding, one you hoped you'd never have to hear again. It reminds you too much of the past your trying to forget.

You bite your lip, your gaze flickering nervously around the bustling cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with chatter as people gather at tables. Jaehyun is tied up in a meeting, leaving you surrounded by a few friends who have become a surprising source of comfort. You've been at the company long enough now that the initial gossip has faded, allowing you to forge genuine connections beyond just your complicated relationship with Jaehyun.

You cover your phone as you pull it down from your ear and mouth a quick sorry to your friends as you make your way somewhere else secluded.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” you murmur, moving away to a quieter corner.

“A bad time? You've been ghosting us for weeks! We have a big job lined up and need you back,” he says, impatience slicing through his tone.

“I told you, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m in a good place. I can’t mess this up,” you reply, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He scoffs, a sound that irritates you more than it should. “You think you can just bail on us? When we had your back when no one else did?”

His words resonate, stirring unwanted memories. They taught you everything you know about survival.

“Without us, you’d be scraping by,” he adds with a cocky lilt that grates your nerves.

“What do you need me for?” You huff.

“A quick job. In and out. Johnny’s got his eyes on this jewelry store. Thinks it’ll impress some girl he’s crushing on,” he explains, the casual tone in his voice only making you more uneasy.

“A jewelry store? Are you serious? You know that’s risky,” you almost yell before you remember where you are.

“Yeah, well, the guy’s moving across the globe. Apparently, his heart is in Vegas or something. Listen, you owe us. Let’s call this your last job before Johnny bails.” He says.

You pause, weighing your options. You knew how persistent these guys could get and you didn’t need them digging too deep into what you’ve been up to. If they found out about Jaehyun, your not sure what they would scheme.

“If I do this, you lose my number. Don’t ever contact me again. I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I’m trying to move on.” Your voice is firm.

“Great to have you back, princess. I’ll send over the details,” he says before hanging up.

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your throat close up as tears began to well in your eyes. You wanted to cry. You lean against a wall, trying to calm your breathing.

You could always ask Jaehyun for the money; whatever Johnny was looking to score from the jewelry store, Jaehyun could match it; the only issue is you already owe him enough and Taeyong would definitely ask you where you got such a large sum of money.

You could not get Jaehyun involved. You didn't want him mixed up in any of this. This was your problem, your past, that you had to fix.

You tilt your head back, trying to will the tears away. If Jaehyun found out—Jaehyun couldn't find out.

You try to act normal when you head back up to Jaehyun's office. You bury yourself in paperwork and emails as an excuse for how unnaturally quiet you were today. You couldn't avoid him all day, though.

“How was lunch” he asks after returning from his meeting.

You don't turn to acknowledge him; instead, you give him a “it was good” before returning to your work. He doesn't comment on how quiet you have been but you definitely see it in his eyes that he wants to. He walks to his desk without another word. He knows when to give you space and probably figured now was one of those times.

—

You were making mistakes again. The chaos of the office felt louder than ever as you stumbled through the busy halls, your arms full of files that seemed to have a mind of their own. Papers slipped from your grasp, fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves as you scrambled to collect them, heart racing as you barely managed to avoid having someone step on the important documents.

The printer was your sworn enemy today; it jammed at the worst possible moment, leaving you flustered and anxiously trying to free the stuck sheets while praying no one noticed your struggle. You were constantly tripping over your own feet, rushing back and forth, trying to juggle tasks that felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jaehyun's eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion bubbling just beneath the surface. He could let a few things slide, but it was clear he was picking up on the fact that something wasn’t right.

Finally, you excused yourself, heart pounding as you left for the bathroom. Clutching your phone tightly, it buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop. You glanced down and read:

[Meet us at xxx on Sunday at 3 AM].

This was it—tonight would be the night.

You quickly composed a response, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. As you headed back to the office, you tried to shake off the brewing anxiety. With every step, you reminded yourself that soon, after tonight, you wouldn’t have to hide anything else from Jaehyun. After tonight, everything could go back to normal.

You had packed a small duffel bag. Its contents reminded you of the significance of the night ahead. Dressed in all black, you made your way to Taeyong's place, the night air cool against your skin. As you arrived, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter when you saw Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You joined them, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you went over the plan, going through every detail. The stakes were high; robbing businesses was far more complex than the petty house break-ins of the past. There was far more security to navigate this time, and your palms began to sweat at the thought of what would happen if you got caught.

“Stop overthinking it,” Johnny said, flashing you a reassuring smile as he finished loading the last item into the car. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is the last time,” you declared, shooting a look at the back of Taeyong's head as he settled into the driver’s seat but you couldn’t stop the thrill that snuck into your heart. There was a small part of you that loved this thrill, loved the challenge that the night would bring

Johnny slid into the passenger seat, and Yuta hopped in beside you in the back. “I understand if you don’t want to steal, but we’re still family,” Yuta said, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, a storm of emotions battling within you. You knew you were being cold towards them, shutting off parts of yourself that had always been open to them. They were your everything before Jaehyun came into your life, your partners in crime and laughter, and now you felt sickness coil in your stomach at the thought of discarding them for something that might not even last.

You bit back tears, feeling the sharp sting of regret and longing. One part of you mourned the life you were desperately trying to hold onto—the stability, the calm, everything that came with Jaehyun. The other half grieved for the carefree moments you’d shared with Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta and for the friendships that felt more like family than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” you finally managed to say, your voice wavering as you fought to steady it. “Let this be it for all of us.” Your words hung in the air.

“Y/N…” Yuta began, an understanding between all of you that couldn’t be voiced.

“Please,” you interrupted softly, desperation coloring your tone as you looked from one familiar face to the other. “I don’t want anything happening to you guys.”

Silence settled in the car. No one answered you; there were no reassurances to offer, no words that could change the precarious situation you were all in. They couldn’t up and leave this life and you knew it.

As Taeyong turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, breaking the stillness. You glanced out the window, taking in the familiar streets you had navigated countless times, the memories flooding back.

—

The blaring alarms pierced the night like a siren's wail as you moved to grab one more bag full of jewelry. Every clang of metal against metal made your stomach churn. Your hands were shaking, and as you tossed another bag over to Yuta, you felt a sense of disgust washing over you. How had it come to this? You stuffed your feelings deep down and concentrated on the task at hand—the only thing you could control. Yuta caught the bag and hurried it to the car, urgency fueling every movement.

Then came the wailing of sirens that sent a jolt of panic through your body. The familiar blue and red lights flickered on the walls of the alley as they crept closer, and your heart raced faster.

“Out now! GO!” Taeyong shouted, urgency slicing through the chaos. You hurled yourself into the car just as the engine roared to life, Taeyong hitting the gas pedal with a force that slammed you back against the seat. Your head twisted around, searching for any sign of the approaching police cars. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see their flashing lights right behind you—yet.

Then, terror gripped you as a police car roared around the corner, lights ablaze, barreling towards you.

“We’re not going to make it!” You cried out, panic rising in your chest like bile.

“Shut up! Let me think!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice sharp and focused.

With skill, he made a sharp left turn and then another, weaving through the streets as your heart thundered in your ears. The fear began to lift, the thrill of escape practically intoxicating, until the dreaded sight of the police car revealed itself again, like a predator stalking prey.

He maneuvered the car swiftly into a dark alleyway, the bright streetlights fading behind you, swallowed by the inky shadows of the narrow passage.

“Get out!” Taeyong shouted suddenly, and you whipped your head around to look at him, wide-eyed, disbelief painted across your face.

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, your pulse racing even faster. The alleyway loomed dark and empty beyond the car.

“What are you—” Yuta started to say, confusion evident in his voice.

“I’ll lead them away; just go!” Taeyong insisted, urgency etched deep into his words. “We don’t have time!”

You knew if he was caught, he would never snitch—Taeyong was loyal, he would take the fall for you without a second thought. But the prospect of him behind bars was more upsetting than you'd ever anticipated.

“That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” you murmured, helpless, as Johnny dragged you along through the darkness. You struggled to comprehend what was happening through the haze of tears obscuring your vision. Out of instinct, you pulled off your mask and dark jacket, tossing them into a nearby trash bin.

With your heads down, you walked in silence, the distant sirens haunting the air. It wasn’t long until Kun, Yuta’s friend, pulled up to a nearby park to pick you all up.

You didn't go home that night. Instead, you ended up at Chenle's place. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw your tear-stained cheeks; he simply pulled you inside and set about making some tea to soothe your frayed nerves. Chenle was always the one who understood you the most.

Tonight, the weight of secrets felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. As you sank onto his couch, the dam broke, and you began to tell Chenle everything—from the very beginning to the events of the night. Sobs wracked your body as you relayed the tale, the guilt and shame spilling out with each word.

You were a liar, a thief, a fake.

Chenle sat in silence for a moment, absorbing your confession. He let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat, your teary eyes tracking him as he rummaged through his cupboard.

“We’re gonna need something stronger than tea tonight,” he said, pouring you a shot.

—

When you wake up the next day, a piercing headache pounds through your skull. You had fallen asleep on Chenle’s couch. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in, you glance around the large living space and spot Chenle sprawled on the other end of the couch, still blissfully asleep.

Rummaging around the couch cushions, your fingers finally brush against your phone. You remember that you powered it down last night, a decision made during the chaos of emotions. You turn it back on, the screen lighting up and revealing a barrage of messages.

YUTA [taeyong got away last night] [Just keep your head down and we should be fine]

JOHNNY [TY PULLED THROUGH LET'S GO!]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Selfish bastard.” you think, feeling a stir of resentment alongside the relief.

JAEHYUN [are you coming into work today?] [are you hurt?] [if your sick i can bring you something] [call me when you can]

You wince at the notification count—Jaehyun had called you at least five times this morning

Just then, Daegal, Chenle’s dog, leaps onto the couch, nudging your leg. Chenle stirs awake, cracking an eye open, squinting against the bright light that seeps into the living room.

“Taeyong was able to get away somehow,” you inform him quietly.

“Don’t know whether I should be happy or upset about that,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m sorry about lying, and I’m sorry for bothering you, but this was the only place I knew to come.” You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone down on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not upset that you lied,” Chenle says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I understand what you were going through, and if that’s how you made ends meet, I won’t judge you for it.” He stretches and yawns, then narrows his eyes playfully at you. “What I am mad about is the fact that you’ve been seeing a hot CEO and didn’t tell me about it!”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his playful reprimand. At least you wouldn’t lose your best friend. You crawl toward him on the couch and envelop him in a warm hug. “I love you,” you smother him with affection.

You sit across the table from Chenle, a steaming plate of breakfast in front of you. As you tell him everything about your relationship with Jaehyun—the sweet moments, the little things that made you blush—it feels like a breath of fresh air. It takes you back to those late-night gossip sessions in high school, a sense of comfort washing over you. For that brief moment, you felt like yourself again, like the world around you wasn't being held together by a single string.

But soon reality creeps back in. You check the time and realize you can’t put off Jaehyun's calls any longer.

[im ok]

[where have you been?]

[Can we meet?]

[i can meet you at home]

Your heart clenches at the word ‘home.’ You aren’t sure when you two became this close, but the thought of lying to Jaehyun anymore feels unbearable.

As you approach the house, a heavy silence envelops you. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the faint shuffle of papers filtering in from Jaehyun’s study. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

You clear your throat, your voice slightly shaky. “Hey,” you announce, trying to keep your tone steady.

Jaehyun looks up, his expression distant and unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asks, setting aside the documents that had consumed his attention. Frustration flickers across his face as he stands and closes the distance between you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles evident even beneath the wrinkled fabric of his work clothes, a testament to the long day he’s had.

He leans back slightly against his desk, exuding a mix of authority and weariness. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, casting a shadow over his eyes and intensifying his gaze as he studies you, waiting for an answer that feels heavy in the air

“I was at a friend’s,” you reply, your words catching slightly in your throat.

“Why weren’t you answering my calls? What’s been going on with you lately?” His voice is firm, perhaps too firm, sounding too much like your boss, and you can feel your irritation simmer.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve just been taking care of some business,” you mumble, but it feels inadequate.

“You need to let me know if you’re not going to show up!” he says, and you can see the frustration etching lines across his forehead. But beneath that, there’s something else—something more worried.

“Is this all I am to you? Just another one of your employees you have to keep track of,” you challenge, the heat of your annoyance flaring. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to work, Mr. Jung!” You spit his name like it’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Don't do that. I was worried about you!” He snaps back, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern.

“I just needed some time!” You fire back, defending yourself but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Time for what? I’ve been giving you time! Time to text, time to leave, time to make calls to whoever it is you’ve been talking to,” he replies, the edge in his voice sharpening with jealousy.

“Why do you even care who I talk to?”

His lips are on yours in an instant and he kisses you for the first time. You can feel his anger, frustration, and annoyance at you through the way he kisses you. It was as though the heavens had opened and a lightning strike had struck you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The kiss was electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading down your spine, and you felt as if your lips were two magnets with an irresistible force drawing them together. The kiss is harsh, and your teeth clink together as you kiss him back with just as much heat. Everything that had been boiling within you—the frustration, fear, and anxiety—pours out as you let it all go. Your fingers pull at his hair, and you bite at his lips. His hands grip your hips roughly, like he's barely holding himself back from breaking you. He pulls you against him, and you can feel him hard through his slacks.

The tension in the room was high, and when it snapped, it was like the barriers that you both worked hard to keep up around each other had fallen.

He switches positions with you, pushing you up against his desk as he kisses down your neck. You have half the mind to be mindful of the things that litter his desk, trying not to knock anything over as his hands explore your body. He senses your hesitation and clears his desk with a swipe of his arm, not breaking the kiss in his haste. You moan into his mouth as he lays you down flat against his desk.

“Who have you been texting?” he asks, his chest heaving. You knew it must have been eating him up over the past few days.

“It was no one. I’ll explain later, just don’t stop,” you whine and pull him back to your lips.

Your fingers start working at the pesky buttons of his shirt. You try to work them one by one, but only get half way before you give up. You slide the fabric half way down his shoulders.

You run your hands down his back, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your palms. His hands move to your shirt, pulling it over your head with ease. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. He pulls your bra open, the fabric falling away to reveal your breasts. His mouth descends on one nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub as his hand cups the other breast, squeezing gently. His tongue circles your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you’re practically begging for release. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. His thick fingers pinch and tug at your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that elicit moans from your lips. You’re soaking wet, and it’s not hard for him to slip his fingers inside your tight pussy.

Your eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated, like he’s lost in pleasing you. His fingers pump into you at a steady pace, and your thighs spread wide for him, giving him complete access to you. His hand presses against your abdomen as he curls his fingers inside you. He wants you to feel it.

“Say you’re mine,” he commands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” your voice trembles, and you can feel your stomach clench with how close you are. Your back arches as you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down and attaches his mouth to your clit as he fingers you, and that’s all you need before you’re cumming all over his fingers. He continues to suck and lick at you until you’re pushing at his head to stop.

Once you have caught your breath, you pull your clothes back on as a heavy silence engulfs the room. You know you need to tell him the truth. You need to tell him what happened.

“I robbed a jewelry store.” You say as he helps you down from his desk.

He freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You did what?”

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s over, okay? I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” you say defensively.

“Are you serious? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this! It was my past that got me here. I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me,” you explain.

“But you were the one who taught me not to bear it all alone!” he counters, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“Not this Jae, I couldn't drag you into this. I care about you way too much”

“And you think I don’t care about you? You throw yourself into trouble like it’s nothing, and you want me to just forget it? Tell me what really happened.” His gaze is piercing, demanding honesty.

