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choiminjae0325 · 17 days ago

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book club ⎜q.hughes

pairings: quinn hughes x reader genre: fluff ⎜romance ⎜ warnings: this will be cute af! ⎜ mentions of mental health ⎜ panic attacks ⎜ quinn is on the struggle bus ⎜ synopsis: when you meet the captain of the vancouver canucks in your bookstore - an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more. word count: 4.4k authors note: this came because of a book I read recently (daydream by Hannah Grace) and how much Mr Quinn Hughes has been talking about reading in his interviews recently. do we want a sequel? cause I kind of want to write a sequel.

(unedited)

“Is there anything I can help you with today or are you just browsing?” You question, your head raising from the paperback book in your lap at the soft chiming as the door to the shop slowly swings open.

The man standing in the doorway looks slightly out of place, his frame clad in a hoodie and jeans, his dark hair damp from the rain outside. He blinks, seemingly caught off guard by your question, and then offers a small, sheepish smile.

“Uh, just browsing,” he replies, his voice quiet but warm. He steps further inside, the scent of rain mingling with the comforting aroma of old books and the cinnamon apple candle you have burning.

You watch him for a moment as he walks down the aisle, his fingers lightly grazing the spines of books. He looks oddly familiar. You shrug and return to your book, though your attention keeps drifting toward the stranger wandering between the shelves, picking up book and flipping to the back before placing them gently back on the shelf.

After a few minutes, he pauses by a shelf and picks up a copy of The Great Gatsby. He flips through a few pages, his brows furrowing in concentration, before glancing in your direction.

“Do you have any recommendations? Something classic, but not too heavy?” he asks.

You close your book and smile, standing up from behind the counter. “Sure, I’ve got a few ideas.” You make your way over, brushing past a display table. “Are you into fiction or something more factual?”

“Fiction,” he says, his lips quirking up at the corners. “I need a break from reality.”

“Don’t we all?” you murmur, your fingers skimming the shelf before pulling out a copy of Anne of Green Gables. “This one’s a good place to start, it’s a coming of age story something most of us can relate to.” He takes the book, his hand brushing yours, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze locks with yours.

“Thanks,” he says softly.

As he checks out, you notice the name on his credit card -

Quinn Hughes.

It clicks.

He’s the captain of the Vancouver Canucks — someone the city practically idolises. But here, in your little bookstore, he seems more like a quiet, unassuming guy who just loves books.

“Did you want a bag or would you prefer to just carry it?” You question, trying to clear your throat and work up the courage to make eye contact with the stranger.

“A bag would be nice.” He agrees, watching you closely as you grab out a paper bag from under the counter sliding the book and receipt into the small brown bag, placing it on top of the table for him to grab. “Can I ask what your opening hours are?” He asks quickly, his eyes finally leaving your face as he glances around the shop, a soft smile on his face.

“We are open between ten AM and ten PM.” You say quietly, watching as he nods his gaze questioning. “I decided to keep the store open a little later then normal because there’s nothing worse then finishing a book and not being able to buy the sequel because everything is closed.” You explain, Quinn nodding his head appreciatively.

You watch as Quinn leaves the store, briefly glancing back over his shoulder as the door closes behind him before he pulls his hood up over his head and walks out into the rain - the bag with the book safely tucked inside his hoodie.

For the next few days, anytime the small bell above the door rings - your head shoot up from the book you’re reading a part of you disappointed when it’s not the person you were hoping for - the brown haired, blue eyed athlete seemingly a figment of your imagination.

“I should’ve asked for his autograph.” You mumble to yourself as you sip on your hot chocolate from the cafe down the road, the overly hot, hot chocolate burning your tongue in the best way possible - a new paperback sitting on the counter in front of you, your pen and sticky tabs sitting just to the side.

When you had opened the book store you never thought it would do as well as it had recently - and you had taken it upon yourself to give the environment as much of a friendly comforting feel as possible and often that meant reading as many books as possible to be able to recommend books as best as you could to customers who had no idea what they were looking for. Not to mention to constant playing YouTube book reviews you played when cooking dinner to keep up to date with the most popular releases as of late.

You most recent read involving a large blue man and an abandoned space ship - your focus solely on your book as the bell above the door jingles softly, the sound of shoes scuffing barely pulling your nose out of the book. “Is there anything I can help you with today or are you just browsing?” The words come out from instinct as you flick to the next page in your book.

“I was actually hoping for another recommendation.” The sound of the voice you’d been hoping to hear all week hitting you like a train - your head snapping up as your hand shuts your book abruptly.

“Oh, welcome back.” You say quickly, wishing you could ram your head through a wall as you try to slide your very obvious alien romance novel under the counter before he can spot the cover. “I take it you liked Anne of Green Gables?”

“It was better then I was expecting.” He says with a smile, taking a few steps towards the counter picking up your sticky tabs from the surface. “What are these for?” He questions.

“Annotating.” You say, his gaze flicking up to you urging you to continue. “It when you use the tabs, to pinpoint parts of the book you want to remember or find easily - some people also highlight parts or write notes while they read.” You explain, pointing to your pen and highlighter just besides the till.

Quinn nods thoughtfully, turning the small pack of sticky tabs over in his hands. “So, you mark your favourite parts or... things that stand out to you?”

“Exactly,” you say, a hint of excitement creeping into your tone. “Sometimes it’s a line that resonates or a moment that’s so well-written it gives you chills. Other times it’s just something funny or sweet that makes you smile.”

He sets the tabs back down and leans casually against the counter, his curious gaze locked on yours. “Do you annotate every book you read?”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Not all of them. Just the ones that feel special in some way. It’s like having a conversation with the book, leaving little notes for myself for when I reread it later. It makes the experience more personal.”

Quinn’s lips twitch into a smile. “That’s... actually really cool. I’ve never thought about reading like that before.”

“Well, if you ever decide to give it a try, you know where to find some sticky tabs.” You grin, gesturing toward the colorful pack he had just set down. “Now, what kind of recommendation are you looking for today?”

He scratches the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful. “Something uplifting but still meaningful. Maybe with a little romance but not too cheesy.”

You nod, walking around the counter toward the shelves. “I think I’ve got just the thing.” Your fingers dance along the spines until you land on The Night Circus. You pull it out and hand it to him, watching as he studies the cover.

“It’s a beautifully written fantasy,” you explain, “about a magical competition between two young illusionists who—well, I don’t want to spoil too much—but there’s a bit of romance and plenty of heart. It’s the kind of book that feels like stepping into another world.”

He flips through the pages, nodding slowly. “This sounds perfect.”

As he heads back to the counter with the book, you notice him glance briefly at the cover of the alien romance novel you’d tried to hide earlier. His smirk is subtle but unmistakable. “That one looks... interesting,” he teases, gesturing toward it.

Your cheeks flush, and you cross your arms in mock indignation. “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Everyone needs a guilty pleasure read now and then.”

“Fair enough.” He chuckles, sliding his card across the counter. “Maybe next time you can convince me to try it.”

“Challenge accepted,” you reply, handing him the receipt and his new book. As he walks toward the door, you can’t help but feel a strange flutter in your chest. He pauses in the doorway, glancing back at you with that same warm smile.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” he says, pausing for a moment by the door, his mouth opening to say something before closing again, making a quick exit from the store as he shakes his head.

You realised then that you still didn’t get his autograph.

The following days pass quietly. Customers filter in and out, each leaving with a book or two, sometimes stopping for a quick chat about their latest reads. The little shop felt as cozy as ever, especially as the November chill seeped into the city. You added a new blanket to the armchair near the window and made sure the candles on the counter burned brightly, casting a warm, flickering glow over the shelves. But even as you chatted with regulars and recommended your favourite books to curious new visitors, you found yourself glancing toward the door more often than you’d like to admit.

It wasn’t until a week later that the bell rang, and your head shot up to find him standing in the doorway again. Quinn was wearing another hoodie, this one deep navy, with a beanie pulled over his dark hair. His cheeks were tinged pink from the cold, and he held a steaming coffee cup in one hand.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and casual as he stepped inside. “I was in the neighbourhood and I thought I’d stop by for another book.”

You blinked, trying not to seem too eager, though your heart was thundering in your chest. “Back so soon? I take it you finished The Night Circus?”

His smile widened, and he nodded. “I couldn’t put it down. That whole circus world—it was just... magical. I don’t think I’ve read anything like it before.”

“I told you it was special.” You smiled back, standing a little straighter. “So, are you here for another recommendation? Or just to give me a glowing review of my impeccable taste?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Both, maybe. But I also just wanted to say thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited about reading before.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you busied yourself tidying the counter to hide your reaction. “Well, in that case, I’d better keep the streak going. What are you in the mood for this time?”

He leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. “I trust your judgment. Surprise me.” You walk over to the shelves just to the side of the counter - having already scouted some recommendations earlier in the week just in case the hockey player happened to stop by.

“I see you’re reading another romance?” Quinn questions as he picks your current read up off the counter, flipping to the back to read the synopsis his eyes widening in surprise as you turn to face him with a sheepish grin. Your book recommendation in hand as you slowly make your way back to the counter.

“So the guys a hockey player?” Quinn questions as he places his coffee on the counter, flicking through the pages. “Do you um… do you watch hockey?”

“Kind of?” You respond, your shoulders sagging as you watch his face fall slightly, “I mean we’re in Vancouver so it’s kind of hard to avoid sometimes.” You let out a soft laugh before placing your next book for him on the counter.

“So you know who I am?” Quinn’s question sends a pang to your chest, his earlier friendliness seeming to fall away. Your head just nodding as you let out a long sigh.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t mention anything sooner. I just thought you wouldn’t want to be bothered about it, especially because you said you were here to look for something to escape reality.” You try to explain quickly, grimacing as the words come out of your mouth.

“Is there any chance we can start this over?” You ask quietly, Quinns eyes meeting yours as he nods. “Okay, wait give me a second.” You say quickly, turning to face the back wall, and taking a deep breath before turning around to face hime again.

“Oh my god!” You squeal a little, clasping your hands together in feigned excitement, “Are you the Quinn Hughes, captain of the Vancouver Canucks and winner of the Norris trophy?” You exclaim, fanning at your face as a smile blooms on his face. “I never thought that there would be a celebrity in my little corner of the world.” You continue, laughing a little as Quinn shakes his head at your antics.

“Okay, Okay I get what you’re trying to do.” He says through a soft laugh, his hands reaching out to pull your hands back down to the counter, his skin warm against yours, his hands lingering for just a moment longer then necessary before he pulls away.

“It just seemed like you wanted to be seen as a normal dude, and I wanted to respect that.” You say softly, sliding the book across the counter. “This one is about an older gentleman who’s very grumpy on the outside but has such a big heart underneath it all. One of my favourites to be honest.” You admit as he picks up the book to scan the cover.

“How much?” Quinn asks but you shake your head.

“This ones on the house - consider it an apology gift.” You say quickly, watching as Quinn tucks the book into his coat before grabbing his coffee off the counter top.

Before he left, he paused by the door, hesitating for a moment before turning back to you. “You know,” he started, his voice softer, “I wasn’t just passing through today. I... was actually hoping to see you.”

“Oh, well I’m glad that you did.”

“Yeah, me too.” Quinn lingers by the door for a moment, the warmth of his smile softening the sharp November chill outside. “I’ll see you around?” he says, his voice tinged with hope.

You nod, clutching the edge of the counter to keep your hands from fidgeting. “Definitely. You know where to find me.”

He chuckles softly, pushing the door open as the bell above it chimes. “Have a good night,” he says, his voice carrying just enough warmth to leave your chest feeling a little lighter as he steps out into the cold.

The door shuts behind him, and the shop feels quieter than before, even with the soft hum of the heater. You glance toward the book you were reading before he arrived, but your focus is elsewhere now, your thoughts buzzing with the memory of his laugh, his touch, and the way he had looked at you like you were more than just the owner of a small bookstore.

That night, as you close up shop, you notice a faint trace of coffee on the counter where Quinn had set his cup down. A small smile tugs at your lips as you wipe it clean, wondering if it was silly to feel so giddy over a few brief conversations and a mutual love of books.

The following week unfolds in much the same way—quiet mornings, steady afternoons, and the comforting routine of recommending books to customers. But every time the bell above the door rings, a small part of you hopes it’s him again.

On a slow Thursday evening, as the rain drums steadily against the windows, the bell chimes, and there he is—Quinn Hughes, looking a little damp and undeniably shaken.

“You’re becoming a regular,” you tease but the smile fades from your face as you take in his expression. His eyes are wide and darting, his chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths. Quinn looks like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Quinn?” you ask softly, concern replacing the lighthearted tone in your voice. You step out from behind the counter, keeping your movements slow and unthreatening. “Hey, are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he runs a hand through his damp hair, his fingers trembling. “I—I just…” He trails off, pressing a hand to his chest as if trying to physically hold himself together. “I needed to be somewhere…safe.” The weight of his words hits you, and your heart clenches. You glance around the store, dimly lit and quiet save for the rain outside. It’s a cozy space, filled with the comforting scent of old pages and polished wood. If he thinks of this place as safe, then you’ll do everything you can to keep it that way.

“Okay,” you say gently. “You’re safe here, Quinn. Do you want to sit down?”

He nods, but his movements are stiff and jerky, like his body isn’t quite obeying him. “I don’t know if I can.” He says softly.

You nod, taking a few more steps forwards, gently reaching your hands out to take hold of his - your palms slipping together as you start to walk backward, “I’ve got you, Quinn.” You guide him to the little seating nook by the fiction section, the one with the oversized armchair and the weighted knit throw you brought in last winter.

“Here,” you say, draping the blanket over him once he sinks into the chair. His hands clutch the edges of the armrests, knuckles white. “Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his breaths still coming too fast and shallow. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he manages a shaky inhale, following it with a slow, uneven exhale, his shoulders slumping forwards as his eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of gratitude in them.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to barge in like this.”

“Don’t apologise,” you say firmly, pulling up a stool so you’re sitting at his level, your hands gently placed on his knees in reassurance. “Everyone needs a place to land sometimes.” Quinn nods slightly, and his breathing starts to even out, though his hands are still trembling. You stay with him, offering quiet reassurances, and after a while, the tension in his shoulders begins to ease.

“You want some tea?” you offer, keeping your tone light and warm. “Or maybe something stronger, if you’re in the mood for the questionable bottle of wine I keep in the back for emergencies.”

That earns you a faint, fleeting smile. “Tea sounds good,” he says, his voice steadier now.

You nod and head to the little kitchenette in the back, your mind racing. Whatever storm Quinn is weathering, you can feel its echoes lingering in the air.

But for now, he’s here, and he’s safe. And that’s enough.

You return with a steaming cup of chamomile tea, the kind you save for late nights when the world feels too heavy. He takes it with a murmured “thanks,” his fingers still a little unsteady as they curl around the mug. You sit back down, close enough to offer reassurance but far enough to give him space.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The rain fills the silence, a soft, rhythmic backdrop. Quinn takes small sips of the tea, the warmth of the drink seeming to help him settle. His shoulders relax a fraction more, though the haunted look in his eyes hasn’t entirely faded.

Quinn moves slowly, his hand reaching out to grab the leg of your chair, dragging it across your hardwood floors until its touching his chair, his shoulder just grazing yours lightly as he settles back into drinking his tea.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “I… I don’t usually get like this,” he says, his voice low and hesitant. He stares into the tea like it might hold the answers he’s searching for. “It’s just been… a lot lately.”

You nod, not pushing him to say more. “Sometimes it builds up,” you say softly. “And then it feels like there’s no room left to hold it all.”

He looks at you, his gaze piercing despite the exhaustion in it. “Exactly,” he says, almost surprised that you get it.

You shrug, offering a small, understanding smile. “I think everyone’s been there in one way or another. It doesn’t make it any less hard, though.”

Quinn exhales shakily and leans back in the chair, the mug cradled in his hands. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he admits. “I was just… walking, and then I thought of this place.”

The vulnerability in his words tugs at something deep inside you. “I’m glad you came,” you say honestly. “You don’t have to explain, Quinn. Whatever’s going on, you’re welcome here—anytime.”

For the first time since he walked in, the tension in his jaw eases. He nods, his lips pressing into a faint, almost-smile. “Thanks. That… means a lot.”

You stay with him, the quiet presence he seems to need. Over time, the storm within him appears to subside, his breathing calm and his grip on the mug steady. Watching as you interact with customers who come into the store - each of them acknowledging him with a glimpse of familiarity but he watches as you quickly redirect their attention, giving him much needed respite. When the rain finally lets up and the evening deepens into night, he looks at you again to find you already staring at him from your spot in front of the bookshelves, a hint of colour returning to his cheeks.

“I should probably head out,” he says, though he doesn’t seem entirely ready to leave.

“Only if you’re feeling up to it,” you reply. “There’s no rush.”

He hesitates, then nods. “I’ll be okay. Thanks for… everything. For not making it weird.”

You laugh lightly. “Weird is kind of my specialty, but I’ll take the compliment.”

Quinn’s smile this time is real, small but genuine. He sets the mug down and pulls his jacket tighter around himself. Before he steps out into the damp night, he pauses.

“Seriously. Thank you.”

“You know where to find me,” you say, and with that, he slips out into the night, the bell above the door chiming softly behind him.

You watch him go, your heart heavy with worry but lighter with the knowledge that, even if only for a little while, he found some peace here. And when the store falls quiet again, you return to the counter, feeling a strange new thread connecting you to the boy who sought shelter in your little bookshop.

Your head shoots up at the chime of the bell, a smile blooming on your face as the sight of Quinn a large bouquet of flowers in his hands as he glances towards you nervously.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” You jokes, closing your book on the counter, sliding off your stool to make your ways towards him, “If it isn’t my favourite regular.”

“I just wanted to stop by and give you these.” He says softly, handing over the sunflowers wrapped in craft paper with twine holding it all together, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck as you take the flowers from him. “They reminded me of you, and felt like a good way to thank you for everything.” He explains, clearing his throat as you reach out a finger to gently stroke the soft yellow petals.

“They’re beautiful, Quinn.” You say, whisking the flowers over to the counter dropping into a squat to look for the white vase you keep here in case your shipments of new releases come with decorations. “Thank you for this but you really didn’t have to.” You say softly, placing the vase on the counter and reaching for your scissors to release the bundle.

“There actually one more thing…” He begins, taking a few deep breaths as you pause your movements, watching him curiously. “My team is having a family skate in a few weeks and I was wondering whether you might want to come?” His cheeks burn red as he watches your mouth fall open in surprise.

“Like just as friends or—”

“Like as a date?” Quinn interrupts, cursing himself in his head for being so rude, his eyes meeting yours as they light up with the smile blooming on your face.

“I’d love to, Quinn.” You say quickly, stopping his shame spiral, “But I do have to warn you that I’m a pretty good skater, you’re going to have to do a lot to impress me.” You chuckle, a smile finally lifting Quinn’s lips as he nods.

“I’m sure I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He murmurs.

“Good,” you tease, leaning slightly closer, your voice soft. “I can’t wait to see them.”

Quinn swallows hard, his cheeks still pink as he nods again, his confidence growing with your encouragement.

“You might regret saying that,” he says with a small smirk. “I’ve been skating since I could walk, you know.”

“Is that a challenge?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he replies, his smirk turning into a full grin now. “Guess you’ll have to show up to find out.”

“Oh, I’ll be there,” you assure him, the excitement bubbling in your chest evident in your tone. “And don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re supposed to be the professional.”

Quinn chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as his nerves fade into pure anticipation. “Deal. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re trying to keep up.”

“Bold words, Hughes,” you fire back playfully. “I’ll see you on the ice.”

As you part ways, you can’t help but feel a rush of giddy energy. The thought of skating with him, of sharing a slice of his world, fills you with both nerves and excitement. Quinn, meanwhile, walks away with a spring in his step, already envisioning the day and how he’s going to make sure it’s a skate neither of you will forget.

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choiminjae0325 · 18 days ago

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my contribution to the quinn hughes for the norris campaign

nhl as random posts 14/?

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choiminjae0325 · 18 days ago

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ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR QUINN HUGHES

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader, (little bit of) jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: trevor invites you to a lakehouse for the summer, attempting to set him up with his friend. however, the summer doesn't go to plan when you meet his older brother who captures your eye and flips everything upside down.

warnings: very obviously angst, sort of a love triangle, jack and quinn kind of hating each other, slow burn, reader and trevor having a sibling type relationship, one singular kiss, brief appearances from trevor & luke

word count: 11.6k

notes: wooooo mama this is the absolute longest thing i've ever written. i really hope you guys enjoy it, i'm pretty happy with this.

The scene of the lake house standing tall in front of you was something straight out of your imagination. It was picturesque, the way the large house was nestled amongst the pine trees and the glimmering water sparkling behind it. It was just the way that Trevor had described it when he invited (or rather insisted) you to come to his buddy’s lake house this summer.

“You’ll love it! It’s so nice up there,” Trevor had urged, his enthusiasm infectious. You could still hear his voice, brimming with excitement. “It’s my friend Jack’s place. You guys would get along great! And his brothers are super chill too.”

At the time, you’d felt a mix of curiosity and skepticism. It’d been about three years you’d been friends with Trevor, long enough to know that when his tone got this excited and he was this insistent, he was up to something.

“Are you trying to set me up with him?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at Trevor as the two of you sat in a coffee shop a few months ago. He had been uncharacteristically fidgety, bouncing his knee up and down while stirring his iced coffee with an unnecessary amount of focus.

Trevor had grinned at you in that annoyingly charming way he did when he was caught. “Nooo, I’m just saying you guys would vibe. He’s a cool guy. Super chill.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms across your chest. “Uh-huh. And his brothers?”

“Also cool!” Trevor leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But listen, Jack’s the one I think you’d really like. Just come for like, a week or two, see what happens. No pressure. I promise you’ll have fun.”

You’d hesitated, not entirely convinced. But Trevor knew exactly how to play on your curiosity, and a month later, you found yourself packing a bag for a summer getaway at some lake house owned by Trevor’s friend, Jack. Despite your reservations, a part of you was intrigued. What if Trevor was right?

The drive to the lake house had been a blur, punctuated by Trevor’s nonstop chatter and your own uncertain silence. You weren’t opposed to meeting Jack. Trevor had sung his praises for months, claiming you two had more in common than either of you realized. As far as setups went, this wasn’t terrible — you could trust Trevor to have good judgment. But still, you were unsure and slightly uneasy about the whole situation.

When you arrive, Jack is already waiting outside, leaning against the porch rail, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He’s smiling — an easy, laid-back smile that makes you smile back automatically. The sun filters through the trees, casting warm, gold light on the porch, and for a moment, everything feels serene.

Trevor wasn’t lying when he commented about Jack’s appearance. “Some people call him a pretty boy but… I mean he is pretty, but he’s a good-looking dude, y’know?” He was definitely attractive, something anyone could admit you thought, but he wasn’t totally your type.

Trevor bounds up the steps of the porch, dapping up Jack and pulling him in for a hug. You followed, stopping at the bottom of the steps, watching as Trevor whispered something into Jack's ear, Jack’s eyes catching yours as a small smile appeared on his lips.

Jack steps forward, extending a hand. “Hey, you must be y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, his voice warm with that relaxed confidence you’d expect from someone who’s used to being the center of attention.

You shake his hand, feeling the easy smile on your face widen a little. “All good things, I hope.”

Trevor laughs, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Mostly good things.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Jack offers to give you a quick tour of the place, and you agree, letting him guide you inside while Trevor stays back, grumbling to himself about having to bring in your bags. The inside of the house is as beautiful as the outside, with high ceilings, wooden beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the lake. Despite being a new build, it has a cozy, rustic feel to it. Jack pointed out each room as you went, keeping up a steady flow of conversation that put you at ease. He was friendly and thoughtful, making sure you felt welcomed, and it struck you as genuine. You could see why Trevor thought you’d get along with him.

“And this is the back deck,” Jack said as he pushed open a sliding door, revealing a sprawling view of the lake, with a dock stretching out in front of the property. The lake is glittering and relatively calm, aside from a figure disturbing the water. You squint, watching as the swimmer glides smoothly through the lake.

“Who’s that?” you ask Jack, eyes not leaving the figure as you watch him pull himself up onto the wooden dock, pushing dark wet hair from his face.

“That’s Quinn,” Jack says, following your gaze and glancing out toward the dock. “My older brother.”

The sun seems to linger on Quinn’s form, highlighting the toned muscles in his arms as he stretches briefly, rolling his shoulders to ease out any lingering tension from his swim. Droplets of water cling to his skin, catching the sunlight and tracing down his chest in slow, winding trails emphasizing the smooth contours of his muscles as they glisten.

“Q!” Jack shouts, whistling to get his brother’s attention. Quinn’s gaze snaps to the two of you, your pulse quickening as his eyes land on you. “Come up here!”

Quinn grabs his towel from the dock, throwing it over his shoulder as he makes his way up the lawn towards you. As he climbs the steps to the deck, you feel his eyes travel over you, not in a way that feels intimidating, but with a curiosity that mirrors your own. There’s something magnetic about him, something calm and steady that draws you in as he steps up onto the deck, his mouth curving into a small, barely-there smile.

“This is Trevor’s friend, y/n. She’s joining us for the summer” Jack introduces.

As Quinn’s gaze flickers back to you, you notice there’s something about the way he looks at you — subtle, assessing. His gaze has a certain depth, a look you can’t quite decipher. It lingers just a second longer than what feels typical, enough to make your heartbeat skip, to leave you questioning the flicker of interest in his expression.

“Nice to meet you,” Quinn says, his voice low and smooth, a perfect complement to the quiet confidence he exudes. He reaches out to shake your hand, and as your fingers meet, you notice how warm his touch feels, even with the cool water droplets still lingering on his skin.

Up close, he’s even more striking. There’s a sort of ruggedness to him, outlined by the sharpness of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. His eyes, a greenish shade of blue, hold yours with a calm intensity that makes it hard to look away.

“Nice to meet you too,” you manage, your voice coming out softer than you intended, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You mentally kick yourself, hoping he doesn’t notice, but the glimmer in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Jack, oblivious to the undercurrent, clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Alright, well, there’s more to see, and if we don’t get back, Trevor’s going to start whining about being abandoned,” he joked.

You chuckle, your eyes pulling away from Quinns’ for the first time since he joined you on the porch. But as you turned to follow Jack back inside, you couldn’t help but glance back at Quinn. He was still watching you, his expression softened just slightly, and you felt a quiet thrill at the way he watched you.

The first week at the lakehouse passes in a flurry of days that blur together in laughter and lakeside relaxation. You fall into an easy routine of swimming, grilling, and long talks on the deck. Jack and Trevor keep things lively, always organizing something, whether it’s an impromptu game of cornhole, a daring cliff dive, or a spontaneous trip into town.

With Jack, the connection forms fast. He’s lighthearted, quick with a joke, and endlessly charming. He keeps you laughing and keeps the vibe lighthearted. His energy is infectious, and he keeps you roped into every activity, whether it’s cliff-jumping or getting you to help him with dinner when it’s his turn. You can tell that Trevor’s plan to get the two of you set up is working for Jack, as he lingers closer, laughs harder at your jokes, and you begin to feel his gaze linger on you just a little too long.

But it’s Quinn who holds your attention in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Quinn is different from Jack in nearly every way. Where Jack is open and quick to draw you into his orbit, Quinn lingers on the edges, observing and listening. When he speaks, it’s with a low, steady voice that commands attention without trying. And unlike Jack’s energy, which feels like the buzz of the sun overhead, Quinn’s is deep and mysterious like the lake.

You find yourself gravitating toward him at every opportunity, captivated by the way he moves through the days with an unruffled calm. The nights at the lake house slip into an easy rhythm, with Quinn and you inevitably being the last ones awake as the both of you are night owls. Most nights, you find yourselves lingering on the porch, wrapped in the gentle hum of crickets and the low whisper of the lake. With the others upstairs, fast asleep, you and Quinn fall into intimate conversations, shared only between the two of you.

One night, you find yourselves tucked away on the porch, the air a little cooler than the other nights. You are curled up on a rocking chair, bundled up in a hoodie you’d borrowed from Jack. Quinn sat across from you, the beer he’d started during dinner going warm in his hand.

Quinn studies you, his eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light as he swirls his bottle absentmindedly. “So,” he begins, breaking the comfortable silence, “What’s California like?” He leans forward, genuinely interested, his voice carrying a warmth that makes you want to spill everything about life on the West Coast.

A soft smile creeps onto your face. “It’s… different from here,” you admit, glancing out at the lake where the moon dances on the still water. “It’s a bit fast-paced. And warm. Lots of sun, lots of people. But sometimes, it feels like everyone’s moving so quickly that you get lost in the crowd.”

Quinn nods, his eyes steady on you. “I get it. I feel the same way about Vancouver sometimes. Coming back here… it just reminds me that there's more than the noise and rush. There’s… balance out here.” He gestures out toward the lake, his voice contemplative. “Like all of this has a way of pulling you back to what matters.”

His words resonate deeply, and you find yourself nodding. “Exactly,” you murmur. “It’s like there’s space to breathe. And you notice things that usually get lost in all the… chaos.”

Quinn’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you came. It’s been… good to have you here,” he says quietly, his eyes soft. “We don’t have other people up here often.”

Your heart pounds a little faster at the sincerity in his voice, and for a second, the rest of the world disappears. There’s only Quinn and the quiet lake, and the feeling that he understands you in a way you hadn't expected anyone to. You hold his gaze, feeling the electricity between you grow, filling the silence with something you can’t quite name.

But then, as if drawn back to reality, Quinn’s eyes shift, his expression subtly changing. “And Jack,” he says, almost as an afterthought. “He… really likes you, you know? He doesn’t say it, but I can tell.”

It feels like a splash of cold water. You break eye contact, pulling your hoodie closer around you, the warmth you felt moments ago dissipating. The weight of Jack’s interest hangs heavily between you and Quinn now, an undeniable reminder of the complicated line you’re toeing.

“Right, yeah…” you reply softly, looking down, your voice tinged with a mix of guilt and frustration. You hadn’t meant for this to get complicated, yet here you are, caught between two brothers who couldn’t be more different.

An uncomfortable silence settles over you both, thick and heavy. Quinn’s eyes linger on you, as if he’s about to say something more, but he holds back. His lips press into a thin line, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same conflict, the same confusion that’s twisting knots inside you.

You force yourself to look away, swallowing hard. “I think… I should probably head to bed,” you murmur, avoiding his gaze. You stand up, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Goodnight, Quinn.”

Quinn nods, his expression unreadable as he watches you ebb towards the door. “Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, though there’s a flicker of something in his gaze — disappointment, perhaps, or longing. You slip inside, leaving him on the porch, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back as you close the door.

In bed, you toss and turn, Quinn’s words and the feel of his gaze lingering with you. Your mind is a whirlwind, caught between the easy, carefree friendship that’s growing with Jack and the simmering tension you feel with Quinn. Jack is perfectly nice and, like Trevor told you, the two of you were getting along swimmingly.

But no matter how much you try, your thoughts always drift back to Quinn. There’s something undeniably different about him, something that makes it impossible to feel the same way about Jack, no matter how hard you try. Jack’s presence is light and friendly but with Quinn… it’s like there’s a hidden gravity pulling you toward him, a quiet understanding that lingers beneath the surface of every conversation. Every night on that porch, he’s become your anchor, drawing you into a world that feels more honest, more intimate.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind replaying the way he looked at you tonight — that almost undetectable spark that you’re sure you didn’t imagine. The way he listens to you, like every word matters, as he sees past the small talk and into the parts of you you rarely share. There’s no pretending with Quinn. And even though he’d mentioned Jack, it only made you realize how much more you’re drawn to Quinn. Jack might be developing feelings for you, but it’s Quinn who fills your thoughts, who leaves you breathless in a way you can’t ignore.

You pull the covers tighter around you, willing sleep to take you, but every thought seems to lead back to Quinn, to the way he made you feel seen, understood — even in silence.

The next morning, you do your best to shake off the lingering tension from the night before, determined to keep things light and normal. Under Jack’s enthusiastic suggestion, the group decides to spend the day out on the lake, hoping the sun and water will wash away any unease. It’s a sunny day, warm with a light breeze, and the water sparkles invitingly under the sunlight, making you think that everything might just go smoothly.

The boat is anchored in a calm spot on the lake and, despite the wonderful weather, there doesn’t seem to be another boat around. Trevor and Luke sit up in the bow, arguing about which mascot would win in a fight between Mr. Clean and Tony the Tiger.

Jack is quick to pull you into the action, handing you a beer from the cooler as he grins. “Alright,” he says, his smile as wide as the lake. “Are you ready for the full lake house experience? Because to really do that, you’ve got to jump off the boat at least once today.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you crack open the can. “I’m pretty sure you’re just making up rules to mess with me.”

He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Maybe, but you have to do it anyway,” he shrugs.

Trevor chimes in, chuckling from his spot. “Jack’s right, y/n. First-time lake visitors have to jump. It’s tradition!”

You chuckle, your gaze drifting up to Jack as he stands in front of you. The sun shines directly behind him, casting him in a golden halo, the bright rays spilling around his frame in a way that makes him look almost ethereal. For a moment, you can see why anyone would fall for that charm. But even with this picture-perfect moment, you feel a pang of regret that you can’t feel more for him, because, somehow, your thoughts are pulled elsewhere and on someone else.

Jack’s laughter brings you back to the moment, and he leans a little closer. “Come on, we can make it a team effort. I mean, if you’re too nervous, I can just hold your hand.” His voice is playful, but there’s a hint of sincerity in his words, a hope that you’ll let him bridge the gap he’s trying so hard to close.