You tell him everything.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I didn’t want our lives to cross paths like this. I thought I could leave that stuff behind but they kept reaching out. It was just one last job, and I thought I could handle it.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped,” he says, brow crinkling in frustration.

“I was scared,” you admit, stepping closer to him. “Scared that getting you involved would get you hurt.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply, processing what you’ve just shared. “No more secrets, okay? You need to promise me that.”

—

The way your life had fallen into rhythm with Jaehyuns was scary; you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when this arrangement finally came to an end. You found yourself practically living in his home, spending almost every day together. You cherished the moments you shared working side by side. Each laugh, each quiet evening, felt like a treasure you never wanted to lose. Still, you understood that, like everything else, even the best things must eventually come to an end. You just hoped that day would remain far off.

Unfortunately, today was that day. After the countless hours you’d spent with Jaehyun, both on and off the clock, you had officially repaid your debt. Of course, your coworkers gathered around the dinner table at the prestigious restaurant had no idea. They believed you were simply celebrating your one-year anniversary. You forced a smile; would they still see it as a celebration if they knew the full story behind your relationship with Jaehyun?

The atmosphere in the restaurant was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the delicious aroma of carefully prepared dishes. As the celebrations for your one-year anniversary at the company unfolded around you, a wave of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You had worked hard for this moment, but all you could think about was what came next. You glanced down the table, where Jaehyun sat, a warm smile plastered on his face as he engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but he hadn’t looked your way once.

It was a stark contrast to the intimacy that you two shared. He didn’t bring up that night. He didn't bring up how he made you promise that you were his. For awhile, you thought you had just imagined it all but you could feel the shift in your dynamic. His touches lingering a little longer and the way his eyes wandered to you when he thought you weren't looking.

You find yourself looking back on your relationship with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, Jaehyun wasn’t the cold, distant person you first encountered; now, he trailed after you like a loyal puppy, and there was something sweetly comforting in the role reversal. You remembered how he had seemed so vast and imposing on your first day at the company, while you had followed him around like a lost puppy trying to match his stride. Now, as you walked through the hallways with your head held high, Jaehyun was the one keeping pace behind you, as if he feared losing you.

But as you looked at him now, across the expanse of the table, he felt miles away. The realization that the debt you owed him was fully paid loomed over you, casting a shadow that threatened to eclipse the joy of the evening. What would happen after tonight? How would your relationship change? You couldn’t shake the nagging fear that everything you had built together might soon unravel.

The cake arrived, beautifully adorned and lit with candles, drawing enthusiastic cheers from your coworkers. Jaehyun raised a glass to toast the moment, and when he glanced around, his eyes skated over you without recognition. You blinked, a pang of hurt lacing through you as the reality of it all settled in.

After the dinner wound down and laughter faded into the background, Jaehyun drove you back home—well, to his house. The silence hung between you like a tightrope, and it was nearly suffocating. Once inside the house, the familiar warmth enveloped you.

Finally, unable to contain your feelings, you broke the silence. “Jaehyun,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Why have you been so quiet tonight?”

He paused, fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. “I—” he hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, “I know your probably getting ready to leave since the debt is paid and I guess I was just preparing myself for that”

Your heart raced. “Is that why you haven’t brought up that night in your office?”

"I just didn’t want to grow more attached than I already am. I thought if I could pretend that night never happened, it would hurt less when you left.” He takes a deep breath as he searches your face for the right words to say. “I want you to stay with me. I know you’ve paid me back for everything… but I need you to understand that I want you in my life for reasons that go far beyond debt.” He took a breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaehyun. I'm not going anywhere you don’t want me to,” you say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

Jaehyun reached up, touching the hand that was caressing his face. “Then let’s stop pretending that all this is just transactional. I want something real.” The sincerity in his gaze melted your worries away, replacing them with something brighter, something full of possibility.

When he leans down to kiss you, your fingers caress his cheeks, memorizing the contours as you breathe in the essence of him. His hands roamed over your hips, exploring with an urgency that both thrilled and comforted you. The way they eventually tangled into your hair was possessive, a silent promise that he wasn't going to let you go.

Your bodies pressed together tightly and with every passing second, the kiss grew hotter, needier, and wetter as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You panted softly, surrendering to him, allowing him to take over completely, losing yourself in him.

As the fervor of the moment intensified, you felt his hands traveling back down to your hips. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being lifted off your feet. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself as he backed you up against a nearby wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between your bodies.

The makeout session became heavier and more desperate as passion consumed you both. Each kiss felt like a promise, filled with hunger and longing, as if you were trying to convey everything that words could never fully express. Finally, as your lungs burn for air, you part, a thin string of saliva connecting you.

The way he looked at you suggested a man starved—and that only fueled your desire to explore him further. As his hips rocked against yours, a low moan escaped your lips, the friction backing your toes curl. You welcomed his touch and his kisses but you wanted more. You wanted to take your time, savoring each curve and contour of each other’s bodies.

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers racing down your spine. A dampness was forming in your panties, an exhilarating rush that clouded your thoughts. Gathering the courage, you gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to break the spell that enveloped you both.

He lifted his head, planting soft kisses along your neck, climbing up to press a tender peck against your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes holding a raw sincerity that made you forget the world around you. “Should we stop?” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

“It’s not that,” you replied, your breath coming in soft gasps as you regained your composure. “I just want to move to the bedroom.”

You expected him to set you down for a moment, but instead a gasp slipped from your lips as he tightened his grip. He effortlessly began to ascend the opulent winding staircase. The walls were adorned with portraits, their painted eyes following your every movement, as if they were witnesses to this unfolding moment. Rich mahogany railings glimmered under the soft light of the chandelier.

You felt like a princess from a fairytale, swept away on a wave of romance and fantasy as he carried you up the staircase. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a small knot of doubt tightened in your chest—a complicated mix of guilt and disbelief. You don’t deserve this, you thought, battling the insistent voice in your head. This isn’t your life.

This dreamlike encounter with Jaehyun, who seemed to embody the very essence of Prince Charming, felt almost too good to be true—like a scene plucked straight from a storybook. The way he held you, the intensity of his gaze, and the atmosphere were intoxicating. But hessitation tugged at you, casting shadows over the light of your fairy tale.

As he gently set you down on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun kneeled before you. He looked up, his deep eyes searching yours as if trying to read the secrets hidden within.

“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a protective embrace. His hands enveloped yours, thumb stroking over your skin in a languid, comforting rhythm.

You forced a smile, desperate to maintain the illusion of this fairytale moment, but you knew better than to lie to him. Jaehyun had a way of seeing through your facades, as if he had developed some sixth sense when it came to understanding you. The light in his eyes flickered, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he waited for you to speak.

This was all so surreal—when the world outside seemed so turbulent, here he was, the embodiment of calm and acceptance. But as much as you tried to bask in this moment, the shadows of your past crept in, reminding you of who you once were.

“About that night…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, throat tightening. Sudden shame washed over you like a cold wave. “I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve all of this.

Jaehyun’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, brows furrowing slightly in concern. “Everyone has a past. What matters is who you choose to be now.” he said gently, as if unfurling your tightly wound shame with each word.

“But I’m a thief, Jaehyun… I tried to steal from you. I lied and even robbed a bank” The admission hung in the air.

“I don’t see a thief when I look at you; I see someone who has struggled but is capable of so much more. Someone I care about.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You looked down at him, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a man who would stop time for you if he could, who would pause the world just to shield you from its harshness.

He was your man.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pulled him into another kiss, the warmth between you igniting once more, filling the room with an undeniable heat. He broke away for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before he gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you. In one swift motion, he tossed you onto the middle of the soft, inviting bed.

You bounced with a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the air as you playfully crawled back toward the headboard, an exhilarated sparkle dancing in your eyes.

Jaehyun crawls to you and you tug off your blouse before he reaches you. It was like he couldn't keep his mouth off of you. He kisses the bare skin of your chest and stomach as his hands toy with the button on the dress pants you wore at dinner. He tugs them down your legs until your only left in your bra and panties. When he's done, you push at his shoulder until your able to sit up, stradling him.

You begin undressing him like the time in the bathroom but this time he lets you strip him down until hes in his boxers. You could see him straining against the fabric of his boxers and you whimper. You had to have him in your mouth. He tries to lay you back down, insistant on taking care of you but you shake your head; thats not what you needed right now. You connect your lips and grip him through his boxers. He lets out a slight gasp, and you can feel him twitch in your grasp. His eyes are closed, but you can see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets beneath him. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, about how you want to unravel him, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

“Can I show you what's been on my mind?” You whisper against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes flutter open and he nods. You slide down until you settle between his legs, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his boxers and you kiss along his chest. Finally, you pull him out of his boxers. His tip is a pretty pink, begging for your attention, and there’s a vein that follows along the base of his cock, pulsing with every heartbeat. You make a mental note to pay extra attention to that. His breath picks up before you can even do anything, and when you finally tear your eyes away from his cock, you see that his cheeks are dusted pink and his ears are red. Even at a time like this, you find him endearing. You smile, but it comes off more sultry than you intend.

You gather spit in your mouth to wet your tongue, savoring the anticipation as you lean in closer. The moment your lips wrap around his tip, he lets out a sharp gasp, his body tensing. You take him into your mouth, feeling the warmth and saltiness of him as you bob your head gently. You circle his tip with your tongue before pulling off to lick him from base to tip, spreading your saliva and making him slip easier into your mouth.

You look up, meeting his gaze as you take him deeper, your throat working around him. Jaehyun’s head is thrown back, his chest heaving as he tries to keep still, but his hips betray him, thrusting slightly into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Each time you pull off, you leave a trail of saliva connecting you, making your next descent even slicker.

“Fuck…hah,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good.”

“When was the last time someone did this for you?” You ask, your voice muffled around his cock, noticing how sensitive he is.

“I can’t remember,” he groans.

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” You say seductively, your eyes locked on his as you take him back into your throat, not holding back as you show him the pleasures he had probably been withholding from himself. You moan around him, pumping him vigorously as you suck on him, making a show of giving him the sloppiest head possible.

He was polite in the beginning; he didn’t push your head or tug your hair, and he didn’t buck his hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets and bit his lip, trying to control himself, trying to be a gentleman. But after he hits the back of your throat a little too roughly and you gag on him, he loses it. The way your throat convulses makes him bury his fingers into your hair, pressing you down until your nose is nuzzling against his happy trail. Tears burn your eyes as you let him drown in his pleasure, your own arousal building in response.

You know your panties are ruined at this point. Your free hand snakes down between your legs, your fingers gliding over your clit, circling the swollen button as he uses your throat. You barely notice the ache in your jaw, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body. Suddenly, he pulls you off, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Lay down,” he commands, his voice gruff and urgent. You don’t even have time to follow his command before he manhandles you onto your back, his hands moving with a mix of urgency and precision. Desire and desperation swirl in his eyes as he practically rips your panties from you, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he strips them away. He’s far too impatient to unclip your bra, so he just pushes it up, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Your back arches into his touch as he attaches his mouth to your nipples, flicking and nibbling at them with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You moan, your nails scratching down his arms lightly, urging him on. He kisses down to your thighs, leaving a few love bites along the skin there that have your hips twitching for more. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes raking down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hurry, I need you,” you cry, your voice breaking with urgency, your fingernails digging into his arms.

He shushes you with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a brief but intense moment of connection. Then he lines himself up, coating himself in your slick, making sure he’s slick enough to slide right in. Your breath hitches when he presses against your entrance, the head of his cock nudging at your folds. You were definitely feeling how big he was. Not only was he long, but he had a nice girth as well, stretching you in ways that had you clenching your teeth a little at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he begins to push in. “Let me in.”

You gently press him back, creating a space between your bodies, your eyes drawn to where your bodies connect. You can feel him deep inside you—only a third left before hes in completely and you already felt full. A soft whimper escapes your lips, vulnerability flashing in your gaze as you look up at him, searching for assurance.

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

You stay still, allowing the initial sting to fade, his fingers intertwined with yours, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as a calming gesture. You focus on the warmth of his hand against yours and the tension slowly dissipates. The discomfort begins to melt away, replaced by a delicious ache. You give him a slow nod, a silent agreement, and he takes that as his cue. His hips pull back, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized, as he slips out—he was so big but still so perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Focus,” he urges, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in your core.

You meet his gaze and its so intense you almost shy away. “Thats right baby, im right here”

One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh before pressing it up against your chest. your back arching involuntarily at the delicious rush of pleasure that courses through you. You could feel him in your gut in this position. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he drills into you again and again. Short, fast thrusts gradually deepen into long, languid strokes that have you pushing at his hips weakly.

“Fuck, Jae… it’s too deep,” you cry out, your thighs trembling.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty and momentarily disoriented. “Turn around,” he commands, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. You pout, suddenly regretting opening your big mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder at him with a pleading gaze. “I can take it, I promise,” you reassure.

“We’ll see,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, as he leans down to lay a line of soft kisses down your spine.

You shudder at the gesture and just as the last kiss lingers on the small of your back, you feel him slip inside again. This position gives him more control but he isn't as deep as before. You roll your hips back into him, urging him to fuck you as deep as he was before.

But he slows, his thrusts coming to a halt as he watches you move, his gaze dark with pleasure as he just watches you fuck yourself on him. He hums a noise of pleasure. He lets it go on for a little while longer before he is gripping your hips and stilling your movements.

“Let me take care of you”

He pushes the space between your shoulders, urging you down into the softness of the mattress until you're face down, ass up. With one hand gripping your hips, he resumes his thrusts. Picking up a brutal pace and this time you don't fight it. Each thrust strikes with precision, sharp and calculated, as he takes you from behind. His movements are relentless.

A low growl reverberates from deep within him. In an instant, he pulls you up until your back presses against his chest, your body perched in his lap as he continues to drill into you. You tilt your head back against his shoulder, gasping as his hands roam over you. One grips your chest, kneading your breast, while the other slips between your legs to expertly rub your clit. You let out unrestrained moans, the sounds echoing in the room without a care.

Your thighs tremble and you can feel tears prick your eyes as the overwheliming sensation consumes your body. Each thrust, each caress pushes you closer to the edge, and your chest heaves as you squirm in his hold. It was too much.

“I got you. Let it go baby.” he whispers breathily in your ear. His hand that was kneading your breast moves to hook beneath your shoulder, anchoring you down as he thrusts deeper, pulling you back into him as his hips drive into yours.

It isn't long until your an incoherent mess, until finally you collapse against him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You moan shamelessly, feeling your heat pulse around him and coating his cock as your release spills out, dripping down his balls. Jaehyun groans, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you in place, burning himself into you over and over again until hes lightheaded.

“Just a little more, baby, please. You can take it, yeah?” Jaehyun's voice wavers slightly, the raw need evident as he edges closer to his release. The urgency in his tone drives you wild. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally reaches his peak, filling you with thick, hot strands of cum. You shudder in his grasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he exhales harshly, breaths mingled with soft curses. “Fuck… mmmh… fuck,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun breathes as he slowly tries to catch his breath. You both take a few moments to come down from your high. His grip loosens at last, and with a gentle touch, he pulls out, laying you delicately on the mattress. You sink into the sheets, breathing heavily as he gets up to run a bath.

A few moments later, he returns, scooping you up in his strong arms. Together, you step into the warm water, which soothes your tired muscles instantly. You sit in front of him, letting the warmth encapsulate you as he takes on the role of caretaker, washing your back caringly.

He massages your shoulders, and you let out a content sigh, a sound that embodies the perfect blend of exhaustion and bliss. The water laps around you, and you feel a sense of tranquility settle in, wrapping around you just as warmly as his hands.