Your smile is genuine, but before you can respond, you hear Quinn's low chuckle from behind you. It’s soft, barely audible over the hum of the boat’s motor, but enough to pull your focus completely away from Jack. You glance back at Quinn who’s sat on the back bench, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, a flicker of something in his gaze as it bears down on the two of you.

Your attention is pulled back to Jack as he reaches for your hand in a gesture that feels both playful and pointed. “Come on, y/n, it’ll be an official initiation. We’ll jump together, yeah?”

Your gaze flickers between Jack’s outstretched hand and Quinn, who’s watching with an inscrutable expression, his eyes narrowed slightly as he leans back, crossing his arms. You can’t deny there’s an awkward tension here, a silent push-and-pull between the two brothers that seems to amplify whenever Quinn is nearby.

Swallowing the strange, charged feeling building between you all, you look back at Jack and nod, forcing a lighthearted smile as you stand up, pulling off the oversized t-shirt you wore as a coverup. You see Jack’s eyes scan your figure, hearing him gasp quietly. You blush, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, taking his hand. He grins in triumph, his fingers warm against yours as he helps you stand at the edge of the boat. He holds on a little tighter than necessary, and the flicker of anticipation in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ready?” Jack asks, his voice softer now, his gaze lingering a bit too long as he watches your expression. There’s a hopeful vulnerability in his face, a look that makes you hesitate for a moment. You don’t want to hurt him, but there’s a part of you that wishes he’d pull back, that he’d realize you’re not as invested in this connection as he is.

You manage a nod, hoping he doesn’t notice the small sigh you let slip. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He beams, counting down with a quiet “three… two… one!” before the two of you leap into the lake together, the cool water rushing up to meet you. When you surface, you’re greeted by Jack’s laughter as he splashes you, pulling you into a playful water fight. You laugh along, though your eyes instinctively drift toward the boat, where Quinn looks over the edge, watching you both with an unreadable expression.

Jack’s laughter fades slightly as he notices your attention elsewhere, his face falling for a fraction of a second. But he quickly masks it, pulling you back with a light splash. “Hey, stay with me here,” he says, his tone half-joking, half-pleading. And you want to, you really do, but Quinn’s gaze is magnetic, and you can’t help but feel pulled toward him, as if there’s an invisible thread between the two of you.

Eventually, Jack climbs back onto the boat, reaching out to help you up. But the moment you step back on board, the charged silence returns, thick and stifling, as Quinn hands you a towel, his fingers brushing against yours just long enough to send a spark up your arm. You catch his gaze for a brief second, and you’re struck by the quiet intensity in his eyes, a longing that mirrors your own.

Jack clears his throat, his shoulders tensing slightly as he glances between you and Quinn. He lets out a forced laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Alright, what’s next? We could always do another round of jumps, or maybe a swim to the dock?” He says it with an almost desperate cheerfulness, trying to regain your attention, trying to keep the moment light.

Trevor and Luke, sensing the tension, start bantering about who would be the fastest swimmer, their playful arguments distracting you all for a moment, lightening the mood just enough.

────୨ৎ────

The night air was crisp as laughter and the crackling of the fire filled the space around the lake house. The lake is quiet behind you, a dark, glassy surface reflecting only starlight. You were settled in a lawn chair, leaning back, watching as Trevor dramatically recounted a story about when you nearly crashed his car.

You could feel his eyes on you, searching for a shared smile, hoping to catch your gaze even as he chuckled at Trevor’s theatrics. Every so often, he'd lean in, commenting with a low murmur meant only for you. He’d even offered you his hoodie earlier, though the night wasn’t nearly cold enough to need it. It was endearing, if not a bit overeager. Yet, despite the obvious attention from him, your focus kept drifting across the fire.

Quinn sat across the flames from you, leaning back in an Adirondack chair. His attention was barely on the story, barely laughing with the others as you had been. Every now and then you’d catch his eyes flicker your way, lingering on you just long enough to send a thrill through your chest. Your stomach tightened with a quiet anticipation each time, though as quickly as the moment arrived, it vanished. Quinn’s gaze would shift, his attention lost somewhere in the darkness beyond the flames, leaving you wondering if you’d only imagined it.

As Trevor finally wrapped up his tale with an exaggerated flourish, the group’s laughter rang out again, filling the quiet night. You shifted in your chair, stealing a glance across the fire to see Quinn looking your way again, his expression unreadable in the dancing light. The firelight cast soft shadows over his face, illuminating his quiet intensity—a contrast to Jack’s open interest. And just as quickly as his eyes met yours, he looked away, his focus deliberately elsewhere, leaving you feeling a subtle ache of frustration.

Jack nudged your arm gently, his voice breaking the spell. “Hey, want to grab a drink or something? I think I saw some ciders in the cooler on the porch.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you replied, a small smile curving your lips as you pushed yourself up to join him.

You could feel the weight of Quinn’s gaze on you, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. As you walked toward the porch with Jack, a pang of prickling guilt settled over you, leaving a heavy shadow with every step. Jack was wonderful — funny, kind-hearted, and clearly eager to spend time with you. And yet, there was an emptiness in each smile you returned to him, a hollowness you couldn’t ignore. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself to appreciate his warmth and interest. But you couldn’t deny it. There was no spark, no unspoken gravity that pulled you toward him.

The two of you reached the porch, Jack handing you a cold can from the cooler, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He shot you a quick grin, the kind that seemed to hold a hundred different things he wanted to say. But the look in his eyes—the hopefulness, the eagerness—only tightened the knot in your chest.

Jack took a sip of his drink, leaning casually against the porch railing, his gaze still on you. “It’s nice here at night, isn’t it?” His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable softness to his voice, as though he wanted nothing more than to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“Yeah, it really is,” you agreed, looking out at the lake rather than meeting his eyes. “It’s peaceful.”

Jack’s voice was quieter when he spoke this time like he was mulling something over. “You know, it’s been great having you up here. I mean…I’m glad Z brought you here.” he said softly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a vulnerability there, one that made you want to reassure him, to ease the sting of your own uncertainty.

You wanted to tell him you felt the same, that you were excited, that his attention filled you with butterflies. But it didn’t. Not the way Quinn’s lingering gaze did, not in the way his silence could reach across the fire and wrap around you more tightly than any words Jack could offer.

And Jack could sense it. You could see it in the way his gaze fell just a bit, in the way he seemed to retreat into himself, trying to figure out where he’d lost you. A soft, sinking guilt bubbled up, but before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and looked at you, trying to keep the mood light.

“Should we head back?” he asked, giving you a small smile that tried to mask the disappointment behind his eyes.

You nodded, and as you followed him back toward the fire, your eyes drifted back to Quinn. Why did he have to make it so complicated? Jack was there, warm and steady, giving you his full attention, yet your heart kept tugging you toward Quinn — Quinn, who never gave you more than half-glances and unspoken hints. It was as though he knew the effect he had on you but chose to keep you guessing, leaving you in this restless, uncertain state. And every time he looked away, your chest would ache with a longing that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

You felt like you were making it up in your head. You felt like all of this was just concocted by your brain, a made-up situation. But then you’d think back to the nights when it was just the two of you, sitting across from one another on the porch, finding bits of commonality, causing you to talk for hours.

It was during those quiet nights, with only the soft hum of the lake and the occasional call of night birds, that the two of you would sit just a little closer, voices lowered as if sharing secrets with the stars. He’d be calm, reserved, but there’d always be a hint of a smile when you teased him about his stoic nature, a glint in his eyes when he’d challenge you back. It was in these moments that your doubts faded, that all the confusion seemed worth it.

But then the sun would rise again, and Quinn’s indifference would come back like the morning mist, blanketing any closeness you thought you’d found. The spark that seemed so real under the cover of night would dim, replaced by his guarded demeanor and quiet aloofness. It was maddening, this cycle of near-closeness followed by a cool retreat. He’d show you just enough to make you wonder, to keep you holding onto the memory of his quiet smile and that soft look in his eyes.

As you and Jack rejoined the group, you settled back into your chair, glancing across the fire toward Quinn once more. He was looking down, a hand idly fiddling with the edge of his sweater. There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something that made you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same hesitation and uncertainty. You wanted to bridge that gap, to ask him if he ever felt the same tug, the same strange pull that made every shared glance linger in your mind.

But before you could even entertain the idea, Jack’s hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. He was smiling, his gaze as steady and warm as ever, making you wish you could return it with the same openness.

“Hey, you okay?” Jack asked, concern lacing his voice. You hadn’t realized the way you were chewing on your lip, or the way your brow was furrowed ever so slightly.

You nodded, giving him a soft smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Yeah, just…lost in thought, I guess.”

But as you said it, your gaze slipped across the fire once more, finding Quinn’s eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unreadable intensity. And for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a softness there, a hint of something deeper. It vanished just as quickly, but that one look was enough. It was enough to make you cast away the doubt that lingered in your mind, to dismiss the thought that this was all in your head.

The night dragged on, punctuated by laughter and more ridiculous storytelling from Trevor. Gradually, one by one, everyone began to call it a night. Luke was the first to slip away, yawning as he muttered something about wanting to have an early workout, clapping Trevor on the shoulder before heading inside. Trevor followed soon after, stretching with exaggerated laziness before flashing a grin and winking at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble out here,” he teased, earning a playful eye-roll from you.

Finally, it was just you, Jack, and Quinn. Jack was lingering, his eyes occasionally drifting to you with a look that hinted at something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to voice. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he looked at you, then glanced over at Quinn.

"Alright, I guess I’ll head in, too," Jack finally said, his tone reluctant. His gaze lingered on you for just a beat too long, as though he wanted you to ask him to stay or tell him that you would head up with him. But you didn’t, and after a quiet sigh, he nodded, gave Quinn a brief glance, then turned and headed inside, the screen door shutting softly behind him.

And then it was just the two of you.

The quiet stretched between you and Quinn, thick and tense, as the night air settled into a stillness that seemed to wrap around you both. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the trees, and it was painfully quiet, each unspoken word between you two heavy with meaning. You could feel his presence, magnetic and steady, even across the fire. Finally, after a moment that felt like an eternity, you drew a deep breath and decided to speak.

“Quinn, can we talk?” Your voice was steady, but just barely. Quinn’s eyes finally locked with yours for the first time since before everyone began to filter to bed. Quinn nodded after a couple of seconds, giving you the silence to continue.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us,” you said softly. “But… fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. I need to know if it’s all just in my head or if you feel it too. Because if there’s a reason I feel this way… I need to know.”

You trailed off, heart hammering against your ribcage as the words hung in the air between you. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression unreadable, his face softened by the glow of the firelight. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared into the flames. His silence was torture, each passing second pulling you deeper into a pit of anxiety and frustration.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, as if he’d rehearsed this response in his mind countless times. “It’s not in your head,” he admitted, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. “There’s something here, between us. I feel it too.”

The words sent a rush of relief and hope through you, a spark that reignited all those moments spent wondering and waiting for some kind of sign. A soft smile spread across your face, the edges of your doubt finally beginning to soften. But then, his expression shifted, the corners of his mouth tightening as he looked away, eyes fixed on the shadows just beyond the firelight.

“But…” His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges. “It can’t go anywhere. Not with Jack. He’s…he’s into you.” He looked back at you, the regret in his eyes evident, a pain mirrored in your own chest. “I can’t do that to him.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, and the warmth of the fire suddenly felt distant, fading into a cold, empty ache spreading through your chest. You hadn’t expected it to hurt this much, hadn’t realized how much you’d been hoping he’d say the opposite, that he’d fight for whatever was happening between you.

You dropped your gaze, feeling foolish, vulnerable, exposed. “So that’s it? We just… pretend this doesn’t exist?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like nothing’s been happening all this time?”

Quinn’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his expression pained. “I don’t want to pretend. But I can’t… I won’t hurt him, not like that. He’s my brother.” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “And he really cares about you.”

You swallowed hard. It felt ridiculous—being here, feeling so foolishly hopeful, only to be left with a hollow ache and a fractured connection that couldn’t ever be more. Part of you wanted to yell at him for leading you on, for those late-night conversations and stolen glances, for every unspoken word that now felt like a cruel joke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish it could be different.”

The words left you hollow. Part of you wanted to fight, to tell him that what you felt couldn’t just be ignored, but another part — the part that knew him and understood his loyalty — couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to choose you over his brother. Not when you saw the conflict in his eyes, the pain that mirrored your own.

“Fine,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. You stood up, the cool night air prickling your skin as you walked away from the fire, leaving him there in silence. You didn’t look back. It felt like your chest was filled with broken glass, each breath painful, as you made your way back to the house.

Inside, the stillness was almost suffocating. The others had already gone to bed, and the darkened living room felt cold and empty, mirroring the ache in your heart. You climbed the stairs to your room, shutting the door softly behind you as you sank onto the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. A mix of anger and sadness filled you. You were mad at Quinn, for drawing you in only to push you away; mad at Jack, for being in the way even if he hadn’t meant to be; mad at Trevor, for ever convincing you to come here; and, perhaps most of all, mad at yourself, for letting your heart hope for something that could never be.

The next morning, a heavy quiet blanketed the lake house. You moved through the motions of breakfast with the others, but your thoughts felt distant, lost somewhere between the memories of last night and the weight of Quinn’s words. The morning was made slightly easier by the absence of Quinn who you were told went into the town early that morning to run errands and hit the gym. The guys bantered and talked about heading out on the boat, planning an afternoon on the lake, but you could only muster half-hearted nods and polite smiles. It was hard to focus, every small sound—the clinking of mugs, the soft scrape of a chair—only intensifying the ache you couldn’t shake.

Excusing yourself, you slipped away before anyone could ask questions, making your way down to the dock. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rippling across the lake's surface, and you sat at the edge, feet dangling above the water. You were still in your sleep outfit, not exactly pyjamas, but rather a comfy oversized hoodie and a pair of mens boxers. The familiar scent of pine and fresh earth surrounded you, but even the peaceful view couldn’t ease the storm of emotions inside.

The quiet was soon broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, and you didn’t need to look to know it was Jack. You felt him sit beside you, his presence warm and grounding. For a moment, he didn’t say anything — just let the silence settle between you both, as though he was waiting for you to be ready.

Finally, he cleared his throat, glancing sideways at you. “You okay this morning? You’ve been… quiet,” he said softly, his voice tentative, as if he were stepping carefully around broken glass. “Distant.”

You swallowed, bracing yourself as you met his gaze. His eyes were filled with genuine concern, a softness that only made this harder. “Yeah,” you murmured, looking back out at the lake. “Guess I just needed some space.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. His fingers drummed nervously on the edge of the dock, and after a beat, he spoke again, his tone thoughtful, almost nostalgic.

“You know,” he began, eyes cast down at the water, “when Trevor told me he was bringing a friend this summer, he was so sure we’d hit it off. He kept going on about how you and I would be perfect for each other, that we’d get along great.” A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I remember feeling this weird, excited energy like… maybe he was right, you know? Maybe I was going to meet someone special.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as he continued, his voice carrying a warmth that was both comforting and deeply bittersweet.

“And when you got here…” He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, as if to gauge your reaction. “I don’t know, it just… felt easy, from the start. Like we’d known each other forever. I started to feel like maybe Trevor had been onto something.” He gave a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of unspoken feelings.

“Things felt really good between us, and I thought you felt it too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “So I started to get my hopes up—thinking maybe this was the start of something real.”

You winced, guilt gnawing at you. “Jack… I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, truly. I think you’re amazing. From the bottom of my heart, I just… I mean there’s gotta be some sort of spell this fucking house puts me under because I would be insane otherwise to not like you! You… you’re so perfect that any other girl would be scremaing at me, trying to claw my eyes out for not appreciating you. But… I just can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Jack’s eyes softened, a mix of sadness and resignation settling in them. He looked down, his fingers still drumming but more slowly now, as if grounding himself. After a moment, he took a deep breath and let it out, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I get it,” he murmured, though his voice had an unmistakable crack in it. “I mean… I think I get it. You can’t force something that isn’t there, right?” He gave a sad smile, one that tried to mask the hurt but didn’t quite succeed.

He stared out at the water, his expression distant, like he was trying to piece together what had gone wrong, or maybe just what he’d missed. A tense silence settled between you, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on the air around you. Jack cleared his throat, seeming to steel himself, his gaze searching your face as if looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“Can I… can I just ask you one thing?” he said, voice barely above a whisper. His vulnerability in that moment was palpable, and you could feel your heart pounding, bracing yourself for what was coming.

You nodded, feeling your throat tighten.

“Do you… have feelings for Quinn?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and painful, and a part of you wished he hadn’t asked. But the look in his eyes told you he needed to know, that the uncertainty was gnawing at him just as much as the truth might.

Slowly, you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you whispered, “Yes.”

A heavy silence fell between you, and Jack seemed to shrink a little, his shoulders slumping as he took it in. Jack’s gaze fixed on the lake, and for a long moment, he said nothing. You could see the effort it took for him to keep his expression neutral, to keep his emotions tightly bound. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“So, you… you and Quinn. Is there… anything actually happening between you two?” He glanced at you, a flicker of something raw in his eyes — hope, maybe, or just the need to understand.