After you both wash up, you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. You were too tired to talk anyway. You lean back against him, feeling his fingers play in your hair. Eventually, when you finally muster the energy to pull yourselves from the bath, he wraps you both in warm towels. You don’t even bother with clothes, opting instead to pad back toward the bedroom

The bed was a chaotic mess, sheets crumpled and soiled from the nights activities. You yawn, too exhausted to even think about changing the linens, and way too impatient to wait for Jaehyun to take care of it. Without hesitation, you reach for his wrist, pulling him gently out of his disheveled room.

You guide him into the room across the hall—the very one where you first stayed. As you get under the covers, you tug them up and slip in beside him, legs tangling with his as you get comfortable.

Jaehyun can’t tear his gaze away from you as you settle next to him, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating your features. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn again, surrendering to the fatigue. “Go to sleep, Jae, stop staring like a creep,” you grumble, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I'm afraid to,” he admits, his words muffled against your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern.

“Because I’m afraid that when I wake up, this will all be a dream,” he confesses.

“Jaehyun. I’m right here,” you murmur with a soft yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of comfort that makes it hard to resist the pull of sleep. “I’ll always be… right here,” you promise, your words fading into a whisper as sleep finally overtakes you.

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct smut #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 month ago

Text

chemical override (12)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: see that up there? He's a good fella. He's not going to fumble this time.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Mallorca getaway continues. Ewan takes on a new approach when it comes to winning you back. With flirty dares and rising tensions, will you be any closer to making a choice?

The news barely needed any time to settle.

It spread like wildfire, from those with professional connections in Hollywood to casual celebrity gossip enjoyers. In less than an hour after the first batch of headlines broke out, it was clear—Bruce Haversham is now an industry pariah.

It was yesterday when Ewan rejoined the group by the pool, a strange look in his eyes. Before Phia could finish asking if something was wrong, Freddie exclaimed a very surprised, “What the fuck?” as he scanned his phone, and the rest was history.

The following morning, the villa gradually wakes to meet the sunrise.

The place screams simple luxury, with the interiors painted in a standard white and cyan, lush potted plants stretching tall in the corners. There are eight bedrooms and four full bathrooms, so your large group split up as desired.

You’re sharing a room with Phia and Liv, which means that Phia has gladly taken the role of being your personal alarm clock.

You are already awake when you feel her breathing in your ear. You crack open an eye and see her leaning over your bed, a wide grin stretched across her lips. “Day three!” she squeals. “Rise and shiiiine. Buenos dias!”

You groan halfheartedly. It’s impossible to be grumpy even in this hour when Phia acts like it’s going to be the best day ever. Like the day before that. And the day before. And pretty much every day since you’ve met her.

“What time is it?” you croak, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“6:30,” she happily chirps. “It’s our turn to make breakfast.”

Some of the boys volunteered to be the chefs yesterday, and the highlights were Freddie and Matt’s spaghetti bolognese, and Ewan’s sparkling sangria.

You remember telling Emma in the late afternoon that you’ve never tried sangria and you’ve always wanted to, but surely that’s not the reason why Ewan chose to make that drink for dinner. But you knew he had been lounging around, always within sight of you.

He almost never stays far from you.

When you make your way into the kitchen, most of the girls are already busy. Pots and pans hiss and smoke on the stove, filling the air with the scent of cooking.

“We bought ingredients for pancakes, right?” you ask, shuffling through the cupboards.

“Of course we did,” Liv replies, as she slices and carefully arranges fruits on a platter.

“Stacks of pancakes coming right up!” you say, mustering some of Phia’s early morning enthusiasm.

“Oh, I could kiss you,” Liv preens.

A few minutes into your process, you hear gasps in the room. You don’t turn right away, knowing that with your group, it could be anything. From something as simple as juice spilling, or Fabien suddenly going bald. A flock of actors will be dramatic.

But someone barks out, “Ewan! You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“Let us girls cook in peace. You’ll get your turn again tomorrow,” Phia scolds.

Your breath hitches as you suddenly feel someone standing right behind you. “Good morning, darling,” Ewan’s voice rumbles softly, and you turn to find that he has moved closer, his hand propped on the kitchen counter by your waist. “Are you making pancakes? I’d love to help.”

“Do you want his help?” Bethany questions you plainly.

Ewan shuffles to your side, casually leaning against the counter as he looks at you, his brows raised as he bites his lip in a cheeky manner that sends your pulse skittering.

“I… I wouldn’t mind,” you stammer, and he turns to the rest of the girls to give them a what-can-you-do shrug.

“Fine,” Phia relents with a knowing smile, throwing you a wink that is impossible to miss.

Ewan proves to be a good sous chef, taking note of your remarks, and sticking to the steps you laid out. To be fair, you don’t even have to say much, the both of you falling right into a comfortable rhythm. He hands you the right ingredients without missing a beat. The wide kitchen is filled with the soothing noises of cooking and soft chatter, but your focus is zeroed in on the effortless system that you have going with Ewan.

It’s simple. It’s calm and domestic. It reminds you of a time long gone, when you were dating in LA, spending nearly every waking moment with each other. Before everything got so… complicated.

He stands by while you ladle some pancake batter onto the griddle. He’s there, but you miss him.

“You okay, darling?” he ducks his head so only you can hear. “Did you not sleep well?”

You find concern etched in his features. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… thinking, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Ewan knows you well, so does he know that you’re worried about his nonchalance at what happened to Bruce? The PR arrangement is effectively scrapped, which means that the biggest hurdle that once stood between you and him is no more.

He’s always been so forward and upfront about his feelings, but why does it feel like nothing has happened? Like nothing has changed?

Perhaps the distance that you enforced has become too wide to manage, and he has lost interest? His brow furrows when you don’t answer, and his hand gently squeezes above your elbow. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch your attention, “what’s wrong, darling?”

Okay. Maybe he hasn’t completely lost interest. But still.

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “But, how are you doing? With all the drama surrounding Bruce and all that?”

“Well, he’s out of the project. And we’re all glad for it.”

“That’s good.” You flip a pancake too late, slightly burning one side.

You rock back on your heels as you wait, and you turn to find Ewan watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes, his lips curling in that signature Ewan way that can mean everything and nothing at all.

“What?” you finally ask.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, mirroring your tone from earlier, one that fails to mask the thoughts swirling in his mind. “I appreciate your concern, my love. Thank you for asking.”

“No problem,” you say softly, clearing your throat to be heard better. “I’m happy you’re done with that asshole and his unfair demands.”

“Yeah,” he nods. His face is so close to yours that you can spot the tiny flecks of yellow in his blue eyes. His eyes dart to the side, then back to you. “Darling?”

“Mmm?”

“I know I’m just your humble assistant—” He clutches his chest in a playful gesture, smirking knowingly. “—but I think that pancake has turned to stone.”

“Oh, shit!” You hurriedly take it out of the griddle, but he’s right. Even its sides are charcoal-coloured. You groan at your shoddy work, putting it aside to be tossed to the bin later, as Ewan—the cheeky bugger—laughs openly at your distress.

“Alright, alright.” You roll your eyes at him. You should be annoyed, but how can you, when this moment feels like a vivid snapshot of a better time?

You can pretend that you don’t care for it, but what’s the point? Even after all this time, and everything you’ve been through together, and apart.

Always.

“Ewan,” you say, trying to keep a straight face, and failing, “let’s just keep going, okay? And no more accidents. We’re not going to poison everybody.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes, it was.”

“How so?”

“You were… being distracting.”

He tilts his head, and stares at you so intensely that you have to turn back to the griddle. As you should, anyway. Oh, if smugness had a face…

The stack becomes higher, then multiplies into two, three… The whole time, the skip in your heartbeat becomes more and more impossible to ignore. Once again, you’re that newbie actress, that girl with a crush, who had to spend an entire day doing press with the Ewan Mitchell.

Your Ewan, who can level you with just a glance.

“Okay,” you exhale. “Just a few more, then we’re done. And please—quit looking at me.”

“What?” Ewan shifts away, as if he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes with his eyes glued to you for no particular reason. “I can’t look at you? You know I would do anything for you, darling, but that’s kind of an impossible request.”

“Oh my god,” Phia's voice inserts itself in the moment, causing you and Ewan to turn around sharply. It is only then that you notice that everyone has gone out to the patio, judging by the source of the ruckus.

Phia stands there, cool as a cucumber with a glass of juice in one hand, wagging her eyebrows when you make eye contact. “Ewan… just…ugh.”

“What?” Ewan snorts at her faux frustration.

She shakes her head for a few seconds, before landing on, “You’re impossible. I can’t deal with you two. I just can’t.” She then walks away, only pausing briefly to remark, “At least those bloody pancakes were made with love.”

Ewan begins arranging the pancakes to take out to the dining area in the patio, while you tidy up the mess. It’s not long before the rest of the lads come thundering down the stairs, still disheveled and groggy from sleep.

“Time for breakfast,” Ewan remarks as you finish your work, his hand drifting to the small of your back, sending warmth radiating through your skin.

Inevitably, you’re once again caught up in a moment where he is all there is, and you wish he would just make some comment on where things stand between the two of you. Some reassurance, something more than flirtatious remarks and fleeting touches.

But a new arrival in the kitchen melts the moment away.

“Good morning.” It’s Matt, leaning casually against the wall.

Your face heats up in shame. You have been so preoccupied with Ewan and the state of your relationship with him, that you forgot to factor in Matty. The sweetheart you’re technically dating, who has been nothing but good to you.

He walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back, mirroring where Ewan’s had been moments before.

“Smells good in here,” Matt says, his voice easy. “You two make a good team in the kitchen, huh?”

Ewan’s smile tightens, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Just trying to keep up, mate. You know how it is.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to those pancakes.” Matt winks at you, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind, then heads toward the patio, leaving you and Ewan standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

Ewan clears his throat, glancing at you with a look you can’t quite decipher, but it gets your heart racing all the same. “We should—” he gestures toward the pancakes, his voice softer now. “We should take these out.”

You nod, meeting his eyes. “We should.”

He stands still, brows furrowing for a moment as he continues to gaze at you, before the muscles in his face release their tension. His eyes soften, and his lips pull into a gentle smile. “Hmm.” He hums to himself, like he has realised something.

“What is it?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I always thought you look your best in the mornings, when your hair’s a bit mussed, and you’re fresh from sleep, and you’re just… you.”

“Oh.”

“But then again,” he says, as he takes the pancakes, balancing one full plate in each hand, “When are you not beautiful, darling?” He smiles sweetly, before turning on his heel and walking away.

A long moment passes before your heart starts working again.

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the villa, and everyone is scattered on the property. You’re sitting with Liv, Bella, and Phoebe by the pool, sipping on fresh juice and exchanging stories.

Then, from the entrance, you hear the unmistakable sound of wheels crunching over gravel, followed by the final rev of a car engine. The rest of the guests have arrived.

It’s Luke who bounds out first, his arms thrown wide as he hollers, “The party’s here, baby!”

“Lad!” Phia calls out, running up to greet him with a warm hug, “You’re late, as usual.”

“Fashionably late,” he grins, patting her back and winking at you as he catches your eye.

Harry and Elliott follow close behind, totally at ease, pulling their suitcases and nodding toward the group. Behind them is Milly, who practically jumps out of the car. She’s all smiles, her bubbly personality lighting up the space in an instant. She hugs everyone in quick succession, her laughter ringing out as she quickly finds something to tease Fabien about.

But it’s the last arrival that makes your heart plummet.

Louise steps out of the SUV, dressed casually but effortlessly put together, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Louise, Luke and Eliott’s cousin who was spotted with Ewan ages ago, just before you and him began dating. It was the usual paparazzi blunder, and Ewan profusely swore that nothing actually happened, with the twins quick to vouch for him.

But she glances around, her eyes scanning the villa before landing on Ewan, who stands just a few away, watching quietly. She makes a beeline for him, leaning in for a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Ewan. Miss me?”

Your chest tightens.

Ewan’s smile is polite and restrained, but it doesn’t escape your notice how he subtly steps back, keeping a respectful distance between them. “Good to see you, Lou,” he greets evenly, though his gaze flickers toward you for the briefest of moments. It’s subtle—no one else would notice—but you do.

“Why is it so bloody hot out here?” Elliott exclaims, catching your attention.

As everyone catches up with each other, the space is filled with chatter and laughter. But despite the chaos, your attention keeps getting pulled back to Ewan and Louise. She’s standing close to him, not too close, but enough that it feels like a deliberate choice on her part. Her smile is bright, and her hand occasionally brushes his arm when she laughs.

Which she does too often. Ewan’s a witty guy and all, but what could there be to laugh wildly about every ten seconds?

You can’t help the pang of jealousy that twists in your gut. She looks like someone who would have Instagram, and judging by the way she ogles your boyfr—

By the way she ogles Ewan, she would be aware of his doings on that godforsaken app. She would have definitely seen—no, stalked—his profile back when it was still up, seeing his tributes to you.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a holiday? You tell yourself to relax your nerves, which are currently set on edge.

Matt appears at your side, wrapping an arm around your waist, as he plants a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay?” he asks, his voice enough to soothe you for a while.

“I’m good,” you nod, forcing a smile.

Ewan catches your gaze, before his eyes drop down to Matt’s arm around you. The smallest sense of victory washes over you as his jaw clenches in obvious irritation. But it’s fleeting, gone too soon, when he looks away and slips back into conversation with Louise.

The rest of the arrivals gather their bags and start making their way inside, talking about what to do for dinner, and where to go tonight.

The party has just begun.

The hour is late when the group gradually comes together in a circle, much like kids forming around a campfire. Fabien and Bella balance large plastic bowls of snacks in each arm. Meanwhile, Rhys and Tom stagger into the scene, with a full load of six-packs and wine bottles. The rest of the group follow suit, trickling in with a chorus of laughter and shared whispers.

The circle tightens, everyone jostling for a seat, with some sprawled on blankets, while others perch on low adirondack chairs. It’s chaotic, but it’s the kind of chaos Ewan doesn’t mind, with the cast being like family to him.

He feels your presence like a magnet, drawing him in despite everything going on. The moment you step into the circle, his heart stumbles. As it always does, without fail.

You’re wearing a long and flowy, green summer dress, with your hair delicately pulled away from your face. It’s simple, effortless, but Ewan thinks you’re the prettiest person in every room.

You hesitate, and Ewan’s hand moves on instinct—stretching out to the space next to him on the blanket, a silent offer. For a split second, he sees you acquiesce, taking a half-step toward him.

But just as you begin to shift in his direction, before you can make a move, Matt reaches out from his spot at the edge of the circle, snatching your wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His laugh is low and teasing as he effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace, like he owns you.

Ewan takes several deep breaths, trying to fight the surge of jealousy rising up a tidal wave. He tries to be patient, to play this right. But watching Matt hold you like that, hearing him call you my love in that careless, confident way—it’s almost enough to make Ewan snap, pull you aside, and beg for things to go back to the way they were.

When he had you, and you had him, in every sense of the word. Back in LA, when being in love was enough.

Instead, Ewan leans back, forcing himself to look relaxed. But his eyes remain locked on you. When Matt’s fingers trace along your arm, you steal another glance at Ewan, like you’re checking and wondering if he’ll say something, do something.

But he won’t. Not yet. Not until you decide.

Ewan has been patient because he has to be. Things have to go right, because he wants you for good, not just for now. So he lets it happen; he lets you keep pretending. But he makes sure that you know he’s there, watching you, waiting for you.

Rhys pops open another beer, tossing one to Tom, who nearly fumbles it. Laughter breaks out across the group, as everyone settles into their places.