You shook your head, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “No, Jack. We’re… we’re not together. We won’t be.”

He looked at you, brow furrowed. “Why not?” he asked softly, his confusion obvious. “If you feel that way about him, why wouldn’t you try?”

You took a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. “Because Quinn… Quinn’s too good of a brother. He’d never go for me because of you… and because of what he knows you feel.”

Jack blinked, his brow furrowing as he took in your words. “Wait—what does that mean? Because of me?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. His gaze softened, and you could see he was fighting to keep his tone steady, like he was trying not to hope.

You sighed, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. “Quinn told me he could never be with me because he knows how you feel. He doesn’t want to hurt you, Jack.”

Jack’s jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face. “So… let me get this straight,” he muttered, almost incredulously. “He’s not doing anything about how he feels—because of me?”

You nodded, and Jack fell silent, staring down at his hands, which had stopped drumming and were now clenched tightly in his lap. He seemed deep in thought, his brows furrowed as he processed what you’d just told him. The lake was quiet around you, the stillness broken only by the occasional ripple of water.

For a long time, Jack didn't say anything, just stared down at the water, his brows drawn together. You could almost feel the weight of his thoughts, the way he was wrestling with everything that had just been laid out. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw.

“So he… he cares enough to stay away,” Jack said slowly, the words laced with a sadness that felt almost like admiration. “That's… just like him.” He took a deep breath, forcing a small, sad smile. “I wish things were different. I wish we could just rewind, go back to the start of summer and… and pretend this never happened.”

You swallowed hard, his words striking a chord deep within you. “Me too,” you whispered, eyes burning with unshed tears. “I never wanted any of this to happen, Jack. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

Jack looked over at you, his expression softening, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the easy, unburdened friendship you’d had in the beginning. “I know,” he murmured. “You’re not the kind of person who’d do this on purpose. It’s just… life, I guess. It’s complicated, ‘n messy as hell. And… maybe Trevor was right. We do get along. Just… maybe not in the way he thought we would.”

He smiled, a genuine one this time, though tinged with a sadness he couldn’t hide. “Maybe someday… I won’t feel this way,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the soft lapping of the lake against the dock. “But for now… I think I just need a little space. Time, maybe.”

You nodded, understanding that this was what he needed, even if it hurt to hear. “I get it, Jack. I do.”

Jack gave a nod, his gaze returning to the water, the weight of unspoken words settling over the two of you. In the next moment, he reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze—a quiet truce, an understanding. Then he stood, brushing off his shorts and glancing back at the house.

“I’ll be up at the house for a bit,” he murmured, the distance in his tone unmistakable. With that, he turned and walked back up the dock, his footsteps slow and heavy.

In the following days, there was a noticeable shift in the air; everyone felt it, though no one dared to name it. Conversations were stilted, laughter felt forced, and even the once-lively dinners had become quiet affairs, each of you treading carefully as if one wrong word might shatter the fragile peace that held you all together. Jack avoided you and Quinn as much as he could, lingering at the edge of group activities, his usual easygoing energy replaced by something more closed off, guarded.

Quinn, for his part, kept his distance too, his usual calm presence clouded by an unspoken tension. It was as if he knew that the delicate line he was walking might snap at any moment, sending everything spiraling out of control.

You couldn't ignore the heaviness that had settled over the house, a tangible sense of tension that made everything feel off-kilter. As much as you'd wanted this summer to be an escape, it had become the very opposite — a painful reminder of all the ways things could go wrong.

That evening, after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself wide awake, thoughts racing. The decision took shape slowly, a reluctant resolve that you couldn’t shake. You needed to leave. Staying here, caught between the fractured pieces of what had been and what could never be, was too much to bear. The thought of facing both brothers day after day, watching Jack’s guarded smiles and Quinn’s restrained distance—it was too much. They deserved space, and, you realized, so did you.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and booked a flight out for two days later, the earliest you could manage. You barely slept, running through potential conversations in your mind, eventually deciding you were only going to tell Trevor and slip out quietly, not wanting to cause anymore issues.

You forced yourself to push through the pain and awkwardness during the two remaining days until you would be returning back to California. As the days inched closer to your departure, the weight of unspoken words grew heavier, settling into every corner of the lake house. You caught glimpses of Jack, his face turning away when he thought no one was watching as if even looking at you and Quinn felt like reopening an unhealed wound. Quinn’s glances were no less fraught, though his were filled with a wistful restraint, as if he was already mourning the loss of something that had barely even begun.

The dinners, once filled with laughter, now passed in subdued tones, each person more focused on their plate than the conversation. You found yourself counting down the days and hours, conflicted between the need to escape the tension and the ache of leaving it all behind. In those last two days, you kept reminding yourself that soon, you’d be on a plane back to California, back to your own life — away from Jack’s pained looks and Quinn’s longing stares.

Your final day there, you packed your belongs up quickly, hoping Trevor would buy your excuse of not wanting to miss your flight as a good reason for him to take you to the airport early, and not because you couldn’t bear to spend one more hour in this suffocating oasis. Everyone else was lounging by the water, with the exception of Jack who lingered in the kitchen, opting to do the dishes rather than be around the others. He was lost in thought when he heard the patio door slide open and shut, the sound of bare feet padding against the hardwood. He turned to the entrance of the kitchen, seeing Quinn wearing his boardshorts and a slightly guarded look.

Quinn stopped at the threshold, eyes flicking briefly to Jack’s hands as he scrubbed the dishes. They were tense, knuckles white around the plate he held, and the silence between them was palpable and heavy. Jack set down the dish with a clatter, bracing himself on the edge of the sink, not looking at Quinn. Jack didn’t give Quinn time to speak. The words erupted from him, fueled by everything he’d been holding back.

“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” Jack’s voice was low and seething, barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t dare let Quinn get a word in. “You’re hurting her, Quinn. A perfectly nice girl, who came here not looking for this mess but got dragged into it anyway. And the worst part is, you know it. You know it, and you’re still just… sitting back like a damn martyr, thinking that by staying distant, you’re somehow making it easier for everyone. That by holding back, you’re sparing her, sparing me.”

Jack’s words cut through the quiet, sharper than the silence that had settled in the house over the past days. The vulnerability in his tone was raw, scraping against Quinn’s stoic expression. Quinn shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interrupt; he only looked at Jack, his gaze unwavering.

“And you know what? I kind of hate you for it,” Jack continued, voice unsteady. He turned his head just enough for Quinn to catch the anger, the hurt in his eyes. “I hate that you waltzed in and just took her from me without even trying. And, yeah, maybe that’s selfish. Maybe I never really had a chance, but she was still there, and I was trying. I was there, damn it!”

Quinn finally took a step forward, but Jack cut him off again, his hands clenching at the counter. “And I hate you for pretending like you’re doing the right thing by telling her nothing will happen. You act like you’re some noble saint by ‘staying away,’ but it’s a lie, Quinn. It’s a lie, and we both know it. You’re holding back because you’re scared — scared to go after what you really want, and in the end, you’re just making it worse for everyone. For her. For me.”

Jack’s voice wavered, then cracked, as he finally fell silent, chest heaving from the force of his confession. The words had cost him, as if each syllable had drawn blood. The only sound in the room was the dripping of the faucet, each drop amplifying the tension between them.

Quinn stayed quiet for a long moment, his gaze steady as he absorbed every word. He studied Jack, weighing something unspoken. “Would you hate me if I went for her, then?” His tone was gentle, almost hesitant, a softness that Jack hadn’t been prepared for.

Jack’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I probably would.” He ran a hand through his hair, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I mean I hate you right now for making her feel the way she does. But it shouldn’t matter, Quinn. Not if you two… if you actually care about each other.” Jack’s voice faltered, breaking under the weight of his own honesty. “Look, I’ll get over it. In time. But don’t waste what could be something good just because you’re trying to spare everyone. It’s pointless, and it’s selfish. You need to get to her before it’s too late.”

Quinn could feel Jack’s anger and pain, an emotion so raw and tangled it clawed at the air between them. For a second, Quinn thought of how different things could have been if he had stayed on the sidelines, if he hadn’t let himself get close to you. But as Jack’s gaze softened, an odd understanding settled between them. Jack wasn’t letting go easily, but he was letting go.

Jack’s shoulders slumped, exhausted, as he ran a hand over his face. “She’s leaving today, you know?” he said to Quinn, a look of surprise appearing on his face. “Trev told me last night she booked her flight out for this afternoon.”

Quinn’s face fell, and the guarded look faded, replaced with something dangerously close to panic. He hadn’t known—hadn’t expected that this was it. That today was the end.

“She’s leaving?” Quinn asked, Jack nodding. “Why didn’t she say anything? W-why is she leaving?”

“Because why would she stay?” Jack said. “She’s going to protect herself. She’s not gonna stay here, hoping for something that won’t happen. She’s too smart for that.”

The realization struck Quinn like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless. Jack's words echoed in his mind, each one sharper than the last. She’s leaving. Of course, she would. She wasn’t the type to hang around hoping for some half-hearted promise or for Quinn to finally decide what he wanted. She deserved so much more than waiting for him to get his act together.

Jack's voice softened, pulling him back to the present. "Quinn, it’s not too late. She hasn’t left yet. If you really care about her, don’t let her go like this."

Quinn’s gaze faltered, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his expression. Could he really undo the damage he’d done by staying away? Could he find the words to convince her that, despite his silence, he’d felt everything just as deeply as she had?

A heavy silence followed before Quinn found his voice. “What… what should I say to her?”

Jack shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You really think I’m giving you advice on how to get the girl I wanted?”

Quinn’s face softened in a rare, grateful smile. “Fair enough.” He hesitated, then turned, steeling himself as he left the kitchen, leaving Jack to his own fractured thoughts.

Quinn climbed the stairs two at a time, his pulse racing with every step, anticipation and fear warring within him. As he reached the top, he saw Trevor just exiting your room. Trevor paused, giving Quinn a look that held no small amount of concern.

“I don’t know what went down between you three,” Trevor said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I care about her, and I don’t like seeing her like this. You going to fix whatever mess this is?”

Quinn’s chest tightened. He knew Trevor had been close to you, learning this summer just how much of a big brother figure he was to you. He couldn’t fault him for looking out for you.

“I’m going to fix it,” Quinn said, his voice quiet but firm. He met Trevor’s gaze, hoping to communicate the sincerity in his words. “I have to.”

Trevor didn’t say anything else, but he gave Quinn a long, steady look, as though weighing whether to believe him. Then he gave a nod and shifted your duffle bag, stepping aside to let Quinn pass. With a final glance at Trevor, Quinn walked to your door, his heart racing. Quinn stood outside your door for a moment, his hand hovering above the doorknob. He knew what he needed to say, but a part of him feared that the damage was already done. Bracing himself, he knocked gently before pushing the door open.

You were standing by the window, your zipped duffle bag sitting on your bed. Your back was to the door when Quinn entered, and for a moment, he almost turned around, the words caught in his throat. But then you turned, your eyes meeting his.

“Are you really going?” Quinn asked, his voice quiet and strained.

You nodded, stepping away from the window and closer to Quinn. “I think it’s best. This whole summer has just… it’s too much, Quinn. I didn’t come here expecting any of this, and now I just feel… caught. And I can’t keep feeling this way.”

Quinn swallowed, his gaze never leaving yours. He looked as though he was battling something heavy, words lingering on his lips, waiting to escape. He stepped forward, close enough that you could see the faint circles under his eyes, the fatigue that seemed to pull at his features.

“I didn’t expect any of this either,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I get it — you’re right. I hurt you. I know that. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, it would somehow make it easier for everyone. That maybe you'd move on from this — move on from me, and be with Jack. I thought it would hurt less.”

You held his gaze, your voice low but unwavering. “Do you have any idea what that did to me, Quinn? All summer, feeling this… this connection between us, and thinking that I had to be imagining it because you couldn’t even look at me. And you’re saying you did that on purpose? To protect me?” Your voice trembled. “That’s not protecting me. That’s running away.”

Quinn took a shaky breath, stepping closer, his expression taut with regret. “I know I messed up. I was spineless and I should have told you the truth sooner.” Quinn said, bowing his head briefly before forcing himself to look up at your hurt eyes. “I told myself that it was better this way, but all I was doing was lying to myself. Because every time I saw you… every time I heard your laugh, or watched you talk to Jack, or caught you looking at me — I couldn’t breathe.”

Quinn took one last step forward, less than a foot away from you. He raised his hand to reach you, fingertips grazing your arm gently, as if he feared you might pull away. “But I care about you, more than I thought possible. And I was afraid of that. Afraid of hurting Jack, afraid of hurting you… and afraid of wanting you this much.” He swallowed, his voice growing rough. “But I can’t let you leave without knowing how I feel. I want to be with you I — I need to be with you.”

Your breath hitched, the confession settling over you like a warm, crushing weight. This was what you’d wanted, but it also brought a whirlwind of conflicting emotions crashing down. You took a small step back, just enough to put some distance between you, needing space to gather your thoughts.

Quinn was saying everything you wanted to hear from the beginning. Laying his feelings bare, and exposing his heart in a way you hadn't expected from someone as reserved as him. It was like seeing a hidden part of him, one he’d kept carefully guarded. The vulnerability in his eyes made it clear that this was as terrifying for him as it was thrilling for you.

But in the back of your mind, Jack lingered, his hurt and disappointment woven into every stolen glance and quiet moment of the summer. The image of his face as he realized how you felt about Quinn was something you couldn’t shake. The memory clawed at you, guilt mixing with the longing Quinn’s words evoked.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,” you said, voice catching. “But Quinn… Jack — he tried so hard with me this summer, and I couldn’t give him what he wanted because of… well, because of you.” You hesitated, torn between the longing in Quinn’s eyes and the memory of Jack’s earnest, hopeful glances. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt him. And I feel like I’ve done enough damage by just… being here.”

Quinn’s gaze softened, his hand lingering just above your arm, hovering close as if he wasn’t ready to let you go. “I know,” he murmured. “I know it’s complicated. But I talked to Jack this morning. He told me… he told me to come up here and talk to you. To tell you how I felt. He wants you to be happy, and he knows that’s not with him. He’ll get over it.”

“Jack said that?” you whispered, barely able to believe it.

Quinn nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though there was sadness in his eyes. “He might hate me for a while, and I can live with that. But he said I’d regret it if I let you go. And… he was right.”

His hand, warm and steady, traced down your arm, his fingers slipping around yours with a gentle firmness. The touch, gentle but insistent, sent a jolt through you. “I know I’ve messed up,” he murmured, voice barely a whisper. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll make it right. I want this, us… if you do too.”

You nodded, words escaping you as Quinn stepped even closer, his free hand lifting to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and you could feel the slight tremor in his touch. He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

His lips barely brushed yours, soft and tentative. Your breath mingled together briefly before your lips locked together. He lingered for a heartbeat, savoring the closeness as if he, too, couldn’t believe this was real. Then, with a surge of emotion, the kiss deepened, all the restraint and hesitation of the summer dissolving as his hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you to him as though afraid you might disappear.

His stubble that had grown out over the last couple weeks of summer scraped along your jaw and chin, leaving a faint burn that only added to the rush of sensation.

When you pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day you got here,” he murmured, a hint of relief in his voice.

You giggled, staying close and feeling his heartbeat echoing against yours. The silence that followed was thick, but it was different now — no longer tense or uncertain like it had been for most of the summer. It felt as though the weight had been lifted from both of your shoulders.

But even in that moment, you knew the reality of what this would mean—for Jack, for Quinn, and for yourself. There was a part of you that still ached, remembering Jack’s quiet disappointment and knowing it would take time to heal the wounds this summer had left behind.

You swallowed hard, raising a hand to Quinns face and brushing aside his dark locks that fell over his eyes. “I still think I need to go,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I don’t want this. I do. But I think both of you need time, and maybe I do too. To let everything settle.”

Quinn nodded, understanding settling over his expression. “I get it,” he replied, taking your hand in his and giving your palm a soft kiss. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”

Quinn let you slip from his arms, his heart squeezing as he watched you grab your bag and exit the room. As you descended the stairs with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, you saw Jack waiting near the door. His expression softened as you approached, a bittersweet smile crossing his face.

“So, this is it?” he asked, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of acceptance.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s best. Thank you, Jack. For understanding. And… for everything.”

Jack gave a short nod, his gaze momentarily flickering towards the stairs where Quinn had stopped to watch from a distance. He returned his gaze to you and managed a small, sincere smile. “Go live your life. I wish you and Quinn all the best.”

You hugged him, both of you holding on just a second longer than necessary. When you pulled back, you could see the mix of emotions in his eyes, but there was a sense of peace there too. He’d let go, not because it didn’t hurt, but because he genuinely wanted you to be happy. You felt your heart swell, gratitude mixing with the faint sting of regret for the friendship that would never quite be the same. But Jack’s words lifted the weight off your shoulders, letting you and Quinn move forward.