For all the commotion, all Ewan sees is you.

Fabien sits to his left and hands him a beer. Suddenly, Louise drops into the empty spot beside him.

“Hey, stranger,” she says, her voice playful as she nudges Ewan’s arm. “I barely saw you all afternoon. You avoiding me or something?” She’s got that look in her eyes, and he knows exactly what she’s doing. Now, with Matt monopolising your attention, she’s moving in.

“Course not,” Ewan replies casually.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she continues, smiling sweetly.

“Just taking it all in,” he says, keeping his voice neutral. He feels the weight of your gaze from across the circle, but he stops himself from looking at you.

“Taking it all in, huh?” she laughs softly. “Well—handsome—if you don’t mind, could you pass me a beer?”

Her hand brushes his as he passes her a bottle, and he catches your reaction in his peripheral vision. Your body stiffens slightly, your smile faltering for a split second before you force it back into place. But Ewan knows you too well. You’re not okay with this.

And that gives him just the slightest bit of satisfaction.

The circle carries on drinking, throwing quips, and even pillows, with Elliott throwing the cushion by his arse to Freddie after a particularly passionate round of banter. Then it’s time to play a game, brought on by the kind of reckless energy that results when everyone has had a little too much to drink.

“Alright, you lot,” Phoebe says, dragging over two makeshift bowls of rolled-up pieces of paper—one for truths and one for dares—the girls’ project for the afternoon. She places it haphazardly in the centre of the circle. “Rules are simple: spin the bottle, pick a truth or dare from the bowl. No wimping out, no lame excuses.”

Matt chuckles, adjusting you slightly in his lap, his arm still casually draped over your thighs as you sit sideways on the chair, your feet propped on the armrest. You’ve been nursing the same glass of wine for a while now, but Ewan can tell by the glint in your eyes that it’s starting to hit you.

It’s hitting him too.

The bottle spins wildly, its glossy surface catching the firelight as it circles through the group.

Matt is up first. The bottle stops, pointing at him like it was meant to.

“Truth,” he says, his voice confident, his smirk ever-present as he reaches out to pull from the bowl. He reads aloud, “Who has the best hair?”

Tom is quick to warn, “And it can’t be the girl in your lap! No brownie points for trying to get lucky, mate.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat. He leans forward, that cocky grin still in place. “Oh, I’m already lucky,” he says, earning oohs and ahhs from the group. You blush, but there’s a cautious edge to your smile, and Ewan can tell you’re wondering how he’s taking all this.

He pretends not to care.

“Oh, come on, Matty!” Bella shouts. “Pick someone.”

Matt surveys the group, dragging it out like he’s milking the moment. His eyes finally land on Olivia, who’s been watching him like a hawk, and he says, “Alright, Miss Cooke has the best hair. Hands down.”

“Damn right I do,” Olivia says, shaking her dark curls with a dramatic flourish, and the group erupts into more laughter.

The bottle spins again. This time it lands on Ewan.

“Dare,” he says, trying to avoid the inevitable where he plays it safe and picks truth, but then gets egged on the alternative. They would push the quiet, shy guy to let loose. It is his birthday getaway after all.

He fishes a slip from the dare bowl, and as he almost can’t believe the words scrawled on the paper. Oh fuck.

“Well, what does it say?” Emma asks.

Ewan swallows nervously. “Uhhh, well, it says kiss the person to your right.”

To his right is Louise.

Of course it’s bloody Louise. He should have picked truth. Why did he have to choose now as an exercise of confidence? Why?

He can’t help but glance at you on instinct, but your expression is unreadable.

Louise, for her part, is already leaning in, that smirk of hers so smug it makes Ewan’s teeth clench. Everyone’s watching. There’s no way out of this. He can feel Matt’s eyes drilling into the back of his skull, like he’s waiting for him to mess up.

Ewan leans in, pressing a light kiss to Louise’s lips—meant to be barely more than a brush, but she pushes forward, making it last longer than he would like. The heat of her lips lingers when he pulls back in a flash. His ears ring with enthusiastic catcalls from the group.

He clears his throat uncomfortably, and he can’t bear to look at you this time.

Before anyone can say anything, the bottle is spinning again.

It lands on you.

“Dare,” you say, your voice just a bit too steady. When you’ve chosen, you dramatically read aloud, “Kiss… the person on your left.”

And it’s Freddie.

The second you realise who it is, there is the tiniest flicker of hesitation in your expression.

Freddie raises his eyebrows, smirking like the cheeky bastard he is, leaning back on his elbows as if he’s some kind of prize. “Well, well, well…” he teases, making a big show of puckering his lips. “Happy birthday to me.”

Everyone’s laughing and spurring you on, the group feeding off the chaotic energy of the night. So you unperch yourself from Matt’s lap, lean over the side of the chair, and kiss Freddie.

It’s quick, almost as if you want it over before anyone can really react, but Freddie leans into it, his hand cupping the back of your neck. Ewan’s stomach twists as he watches, and he knows he shouldn’t care so much. It’s just a bloody game, it doesn’t mean anything.

But it hits him harder than he wants to admit.

Freddie—being the showman that he is—makes a big deal of it, making an exaggerated gesture as if you’d left him breathless. “I think I’m in love,” he jokes, throwing a wink in Matt’s direction.

Ewan downs the rest of his beer, the bitterness coating his throat, but it does nothing to quench the fire building in his chest. The jealousy gnaws at him, and he hopes to all that is holy that you don’t have to kiss anyone else for the game. Unless it’s him.

Then it won’t just be a friendly peck. It won’t just last two seconds. He will kiss you in front of everyone, claiming you, like his life depends on it.

And that won’t just be on the booze.

The game goes on, but he barely registers the next few rounds. Louise shifts closer to him, her hand casually resting on his knee. She leans in, her breath hot against his ear as she says, “I didn’t mind that kiss, you know.”

He doesn’t respond right away, too caught up in the sight of you laughing at something Matt says to Freddie. You look happy, but it’s all wrong. That laugh used to be Ewan’s.

“Still taking it all in?” Louise asks, her voice dripping with suggestion.

“Something like that,” Ewan sharply responds. Either she hasn’t yet gotten the hint that he’s not interested, or she has and simply doesn’t care, because she asks him another question, squeezing his knee.

And he lets her. Because what else can he do?

The night has a pulse of its own. It starts off slow, a lazy hum of conversations, but soon escalates into something wilder.

It’s hard not to feel electricity thrumming under your skin, not only from the alcohol, but from every look Ewan throws at you across the circle, watching as Matt’s arms stay anchored around you.

Ever since the news about Bruce came out, Matt has been noticeably more bold and doting. It's as if the shift in your relationship with Ewan has sparked something in him – his romantic gestures more frequent, his touch lingering just a bit longer. Where he once might have hung back, now he openly claims your attention, as though daring anyone to challenge his place in your world.

"Looks like you’re sitting here tonight, my love," Matt had whispered low in your ear, when he pulled you onto his lap, his breath warm and smelling of whiskey against your skin.

The night spirals even further when a game is proposed. Phia, Bella, and Phoebe had been the ones to come up with the prompts for truth or dare, so you couldn’t have predicted what follows.

When Matt is made to choose someone else for his question, the possessive way with which he murmurs, “Oh, I’m already lucky,” sends a flush to your cheeks. You notice that Ewan is under tension when you meet his gaze, judging by the stiffness of his shoulders and the subtle tick of his jaw.

Next, it’s Ewan’s turn. You’re mildly surprised when he chooses dare, with that brazen look on his face. You wait eagerly, to see what tricks he has up his sleeve, but your heart plummets when he reads his prompt.

He has to kiss the person on his right, which conveniently happens to be Louise. She is instantly giddy, grinning like she won the lottery. She’s been eyeing him all night, leaning in a little too close for your liking.

Ewan hesitates, just for a second, his eyes flickering over to you as if to ask permission. You don’t move a muscle, your breath caught in your throat when he finally leans in to give Louise a kiss.

Damn if it doesn’t feel like a punch to your gut. The group erupts into cheers, and you play along, even though jealousy rises like bile in your throat.

The bottle spins again, and time seems to slow. When it finally comes to rest, it’s pointing right at you.

You’re then prompted to kiss the person on your left—Freddie.

His flawless grin eases your nerves, and keeps you from worrying about how Ewan’s eyes flash with something territorial. The kiss is over as soon as it started, but everyone reacts as if they just witnessed a full-on makeout session.

The game moves on, more dares, more truths, the atmosphere becoming more unhinged with every spin of the bottle. Tom has to shotgun a beer in under ten seconds, which he does to wild applause. Emma serenades their closest friend in the circle, which just so happens to be Liv. Bella is asked who her celebrity crush is, and she gives her boyfriend Fabien as the answer, who is a celebrity after all.

Then the bottle lands on you again.

“Dare,” you say, the word slipping out before you can second-guess it. You pull out a slip from the bowl, reading, “Call up an admirer, someone famous who’s asked you out.”

The group hums among themselves, looking at you questioningly.

“Well,” you say after a few seconds, your heart racing. “I guess… there’s… Glen?”

There are some gasps, some woohoos, and you feel Matt shift beside you, clearing his throat to ask, “Glen Powell?” Ewan, meanwhile, sits a little straighter across the circle. He knows this already. This was in August of last year, when both of you were in LA. You got a referral to join the notorious Alo gym, where you linked up with Tate Mcrae, Jake Shane, and Glen, and they became your workout crew.

Glen easily caught your eye, of course, as he does with anyone. But you turned him down because of Ewan. You remained friends, and your little Alo crew still regularly catches up on a group chat, which is brilliantly called Jake’s Shakes.

“Oh, Glen Powell,” Bethany squeals. “You have to call him!”

You fumble for your phone, the glare of the screen hurting your eyes briefly. You feel a bit woozy, but maybe it’s just the pressure mounting as everyone’s eyes bore into you.

With shaky fingers, you scroll through your contacts, finding Glen’s number. There’s a second of hesitation, and then you hit call, turning on the speaker option.

You could practically hear a pin drop, as the group is silent for the first time throughout the night.

The phone rings just thrice before he answers.

“Hey there,” Glen’s voice is warm and playful on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Glen,” you say, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “How are you doing?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m just sitting here waiting for a call from you?”

The group erupts into hushed laughter, and you try to suppress a nervous giggle. “No actually,” you say, “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it, gorgeous,” he replies smoothly, “When are we gonna see you back in LA?”

“I don’t know, but I might have work out there soon,” you say honestly, falling into the rhythm of conversation. “Are you still helping Jake through his mini earthquakes?”

“Oh, you bet. But I’m glad you’re coming here soon. Just say the word, and I’ll have our first date planned to perfection.”

The whole circle fails to stifle their laughter, shocked expressions abound as the call turns suggestive. Your heart skips a beat, and you decide that it’s best to break it to him then. “Glen, so, uh, I’m playing truth or dare with the cast, and I got dared to call up an admirer…”

“Oh?” Glen’s chuckle is confident, unfazed. “Well, I’m flattered. I gotta say you called the right person. Good call, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, everyone seems to agree,” you say, keeping the mood light, but Matt shifts behind you, leaning forward as if to intervene. Before you can say another word, he gently reaches over and takes the phone from your hand, his smile still intact but icy.

“Hey, Glen, it’s Matt here,” Matt says smoothly, “Thanks for humouring us, mate. We’ve just had a couple of drinks out here, you know how it is.”

“Hey, man,” Glen replies, unaware of your connection with the guy he’s speaking to. “Yeah, no problem. Hope you’re all having a great time.”

“Thanks, but you know, we’re plenty occupied so… no need to make too many plans just yet.”

Glen just laughs on the other end. “Well, when she’s ready, I’ll be more than happy to make sure she’s treated right.”

Matt, to his credit, sounds genuinely amused when he replies, “I’m sure… but I think we’ve got that covered here.”

You see Ewan’s calm exterior cracking as he silently watches the scene unfold.

“Oh, really? Well, sounds like I’m up against some tough competition,” Glen jokes, his sweet disposition unshakeable.

“So, mate,” Ewan says loudly, his teasing drawl heard across the group, “Do you always plan dates with people who are taken?”

The group bursts into surprised laughter, and Freddie even clutches your arm in his glee. There’s a brewing excitement as the game takes on a new life. It’s like watching a fuse slowly burn toward an explosion.

On the other end, Glen pauses for a moment, probably trying to figure out what the hell is happening. “Well, you know, man, I just like to be prepared. Wait, who am I talking to now? Is this Ewan… Mitchell?”

“Yeah,” Ewan confirms, relaxing a little. Fabien wraps an arm around his shoulders to get him to ease up.

Glen responds, still directed at Ewan, “She talked about you a lot, you know. I wouldn’t be worried if I were you, man.”

Tom hollers in satisfaction for Ewan, “There you go, Ewaaan! I bet that made his entire week.”

It’s then that Matt decides to end the call. “Thanks for the call, Glen. We’ll let you get back to your day, yeah?”

“Alright,” Glen says, addressing everyone this time. “Have a great night, you guys!”

The call drops.

“Wow,” Milly remarks, “girl, I wish I had Glen Powell on my speed dial.”

“Yeah, that was fun,” Phoebe agrees, her eyes flicking between Matt and Ewan, clearly enjoying the show.

The game rolls on, laughter growing impossibly louder, voice slurring with alcohol. Louise remains glued to Ewan’s side, leaning just enough that it’s impossible not to notice. Matt doesn’t let you go for a second, his hand always on you—either resting on your leg or wrapped snugly around your waist.

The group branches out when the game eventually winds down, scattering across the courtyard. Some head toward the pool, others to the bar on the patio, and the music keeps getting higher in volume. Drinks are passed around freely, conversations blur into one another, and the entire scene glows under soft lights.

At one point, you’re pulled aside by Phia, as she demands that you settle a debate between her and Milly. Matt becomes distracted, bickering with Fabien and Harry by the pool.

Then, out of nowhere, Ewan materialises by your side, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist. His touch sends a jolt through you, and in an instant, he’s pulling you away from the girls, who are way too drunk to even realise.

He leads to the side of the villa, and the music fades into the background as you find yourself in a more secluded spot.

Ewan doesn’t wait for you to speak, pressing you against the wall, and taking your lips in a wet, sloppy kiss.

And everything else falls away. The commotion nothing but a distant echo, the truths and dares something from a forgotten dream. It’s just you and him.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and there’s an innocence in the gesture. A sense of intimacy that pulls at your heartstrings and makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Then, his voice is a rough whisper. “I love you, baby,” he slurs slightly, the alcohol clearly affecting his speech.

“Ewan, you’re drunk,” you say softly, trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words.

“Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I love you, I always have. I mean, if that wasn’t fucking obvious already.”

Your hand reaches up to caress the side of his face, and he leans into your touch. His lips find the centre of your palm, pressing a warm, lingering kiss there. Time slows down just for the two of you.

“I’m serious,” he continues, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. “I’ve messed up before. I know that. But I want to do this right. I want you… for good.”

“Ewan…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises. “Even if you have… him. Even if it drives me crazy… I’ll wait. I want you to choose me.”

Ewan lays it all bare, giving you the choice, letting you wield the power. All you can do is stand there, but he seems to understand your silence. He just smiles—a tired, bittersweet smile that holds everything left unsaid.

“I’m here,” he whispers. “And I love you.”

He turns, walking back in the direction of the courtyard, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

The next day, Matt enjoys the twilight hour on the patio, his hands curled around a warm cup of tea. Some of the group, including you and Ewan, ventured out into town for the day.

The thought of you out there with Ewan gnaws at him, but he does his best to keep calm.

Liv sits across from him, her own cup in hand. She’s been quietly listening for most of their conversation, but eventually, she turns solemn.

“You know,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed the way things are with you three. It’s hard not to.”

Matt lets out a breath. Should he act oblivious or just face it head on? “What do you mean?”

Liv gives him a look, cutting past the pretence. "Don’t play dumb, Matthew. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Matt contemplates brushing it off, deflecting like he usually does. But there’s no point in pretending with Liv. She’s been his friend too long for that.

“It’s complicated, Liv,” he admits, his voice quieter than he intended. “I know there's something between them, there always has been. But I… I don’t want to lose her.”

Liv leans forward, her expression softening. “You won’t lose her, Matt. Not if you don’t want to.”

He laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “That’s easy to say. Ewan’s not exactly giving her much reason to stay away.”

“True,” Liv agrees, giving him a sympathetic smile, “but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the game. Look, I’ve known you for years, and I’ve known her for a while now too. She cares about you, Matt. And if you want to keep her, you’ve got to fight for her.”

“How? How do I compete? They have history, Liv. It’s not something I can wish away.”

“You’re not trying to compete, mate. You’re not Ewan, and you don’t need to be. But if you want to keep her, you need to remind her why. Woo her properly. Don’t wait around, hoping she’ll choose you by default. Give her a reason to.”

Matt considers her words carefully. “And how am I supposed to do that? Woo her properly with him in the mix?”

Liv’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. “Leave that to me. I’ll help you.”

“You’re going to help me win her over?”

Liv shrugs, her smile widening. “Why not? You’re my friend, and you know, this could be fun.”

Matt wasn’t expecting Liv to offer her help. But now that she has, the idea of having someone in his corner, guiding him, feels like a lifeline.

As the sun sinks lower behind the hills, casting the patio in a dusky glow, he feels a glimmer of hope start to take root. For now, all he can do is wait.

But when the time comes, he’ll be ready.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

This chapter is late to the party, I know. But hey, at least the group ate with their shenanigans, alright? 😉

To the Ewan lovers, to the Matty enjoyers, to the Darling warriors—I think yous can see how things are falling into place now <3 Oh, and we'll see the outcome of Fabien's IG post in the next chapter.

Who will darling choose? Or is her choice already made? Chirp at me in the comments 💕

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #matt smith #matt smith x reader

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teaboot · 5 months ago

Note

I love your post about being a security guard. Would you please tell us about some of the cool people you meet at work?

Ooooh I can do that!

One time on foot patrol I got called to talk to a guy who had his pet off-leash, right? And there's a pretty big road nearby, and some restaurants, so I head over to see if I can convince him to leash what I believe to be his dog before it runs into a diner or humps the wrong leg or gets clipped or whatever

But I get there. And I see the guy, he's exactly as described, but there's no dog nearby so I'm kinda confused

But then I see his parrot

And I'm trying to keep a straight face when I get there but I'm in uniform and he sees me and stops and the three of us (me, him, parrot) kind of just stare at each other

And I dont know what to say, I have not been trained for this, and I'm trying to figure out if this is even a problem or not, so I just tell the guy, "I'm gonna be real with you man, this is a new one for me".

And to his credit the dude was actually very kind and polite, introduced me to the bird and all. Little fella made some *frighteningly intelligent* eye contact with me the whole time, of course.

Anyways it turns out the bird was about sixteen years old and smarter than me, so I told them they were both above my pay grade and were good to go as long as they didn't go into any eating establishments, since technically it'd be a contamination risk.

VERY cool afternoon.

Also another time a very cheerful woman claimed she could read auras and told me mine was yellow, and I got to tell her that yellow was my favourite colour, which was cool!

And one night I was on mall duty and I found six teenagers all crammed into one of those 25-cent kiddie rides shaped like a school bus, which was hilarious, but I had to tell 'em "I am so sorry, this is the best thing I've seen all day, but I do need yall outta there, I love you all" (the ride things have weight limits and break down constantly, it's a pain in the ass.)

Aw shit, this other time I found two teen boys pushing each other in a shopping cart- and they were having such a great time, I felt so bad, it's exactly the kind of shit my brothers would do- and I think that one was like "sorry guys, liabilities, do it where I can't see you".

And this one probably shouldn't be funny but there was this guy with a bike, right? Belligerent, abusive towards staff, falling-down drunk, you know? And I was supposed to get him out of the building, but instead when I asked him to make his way out he jumped onto the bike and started riding around me in circles shouting "WHORE! WHORE! WHOOOOOOOORE!"

Same guy, the day that I first met him, he was peeing at a payphone- I asked him for his name and he straightened up, put his shoulders back, and said with all confidence, "My name is Donald Finkley and I take it up the butt!"

His name was not Donald Finkley. The real Donald Finkley was someone he just didn't like very much

#Names changed for confidentiality obvs #But yes I meet a lot of characters for sure #Teaboot #Teabooot stories #Teablart

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creelkobblelaufeyson69 · 8 months ago

Text

Three times

Warnings: smut (cause I’ve got daddy issues)

Note: this is consensual, don’t worry!

She was waiting for family to return to their big house. She had found herself being the house sitter while her mom, dad, and brothers go out to eat. It was a new house as well, and she knew that this place was haunted before even finding out it could potentially be

A nice house like this suddenly on the market? That seemed way too good to be true. She was happy though that she was only helping her family move into the place, and could leave soon. She didn’t have a good relationship with her parents, but what lured her into helping was how it gave off a feeling to her that she couldn’t describe

She’s been wanting to go into the attic since she’s arrived as well. She hadn’t had a clue what could be drawing her attention like this, but she didn’t want to find out. She thought it would be a safer option to stay away from the attic

Adam and Barbara didn’t want to scare her off already, because she seemed much more chill than her family members. But they also didn’t want to scare the young boys. Barbara didn’t think summoning Beetlejuice was a good idea either for this job

But luckily for the couple, Beetlejuice has other plans. He’s seen what the eldest daughter looked like, and has definitely taken a liking in her. He knew he didn’t have much time to be alone with her in the house either. He was determined to get her up in the attic as well, so he just waits in the model for her to come in

It was getting later in the afternoon, and her family still hadn’t returned yet. At this point out of pure boredom and curiosity, she finally goes upstairs. Once she reaches the attic door, she takes out the key that opens any door in the house that was meant to be given to her father

But she couldn’t see herself letting the keys go. She easily unlocked the attic door, because Adam and Barbra were currently talking to Juno. Beetlejuice had noticed she was inside of the attic now, and smirks

“Hey, over here!” He calls her over, which makes her look directly at him. She crouches down to be at his level, which makes him feel a certain way. Whatever strong connection she felt was definitely present, and now she’s realizing it’s him who she was having a strong connection to

“My, you’re a handsome little fella” she says confidently, which makes him smirk. “I can grow bigger if you’d want me too. You just gotta say my name three times” he flirts, which makes her blush

“I’ve never had sex with a dead person before” she admits, which makes him smirk. “Well there’s a first time for everything, right?” She nods her head, and then asked what his name was. Soon a sign shows up pointing towards his head with his name on it three times

“Beetlejuice” she starts, which makes him continue to smirk. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice” he had vanished from the model of the town. She looks confused, until she heard a record playing in the background. She follows where the music lead her to, and found herself in the guest bedroom she’s currently staying in

When she enters, the bed had dead rose petals around it. A sexual song played on the record, and the lights were off. But Beetlejuice wasn’t in the room. Confused by the random disappearance, she was about to leave until the door slams shut on her

“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve fucked someone who’s living” he says out of nowhere, which makes her look at him. He was lying naked on the guest bed, which took her by surprise. “And fallen for someone who’s alive as well” she walks over towards her bed, with every intent of letting him claim her

Her clothes come off of her now, and she now laid underneath him. He kisses her on her lips, which makes her return the kiss. His hand goes down to her pussy, and he felt how wet she was for him. He pulls apart now, and grins. “You’re all wet for a dead guy. How exotic” he says as he places his hand back onto the comforter

Without any more waiting, he goes into her. Her hands intertwined with his as her head arches back. A moan left her now as he begins to thrust at an abnormal speed. The bed was squeaking as his lips attack her neck with hickeys

“Bee” she moans out, which makes him amused by the nickname given to him. He moans loudly, which made her happy that she was the only one in the house. She came all over him, without any warning. He stops, and pulls out of her

She was tired already, but he had just gotten started. He lowers himself to be facing her pussy now, and begins to lick her. Her legs comfortably wrapped around him as his tongue begins to vibrate against her

She was shocked by the action, but then remembered she was being fucked by a ghost. He continues to lick her with his tongue vibrating, which drove her to her second orgasm. Satisfied with her coming a second time, he stops

She now didn’t care that she was sleepy, and needed more pleasure now. He comes back to laying on top of her, and makes her look at him now. “I’m gonna fuck you harder this time, okay?” She simply nods her head, and soon he was back in her

His thrusting the same pace, but his cock was vibrating this time. She came already with moaning the nickname she had given him, which makes him also let himself come this time. She had to wait a while before he came in her. He gets out of her, and laid down next to her

Unaware how much time had passed, her thoughts were on her family. His thoughts were on how wonderful that experience was, and wished she could stay longer. But then a brilliant idea came to his head if he wanted to leave the afterlife

Clothes appeared on him, and now he’s standing. Her attention was definitely on him now. She sits up to see where this was going. “I need to tell you something very important” he started, which makes them slightly nervous about where this was going

“I-“ the phone goes off in the background, which throws her off guard. Clothes reappeared onto her as she stands up. “Just one second” she goes downstairs, with him following along. When she got to the phone, she picks it up from its holder and places it close to her ear

She wasn’t expecting a phone call, or a phone call to inform her that her family was dead. She went as pale as he was, and felt like fainting. The cause of death was unknown, but now this place had no owner again. She placed the phone back to end the call. “What were you gonna say, Bee?” She asked as tears came rolling down her cheeks

“Well it depends, what just happened?” She explained to him what had happened. A twinge of guilt sneaks into him, but he needed to leave the afterlife somehow. “I need to get married to leave the afterlife” he said casually after what she told him. She thought that was an excellent way to get her mind off of the horrid news

She smiles as tears continue to leave her eyes. He seemed shocked by her reaction, but smiles as well. “Let’s get married then” she says as she now wipes her tears away. Before anything actually happened, Adam and Barbra stood there in shock. She looks at the couple, and so does Beetlejuice

“Oh hello! You two must be the couple that died here originally” she says, which makes the couple more shocked. “Jeez, you guys act like news doesn’t eventually spread. Especially with something so tragic” then she was reminded about her family members that she lost

She was all alone. She also barely knew Beetlejuice to be considering him apart of this. This marriage thing was clearly just a way to make the two happy in two drastic different ways. Perhaps this is why the strong connection still exists between the two

But even Adam and Barbra feel differently now with the two standing next to each other. “There’s some weird connection here with us” Barbara says, instead of bringing up the marriage that’s gonna happen. She finds herself blush at that, but didn’t even understand this feeling either

This is what made her scared to go to the attic originally, because she knew about the couple being in the house, but no other entity. She thought it was gonna be some awful demon, just waiting in their to take her soul

Her thoughts also keep lingering onto her dead family members. ‘What had happened?’ She wondered. “Oh, that’s just coming from us” Beetlejuice casually says, but she was too focused on this strange mystery of her family. “Ghosts can do that? Even if you haven’t met the person yet?” Adam asks Beetlejuice

“I guess so. Not sure, since you know me pal: I don’t play by the rules of the afterlife. I mean what’s the point? I’m dead for fuck sakes! I shouldn’t have to worry about doing more work in the afterlife as well” Beetlejuice says as his attention goes onto his soon to be wife

He saw the color drain out of her; the likeness of her passing out. Beetlejuice gets her seated onto the couch, which took Adam and Barbra by surprise that he was capable of doing such a nice deed. Sure it was a small thing, but it was a big deal

She started to cry into his shoulder was the two were stated. Adam and Barbara were confused, and worried for her. Beetlejuice looks at the couple, and told the two to fuck off. The couple listens, since the two didn’t want to intrude on anything personal

Beetlejuice seemed to be all the sudden great at comforting people, and was quite surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. “You’ll probably see them again. And they’ll definitely look for you, because not all of us are locked up in one location” she sniffles, and then raises her head to make eye contact with him

She smiles again, and thanked him. The clock struck midnight, and the two had gotten married. After the first kiss, she goes in for seconds. He’s alive, which makes her pull apart. She admires him, and adores his dark blue eyes

“You’re gorgeous Bee” she admits as she continues to admire him. “Thank you” he says as he smiles. A year had passed, and she hadn’t seen him since still being in the house and after her family’s funeral. The two parted ways because he wanted to figure out the world himself

She thought about him everyday, and kept the wedding ring on her finger. She wondered if he kept his on as well, but she had doubts that he would keep his ring on. A new neighbor had just moved in next door. She planned on saying hello to the new neighbor to be on good terms day one

She currently sat on her couch, and was watching something random on the television. A knock on her door makes her get up from her couch. She opens the door to see Beetlejuice. Shocked, she just stood there until one of them said something

He was also stunned to see her face again. He took notice that she still wore her wedding ring. She checked to see if he kept his on, and noticed it was still on. Tears left her eyes as he instinctively kissed her on the lips. She returned the kiss, and soon the door was shut and she was pinned to the wall

Beetlejuice had missed her, and couldn’t stop thinking about her since they parted ways. Even with all the women hitting on him, his heart happily belonged to her

Tags: @stardancerluv

#smut with plot #beetlejuice x reader #smut #Tim Burton #michael keaton

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tiredfox64 · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, good afternoon, it's my first time doing this XD could you make a gn!lector x trio lin kuei? the brothers showing affection to the reader in their different love languages

Love is Many Things

Prior notes: I did headcanon type of way cause that was just simpler for me to do :P. Hope this is okay for you!

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: None now stop contacting me about financial aid!

Bi-Han

Hear me out ladies, gents, and non binaries.

Physical affection!

If he loves you he will be touchy and you better be touchy as well.

He is a touch starved fella you need to at least hold his face.

He will hold you but that is also out of possession.

Sit on his lap, go ahead, don’t be shy.

Fine he’ll drag you on. Don’t tell him you are too heavy he doesn’t want to hear it.

Hugging you from behind while he rest his head on your shoulders, classic move.

He pinches. Yeah…what do you mean what do I mean?

If there is any part of you that is squishy (cheeks, thigh, arm) he pinches it but not on purpose. It’s in the manner like a grandma coming to squeeze your face but she does it too harshly.

Cuddles in bed, no you may not leave. Unless you are bleeding or need to use the bathroom then you can leave.

If he is holding your hand he will start to lightly rub his thumb over your hand.

He’s a man of action not words so take his lovin in physical form.

Kuai Liang

Words of affirmation!

I have a feeling sometimes he is poetic with his words.

Whispers in your ear as you fall asleep. Tell you how fantastic you are and how lucky he is to have you in his life.

“Death can never separate us. You are mine and I am yours. We are eternally together. It is our destiny.”

If he is far from you he will send letters.

I just know he has decent cursive. Not good just decent.

Compliments you on everything.

He will always find a way to compliment your looks. It could be something simple like your hair is glorious to your eyebrows are well kept.

If you have any skills he will compliment that to.

He encourages anything and everything you do. Go into a hobby that may seem strange to him but if it makes you happy go right ahead.

He is always willing to talk to you whether it be an issue in the relationship or just something you want to say that seems important.

Communication is key he makes that a big point. Tell him if there is anything wrong. He will tell you if something is wrong.