With a final look, you stepped outside, Trevor waiting to drive you to the airport, his brow furrowed in confusion at the way you suddenly had pep in your step, a small smile present on your lips that had been missing for weeks. As the car pulled away, you stole one last glance at the lake house, catching a glimpse of Quinn watching you from the porch. He raised a hand in a small wave, and you returned it, a soft smile on your lips.

This summer hadn’t turned out anything like you’d expected.

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choiminjae0325 · 18 days ago

Text

day by day, year after year

summary: time flies when you're having fun, and summers on the lake fly by all too fast.

request: yes. CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS. SUMMER FIC.

warnings: honestly there's a big chunk o smut in this like I took it as friends to LOVERS ok it's not all smut tho promise ; If you're not into smut you could honestly scroll past it and still enjoy the fic!! nico hischier is portrayed as a little shit in this (baseless) ; lil bit of insecure!quinn. ; sort of au bc hockey is mentioned but not as biblically accurate as I like to be ; big summer friend group vibes ; barely edited i am sorry in advance :(

smut below the cut. minors dni also just a note for everyone: pls don’t allow fictional media to create false expectations for u.

word count: 20k

Summer in Michigan was hot, which was why your mother insisted on buying a house on the lake. Everything one could possibly need was in arms reach; the chain grocery store a 5 minute drive away; a liquor and corner store even closer. With your parents away on an extended trip, the lake house was all yours and your girlfriends'.

You're all laying on towels across the dock, sunbathing, and when you feel like it, taking a dip in the cool water. The neighbours hadn't made it back to the lake just yet, which explained why the water was so still. No boats or jet ski’s disturbing the surface.

“D’you know when those boys will be here?” your friend, Julie, asked as she turned onto her back.

“Who, the Hughes?” You clarified, though you knew damn well who she meant. You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking towards the dock closest to yours. It was close enough to swim to, but certainly not in one breath. “No, why?”

“Oh, come on. You have eyes.” Mila wiggles her eyebrows. Your girlfriends shared wide smiles. You blushed, a specific Hughes coming to mind.

“Who are you kidding? You are so hot for Quinn Hughes,” Chelsea rolls her eyes and grins.

“Good, stay in your lane!” Julie says before she jumps over the side of the dock. She, along with the rest of your friends, could run a Jack Hughes fan club. They absolutely fawned over him. Whatever it was they thought you were doing over the oldest Hughes boy, they were doing tenfold to poor Jack. It had always been that way, though.

Maybe it was because Quinn was so quiet.

Maybe it was because Jack was so easy to like.

Maybe it was because Luke was just a little too young.

You don't argue, because there are parts of you these girls know better than you know yourself. You hold them close to your heart, so close they could see right into it. You close your eyes when you turn over onto your back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin.

You're all but ten years old the year your parents buy the lake house. It's a pretty pale blue with white trimming, with no need for renovations, which your dad likes, and it has a jacuzzi, which your mom likes. You stand outside on the big patio, trying to figure out what you like about the house. It looks onto the lake below, where you see a couple of boats and jet skis cutting through the otherwise calm water. The sun is high and it makes everything sparkle.

"Hey!" You hear someone call and you look around. "Come around!" You follow the sound, around to where the balcony wraps around the side of the house. "Over here!" Through the trees you see a boy waving both arms above his head. He barely clears the handrail, so he climbs up over it.

You're terrified for him. It's a long way down, maybe four stories if you consider the land sloping towards the water. There's another boy there, though, one that you can see clearly over the railing. He's maybe your height, and you hope he's got a tight grip on the smaller one. "You should tell your parents you want to live here."

"Yeah? Why?" You call back, straining to rest your chin on the bannister, a front row seat if he were to fall.

"'Cause we're here!" The little boy flashes a big smile, and you can see that he's missing a couple teeth. The boy next to him waves and gives you a matching smile. You want to tell them that your parents already bought the place, you'll be here every summer, when another boy comes into view through the small clearing in the trees.

"What are you guys yelling about out here? Jack! Get him down from there!" He rushes forward and yanks the small boy back inside the confines of the patio. The first boy is grumbling, and the second one is laughing, dragging him away. The third one looks through the tree branches, sees you, and yells, "Sorry about that!"

You don't meet them again until your dad calls you and your mom out onto the dock one random afternoon. The new boat he placed on order had finally arrived, and he had invited the neighbours to help roll it into the lake.

"You're not supposed to be pushing the boat," the same small boy says to you when you follow your dad to where the boat is still attached to his truck. Your mom chats with theirs over on the dock.

"Why not?" you question, crossing your arms.

"You're a girl. You can sit on the boat, but you shouldn't be doing the boat work," he tells you in a bossy tone you don't like. Up close, the gap between his missing teeth is a lot bigger. You look at your dad, who is busy chatting with theirs.

"She's got arms, she can push if she wants to." The other one says, giving his younger brother a nudge. The third boy is standing with your dads, as if he was part of their conversation.

"Honey, have you met the Hughes?" Your dad waves the three of you over. "This is Mr. Hughes and his sons, Quinn, Jack, and Luke." Your dad introduces you before you can tell him that, yes, you've met.

"These boys help me with our boat every year. Real good at taking care of her, 'specially Quinn here," Mr. Hughes puts a hand on the third boy's shoulder. You wonder if he's squinting like that because it's so sunny. No one else is. "You can stay up by the truck and control the wench, we'll get the work done down here. Little lady, do you want to sit in the boat when we get it into the water?" Mr. Hughes asks you, and your dad tilts his head, letting you make your own decision. Pettiness fully bloomed at the age of ten, you glare daggers at a smug looking Luke.

"I want to help push."

Luke scoffs. Jack laughs. Quinn doesn't say anything at all.

Your dad rewards their work by taking everyone out on the lake in the new boat. You sit beside your mom, who sits beside their mom. Luke is nestled in Mrs. Hughes' side. Jack and Quinn are up at the front of the boat with your dads. They let the two older boys take turns 'driving the boat.' The sky is every shade used to describe love, the sun kissing the water in the distance. The wind whipping through the boat is warm. You didn't know it, blowing raspberries across the boat at little Luke Hughes, but he would turn out to be right.

You would come back to the lake, year after year, because they were here.

You’re running around your front yard, ‘helping’ your mom plant flowers along the perimeter, when you see your neighbours come out from their front door. They drag big bags and load their car. “Why do you have skates in the summer?” You ask, and stare accusingly at Quinn, who holds a pair in his hands.

“Gonna go play hockey!” Luke yells, jumping out from behind him.

“Hockey? You can’t play hockey,” you say, little voice dripping with pettiness, “My dad watches hockey. You’re way too short.” Luke hated that.

“Don’t listen to her champ- she was watching Sid the Kid. She doesn’t know the first thing about hockey.” Mr. Hughes notices him and comes over, happily greeting each other.

“Why don’t you two come along?” Mr. Hughes asks your dad, “You can help run the drills and the scrimmage, I can explain the game a bit to her. Come hang out.” Your dad looks to your mom, who gives him two thumbs up.

You sit in a cold rink with your dad’s zip up hoodie over your shoulders. You didn’t have any of the right clothes to be inside an ice rink in July. It was freezing. You didn’t know places like this existed in the summer. Your dad puts on a pair of skates and is on the ice, with everyone else. One thing was clear when you saw the neighbours’ kids skating around with the other kids; they were good skaters. Everyone was skating but they were skating fast, stopping fast, and skating backwards really well. Your dad acquires a whistle, and is preparing everyone for puck drop.

Mr. Hughes tells you what that is, and why everyone is standing where they are. There’s a reason for everything. Certain players need to know what this is for themselves as well as someone else, their check. A good player knows all the reasons for anyone on the ice- has to know why their guy wants to be on that side of him, needs to know why he can’t let that happen. “Watch Quinn,” He points out his son near the net. Quinn skates back, boxes his check out in front of his own net, forcing the other guy to the outside corner.

A good player pays attention to the zones, can tell how fast a puck is moving as it’s coming. The lines are important: your side, the “neutral” zone, and their side. You want to be in their side as much as possible, but there are rules to going about doing so. “Look at what Jack’s going to do,” he points him out for you, he’s the one coming off the bench. The moment he does, he taps his stick to the ice. As soon as he receives the pass he steps over the big blue line, and Lukey flies by him headed right to the other goalie. Jack gives it to Luke, who puts it in the net.

“It’s really more of a winter sport,” Mr. Hughes admits to you, “but they enjoy it way too much to hang their skates in the summer.” You spend the rest of the afternoon going back and forth with Mr. Hughes on the bleachers.

You're eleven when you first hear the phrase, 'raised by women.' You hear it at the country club, sitting under the shade of the golf cart with your mom and others, playing caddies for a day.

"What little gentlemen those Hughes boys are turning out to be," Mrs. Hischier says, sipping from a straw in a glass. You look over, and sure enough, out of all the boys they're the only ones with their shirts still tucked, though Luke is pushing it.

"That's what happens when you're raised by women."

"You mean raised by the woman. El, what's your secret?" Your mom bumps shoulders with her. They're close- neighbours, boat seat buddies, and occasionally each other's summer babysitters. Mrs. Hughes laughs, doesn't take credit, tells them her husband does a lot, too.

You look out to the dads and boys, each gripping metal clubs. You've sat through enough courses to know the rotation. It'd be Mr. Zegras, then Trevor; Mr. Hischier, Luca, then Nico; Mr. Tkachuk, Matthew, and then Brady; Mr. Hughes, then Quinn, then Jack, and then Luke. Your dad's turn is between Brady Tkachuk and Mr. Hughes. You want to swing too, want to stand in the sun and hit a little ball with all your might. A loud crack makes you jump out of your thoughts, and your eyes settle on Quinn's follow through.

You're eleven when you make a friend out of Quinn Hughes. In middle school you're taught a lot outside of classrooms. It's a boy vs girl world. Boys are brash and brazen and aggressive. Why would anyone ever want a boy? But come summer, it was three boys you'd be stuck with.

You ask Quinn because you can't ask Luke- he's not even that good. Jack is out of the question. He's your age and boys your age are gross. Quinn is older, taller, wiser, at least, you think he is. You walk down their deck, where he's standing with his parents by their boat.

"Hello," you say politely, with all the niceties your mother taught you, "Can I play golf with you?" His parents look at each other, pretending to talk about the boat as they listen in on you.

"Huh? Why?" Quinn faces you fully with somewhat of a frown on his face. You've known him for a summer, seen him enough times to know he just looks like that. He doesn't tell you no, doesn't tell you girls can't. He's raised by a woman, after all.

"I wanna be good," you say, "and I think you're good."

He grins at the compliment- the biggest you've seen him smile. Says, "Okay," with a tug of his mom's dress.

"I think that's a wonderful idea, I'll put you two down for the junior driving range." Her eyes sparkle with something other than the reflection of the sun on the water.

You're thirteen the year you realize Jack is pretty. It's the first year your parents let you invite friends to the lake house. You're only allowed to bring two so you choose Julie and Megan. Julie's a no-brainer, she's your best friend. You invite Megan because she's the most popular girl in school. You think it's a good idea until you're stuck with her for three months. She's always on her phone, complaining about anything she can to anyone who will listen. Still, you try and enjoy your summer. Maybe she'll get her parents to pick her up a week early.

You and Julie are sitting in floaties, chatting and keeping close to the dock, where Megan sunbathes on a towel on her phone. A call of your name has you turning your head towards the familiar sound. Every year, they sound a little different, little changes in the pitch of their voices. You’d recognize them all the same.

You see Jack waving at you from their dock, but you know it wasn't his voice you heard. Your eyes narrow and scan up their deck. Where's Luke? The words are there on your tongue, but before you even open your mouth Julie shrieks as she's yanked underwater. Megan scrambles to her feet in panic, away from the edge of the water, clutching her phone to her chest. Jack jumps in like a lifeguard on duty, swimming towards the group of you.

When Luke and Julie surface they are both red in the face. Julie is gasping for air and Jack helps her get to the ladder up your dock. "Luke, you're the biggest idiot I have ever met." You tell him, watching him grab onto Julie's abandoned floatie.

"Odds were 50-50," he snaps at you, clearly embarrassed. He follows you, swimming back to shore. He hoists both floaties onto the deck and follows you out of the water.

"Are you okay, Jules?" You kneel down next to her, and rub her back as she tries to control her heaving. Jack stands, casting some shade on her, and Megan is quick to stand by his side. She adds to the shadow cast on Julie, but her eyes are on Jack.

"I'm okay!" she assures you with a cheerful voice, despite her coughing, "Just surprised me- is all." Your leg shoots out to kick Luke, who was standing uselessly.

"Ow- I'm sorry," he bends down next to you to apologize sincerely, "I meant to drown that," he refers to you, tone absolutely dripping, and you can't stop yourself from laughing. You wrap one arm around his shoulders, give him a side hug.

"It's nice to see you, too, Lukey." He drops the act, hugs you back. You both help Julie to her feet, and you're about to greet Jack properly when you notice someone else already has. Luke clears his throat, and Jack looks up. He moves forward to hug you, too.

"Hey, Sunshine," he calls you by a name you are only known by here, on this lake. "Who're your friends?"

You remember during your third summer in Michigan, the three brothers were going through their WWE phase. Every morning, they'd yell at you from their dock or their patio at the top of their lungs: 'Hey Sunshine! Can you hear the cannons? Kapow!' and flex and pose ridiculously. They never dared to do it again the following summers, but the nickname stuck and would always remind you.

"This is Julie and Megan," you introduce everyone, "And this is Jack and Luke. They're from next door. They're usually a blast when Luke's not attempting murder," you stick a sharp elbow into his side. "Where's Quinn?"

"He's working on the boat with dad. Should be ready by this afternoon," Luke reports excitedly.

"And why aren't you two aren't helping?" You cross your arms.

"We saw you and wanted to say hi," Jack shrugs innocently, "Do you guys want to come boating when it's ready?

"Yes," Megan answered quickly for the three of you. It was probably the most interest in doing anything she had expressed all summer. You were just happy she was getting involved instead of moping about bad cell service.

You're thirteen the year you realize Jack is pretty. It's not Megan and her googly eyes and lingering touches on his arm. No, that was all normal for Megan. Julie says his name a little too much, stares at him a little too long. You're staring at him too, across the boat. It's something between a squint and a glare, scrutinizing. You don't see it. You see brown curls that stick to his forehead with sweat and lake water. Your friends are much more interested in talking to Jack than you, which you don't like but don't fight either, and move up the boat.

"Can I try?" You ask Quinn, who was holding the wheel, and he steps aside, one hand on the wheel until you get both of yours on. Your dads are sitting behind you, talking through every sport under the sun. The four of you have all had your chance at the wheel before; the day you're all eligible, they'll take you to get your license. They'd love nothing more than to sit in the back with their feet up one day, or go golfing instead of chaperoning a boat day.

"Keep it straight," Quinn says, pulling the wheel ever so slightly. He lets go of the wheel again and you don't say anything. Among the three brothers, Quinn had the least to say. You preferred silence with Quinn over radio silence from your friends. You breathe deeply, enjoying the soft hum of the motor over the chatter in the background. "I think Megan likes Jack."

You give him a sideways look, "Uh huh."

"Does that bother you?"

Your eyebrows furrow, and you turn your head to look at him fully. "When did you become so chatty?"

He reaches out to straighten the boat again. He shrugs, ever so neutral. Out of the three, he's the hardest to get to, the hardest to bother. "You seem bothered by it," he says, "Otherwise, you'd be back there."

"I just want to get some practice in," You weren't all that bothered, you tell yourself, yet you refuse to even look over your shoulder. If anything, he's what's annoying you now, "I'm gonna get my license so I can drive around without them, whenever I want."

"I'm gonna get mine first," he tells you, and it's probably true. After a moment he adds something that is definitely true, "I think Megan likes Jack more than you."

You laugh. Hearing him say it makes you feel better, somehow. You feel seen; he validates your frustration. "I think so, too."

"Don't worry, it's always like that with Jack," Quinn says, an attempt to comfort you. He gives you another shrug accompanied by a small smile, and for the first time he looks bothered. It's his eyes that give him away, blue not like a clear day, but blue like the centre of a hurricane. You smile back. The boat hums beneath you.

You're fourteen when Quinn gets in your head. It's not even summer, though you're counting down the days. It'll be exactly three months and four days until summer vacation, three months and two days before you make it back to the lake. You sit in art class with Julie, across from two boys on the basketball team, when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

Quinn: Heyy

You show Julie under the table and she raises an eyebrow, "What does he want?" You shrug, staring at your text chat. You can't even swipe because it's so short. The only previous messages are from last summer.

Quinn: Hey sunshine it's quinn

hey!! ty I'll save ur number :)

You're reading it over when he sends another.

Quinn: Sorry, that was Luke

haha, ok. how's jack and lukey?