You will have a personalized nickname that fits you. You feisty? Fire lily! You happy? Sunflower! You angry? Ember! He will always add ‘his’ before it.

Tomas

Gift Giving!

We don’t know where he gets the money to purchase everything for you, he might be stealing.

It starts off simple with giving you a smooth rock like a penguin does.

It elevates to bouquets, crystals, food, etc.

The max is when he is buying you everything you love or even take a glance at.

Oh so you like Hello Kitty? BAM! Hawaiian Hello Kitty plushie the size of your bed. A Lego fan huh? BOOM! Millennium falcon set.

It’s easier to accept it because if you don’t he gives you that sad face that crushes your soul.

He will bring you something back from whatever mission he is on. Again that could be a smooth stone or a vintage watch. Whatever he can scavenge for.

He always has this wide grin on his face when he hands you a gift or when he tries to hide it behind his back.

Sorry not sorry you’re gaining relationship weight because he keeps buying you food.

He likes buying you clothes. Some of his choice seems to be more for him than you wink wink nudge nudge.

He’ll be asking you nonstop if you need something so he can buy it for you.

“I saw it and thought of you.” That’s the best thing to hear.

All of em

I’m not done yet.

Ooo someone stop me I never stop with having all of them.

As a combined effort they do acts of service.

Of course they are going to protect their precious partner. If someone even scratched you they would be in a ditch.

Heaven forbid you get sick, they gonna take care of you in every way they can. You need some Vic’s vaporub?

You tired after the long day? Let them draw you a bath and get you some nice clothes before putting you to bed.

They’ll cook for you. Well, Kuai Liang and Tomas will. Bi-Han got agitated one time cause he burned his finger on the handle and ended up throwing the pan out the window. Never again.

Surprise dates! Yippie!

Sigh I’m involving children again.

They are all helping out with the kids. It’s okay to take a shower they will watch over them.

I’m counting a group cuddle as an act of service. It would be service to me.

After notes: I think I might post my oc real soon. I know I’ve done it before and I end up deleting it but I’ll try to keep it up next time. Now I need to shower. Adiós!

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middlingmay · 6 months ago

Text

Gale Cleven never learned to flirt

And I have some HCs about that and how it came to bite him in the ass.

Here, have 2K+ words of the Buckies being an absolute mess.

Gale managed to reach his mid-twenties without ever flirting.

He and Marge had been inseparable since they were kids. Being together was second nature, so by the time their teenage years hit, the awkward rituals of their classmates trying to catch some guy or girl’s attention just didn't apply. Gale simply told Marge whatever he thought and felt. If it never strayed into the territory their classmates were so eager to dive into head (or pelvis) first; if it never sounded like the cheesy lines boys used to ease past a skirt, then that’s because he was too much of a gentleman. Everyone knew it. Marge’s dad never batted so much as an eye when she spent time with Gale, because he was such a good boy.

Really, that should have been the biggest clue among many before he signed up.

But then he did sign up, and he met John Clarence “Bucky” Egan, who flirted with everyone and everything.

No, really—everything.

One night after one too many beers, John was leaning against a coat rack, regaling Gale with some story or other. He gave a particularly enthusiastic wave of an arm, and nearly sent it toppling over, and him with it. But John's reflexes were still good even three sheets to the wind. He caught it before it hit the ground, set it up right and said, “Sorry, doll. I’m normally a gentleman. I’ll show you, sometime.”

It was the first time Gale laughed until he cried.

Gale had been flirted with plenty, of course. Others back home had batted eyelashes at him and sidled up to him and placed fleeting, coy touches in innocent places.

John did absolutely none of that.

He drawled and called Gale doll, sweetheart, dilly and beau. He’d look Gale in the eye whilst talking to someone else entirely and say, “My guy, Buck, here…”

He pressed their foreheads together and grabbed Gale's thighs tight and put an arm over the back of Gale's chair.

He’d chuck Gale's chin and press hands firm into the small of Gale's back, around the curve of his hip, into the dips of his waist and that was usually followed by a quick, deliberate clench of his sizeable hands.

John outright called him gorgeous, “a real heartbreaker”, and the others would laugh but that was always one of the few times John didn’t join in.

He watched Gale’s training and his flights like a hawk, bugging others over the radio: “Where’s Buck?” He’d bugged those in the tower so much, that he nearly got himself banned.

John sang love songs - badly - and smirked at Buck the whole time.

Finally, in the after, when they’d left Wyoming and Wisconsin behind for good, John had stepped up behind Gale in the kitchen in the house they shared and reached forward. He placed a whisky glass of apple juice on the counter and came round to Gale’s side. He leaned his forearms on the counter and looked up at Gale through tumbling curls he’d been letting grow a bit and said,

“Lookin’ awful lonely there, doll. What’s a guy gotta do to be your fella?”

And apparently Gale was easy, because he downed the apple juice to wet his parched throat and lips and threw his arms around John’s neck and kissed him with a fire he hadn't felt this side of a plane.

He threw the rest of himself at John, too, who caught him easy and hoisted him up on the counter. He pulled Gale's hips forward by the belt loops and ground his own hips up against him just as his tongue slid home dragged and teased out the gaps and moans Gale couldn’t control—

That afternoon, evening and night had been incredible. But, if Gale thought finally getting what they had been stepping towards for all these years would have taken some of the pressure off, he was dead wrong. He craved more.

Only, he had no idea how to go about getting it.

He wasn’t like John. Never had been. Flirting and being so damn bold didn’t come easy to Gale. Truth be told, he’d never has a reason to flirt before. And for the first time in his life, John was being absolutely no help.

If Gale didn’t know him any better, he would have said he was being shy.

But ain’t no man who could do those kinds of things with his tongue got any business being shy.

And Gale knew John wanted it, wanted him, just as badly. He caught the heated looks; heard the aborted gasps when Gale did something - anything - that showed off his physique (and his brain, he’d later discover). Christ, he felt it every time he woke up before John in the morning.

But it didn’t seem fair to always leave it to John. John had done the bulk of the legwork throughout their whole relationship, even before they finally figured it out. It was Gale’s turn.

So, he started easy.

The next morning that he woke first, the heavy weight of John at his back, he buried his smiling, blushing face in the pillow and rocked back into Bucky’s hardness. He did it harder than he expected, and Bucky woke with a groan pulled from the depths of him and grabbed Gale and pulled.

Gale revelled in his easy and rapid success and coyly teased, “John. You woke me up with that thing.”

And John abruptly released him, full of apologies and sweet kisses to his shoulders before he toddled off to the bathroom, leaving Gale painfully disappointed.

Disappointed, but not deterred. His next idea involved Bucky’s favourite hobby: lookin’ at Buck. There were horses stabled in a field nearby, and Gale had permission from the owners to take them out for some exercise anytime he wanted.

John had never been, but agreed readily enough when Gale asked him to come along.

Gale made sure to wear his tighter pants, and when they got there stripped off his shirt so he was left in only his tank, and mounted a horse called, of all things, Major.

Gale didn't go overboard. He was still workin’ an animal that demanded respect and care. But he made sure to show Bucky the flex of his thighs, the roll of his hips, the strength in him, staying in the saddle when Major wanted to jump.

He got a little lost in it and wasn’t sure how long it had been. But when he looked up, John was gone.

He found him back at the house, stumbling down the stairs red-cheeked, glassy-eyed and a little breathless. And Gale knew. He knew that look; had seen that look so many damn times since they were cadets in basic.

He looked at John with such vicious fury, that he’d gone and done that without him, that John had turned tail and given him a wide berth for the rest of the day.

Gale was going to pull out every damn hair on his head. He’d tried everything he could think of: pressing up against Bucky whenever he moved past; biting his lips like he knew John loved. He even rubbed Coppertone on John’s shoulders and back when he was out doing yard work in the heat one day. But, when Bucky had turned to him and rasped a husky, “Thank you”, Gale got so worried that John was dehydrated, he’d rushed back into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water and glowered at him until he drank it all, before fetching him another one.

One day, Gale had had enough and decided to take a leaf out of John’s book. He was gonna flirt with that man like he’d seen John do a dozen times before, even if it made him feel like the stupidest man alive.

He allowed himself a small whisky for courage. In return for John dramatically reducing his alcohol intake, Gale sometimes, rarely, let himself indulged and shared a glass with John.

He downed this one in one go and headed into the living room where John was trying to pick a record.

Gale sidled up to him, placed his arms around his waist and said, “Hi darlin’. Can I buy you a drink?”

John’s eyes crinkled, he smiled so wide, and leaned back into Gale's arms. “Oh, I dunno. My ma warned me about guys like you.”

Gale thrummed with excitement that John was playing along, finally, finally getting the damn hint. He let his hands move from John’s hips to the spot on his belly, just above the waistband. His fingers tickled and traced along the hem. “Guys like me?”

“Mhmm. Y’just wanna get me outta my skirt.”

Gale's breath hitched. He moved the palm of one hand to John’s thigh. Heavy and slow, he stroked it up and up, letting John feel the drag of each finger. “I think you’d look good outta your skirt,” he mumbled with a nip to John's ear. He stilled his hand on John’s upper thigh and with one finger, drew a teasing line across the expansive width of it. “Maybe keep the stockings on, though.”

John choked on a laugh, on thrilled disbelief, and Gale grinned into his neck and let John turn in his arms.

And the best part, Gale quickly decided, was that for the first time ever, he managed to make John blush—at the mention of women’s stockings no less, which he had much more experience in than Gale.

Gale rejoiced as John careened forward, tongue slipping straight into Gale’s panting, waiting mouth, and Gale whimpered in the dizzying satisfaction of it as they fucked their tongues into each other and their bodies writhed standing there, in a promise of what was to come.

But then, John pulled away. Gale watched him suck on his own tongue, like he was savouring the taste of something, before clarity and realisation descend over John’s face.

“Ah,” he said. “That make sense.”

Gale frowned, even as John drew him in close and pressed their foreheads together so softly and asked, “Wanna go to bed?”

Gale could have crowed. “Mhmm. Yeah. Yes.”

John brushed a hand through Gale’s hair. “Yeah. Lets get you all tucked in, before you wake up with a sore head.”

Drunk. John thought he was drunk. And rather than giving Gale what he wanted, he was trying to be a gentleman and send him to bed. But Gale was too frustrated to be endeared by the evidence of John’s goodness. Not tonight. No siree.

He almost screamed and threw his hands up in the air. “Goddamn it, John! I’m not drunk!” He even stamped his foot. “I am trying to fuck you!”

John just stood there dumbstruck while Gale raged.

“I have been trying for days! But you, for the first time in your sorry life, have become as dumb as a bag of rocks! How come a girl used to just have to look at'cha long enough and you were all over her, but I try every trick I got and nothing!”

That jolted John out of his Gale-induced stun. “Tricks? What tricks?!”

“Oh I don't know: how about rubbin' against you like a damn bitch in heat the other morning!”

“You said I woke you up! You haven’t been sleeping good!”

“And showing off with the horses—!"

“That was on purpose?! Buck - I left because I got hard watching you! I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of perv! No one should feel like that around an animal!”

“The I rubbed you down with Coppertone?!”

“I was gonna! I got that one and I was gonna, Buck! I swear to God, but then you made me shotgun water and started yellin’ at me about dehydration!”

Gale had worked himself into a fervour and paced the living room, barely looking at John.

“After that first night, you ain’t come near me like that again. And I know I’m hopeless at this kinda thing, and you got a lot more experience than me. But I don’t want it all to be on you. And Christ, John, I was starting to think you didn’t want—what are you doing?!”

John’s shirt was on the floor and he was using one hand to wrestle his undershirt over his head and the other to unbuckle his belt.

Muffled under the fabric of his shirt Gale heard him say, “You said you wanna fuck,” he finally pulled the shirt over his head and his curls sprung free and wild, “we’re gonna fuck.”

Gale stood with hands on his hips, still in his lecture pose. “Right here?”

John lost the belt and went for the buttons on his pants. “Right here.”

Gale drummed his fingers against his hips and stared as John dropped his pants. “Well…that’s, good.”

John snatched Gale by the belt and dragged him him. “Don't be getting shy on me, now.”

And normally that was exactly the kind of thing that would send all of Gale’s bravado running for the hills, but he’d been so desperate for so long that he pounced on John before he even made the conscious decision, and together they undressed him in record time.

John got him on the floor, somehow, and twisted and flipped them so Gale was on top, and Gale looked at him with one eyebrow arched in breathless judgement. “Really?”

John nodded wide-eyed. “Oh, yeah. Really. I’m serious, Buck. I don’t think I can go near those stables with you again. It’s indecent.”

Gale gave an experimental roll of the hips, and when John keened and bucked underneath him, Gale clenched his thighs and drove him down and brought him back under control easy. So he didn’t see that much difference between the skill this would take and what he used to work Major. But still. After what he’d put him through, John didn’t deserve to have it too easy. “Hm, I don’t know. How long you gonna last like this? You got a lot of making up to do.”

And John looked mortally offended, but he’d learned something about Gale through all of this too, and said, “About a long as you will when you see me in those stockings you’ve been fantasizing about.”

And Gale’s hips jerked without his permissions, and things descended beyond the power of words after that.

Later, as they languished on the living room floor with the throw from the couch tossed over them to ward of the evening chill, John turned to him and said, delighted, “You could just ask me to fuck you, you know. Ever thought of that?”

And Gale smirked and nipped at the finger tracing his cheek. “Don't count on it.”

#clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #fic #headcanon #mota #masters of the air

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toournextadventure · 2 years ago

Text

our little secret

Summary: You're the preacher's daughter with the perfect boyfriend. Lorraine is a rancher's daughter with a less than perfect boyfriend. You were both the best of friends. If only anyone knew what went on behind closed doors.

Word Count: 7.4k Warnings: 18+ smut (fingering, oral), swearing, religious talk (talk of sin, seminary, Christian/Baptist views), religious trauma, mentions of homophobia, angst Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader Taglist: @aahdiieb (Masterlist)

There was something relaxing about spending a day outdoors on someone else's farm. Well, you had a farm; they had a ranch. It was quite the different beast to take care of, but you were more than happy to assist in whatever they needed you for, and they were always more than happy to ask for your assistance.

A benefit of being the preacher's daughter, you supposed.

It wasn't the first time you had found yourself crawling under Mr. Day's truck, and it wouldn't be the last. Piece 'a shit is broke, he grumbled before immediately following it up with don't tell your daddy I swore. You had just laughed at him and promised your lips were sealed.

But now that you found yourself tearing it apart, you had to agree with him. His truck was a certified piece of shit.

You slid out from under the truck and sat up with a sigh, your arms resting on your bent knees. It was going to take far more than one day's worth of work to get it fixed. That was mighty fine with you, though, you liked the Day family. They came to church dutifully and your parents almost always had them over afterwards for lunch. Just a nice, genuine Texas family. That was why you liked them.

Certainly not because of Lorraine.

"She's broke, huh?" Mr. Day asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You glanced up and saw him leaning against the door frame of the barn.

"She ain't broke," you said with a shake of your head. "She just needs some love." You gave him a teasing smile. "Which you ain't givin' her."

"S'pose not," he huffed.

"Hope you been givin' your family more love than your truck," you continued as you pushed yourself up to your feet. Oil covered hands tried to brush stray pieces of straw off your jeans and left black stains in its place. "Ain't nothin' more important than family."

"Well now you sound just like your daddy," Mr. Day chuckled. You turned your head so he couldn't see the grimace his words caused.

"Sometimes he's right," you managed to chuckle back. If he picked up on the double edge of your words, he didn't acknowledge it. It was better that way.

"Well, he can be right again," Mr. Day said as he stretched his hand out in your direction. "Come on in, now, Mrs. Day made lunch."

You walked forward, suddenly focused on trying to wipe the oil off your hands. Mr. Day's hand rested lightly on your lower back, guiding you back to the house while you were now otherwise distracted. His other hand reached out to hold your forearm, helping you not trip up the stairs. By the time he opened the front porch door for you, you had managed to get absolutely no oil off your hands.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Day," you said with a smile and a little wave.

"Better wash those hands off 'fore you touch anything in this kitchen," she said with a pointed look that then directed you to the kitchen sink.

"Yes ma'am," you said with a sag in your shoulders. It made you feel like a child getting scolded for playing in the mud.

Only once she had declared your hands "good enough" did she have you sit down at the table for lunch. It was the perfect lunch, in your opinion; sandwiches, chips, and an ice cold coke. Mrs. Day really knew how to put the charm on.

"How are your brothers holdin’ up?" She asked once everyone had started eating.

"They're…" you hesitated. Perfect Christian family, your father's voice echoed in your head. "They're great," you finally said with a polite smile. "Just goin’ ta classes.”

“And that fella of yours?” Mr. Day asks.

You almost laughed. Instead you took a bite of your sandwich and took the time to chew before answering.

“Beau is fine,” you said with a small smile to yourself. “He should be back from the rodeo tomorrow mornin’.”

“How’d he do?” Mr. Day asked around his own mouthful of food. “Calf ropin’, wasn’t it?”

“Team ropin’,” you said with a nod. “Think he said him and his partner got third?”

“Well that ain’t half bad,” he mumbled. “Lorraine and RJ are s’pose to get back from that film thing tomorrow, too.”

The mention of Lorraine got your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to rise up out of your throat. Everything about her got your body reacting in ways you couldn’t quite describe. The mere mention of her name got your palms sweaty, your thoughts foggy, and your mouth dry.

But then the mention of RJ made you feel sick to your stomach, like when you drank warm milk after it had been sitting on the counter all morning. The thought of him touching Lorraine, or kissing her, or even talking to her made you irrationally angry. It wasn’t something the good lord would want from you.

Too bad you didn’t really care.

“The four of you should go down to the lake tomorrow,” Mr. Day mused aloud. “Give you all a day or two to relax before gettin’ back down to business.”

“Only if y’all behave,” Mrs. Day scolded. She didn’t wait for either of you to finish your lunch before taking the plates to the sink. You quickly got up to help.

It was the Southern thing to do.

“Go on home, sugar,” Mr. Day said when you finished drying the plates.

“I need to finish your truck,” you said as you leaned your hip against the counter. “She’ll never get fixed if you keep sendin’ me home after feedin’ me.”

“I think she can last a little longer,” he said with a light chuckle. “Go home. I’ll tell ‘Raine y’all can meet up around 2.”

“When the sun’s shinin’ down?” You complained.

“It’s good for you. You’ve been locked in that chapel for so long you’re gettin’ mighty ghostly-”

“-John,” Mrs. Day interrupted. You had to turn away from her so she couldn’t see you laughing. “That’s blasphemy.”

“Preacher’s daughter is here, she’ll forgive my transgressions,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Won’t you?”

“In a heartbeat,” you replied.

“You’re both blasphemers,” Mrs. Day huffed before walking away.

You and Mr. Day tried to stifle your laughter to avoid getting in trouble again, but you couldn’t help it. Only when Mrs. Day beat you both with the hand towel did you both stop, shouting your “sorrys” as you ran outside. You called out your goodbyes and hopped into your daddy’s truck before going back home.

“You’ve gotta be quiet,” you mumbled against Lorraine’s lips. Her fingers scratched against the back of your neck in response before pulling you back to her.

You let her lead, pulling you with her until her back hit the wall with a *thud*. You tried to tell her to be quiet again but she didn’t let you pull away. Her arms tightened around your neck. Your own hands slid under the hem of her shirt, resting on her waist. She shivered, giving you all the approval you needed to trail your fingers up her sides, stopping right below her breasts.

"Please," she whimpered against your lips.

Oh, how that gave you such unholy thoughts.

You didn't bother removing her bra; there was too much risk involved. But you had no shame in pushing it up just enough for your hands to cup her breasts. The smallest moan fell from her lips and you had barely brushed your thumbs against her nipples.

"Quiet, 'Raine," you whispered.

But before she could answer, you softly squeezed one of her nipples between your fingers. She moaned into your mouth that time, and you couldn't help your little chuckle before doing it again. Her back arched, pushing the rest of her closer to you. All you needed to do was put your knee-

-you shoved Lorraine into the coats when you heard the door click and open. You spun around just in time to see Jimmy looking in, quickly meeting your eyes.

"I'm goin' to see Liz," he said. "If Pap asks, I'm out studyin' with Blaine."

"You better not get her pregnant, Jim,” you said quickly, almost forgetting why you were in the chapel closet in the first place. “I can’t protect you from daddy forever.”

“I ain’t gettin’ her pregnant, god,” he huffed. “You know too much.”

“It’s on account ‘a I’m your big sister,” you said with a pointed finger, “and if you get her pregnant before you marry her, I’m gonna tan your hide.”

“You got me shakin’ in my boots,” Jimmy taunted with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll see you later.” He turned to walk out but leaned in through the doorway once again. “Bye Lorraine.”

You locked eyes with Jimmy and froze. There was a small smirk on his lips that you wanted to smack off. But then you heard rustling behind you, and his smile grew when you felt Lorraine’s hands on your waist as she leaned out from behind you.

“Bye, Jimmy,” she said sheepishly.

“Not a word, Jim,” you said with a slight shake of your head.

“You scratch my back, I scratch yours,” he said with a smile. “I’ll tell Liz y’all said hi.”

Both you and Lorraine mumbled goodbyes as Jimmy finally shut the door and left. You let out a shaky sigh and turned around to look at Lorraine. By all accounts she looked embarrassed with her flushed cheeks and guilty smile. But the flush could still be from the fact that she was turned on.

You would be in the same boat.

“I told you to hush,” you mumbled.

“Then keep me quiet,” Lorraine said before she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you in for another kiss that had your stomach twisting into knots.

Oh this girl would be the death of you.

You were still remembering that day at the chapel while you watched Beau finish clearing out the trailer. It was a tough job, watching your fake boyfriend clear out the trailer with his fake friend. The way they laughed and couldn’t keep their eyes off each other was almost embarrassing. They were disgusting, truly. They needed to learn the definition of discretion.

“Howdy, beautiful,” Beau said with a smile when he finally approached you after cleaning back up.

“Afternoon, handsome,” you teased back.

When he was close enough, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he gave you a kiss on the cheek. It was simple, much more conservative than most couples. But it was a line you both had settled on. After all, it wasn’t like either of you were interested in each other. You both had… other fascinations.

“Bye, Huck,” you called out to Hucksley when you started climbing into your daddy’s truck. “I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

“Have fun, you two!” He shouted back with a big ‘ole grin and a wave.

“He likes you,” Beau said when he started driving over to the Day ranch. At the rate you were going, you would both get there just before 2. And then you could finally see Lorraine again.

“Y’all able to get some alone time this trip?” You asked. You didn’t bother looking at him, instead opting to look out the window.

“Little bit,” he said. “You get to see Lorraine yet?”

“No,” you sighed. “She went off with RJ. Again.”

“You know he is her beau,” he said with far too much gumption. “It’s almost expected she go with him.”

“That don’t mean I have to like it,” you said quietly.

“Now you know how Huck feels when I'm with you,” he said. “It ain’t easy, but it’s what we gotta do.”

You didn’t bother answering him. You knew he was right, he was always right. Hell would freeze over the day your daddy found out Beau was nothing more than a front so everyone thought you were both having normal relations. If anyone found out about your feelings for Lorraine, or his and Huck’s relationship, your lives would be over.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

What did make it better was seeing Lorraine standing on the porch with Mr. Day. She was staying out of the sun but that didn’t hide the brilliance of her smile. The scarred side of her face was turned away from the road - a habit she had picked up recently - but you didn’t care. She was home, and oh so close. It made your palms sweaty.

You didn’t wait for Beau to park the car before throwing the door open and jumping out. The ground was still rushing underneath you and you stumbled, but quickly regained your footing. All you wanted to do was run up the porch and hug her, letting her know just how much you had missed her over the past two weeks.

But your feet slowed to little more than a walk when RJ came out of the house with a bag in hand. Right. He was there too. Your smile fell into little more than a grin as you forced yourself forward and up the porch. Lorraine turned and gave you those soft, pitiful eyes that made your knees weak.

And the moment was ruined when RJ wrapped an arm over her shoulder.

“Thought you’d never make it,” RJ said with an irritating grin that had you grinding your teeth.

“My fault,” Beau answered as he finally stood behind you. He dutifully put his hand on the small of your back, just like any good boyfriend should. He always did play the part exceptionally well. “Huck and I took a bit to unload the trailer.”

“Congratulations by the way,” Mr. Day said.

“Thank you, sir,” Beau replied. “Coulda done better, but ain’t half-bad.”

“Would you let me film you some day?” RJ asked. “It’d make a good movie.”

“We’ll see, camera boy,” Beau said with a chuckle.

How he could be so casual around RJ was beyond you. The man caused you to want to do un-Christianly things to him. Whether it was his obnoxious smirk, or his stupid hair, or his dumbass glasses. Every single aspect of him got your blood boiling, and him wanting to film Beau was just the icing on the cake.

“Y’all should skedaddle before it gets too late,” Mr. Day said. “Should be plenty of daylight left to pitch the tents.”

“We can take my daddy’s truck,” you said. Lorraine’s eyes were broken, and butterflies instantly erupted in your stomach. "Plenty of space for everything."

Everyone agreed before grabbing their things, telling Mr. and Mrs. Day goodbye, and loading up the truck. Two tents, food, sleeping bags, and small backpacks with some extra clothes and necessities. It was as if you were all professionals. And you were, if you were being honest.

Well. Everyone except RJ.

"In the cab, pardner," Beau said to RJ once everything was loaded. "We'll let the ladies ride in the bed."

"Yeah, alright," RJ mumbled. He gave Lorraine a quick kiss on the lips before getting in the cab.

It made you sick.

Lorraine was perfectly capable of climbing into the bed of the truck all on her own, you knew that. But you couldn't stop yourself from holding your hand out to help her up. She flashed you that smile that you loved so much and climbed in, sitting on the left side. Her bad side.

You didn't bring it up as you climbed in next, sitting down directly beside her and immediately grabbing her hand. It wasn't like anyone could see, you were both surrounded by gear and the truck was already pulling away. She twisted her hand just enough to interlock her fingers with yours and suddenly things weren't so bad anymore. Things almost felt right.

"How was the shoot?" You asked even though you didn't exactly want to know.

"Rocky," Lorraine said; her first word to you in two weeks. "Nothin' went right so we gave up for the weekend."

"Did you join this time?" You continued.

She didn't answer. Her face was turned away from you and your fingers ached to pull her back. To make her look at you so you could see her eyes, caress her scars, kiss her soft lips. But all she ever did nowadays was turn away from you.

It had started after that very first film they did, when she had gotten shot. All you remembered was Mr. Day calling in the middle of the night to let you know she was in the hospital. Nothing had ever put the fear of God into you quite like that night.

Now she always did her best to sit on your left side so you couldn't see her face. It didn't matter how much you kissed her or tried to comfort her, she always turned away from you. The only time she didn't was when she was coming undone beneath you and had plenty of other things on her mind.

"How's Roy?" She asked instead. It was answer enough; she had done a scene or two for the film.

"Can't eat, can't sleep, hootin' and hollerin' cause he thinks he's still in 'Nam," you said with a shrug. "Daddy says we can pray it out of him."

"I'm sorry." Lorraine squeezed your hand lightly before pulling it into her lap and playing with your fingers.

It was your turn not to answer. You didn't want to talk about your veteran brother, or her smut film, or your preacher daddy. Nothing about Beau or RJ or Huck or anything else. You just wanted to talk about her; anything and everything you could possibly find out.

Not like you, Lorraine, Beau, and Huck had all been friends since you were in diapers and knew each other inside and out. That meant nothing.

Lorraine leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder as the truck continued to bounce down the dirt road to the lake. It was hot and humid and you were sweatin’ like a whore in church. But you still let your own head fall on hers and pulled her closer. You could handle the uncomfortable weather if you had her with you.

“I missed you,” Lorraine said softly before practically cuddling deeper into you.

“Missed you too,” you answered.

There was a desperation to kiss the top of her head, tell her you loved her again. A desperation to pull her into your lap and kiss away the frown that you knew she had on her lips. To show her how much you loved her and give her something to take her mind off of whatever was bothering her.

But the truck pulled to a stop at the lake and she pulled away. It put a lump in your throat when RJ came around and helped her out of the back of the truck. Beau did the same for you, of course, shooting you a sympathetic smile in the process. It didn’t make you feel any better.

“Wanna help me pitch the tents?” He asked you while RJ took Lorraine to the lake, ignoring all the bags in the back.

You nodded and started to grab everything you could. If you “accidentally” left RJ’s bag in the back of the truck, you could be forgiven. Things happened, you know? The Big Man in White would forgive you for any transgressions. Beau started up a conversation for nothing more than to pass time.

It helped.

The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when RJ and Lorraine came back, a smile on his face and a slight frown on hers. But that frown turned upside down when you admitted “oh I’m sorry, RJ, I must have forgotten your pack.” He grumbled and left to grab it while Lorraine turned around to hide her smile.

It was the little things in life.

“Hey ‘Raine,” Beau called out while RJ was still gone. She turned around to look at him. “Why don’t you and sweetness over there go get some firewood?” He gestured his head to where you were finishing putting the cooler down on the ground.

Oh that sneaky bastard.

She nodded once and waited for you to join her before walking away. You both knew where the firewood was, you had grown up around this lake. It just gave you a nice opportunity to be close to her; you thanked god for Beau every day of your life.

“Beau’s not very sneaky,” Lorraine said once you were both out of earshot of the boys.

“No he ain’t,” you laughed, “but I love him anyway.”

“RJ doesn’t like him,” she continued. “Thinks he’s fake.”

“Bold words,” you grumbled. You didn’t like talking about RJ; he always seemed to be the topic of conversation during the few moments you got alone with Lorraine.

It seemed Lorraine picked up on it because she reached over and grabbed your hand, slotting her fingers between yours and stepping closer. Her skin was just as sweaty as yours thanks to that Texas sun, and your hands were sliding against each other and were all clammy. And it was perfect.

“How’s seminary?” Lorraine asked. You didn’t necessarily like that question either, but you could at least talk about it.

And you did. You both started talking, going over what all had been happening since Lorraine had started traveling with RJ more often. How you and Jimmy were primed and ready to go to seminary, just needed to find out which one. How Lorraine was really starting to enjoy filming, and even sometimes being in the films. You teased her about the promiscuity, which she promptly shoved you for.

“Better watch out, ‘Raine,” you continued, “the flames of Hell might devour you for your sin of the flesh.”

“Oh shut up,” she huffed, but there was a smile on her face. “I think you commit the same sin.”

“I’m not at fault,” you said. You stopped abruptly and Lorraine was yanked back by your hand. With only a little bit of finesse, you pulled her into you until she had to look up at you. “I fell victim to a temptress.”

“Is that what I am?” She asked. “Your temptress?”

You looked down at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She went to turn away, to hide the scars covering the entire left side of her face. But you cupped her cheek instead, keeping her still and looking at you. It broke your heart to see her desire to hide away. Did no one remind her how beautiful she was?