He doesn't reply, and you have never focused on a text chat so much in your life. You check your phone throughout the day, throughout the week, but he never lights up your phone. By the weekend you think to let it go. It's not like he has anything to text you about. And he's older, they're always saying it only gets harder. He's probably busy doing his homework, like you. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and it's a text from a boy but not the one you want.

Megan isn’t invited back the next summer. Quinn’s got his boat license, as he said he would, and it’s the first time you guys are out on the boat unsupervised. He drives down the water, picking up friends along the lake. You and Julie are comfortable in the back, and Jack and Luke are up front with Quinn, who always takes his role too seriously.

“Quinnnn, you’re the man,” Nico daps him up into a hug when he boards the boat. He looks down the boat, greets you and Julie. Nico is the same age as Quinn, and he drives too- only he doesn’t actually have his license. He’s too lazy to get it, and he'll get away with it for as long as he can. “Jack, where’s your friend? You know, the one.” He makes a face, which makes the whole boat snicker. He imitates Megan clinging to Jack’s arm, and quickly gets shoved off. “God, what’s her name?” He snaps his fingers, as if it would help him. He gives up, tapping Quinn, “Yo, pull over on your left here.”

Nico was probably Jack’s best friend, outside of his brothers. He’s a class clown and a loose cannon. He’s annoying, and crass, and loud, and terribly easy to like. He's everything Quinn isn't. He gives Luke pointers on picking up girls like they're trade secrets. Like Jack, he's easy on the eyes. You think that's why he gets away with all the stuff he does, charms his way out of anything. They're a devastating duo on the lake for sure.

He brings Luke up the random dock and disappears up the stairs. They return quickly, faster than you can suggest leaving them. They have two pretty girls in tow, who you recognize from the country club. Luke 's ears are red but he's grinning. You can see Quinn roll his eyes from where you sit at the back of the boat. Nico introduces Chelsea and Mila, and everyone except Quinn finds themselves at the back of the boat. You stare at his back until Jack's voice reels you back in. The conversation is something to do with how certain finishes make docks less slippery. It's nothing interesting, but you suspect Jack could read a telephone book and someone would listen. Even Chelsea and Mila pretend to for a bit.

Chelsea was slender with sharp features, like a supermodel with the height to match. She was easily the tallest person on the boat, clearing even Quinn, who had grown a lot since the previous summer. Mila had a rounder, friendlier face, and was only up to Chelsea's shoulders. You learned that Chelsea liked writing poetry and Mila's goal in life was to become a cat lady. It was hard to believe they weren't sisters, but best friends, like you and Julie.

Nico quickly grows bored of the lack of attention, and lucky for him, Quinn picks up Trevor, and then Matthew and Brady, who board with a bag of ice and a pack of fruit sodas for the cooler.

Matthew gives Quinn a break from driving, and he joins the back of the boat for the first time since setting sail. He leans on the edge of the boat, and you get everyone to squish in, so that he can sit on the cushions, too. "Thanks," he mutters, and sinks down next to you.

You know why he's not sitting on the side with the guys- he doesn't like Nico. He doesn't say much, seated next to you, but he would say even less if he were sitting over there. For Nico was everything that Quinn wasn't; all chatty and charming.

Your thigh rests over his ever so slightly, and you're made hyper aware of how hot his body runs. He leans back and you sit forward. He's still like stone, and you almost forget he's there, with your back half turned to him while you're in conversation with the girls. He doesn't sit for long, and heads back to the wheel, talking quietly with the older Tkachuk brother. His absence makes you feel cold. The surface of the boat is hot to the touch with the sun beating down on it.

The same group, the same night, gathered in the basement of the Hughes house. It was decidedly the biggest and their parents were the most accommodating. Your parents didn't mind if you and Julie were out at night, as long as you were close by. It certainly helped that they knew the Hughes personally.

Matthew opts out of the sleepover, claiming that 'he's too old for this,' and 'he's got better things to do', like calling his girlfriend. That left the ten of you, a mix of sitting and laying down in the Hughes' big comfy basement. The couch downstairs was even bigger than the one upstairs in the living room, you could all fit side by side. But why would you when there were bean bags and floor cushions that were just as comfortable.

You'd outplayed the board games and grew tired of the video games, and it had gotten to that hour of the night, where you would all sneak out to the lake and lay on the grass under the stars. You couldn't imagine doing any of this with anyone else- it was still very boys vs girls back home, and middle school boys were decidedly gross.

Nico reminds you that he's gross, too. "Hey Lukey, who would you rather see topless? Julie or Mila?"

The question cuts through the peaceful silence, and you hear someone sigh. The energy shifts, though no one moves, breaths held.

"Uhh, probably Julie." Luke answers awkwardly, but recovers fast, "Trevor: would you rather kiss five 10/10s, or french two 5/10's?"

You close your eyes as Trevor dissects the question and explains his thought process over something that would never actually happen. "... 5 is pretty good overall. I'm frenching the 5's. Higher possibility of getting to the next base.” You hear hands clap, likely Trevor and Nico high-fiving; for what, you have no idea. It's not like it would ever happen.

"Hey, Sunshine, whose bed would you rather sleep in? Jack or Luke?" Trevor asks you, and you hear coughing from Jack on your right. Luke is eagerly waiting for your answer.

“You know there are three of them, right?” You say to Trevor.

Nico laughs like a dog barks. “Quinn wouldn’t let you in his bed even if you begged him,” He makes you frown in the dark. Trevor snickers, and the group laughs lazily, because Nico is just so funny.

“Mmm, I think I have to go with Lukey." You think before speaking, "Julie, who would you rather go swimming with, Jack or Benji?"

"Who the hell is Benji? Nah, keep it local," Nico cuts in while Julie thinks. You don't know what she's thinking about. She'll say Jack every time.

"Fine," you bite back at him, starting to get annoyed, "Jack or Brady?"

"And swimming? You can do better than that, c'mon now. Make it interesting at least."

"Since when are there so many rules to Would You Rather?" Chelsea speaks up in your defence. You feel her warm hand on your wrist; you don't have to face him alone. Nico's replies are grumbles.

"Jack?" It comes out like a question, as if she's unsure, as if she forgot what the original question was.

"I said choose someone other than Jack," Nico snaps.

"Dude, relax," Jack says, and when Jack says that you know Nico's getting wound up. He knows Nico, knows the ebbs and flows of his temper. It's getting tense now. Softly, he says, "Just go, Julie."

'Chelsea, if you had to choose, who would you rather see naked? Trevor or Brady?' Uhhh, Brady. Sure.

'Brady, would you rather shower with Sunny or Mila?' Sunny. Sorry Mila.

'Z, would you rather have Chelsea or Mila sit in your lap?' Mila, definitely, Mila.

'Sunshine, would you rather Netflix and chill with Quinn or Nico?'

You think about it. You're not sure what you're thinking about, because you'd rather drink a cup of lake water than be anywhere close to Nico Hischier. You're so familiar with Quinn that despite the night you can see his face, clear in your mind. You're silent for maybe a little too long.

"Are you actually thinking about it?" Nico's voice is provoking. It seems like he's calmed down, anger turning into shit eating mischief.

"Quinn," you say, jaw tight, controlling your own. But you've been petty since the age of ten, "Easily, Quinn."

"It's not like it would ever happen." Nico mutters. He's good at that, saying things under his breath for everyone to hear.

When Jack tells Nico to calm down, it's because he's getting out of hand.

When Quinn tells Nico to calm down, it's a warning.

"Move on, dude." Quinn doesn't like Nico, not really. You're not fond of Nico either, as fun and funny as he could be. It'd be two summers later that he'd give you a good reason.

Of course it's Jack that brings a girlfriend back to the lake first. Her name is Lola and her hair is a pretty shade of light brown so close to blonde, you're surprised it's natural. You learn that she's really good at wakeboarding. She's funny like Luke, and cute like Mila. She's sweet like you and easy to talk to, like Julie. Julie tries not to like her. But like Nico, she's hard to hate.

You're fifteen and meeting a girl like Lola makes you acutely aware of how your shirts fit a little tighter in the chest, and how your tummy folds when you sit down. She looks good in anything she puts on. You were never shy about being in your bathing suit before, but this summer you keep your tshirt on for as long as reasonably possible. Because you're fifteen and now you care what people think of you; want boys to like you, look at you the way Jack looks at Lola.

You were thirteen when you realized Jack is pretty. You're fifteen and you see what Megan saw in your friends. There had to be something in the lake water, because the boys back home don't look anything like they do. They changed every year, bit by bit, sure. But now Luke towers over you, curly hair like the cutest puppy in the pet shop, and Trevor's face is so much sharper, and Brady is as big as he is tall. Quinn looks so fluffy with his hair grown out, and his voice officially dropped. Not that he used it all that much, though he was grumbling about needing a haircut.

"Don't," you tell him quietly, as quietly as he said it. You're helping him with the boat, or more accurately, he's helping you with yours. Your dad is flying in late, and ever neighbourly, Mr. Hughes sends his best (and really only) boater for your assistance.

If he heard you, which he did, he doesn't say anything. The only indication that he did might've been in his eyebrows, which raised for less than a moment. He's focused on checking the oil, the engine, you're not really sure, honestly. You're just cleaning the dust off everything. "You finally getting your license this year?"

"With any luck, yeah." You want to keep him talking now that he’s opened up, "Any tips?"

"Uhh," he stops what he's doing, doesn't quite look at you. Maybe he's thinking. He's not good with his words so, "I can show you, after this?"

"Oh." Your eyes widen, surprised by how much you want that. Before you can reply, you hear shouts of your names.

"Morning!" Julie stretches both arms up to the sky, having just woken up. It’s nearly noon. She looks small on your back deck. You wave at her, and she makes her way down the stairs. You hear Quinn sigh softly, and if you weren't paying so much attention to him and his voice you would have missed it. You have maybe thirty seconds before she makes it to the boat.

"Later, yeah?"

He's quiet, and as Julie approaches he says on a deep exhale, "Yeah, okay."

Julie puts both hands on the boat, using them to help push her feet up off the dock for a few swings. "How's she lookin'?" she asks, peering over at what Quinn's got his hands on (she doesn't know either.)

"What?" Quinn asks, a bit too fast. His ears are red as he all but glares at your best friend. Julie squints at him, squints at you.

"The boat?" she deadpans. "When'll she be ready?"

"Soon," you answer for Quinn, who's retreating back into his shell. “We can probably take it out later this afternoon. I think Quinn said we need to check the… propellers.”

“Okay…” Julie says slowly, “Sounds boring. I’m gonna go eat breakfast with your mom. She says lunch is ready whenever you’re ready, by the way.”

You both watch her disappear up the deck, and Quinn turns to you, “The propellers are fine? We turned them on earlier.”

“I know,” you say, even though you really didn’t, “c’mon, I thought you were going to show me stuff?” You look up at him and turn the key to the boat to start the engine. He laughs, eyes widening as he catches up with your train of thought, takes the wheel from you and quickly pulls away from the dock.

There's not much to driving a boat on a lake, but he tells you what they'll ask of you on the exam, and goes through the motions with you. The two of you drive through every inch of Lake Bloomington, Quinn talking more than you had ever heard him in all your years of knowing him. You like the sound of him, want him to talk to you forever. So you keep him talking.

You ask him and he tells you. He tells you about his goals in life and when they’ll happen, not if. He tells you he’s not one to dwell on dreams. He’ll play in the NHL someday soon. You didn’t realize it was that serious for him, for any of the Hughes, but you tell him not to forget about you when he’s famous. You’re only partially joking. He tells you how he’ll pay off the lake house mortgage for his parents the moment he can. In his own way, he tells you he'll always be here, on this lake.

Jack asks you to take care of Lola while he’s out at the rink with the boys. You have Julie, Chelsea, Mila, and Lola over, and you’re lounging around the patio set on your back deck, the trees fanning you with a gentle breeze every now and then.

“Yeah, I want one like that, with its face all squished,” Lola is showing Mila a video of a cat on Instagram. They get along well. You got along well with her, too. And as much as she didn’t want to, so did Julie.

“So, are you guys in relationships, too?” Lola asks, turning a lazy day into an official girls day, hot gossip and all. “I’d be surprised if none of you are.”

“Chelsea just broke up with her boyfriend,” Mila says, and if they weren’t best friends it would have been jarring to hear it from anyone other than Chelsea.

“Good for you, girl,” Lola fist bumps Chelsea across the table. “Guys don’t deserve girls, honestly.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t you with Jack?” Mila asks. You try not to engage her as much, though you want to. Julie is your friend first.

“I am,” she smiles with a nonchalant shrug. She blushes, shows her love for him on her cheeks. “I just mean, you guys are so awesome to be around. Wars were fought over women, y’know? Boys are lucky to be around you. They don’t always deserve it, though. Chelsea knows what I mean.”

And you look at Chelsea, who cries into Mila’s shoulder. When she catches her breath, she tells all about her ex. She’s a writer, so she makes you fall in love with him too, drives you through from start to finish, takes you along the bends. She has such a way with words that you’re all crying by the end of it.

When Jack retrieves Lola it’s half past five. Chelsea’s mom picks the last two up not long after. After dinner, you and Julie lay in the grass by the water. The sun sets extra slowly that day.

You don’t need to look at Julie to know she’s crying. You put an arm around her, squeeze her tight, rub her back. “I hate that I like her.” She struggles to get the words out. “I hate it so much.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “me too.” You hated how she was your age but so much cooler, prettier, wiser. You hated how she made knee length jean shorts look good. You hated how her hair was always perfect, even after wiping out on the water. You hated seeing your best friend cry.

She looks up from your shoulder when she feels you tense up. She lets out a small sob when she sees Jack and Lola, sitting on the Hughes’ dock, feet in the water. She stands and bolts up your patio stairs with tears flying off her face. She dodges Quinn on her way up.

“What are you doing here?” You ask when he reaches you. He ducks down, crawls behind some foliage and motions you to come with.

“Your dad let me in,” he says, but it’s not his regular quiet. He’s being sneaky quiet.

“Okay, that’s how you got here. What are you doing?”

“Spying on Jack, obviously. Are you staying or leaving?” He looks up at you and you feel bad that your first thought isn’t Julie, but you know her well enough that she’ll need time to calm down before you can talk to her again anyways. You make yourself small next to him, leaning towards him to peek around the trees in your way.

They’re laughing, and you note the way Jack’s hand rests on the deck, one arm crossed behind her. Not quite around her yet, but he fixes that quickly. He reaches sideways and hugs her to him. She lays her head on his shoulder and he doesn’t let go. The clouds are pink and they cradle the sun, casting the loveliest light over the lake. It’s picture perfect, their silhouettes on the dock and the setting sun.

As you spy on Jack and Lola watching the sunset, it dawns on you that you’re watching the sunset with Quinn.

You're sixteen when your parents let you have a boyfriend, and you're surprised they like him enough to invite him to the lake that summer. He gets well along with Julie, who insists on inviting a friend of her own so she's not third wheeling all summer. You tell her that the gang will still be there, it's not like she's stuck with the two of you. Your parents seem more understanding than you, and let her bring Olivia. You like Olivia too, so of course you're excited to bring more friends to the lake.

Your boyfriend, Jason, is the first guy from school that asked you to hang out and didn't make it weird. He's got a pretty face, is tall and fills out his tshirts with his broad shoulders. He's nice to you and nice to your friends and that's kind of all you look for in a guy at sixteen. Jason Robertson is popular in your middle school and he's popular on the lake, too. Maybe that's why Nico doesn't like him.

To Julie's joy, Lola is no longer in the picture. Olivia and Quinn get along well. You're surprised that he drops his resting bitch face when he talks to her. You suspect the only reason she's not going for Jack is because she knows Julie is. Jason sits in the driver's seat behind you, and you're perched on his knee as you drive your dad's boat down the lake. His arm holds you like a seatbelt, and he chats easily with Trevor, Chelsea, and Mila who are nearby. The only person Jason hasn't had much time with is Quinn, which is fine, because he always seems to be talking to Olivia. Since when does he talk so much?

"Eyes on the road, yeah?" Jason says, chin on your bare shoulder. His hand covers yours and pulls the boat back on path. His voice is the same pitch as Quinn's, and it's among the things you like about him. You hum absently, used to him being so close to you.

"I can take over, Sunshine?" Nico offers out of nowhere. He doesn't like you, but he seems to like Jason even less, hates him enough to be nice to you. He calls you by your nickname every chance he gets- something Jason doesn't have for you. Nico holds it over him like it's his. You have the right mind to tell him off, but you're not in your right mind. You were out on the lake with all your best friends, and you were getting annoyed, and for once it wasn't because of Nico.

"Yeah, fine," you let go of the wheel irresponsibly, walking away from Jason. He's fine to be left alone, after all, everyone else likes him. You walk to the back of the boat where they're wakeboarding and sit down next to Julie in the corner. She's next to Jack, her usual spot, and immediately notices you fuming. She turns to you, asks if you're okay with her eyes. You give her a nod, close your eyes and throw your head back on the seat. The Michigan sun is hot, uncomfortably so.