“No,” you said softly, eyes trailing over every scar and freckle on her face. “You’re my whole world.”

You didn’t have to make the first move; Lorraine was more than willing to stand on her toes and kiss you. Just a peck, always just a peck at first, almost as if daring the other one to pull away. But it always led to the same thing. You bent down and cupped both of her cheeks, pulling her into another kiss that had butterflies crawling over every inch of your insides.

The moment her hands gripped your shirt collar, you knew you were done for. That needy, whiny grab that was so full of want and desperation, pulling you closer until you threatened to topple over. It gave you that little push to go a bit further, gently biting her bottom lip to draw out the tiniest moan from her.

You thanked God for whoever had invented the little snap buttons on your shirt. Lorraine's slender fingers could pop them open instantly, and you shivered from both the sudden brush of air and her fingers on your chest. Her skin was hot on yours, scalding like hellfire, and it felt heavenly.

A coyote howled in the distance and you quickly straightened, pulling Lorraine closer to keep her safe. It was getting far darker than you had expected and you knew better than to get caught in the open by a pack. You knew she could hear your heart racing in your chest, and she placed a comforting hand on your now-bare stomach.

"We should get back," you said quietly; you certainly didn't want to alert any coyotes to your location.

"We didn't get firewood," Lorraine said just as quietly. Her breath tickled against your chest.

"Beau and I got some while you were gettin' indecent with RJ," you said before immediately stiffening up.

You weren't supposed to admit that.

"And what, pray tell, are we doin'?" Lorraine asked in what you, Beau, and Huck had dubbed her Scolding Mother voice.

"Sinnin'," you said without hesitation. You were already in trouble, no use trying to get out of it.

"Y'all are bastards," she said with a huff and an elbow to your stomach. You coughed and doubled over, giving her the perfect opportunity to start walking back to camp without you.

"Be careful," you whisper-shouted as you ran after her, your fingers trying desperately to button your shirt back up. “Lorraine!”

You were in a state of complete disarray when you both got back to camp. RJ and Beau were already building the fire; well, Beau was forcing RJ to try and do it. He was failing miserably and you wanted nothing more than to laugh, but the look Lorraine gave you shut you up.

“Need some help, RJ?” You asked when he failed for the fifth time to get the fire started.

“I’ll let you try,” he said with a shake of his head and a shrug. The three of you knew it was his way of saying I can’t do it.

You knelt down and got the fire started in one go. You had to stay on the ground for a few minutes too long so you could stop yourself from looking so smug about it. By the time you stood up, convinced the fire would stay steady, Beau and Lorraine were finishing up preparing for dinner and RJ was messing around with his camera.

“You always have that with you?” You asked him, gesturing your head to the device in his hands.

“Never know when you’ll stumble across the perfect shot,” he said with a smile.

Laughter had you turning your head to see Beau and Lorraine with large smiles on their faces. She looked at peace, like she was actually happy to be there with him. There was no intent to hide herself, or keep quiet, or act a certain way. She was just laughing and pushing him around and talking ceaselessly.

It was the perfect shot, and RJ was missing it.

“Quit it,” you told Beau, who was waving a knife around all willy nilly. “You two go sit down before you hurt somebody.”

“Yes mother,” Beau said with a roll of his eyes. Lorraine said nothing but smiled and walked away to sit beside RJ.

Everyone kind of did their own thing after that; you cooked the stew for dinner, Beau got his guitar out and started picking a few tunes, and Lorraine and RJ were sitting together, whispering about something. Every now and then she would look up and meet your eyes for a moment before focusing on RJ once again.

Beau noticed, as he always did, and decided to make light of the situation. He started strumming a tune, singing horribly off key and inviting you to join. You shook your head and protested and did your best to ignore him, but how could you when he was giving you that smile? It was no wonder he had managed to pull Huck in.

You both continued to sing as terribly as possible, laughing when the coyotes started howling in harmony. He cracked open a lukewarm beer and handed it to you before grabbing one for everyone else and then himself. It was disgusting, but you couldn’t complain too much because it was about the camaraderie, not the taste. About knowing you were all just out having fun, enjoying the reprieve from the real world.

For a moment you could almost believe you were out there with Lorraine, free from the prying, judgmental eyes of the world. When you handed her a bowl of stew and her fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine and a heat in your belly. When she smiled at you while RJ and Beau were talking, as if you were the one she was with.

But then RJ would kiss her on the cheek, or wrap his arm around her, and you felt sick to your stomach. The world certainly knew how to play its sick jokes. You knew what your daddy would have to say about it. It's a temptation from the Devil himself to lust after another woman. Guilt started gnawing at your heart, piece by piece until it was beating wildly and you feared you would pass out.

“We should get some sleep,” Beau proclaimed once talk had died down. Maybe he had noticed you starting to lose every ounce of sanity you had left. You hoped he didn’t. “Plenty more fun to be had tomorrow.”

Everyone mumbled their agreements - you just stared off into the fire - before standing up and stretching. Sitting on the hard ground was always tough on the joints no matter how young you were. Once everyone started getting ready, you cleaned up and put out the fire, your mind still dwelling on the guilt your daddy continued to instill in you even from afar.

“RJ, you’re in the tent with me,” Beau said quickly. “I ain’t invokin’ the wrath of a man of god.”

He didn’t look happy about that proclamation at all, but what could he do? He had grown up a Southern man too, he knew how seriously people took such a thing. So he nodded once, grumbling an agreement before climbing into the tent with Beau hot on his heels. Beau gave you one look before zipping up the tent and leaving you alone with Lorraine.

Alone with Lorraine.

Oh god.

You took far too long gathering your things before heading to the tent. Double and triple checking that the fire was out, looking out for coyotes, checking for rattlers, making sure the food was properly put away. Only when you could no longer find anything to do did you finally venture into the tent where Lorraine was already waiting.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw Lorraine sitting in the tent, lantern on and book in hand. She had her chin resting in one small hand as the other turned the page. Her hair fell over her face, creating a sheer curtain that you could barely see through. The tanned skin of her shoulder was bare to the world as her too-large sleep gown hung off her arm.

Just the sight of her was enough to make you want to praise the heavens, singing her gospel until God felled you from heaven himself. You would give up the very promise of heaven if it meant you could go to bed seeing her like that every night. The deepest pits of hell could not persuade you from loving her with every beat of your heart and every breath that she pulled from your lungs.

"You're starin'," Lorraine mumbled in her sleepy voice, the one you would die for.

"You're plum wore out," you said as you finally managed to get your body moving again. You zipped the tent up behind you and moved to get on the small pallet beside her.

"Long trip home," she said with a sigh. Slender fingers placed the bookmark in its spot before placing the book beside the lamp and blowing it out.

You laid down in silence, staying as still as possible so as to allow her to go where she pleased. You're acting like you've never slept with her before, your mind taunted you. And it was right, but there was a guilt that was still gnawing at your heart, chomping at the bit to devour you, body and soul.

"You ain't gonna face me?" Lorraine asked, her mouth so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," you whispered as you turned on your side and ended up face-to-face with her.

"You're thinkin' real hard tonight," she said. You couldn't really see her in the dark, but you heard shuffling before you felt her hand resting on your cheek.

It felt like the touch of god himself.

"I'm alright," you said. Part of you hoped she would believe you.

Part of you hoped she wouldn't.

"It's just you and me tonight," she said. Her fingers scratched gently against your skin, just enough to keep you grounded.

Tonight, your mind emphasized. It was just you and her tonight. When the sun came up she would go back to RJ, and you would go back to Beau, and no one would think twice. It would be as if nothing had ever happened, as if she hadn't made you want to prostrate yourself at her altar.

"You and me," you said to yourself. If you said it enough, you could believe it.

"I don't wanna fuck tonight," Lorraine said, making you blink in the dark at her complete 180.

"You… you don't?" You asked. "May- may I ask why?"

"All I ever do is fuck," she said, her lips now brushing lightly against yours. “I want you to remind me what love feels like.”

Oh. Oh, you could do that. It was all you ever wanted to do. There wasn't a single thought in your head when you felt her lips press against yours. No thoughts as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her body flush against yours. She was warm and soft; she was yours.

You rolled over onto your back, gently pulling her with you until she was laying on top of you. It always amazed you how small she was, how her weight on you meant nothing as she straddled your stomach. Both of her hands made their way to your neck while yours went under her shirt and to her hips. Her skin was already slick with sweat thanks to the summer heat.

She bit your bottom lip as your hands slid up her sides, caressing every inch of skin they could find. Gentle touches until you reached the sides of her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat when one of your thumbs lightly brushed against her nipple, immediately followed by a shiver down her back.

“Don’t tease,” Lorraine mumbled against your lips.

You hummed your acknowledgment and leaned up into another kiss, but continued to leave the lightest of touches. Brushing a knuckle against her nipple, softly kneading her flesh. Only when she was least expecting it did you do anything more, rolling a nipple between your thumb and forefinger and swallowing her moan.

The simple touch had her rolling her hips against your stomach. Even with her panties on, you could feel her arousal on your stomach. Just the knowledge that you had such an effect on her was enough to convince you that she had too many clothes on.

She whined when you removed your hands from her breasts. A needy, breathy sound that quickly disappeared when you pulled her gown up. Her lips parted from yours just long enough to get the gown over her head before she leaned down, instantly kissing you again.

Your hands rested on her hips, just tracing patterns on her skin as she continued to roll her hips. Her movements were slow, methodical. She was working herself up, not trying to get off just yet.

"Take it off," she mumbled as her hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. Well, it was Beau's shirt, but no one cared.

"Yes ma'am," you answered before sitting up.

Lorraine slid into your lap while her hands tugged at your shirt, attempting to assist you. But you could tell she was already too desperate, too distracted to be of any genuine help. As you pulled your shirt off, her own hands quickly replaced it, running over every inch of skin she could reach.

"I missed you," she said breathlessly. Her hands trailed from your neck down to your breasts, giving them the same teasing treatment you had given her.

"I missed you too " you answered just as breathlessly before her lips closed around one of your nipples and drew a moan out of you.

She loved to do that. She loved to interrupt your thoughts with her actions, whether it was a gentle bite here or the scratching of her nails on your back. And she did just that, biting down just hard enough to pull a gasp from you before soothing the sting with her tongue.

You let her continue for a few moments; it was one of her favourite things to do. All the while you massaged her hips, her thighs, could practically feel the heat from her core. She was still working herself up.

"Come here," you said, gently pulling her face back up to yours.

You couldn't see her in the dark but you could imagine the lust-drunk look she was giving you as you laid her down on the pallet. Both of your hands were on either side of her head, caging her in. Your thigh strategically placed itself between her legs and she took no time in rutting against it.

Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you into another kiss. One thing about Lorraine, she loved to be kissed. To taste you, feel your tongue on her lips, your lips on her skin. If you were kissing her then you loved her, and she couldn't have been more right.

"More," she said with another desperate grind against your thigh.

You lowered yourself down to your elbows before shifting your weight. Your body was tilted ever so slightly so as not to crush her while one of your hands finally made its way back down her body. If the sweat was anything to go by, you knew exactly what you would find when you slid your hand in between your thigh and her panties.

The wetness on your thigh and stomach had already told you how worked up she was, but when you actually felt how soaked her panties were, you couldn't help but sigh. She just made it so easy to tease her, to run your fingers over her so lightly that all she could do was whine and squirm.

"Stop teasin'," Lorraine whined, pulling a smile from you.

"Take these off too," you said in reply.

She had never moved so fast in her life, you reckoned. But almost within an instant she had kicked her panties off and laid bare beneath you. You wished the lantern was on so you could see her. See her kiss-swollen lips and her freckled skin, the blush on her cheeks or the almost bashful look in her eyes. You wanted to see her; all of her.

But she clearly felt you were taking too long, because she grabbed your hand and placed it exactly where she wanted it. You dipped your finger into her arousal and up to her clit once. She threw her head back with a moan at the same time as you.

"Jesus, Lorraine," you said as you bent down to kiss her neck. "You're so fuckin' wet and I barely touched you."

You could feel the vibrations of her moan against your lips as you continued to kiss down her body. Your fingers slowly circled her clit, putting the lightest amount of pressure just to keep her worked up. You kissed her collarbone, her chest, left little love bites on her breasts. Her hips rolled with your fingers as you kissed lower, across her stomach and to her hips. Extra kisses for her hips, one love bite on each before being soothed with your tongue.

"Please," Lorraine whimpered just loud enough for you to hear.

How could you say no to that?

The first swipe of your tongue already had her back arching and her fingers tangling themselves in your hair. She tasted like the nectar of heaven, something you could only ever find from her. Any semblance of self control dissipated and you dove back in like you had been parched for a thousand years.

Her hips wriggled below you with every touch on her clit. Flat broad licks always brought out the low moans from her while the quick kitten licks had her whining and her thighs shaking.

"You gotta be quiet, 'Raine," you said when you picked your head up for a moment to try and see her face.

Her fingers removed themselves from your hair before cupping your cheeks and pulling you back up. Part of you was upset you couldn't taste her anymore, but then she pulled you into another kiss. This one deep and slow. She liked your bottom lip and you quickly parted your lips, allowing her to taste herself on your tongue.

"Then keep me quiet," she said before immediately kissing you again.

She was going to be the death of you.

With your mouth now preoccupied, your fingers went back to work. Rubbing slow, wide circles on her clit to make up for the few seconds of lost contact. Lorraine sighed through her nose, the air tickling your cheek. But you were tired of teasing her. It had been too long for you to tease her all night.

You pressed two fingers against her entrance lightly, giving her time to tell you no. One of her hands left your face and grabbed your wrist, pushing you completely into her. You both moaned into each other, her at the feel of your fingers and you at how tight and warm she was.

Sometimes she liked it harder, faster, but not tonight. Tonight you went with slow, deep strokes. Every time you would pull out, you would curl your fingers just enough to hit that sweet spot that had her toes curling. Her hips rolled to meet your hand, pushing your fingers just that extra bit deeper to have her a sweaty, moaning mess below you.

You didn't stop kissing her when you moved your thumb to her clit, adding that extra sensation. Her nails dug into the back of your neck and your wrist, but you didn't care. She would bite your lip every time your fingers thrusted into her deeper than usual. She was coming completely undone.

All it took was one more circle on her clit before she came, clenching around your fingers and moaning into your mouth. You kept thrusting slowly, softly, helping her ride it out until she could gently come back down. You could feel the welts on your neck and wrist, but it didn't hurt. You stayed completely still until you could feel her body start to relax again, only then removing your fingers slowly.

"I love you," she whispered with a husky, exhausted voice. "I love you."

"I love you too, Lorraine," you whispered back before laying down beside her and pulling her until you could curl your body around her.

She interlocked her fingers with yours and pulled your hands tight to her chest. You felt her lips press kisses into each fingertip, the kisses getting slower and slower until you could feel her even breathing. Part of you wanted to laugh; she always fell asleep so quickly.

The other part was screaming. Reminding you that she wasn't yours. That come morning, she would go back with RJ like nothing had ever happened, and you would be alone again. You would never get the girl, and one day he would even take her away from you.

You closed your eyes and pulled her impossibly closer, feeling the warmth from her skin. The Texas heat was unbearable even in the dark, and it was humid and you were both sweaty. But the touch of her skin on yours was worth it. You left lingering kisses to the back of her bare neck as she continued to sleep.

"I love you, Lorraine," you whispered into the dark for no one but god to hear.

At least for now you could pretend she was yours. Just for one night.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader #lorraine day smut

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