The Hughes installed a pool table in the basement, so of course all summer long there is a running tournament. There's a leaderboard on the mantle, keeping score. In an attempt to climb the standings, Nico gets alcohol involved. Brady convinces Matthew to boot, who only agrees if he stays to supervise. He sets you guys up with beer pong and drinks a bottle in front of the TV, playing Super Smash Bros. with Jack, Julie, and Mila. It's hard to get Quinn and Luke away from the pool table. It's hard to get Olivia away from Quinn.

You don't like the taste of beer so you're really avoiding losing. Trevor cheers on Nico and Chelsea across the table, and Brady helps you and Jason catch stray ping pong balls. Jason's on the basketball team, so you figure he'd be good at this, and he is.

It could be that he's drunk from drinking all the times Chelsea didn't want to. It could be because Jason's name is still above his on the chalkboard. It could also be because he just lost beer pong to him. Nico didn't like your boyfriend Jason, and he was being so nice to you to spite him that you almost forgot how awful he could be.

Nico whips a ping pong ball at him, misses. "Could it be more obvious that she doesn't even fucking like you, dude?" He's not yelling, but he might as well have been, the way the room falls silent. "She's been into Quinn since like, the sixth grade. Everyone here knows you're a cuck." Jack comes quickly, and you feel Jason breathing heavy beside you, until he's not. He leaves through the basement door, and you don't realize you're crying until Julie grabs you, wipes your face with her thumbs.

You hate the quiet, the room dead silent aside from Jack speaking to Nico in a hushed fury. You hate the way Olivia stares at you, eyes wide next to Quinn. Above all, you hate that Nico reads you for everyone like a children’s book at story time.

Julie’s now talking to you, but it's like you’re underwater, you can’t make out a thing. You look at Nico, who’s arguing with Jack. Behind him you see Quinn, who puts his cue stick down, lays it on the table.

“So I’m just supposed to let him walk all over me? Get real,” Nico snaps, and takes a shove at Jack. Trevor grabs Nico’s shoulder and pulls him back. Nico looks at you, his gaze as hot as his words are cold, “I’m not even wrong, am I?”

“Nico, you ruin everything.” You scream at him and take off through the same door as Jason. Your voice cracks at the end, all the hurt for them to hear. You’ve never been this upset before, not at home, and certainly not at the lake. This was your happy place.

Julie doesn’t run after you, and stops Luke from doing so. She knows you, knows you need to calm down before anyone can talk to you. She looks at Nico like he shot you, and he groans, rubs his hands over his face. He fears he's done more damage than it was worth. It's not his fault you were in the crossfire.

You cross through the trees between your houses, look up and see the light in Jason’s room on. He’s talking on the phone. You can’t face him, can’t face your parents right now, not with how much you’re crying. You sneak down the steps towards the lake. It’s very dark, the moon and stars covered by clouds that begin to cry with you.

The rain is cold, yet the night is warm. It doesn’t rain often in the summertime, but when it does it pours. You like the way it feels, soaking your hair and your tshirt. Your tears run warm down your face, the only evidence you’re still crying. You sit there, mesmerized by the feeling of water falling from the sky and your eyes.

“Julie said you weren’t in your room.” You don’t need to look at him to know. There was only one person who had ever sat here with you. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“How’d you know?” Your voice doesn't sound like your own, weak and hoarse. Quinn lowers himself to the ground, sits down next to you. Every breath feels like a sob.

“Lucky guess.” You feel him shrug. This is the most he’s spoken to you all summer. The realization makes you cry even more. You’re soaked, and soon he will be too. You feel him place something over your shoulders, pull the hood gently over your head. You look over at him, now just in his t-shirt. His eyes look back at you softly, the ghost of a smile across his face. He leans back on his hands, one arm crosses behind you.

Jason's parents fly him back home the next day. You dread September but decide to make the most of what's left of your summer vacation. Quinn's driving the boat around, and it's just the six of you today. You notice that Olivia keeps her distance, instead lets Luke entertain her. He's entertaining, for sure.

"What are you doing?" Julie calls up to Quinn, slight alarm in her voice. You notice him slowing into a dock on the left, connected to the Hischier's house. Nico's standing there, as if he was expecting it. He's got his hands in his pockets and from where you're sitting you can see an ugly bruise around his eye forming. Quinn doesn't reply, just looks at you and calls you over with a tilt of his head. You do so, and everyone follows to the front of the boat, wanting to hear what he has to say.

"I'm sorry," he says, and for the first time, you think he actually feels bad about what he's done. The black eye certainly couldn't feel good. Quinn stays in the drivers' seat. He knows you can face Nico on your own. If anything happens, you have Luke and Jack by your side.

"Yeah? For what?" Your words are dull when you want them to be sharp. You're mad but you don't hate him like you want to. You grew up with him, and he's made you laugh a million times. It's hard to hate guys like Nico.

"For making you cry," he says gently, and you know it's the truth. He apologizes for what he's sorry for, because he's not sorry about what he said to Jason, not sorry for driving him away. "It wasn't cool and..." Nico's eyes drift from yours for a moment, behind you, to Quinn, "...I know it's not true." He lets out a weak laugh, "I mean, you and Quinn-"

You stop him before he can make things worse for himself, point to your own eye and ask, "That hurt?"

"Yeah, fuck me. Like, every time I blink." he whines.

"Good,” you say, and hear Quinn laugh. It's beneath the sound of the water swishing against the boat, but your ears are so tuned to him; you wouldn't miss such a pretty sound.

"We good, then?"

"We're good." Quinn quickly peels away from the platform and drives around in a tight circle, makes the water come up and spray Nico, who's left standing on the dock. He yells and cusses at the boat, but he laughs as much as you do. You wave at him getting smaller in the distance. He flips you off, and you give it right back with a smile.

You walk over to Quinn, lean against the wall behind the drivers seat, while his brothers and your friends return to the comfy cushions at the back of the boat. “Thanks, Q,” you make his nickname even shorter. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make it weird, but you know he heard you. You know by the way the tops of his ears turn pink and his shoulders roll back. He looks up at you over his shoulder quickly. The moment felt like an hour, his eyes look through you like you're made of glass. You blinked and he was looking forward, driving responsibly.

You're seventeen when Julie stops holding out for Jack. She's probably still his biggest fan, but she's not hung up on him like she used to be. She goes to homecoming with a guy that smiles just like him. You don't go with anyone, for once. Neither does Jason. He's kind, kinder than you deserve, when he doesn't let anyone say anything bad about you when people gossip about your breakup.

You sit on the bleachers with the other dateless kids, scrolling on your phone. It's homecoming for Jack and Quinn, too. You open Quinn's story after seeing Jack post from the dance floor. The night feels even lonelier, seeing him repost a girl's story. There are no words, no emojis, it's just him in a suit, with his arm around a girl in a hot pink dress. She seems really close to him. He's holding her really close to him. You wonder if he'll bring her back to the lake, if you'll ever meet her. You wonder if he felt this way when you introduced them to Jason.

You're nervous for the Hughes to arrive this year- they come from Toronto, a little farther, travel a little longer. Luke texts you like a warning. They'll arrive this evening, Quin'll have the boat ready by tomorrow, they can't wait to see you. You tell him to help this time, and maybe he might. Your dad got the boat all ready, and you sit next to it, alone on your dock. It's 6:00pm and the sun is still high enough to light the sky. You feel footsteps ripple across the wood, more so than you hear them. You look over your shoulder, surprised to see Quinn coming down towards you.

His face is slimmer though his cheeks are still full. His hair is shorter than you prefer, but still fluffy, like you like. Before you know it, the sun starts its descent, and he's in front of you, and you're breaking your neck to look up at him from where you sit. "Hey," you look back at his house, see the lights turn on one by one, "What're you doing here?" He belongs on this lake, so that's not what you're asking. "Shouldn't you be unpacking?"

"Saw you and wanted to say hi," he shrugs, taking his hands out of his pockets. You've heard it before, though you can't quite remember when he stirs your thoughts like this. You smile and stand up to greet him properly. He's taller, you tilt your chin up ever so slightly, feel your eyes raise to meet his. He's actually pretty lanky, though it's not so obvious when he's next to Luke.

"Wanna take her for a spin?" You hop up onto your dad's boat, knowing he'll follow. He belongs on this lake. He has his drivers license now, he updates you, as he drives the boat down the lake. He's always been this way; first to the finish line. He's a high achiever, however nonchalant he is about it. You congratulate him, joke that he should help you get yours too, like he did your boat license. Whoever @abbeeclarke is, she doesn't make an appearance at the lake house. He doesn't mention her once, and neither do you. You let it go and avoid wearing hot pink.

You’re seventeen when you’re down bad for Quinn Hughes. You get it. You get his appeal. He’s stoic and gloomy and he’s all sharp edges. He looks like a question waiting for an answer, but you know if asked, he'll tell. He’s someone you want to like you. You like seeing the drastic change in his face when he sees you coming his way. How he relaxes, leans back; how he smiles small and wide. His shoulders shake when he laughs. You like when you exchange glances cross the boat, or the basement; you like the way his gaze makes it feels like it’s just you and him.

From playing Would You Rather in the grass to beer pong in the Hughes' basement, the stakes only get higher. After all, a game is only fun when someone has something to lose. You watch Mila spin the bottle. It lands on Trevor who practically drags her to the closet, and closes the door before anyone can even start the timer.

Everyone picks up a Wii remote- readying up for another round of Mario Kart. You learn that three laps across three maps take about seven minutes to complete. You're in second, until you blue shell Quinn for first. He doesn't lose often, grumbles to you, "You sure you need driving lessons?"

You laugh, the alcohol in you swaying you off balance, and you straighten yourself with a hand on his bicep. Chelsea pours shots for everyone who doesn't make top three. The glasses hit the table the same time Trevor and Mila come out of the closet, giggling and wiping their mouths.

The group circles up around the bottle again. Quinn spins and you sit on your knees, watching it slow to a stop. It lands on Chelsea, and you can't help but see how much she looks like that girl on Quinn's Instagram. Chelsea doesn't move, looks across the circle to Quinn, and you beside him. Her eyes flicker to yours, and you can't make out what she's saying with her eyes. She doesn't move.

"Pass," Quinn pours himself two as per the rules of the game, using your shot glass for the second. The group isn't quiet about it, the exception created for the Hughes' sake on the odd chance a player lands on their sibling. It's never used to pass just for the sake of passing. "I'm calling it a night," he says, doesn't look at you when he leaves up the stairs. You hear the basement door shut at the top, and that's when you realize you're staring after him.

"Fuckin' buzzkill, eh?" Nico huffs, changes the game. "Chelsea, truth or dare?" We move away from the bottle on the floor, settling into the conversation pit.

"Truth," Chelsea's smart. Nico's dares aren’t worth hearing. You all know each other well enough. When Nico's asking, it's more like Truth or Drink.

"Boo. Did you want to go in the closet with Quinn?"

"Not really." She does it again, looks at you. She smiles, says evenly, "Sunshine, truth or dare?"

"Dare." You're drunk.

"Sneak into Quinn's room." Chelsea's words give the night new energy. This game, on par with Would You Rather, is interesting now that the stakes are raised. Trevor and Brady's eyebrows raise, and they drop their conversation, turn their heads towards the game.

"That's all?" You're drunk. You have to be.

"Come back with the shirt he was wearing, to prove you did," she adds, and they jeer you to your feet.

"It was a Leafs' shirt," Luke clarifies for everyone. You look at Julie, who shakes the bottle of Absolut watermelon. You can always back out, you just have to drink. Rules are rules.

Jack distracts her with a hand over hers, setting the bottle back on the table. He nods for you to go with a mischievous grin, "Quinn's is the one next to the bathroom."

Bedrooms were off limits, always has been. No matter how much your parents liked the Hughes boys and no matter how much their parents trusted you. It's why the Hughes renovated their whole basement for you crazy kids. You take the stairs step by step, hearing Nico grumbling about, 'I swear to god...'

You know the Hughes' house well, what with all grabbing emergency towels and helping Mrs. Hughes pack boat lunch, and all the times your parents dropped you off on date night; you've become familiar with it's halls and creaky steps over the years. All the bedrooms are on the second floor, which is uncharted territory for you. Identical white doors, you choose the right one thanks to Jack. You don't knock- it'd be too loud, with his parents' room at the other end of the hall. There's no light under their door, which makes sense as it's half past one. You open the door quickly, step in, and rest your back on the other side of the door. You don't want to get caught in his room, but you don't want to get caught in the hall outside of it either.

Quinn's room is exactly what you expected, not that you spend much time thinking about it. It's dark, but your eyes adjust within a few breaths. There are posters of athletes on his wall, hockey sticks sitting in the corner. There are clothes all across the floor. The laundry bin by his closet isn't even full but there are clothes spilling out of it, like he just missed the basket. There are random bottles of water scattered like easter eggs, the floor, his bedside table, his windowsill. His window is open, and it's strikingly cold.

"I don't want to talk about it, Luke," you hear Quinn groan from his bed. He's under the covers, facing the wall where Sidney Crosby stares back at him.

"It's- It's me," you whisper, press yourself against the door even more. He stills, silent, then sits. The blanket rustles as he jolts up. There's a girl in his room. He's eighteen and there's a girl in his room and that girl is you.

He gets out from under the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The moon beyond his bedroom window casts light on the right side of his face. Your breath hitches when you meet his eyes. He doesn't kick you out, doesn't get angry. He asks if you're okay. "Come here," he says, urges you forward, "I can't hear you."

You cross the room towards him, maybe four steps, and sit at the very edge of his bed. Not too close, not close at all, in fact. Not enough to make it weird, you hope. You tell him your mission. "I need that shirt."

He grabs a handful of his shirt, the one he's wearing, "Has to be this one?" he questions, watches you swallow and nod silently. He wonders who put you up to this, wonders who he has to thank tomorrow. Because he smiles at you, backlit by the moon. You're glowing, each stray strand of your messy hair frames you like a halo. "I'll take it off, if you take off yours."

What? The question doesn't make it past your throat. The same Quinn who passed on making out in a closet, now trying to get you topless in his bedroom. On his bed. He's drunk, you tell yourself, drunk out of his mind. He has to be.

He doesn't hesitate for a moment, pulls his shirt over his head. It's nothing you haven't seen before- he's shirtless half the summer, soft abs on display. But it makes sense for him to be shirtless on the water. Not here in front of you, in his sweatpants with his hair all soft and messy. The moonlight casts shadows across his face that remind you he's older, he's got a whole year on you. You try to remind yourself he's the same Quinn that tries to carry all the groceries in one run, the same Quinn that helps your dad with the grill, and you with the boat. He's familiar, face impossibly unreadable but you know where to look for answers. His eyes, ghostly in the night, are having fun. He's having fun with you. He holds his shirt out to you, eggs you on, "I'll trade you."

Your fingers find the bottom of your own, and you begin to pull it up, slow because you're unsure. He thinks you're slow because you're a tease, audibly exhaling when you finally get it past your neck. The room is way too cold to be in sweat shorts and a bralette, but it's his words that makes you shiver. “Damn,” it falls softly from his lips. He's seen you in a bikini before, sees it all the time, but his eyes fall in a way they never would in the daylight. You lean forward to put your shirt in his other hand. He tosses it across the room, and when you reach for his blue Toronto Maple Leafs shirt, he drops it before you even feel the fabric.

He pulls you forward to him, and you struggle to keep your yelp of surprise in. Your hand grabs his bare shoulder and pushes him down on his back. He puts his hands on your hips, helps steady you as if he wasn't the one who knocked you off balance in the first place. He watches your face closely, a few centimetres above his, as he tests the water; a hand on the back of your knee adjust you so that he's in between them. His hand stays on the back of your thigh, searing. He's got you right where he wants you.

"Tell me to stop and I will." Is the last thing he says before he pulls your lips, and your hips, down on his. You'd be lying if you said you never thought about what his kisses would be like. Despite every opportunity, the bottle never landed on Quinn. Kissing him now, you fear you'd never be able to stop thinking about it.

He's thorough with his lips on yours and a hand in your hair. The hand on your hip guides you over his lap. You've never been kissed or held or wanted quite like this before. You feel him want you through his sweatpants, feel him want you on his tongue. He's minty, having must have brushed his teeth, but his breaths come in puffs of watermelon. You exhale a whine when his mouth leaves yours in favour for your cheek, then your neck. You don’t realize your hips are moving on their own until his hands are on your breasts, pushing them together for him. He kisses soft skin above your bralette, the thin fabric doing little to hide you. He squeezes hard enough to make you moan out.

You both freeze for one moment, two moments- making sure no doors open, no lights turn on in the hall.

He brings your attention back to him, bites hard on the inside of your breast, then soothes it with a suck that slowly starts to hurt more than the bite. You whimper, and he stops, looks up at you. He sits up and you sit up with him, straddling him properly now, sitting on your knees on either side of him. You use them as leverage to ride his lap more diligently. His hands grab your ass, fingers slip up under the hem of your sweat shorts. He squeezes softly and pulls, spreading you apart, creating a better slot for him to thrust against. You feel the difference immediately, melting into his chest, head over his shoulder. Everything about him is hot; the warmth from his body, his soft groans, how he looks at you through the hair that falls over his eyes.

He kisses you, different than the first, completely overwhelms you with him. All you can focus on is the drag of his hard cock against you, the position so perfectly right. It’s enough to get you off, chase something you don't know how to catch, and you moan freely into his mouth. You ride his lap eagerly, and if you were sober you might've been embarrassed showing him how much you want him.

“Be quiet for me,” he whispers as he pulls your head back, exposes your neck to him. He kisses, kisses, bites, then sucks. Not too high, nowhere too obvious. He still wants your dad to like him. He doesn’t want to get caught, and he doesn’t want to stop, and you’re gonna make him cum in his pants if he keeps listening to you. You whimper under erratic breaths; he’s so incredibly hard under you. Once he's satisfied he's given your tits the attention they deserve, he flips you over, lays you down in his double bed. He holds himself over you with one arm by your head, and his hand by your side. Your legs wrap around him, keeping him there, and he can't keep the smile off his face, looking at you.

Because it's you in his bed. It's you, eyes half lidded and shirtless and wanting him as much as he wants you. It's you, lips as soft as he always thought they'd be, kisses sweeter than he could dream. It's you, all marked up because of him. You pull him back to earth with a tiny tug on the garter of his sweatpants. He shakes his head, pecks to your lips. It's too short, he notes, as you follow after him, back arching as he pulls away. He comes back down to give you a deeper one, because he'll do nothing if not satisfy you.

"I'll take mine off if you take off yours," you whisper to him, slip a finger in the waistband of not his sweatpants, but his boxers. You tug at the clothes he has left. He swallows thickly, because he wants nothing more.

"Can't." It's the first time he sounds as affected as you feel. He closes his eyes, so he doesn't have to see you pout. Not that it matters, he's memorized every expression you've ever worn. "I... I don't have any condoms on me."

You remember that he's raised by a woman, and you're glad but it doesn't keep you from sighing softly. You remove your hand from his pants, bring your arms up around his neck. Your legs tighten around him, bring him back down against you. You wonder if he's aware of how wet you are through your shorts. He doesn't move, doesn't take things further, though you can see the want in his eyes. He's got more self control than you do, you'll give him that. Your hips move against him slowly, calves pushing him into you as hard as you please. You look him in the eyes when you tell him, "I don't care."

He watches you, blue eyes flicker over every detail of your face before he speaks, "You're drunk."

"I don't want you to stop."

His head drops down to your shoulder, lays a kiss there. He's strained, groans into your skin, "You're an angel."

"Please, Quinn."

"Can't," he repeats, and he sounds even less convincing than the first time. He hugs you, drops his body to yours, envelops you for a moment. Your hips still under his weight, but you don't find it in you to complain. You want this part of him, too. He rolls off you to the lay on his side, holds you to him. His thumb rubs the soft skin at your hip, dips under your shorts. His touch is so comforting, you almost let it distract you.

"I want it to be you." You're making things really hard. You're making him really hard.

You feel his hand slip under your shorts, and you're absolutely shut up. At first he's a little off target, but he's quick to find you where you need him, hot and wet, wetter than his dreams. You wonder if it's his first time too, as he runs a fingertip against you softly, too soft. He feels how much you want him, his finger dips inside despite the wet fabric of your panties. Your thighs fall open, give him access to all of you.

"Fuck," he mutters, and leans down to catch your parted lips. He wonders if it's your first time, when he slips his tongue in your mouth as he pushes your panties aside. His finger slips in so easily, you're so wet for him. He pulls away, breathless, and lays his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight as he feels inside you, soft and squishy and squeezing. He pulls back, drags along your walls in a way you need more of. Your hips lift, chase his hand, and he pushes back in, slow and firm, pressing your hips into the mattress. He sees your mouth fall open and he's quick to cover your mouth with his other hand, muffles the lustful sob that falls from your lips.

"Shh," he tuts, picks up the pace, which makes it worse. You're being louder than his palm can silence, and it makes him panic and loop his thumb in your mouth, pressing on your tongue. Your lips close around it, and he feels your moans vibrate as you start to suck it. He comes to the realization that he's probably going to cum in his pants tonight, but it feels good. You feel so good around his fingers. Your hands grip his forearm and his hand stutters. He adds a second finger, and your pussy grips them in a way that makes it hard to move, but he persists. You seem to like it when his palm is flush against you, so he does just that. The hand hooked into your mouth cups your face, and you lean into his touch, sucking quietly. Your eyes flutter open, and he almost lets himself go with way you're looking at him. You've got one hand gripping his straining forearm, and bring your other up to gently hold his palm to your face, like you're cherishing his touch. The arm you grip is getting tired, his wrist not used to being in this angle, but he's a high achiever, always has been.

"Quinn, I-" you try to say with his thumb in your mouth, but you're falling apart in his hands. He can feel it, hear it the way you're gushing around his fingers. "Oh, god," your back arches, presses the fabric of your bralette against his chest. He sees you through it, fingers pump steadily until you finally still in his arms. You curl up in his chest, and he wipes his fingers on his sheets before wrapping his arms around you. It's quiet now, your breaths the loudest sound in the room. You catch your breath before he does and move to straddle him again. He lays on his back, stretches his arms before putting his hands firm on your waist. He has a dopey smile on his face, smirks up at you and holds you still, doesn't let you try anything. "Quinn," you whine, thinking you were getting somewhere with him.

He sits up, leans back against his headboard, and you follow, inch ever closer. "We're not fucking tonight," he tells you, and before the words can break your heart he touches his forehead to yours, "I want you," he assures you, "God, I want you so bad," he confesses, and your hips thrust on impulse. He chuckles, and his arms wrap around you again, pulls you into a hug that you fear you’ll never stop craving. "If you still want it tomorrow-"

"Tomorrow, then." You say, before he can convince himself otherwise.

He smiles small, presses a kiss to your forehead, repeats, "Tomorrow, then." You nod, feeling mutually understood. You swing your leg over, get off his lap. "Where're you going?" he asks when you stand from the bed.

"Home?" You're trying to find your shirt from the floor in the dark.

"You sleep over all the time," he tries to reason.

"Yeah, downstairs with everyone else," You stop searching to look at him, laying in his bed. Shirtless, messier than he was before. You forget where you're going with your argument. "I'm not supposed to be here." He sighs, knows you're right, despite everything he wants. He gets up from his bed, and you feel small when he walks over and hands you a shirt, his grumbly silhouette daunting in dark. He pulls a hoodie over his head. "Where are you going?"

"At least let me walk you home." He looks over his shoulder at you from his closet. He walks back to you, puts a hoodie in your hands. "It's cold," he mutters, seemingly back to his stoic self again, but he always looks at you softly. The two of you escape from his room, and escape down the stairs. You can hear Brady and Nico snoring behind the closed door leading to the basement. You leave through the back, and he leads with his hands in his pockets. Your face is hot thinking about them and the way they felt on you tonight. The night breeze cools your skin. You think back to when you held his hand to your face, wonder what your hand would feel like in his.

Between your dock and his, he doesn't take his hands out of his pockets once. He doesn't reach for your hand, he doesn't even brush his arm to yours. He keeps his distance and you're painfully aware of the space between you. You should have taken it as a warning sign.

The next day you're driving your dads’ boat, dropping everyone back home because apparently you had 'drank the least.'

Julie had stumbled home before you woke up, and was surprised to see you in your bed. She gave you a weird look when on possibly the hottest day of the year you stepped out in a tshirt, but was way too hungover to ask questions. She helped you lug a cooler full of gatorade and ice onto the boat before sitting and texting the rest of them to hurry up, if they wanted a ride home. She opted to stay home to sleep, like Luke and Jack likely were. You wonder if Quinn will be the boy who cried hangover.

You hear the soft thumps of rubber on wood, the telltale sound of your friends marching down the steps. If you didn't know any better, you were witnessing the walk of shame. You would definitely be a part of it, had you not left the night early. You smiled, waved at Quinn, who waved back, herding the sorry teens down the dock.

You met them at the side, and the two of you ensured everyone got on the boat safely. Quinn sat beside Trevor and Brady, while simultaneously boxing Nico in from walking right off the side. Chelsea and Mila held each other, slumped peacefully. You move the boat slowly up the lake. It's just past noon and the sun is at it's highest point.

Occasionally you feel Quinn's eyes on your back, but his current task is too important to walk away from. Your swimsuit tie is visible at the nape of your neck, but you keep your dark grey t-shirt on. If Brady walks into the lake right now, Quinn didn't know how he was going to get him back in the boat. He's honestly out of breath, glad that Nico passed out in the middle of the boat, hopefully of exhaustion and nothing else. He's panting when you pull over at your first stop, Trevor’s house. Quinn walks him all the way up to his back deck, the blonde slumped against him the whole time. He did the same with Nico, and then you helped him with Chelsea and Mila.

You hand him a gatorade when he returns to the boat alone after dropping off Brady. "Do you want to switch? I can drive back," he offers, and you move to let him take the wheel. He reaches around you, trapping you between him and the wheel, and you hold your breath. He rests his chin on your shoulder as he turns the boat around, puts the boat in 9MPH, just has to keep the wheel straight until you see your house. He keeps one hand on the wheel and wraps the other around you, slips his hand under up your t-shirt. Your hands are on the wheel uselessly, purely decorative at this point. You find yourself arching, pressing back into him when his hand grips your breast, groping you in broad daylight. He had sailed a bit further into the lake, farther from the docks and parked boats on the side. "Angel, what's with the shirt?" With the hand under your shirt he tugs the collar down, finds what he’s looking for.

He groans deeply, looking at the dark hickeys across your chest, "What's the matter?" He pulls up your shirt, looks over your shoulder when he lifts it over your bikini top, the love bites on display for him "Don't want them to know you're all mine?" His lips land on your neck, threatening to give you one for all to see. He presses his erection to the swell of your ass and you moan out. He takes the opportunity to stuff the hem of your tshirt into your mouth. It serves two purposes; it keeps your body in full view for him, and muffles the draw of attention your utterly pornographic moans are.

"Both hands on the wheel, right angel? Keep the boat straight," he tells you. It's not hard, and it shouldn't be as hard as it is when he's grinding against you, rubbing his length between your bathing suit and his shorts. His fingers slip under the strings of your bikini bottoms, just so he can grip your hips and feel the skin unobstructed. He can barely keep his eyes off your marked up tits and occasionally one hand will come up and show them some love. He sits down on the drivers' seat, pulling you down with him. It's easier to rub against him, sitting on his lap like this. The angle has him dragging along your clit and the friction of his shorts on your thighs have you blushing and sweating.

“You still want this?” he asks you, breathing so attractively jagged.

“Kind of unfair to ask,” you look over your shoulder at him, “when you’ve got me like this, don't you think?” He chuckles, puts a hand on the wheel and straightens the boat while you continue to grind on him as you please. You subconsciously trace the length of him, gauge his size.

“I want it,” he tells you, low and honest, “Can you blame a guy for trying to convince you?” To your surprise, he pushes you down his lap, closer to his knee, holds you still there. “Tonight, then?” You groan. He's teasing you.

He definitely didn't expect you to place two hands on his knee and start riding his thigh. He must have underestimated how close you were, and if you turned your head to look at him you would have seen his eyes widen in the realization that he can make you cum again, right here and now.

"Holy shit, Sunshine," he groans, and your heart flutters, remember who you are and who he is. Jack and Luke's older brother. The high achiever. The best driving instructor on the lake. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants again," he leans forward, presses his chest to your back, whispers softly in your ear, "Fuck."

You drag yourself across his thigh at a steady pace, the sheen of sweat building on you glimmered in the sunlight. You're lucky he's gagged you with your own shirt, because his hand had moved from your breast to the top of your swimsuit bottoms, and let himself in. He was pleasantly surprised with how wet you were, your swimsuit doing its job at absorbing liquid. He lubricated his fingers with your honey and laid his hand to your front. You wonder if he knew, or if the stutter of your hips gave you away, but he found your clit and began to pet it, back and forth, firm and fast. He turned the boat quickly, facing away from the houses and shut off the engine. He wasn't that much of of risk taker.

His free hand snakes up your breast, gives it a feel before slotting his wrist in between them, reaching up to pull you back into him by your throat. His grip isn't tight, but it's firm enough to hold you in place, back to his chest. It's harder for you to ride his thigh at the angle he's forced you into, but his fingers never leave your clit, now rubbing you in circles. "Is this how bad you want it?" he laughs in your ear, "Tell me you want it." All you could do is whimper and nod frantically, chasing your finish line. He smiles, and the hand on your throat helps take the shirt from your mouth. Your shirt falls down over his arm, wrinkly and damp. He turns your head to him, tilts your mouth up to meet his.

"I want it," You say agains his lips. You lay your head back onto his shoulder, tell Quinn, "I want you."

He looks at your face for what feels like hours, as he gropes your tits lazily, not letting up on his attention to your clit. You rub on his thigh erratically, his grip on your throat doing wonders to hide your desperate whines. "Oh, Angel, you're killin' me. You have no idea how much I want to be inside you right now," Quinn had never sounded so needy in his life, "Need you to want it."

"Q..." He quickly thinks to turn the engine on, hopefully mask the sound of you letting go. For the second time in the last twelve hours, you're breathing heavily against each other. "So..." you start, swinging your leg over so that you were sitting properly in his lap, "Tonight, then?" You lift your tshirt to wipe the sweat from the back of your neck.

He catches one last glimpse at your hickey covered tits and makes note to rub a few out before he sees you later.

They say the hottest day of the summer tends to feel like the longest. It surely did, as the group lounged in and around the Hischier house pool, still recovering from the night before. The Hughes had a pool, too, but Nico's had better shading and seating all around.

You lay on a shaded couch with Julie, Mila, and Chelsea while the boys sat in and along the pool. Luke and Brady drifted on large floaties, and the rest of the guys either sat on the stairs or just had their feet in the water. The gathering needed no scheduling, it was an unspoken rule of the lake that every recovery day is a pool day. Quinn's got his back to you, and you're burning holes into him with the way you're staring.

"You alright, Sunny?" Julie waves her hand in your face. You don't want to say anything yet, not until there's something to tell. Until then, you can't tell her that Quinn's acting weird, and part of it is because he's not acting weird at all. He's being so normal and it frustrates you.

"Yeah, I'm good," you assure her, finally redirecting your attention and looking at her.

"You're like, glowing," she says, though there's not much energy in her voice. She's hungover after all. She looks and sounds suspicious of you, if anything. Or maybe she's just suffering.

"Thank you?" You try to smile your way out of admitting anything. You'll tell her after tonight, get the whole story.

"Why don't we get in the pool?" Mila suggests already tying up her hair.

"I'm good here," you say quickly, "I don't want to get my hair wet today." Your friends look at you oddly, but don't push. They leave you on your own with a splash as they enter the water. You're not left alone for long, as Luke hops over the back of the couch to land next to you.

"Hey, Sunshine," he says, and just off his tone you know he knows something. It has to do with the way he can't keep his voice even to save his life. Could just be puberty... Your eyes narrow and you cross your arms over your chest.

"Hi Lukey," your voice is dripping with suspicion.

"How'd mission impossible go last night?" he asks, glances at you and then his eyes bounce off everyone in the pool. Luke Hughes was probably the most shit-eating person you had ever met, and so far he was playing it very cool.

"What'd he tell you?" you deadpan quietly. There's panic in your voice and in your eyes, while his glow with mischief.

"Nothin'," Luke Hughes was certainly the most shit-eating person you had ever met, "Why, is there somethin' to tell?"

Your face heats up, as if it the heat wasn't already unbearable in a tshirt. You were in the shade and the air was warm. "Shut up, Luke," you strike his arm with a fist and he feigns injury. Another body drops onto the couch, a little wet for your liking. The cushion starts to soak up the added pool water, and you inch away from Trevor and closer to Luke, who's at least dry.

"What's the deal, Sunshine?" Trevor's arm hangs over the back of the couch, "You're wearing more clothes than you have all summer." Of course he'd notice. He tugs at the collar of your cropped tshirt, and it hikes up a bit, the hem just lifting to show a bit of under boob. Thankfully you're still wearing your swimsuit despite having no plans to actually swim today, and probably for the next few days.

"Fuck off, Z," Luke swats his hand. Maybe he does know something, but you could care less in the moment, tugging your shirt down hard. Trevor raises his hands in apology when Quinn sits down on the other side of Luke. He doesn't look happy, though when does he ever, and you can't tell if he's glaring at you or Trevor. Deciding that you're not going to stick around and find out, you get up to get yourself a drink.

"Sunshine, can you bring the cooler down when you get back?" Nico calls from the pool when he sees you're heading inside. You wave your hand, letting him know you will. It's cool inside the Hischier house; they have air conditioning, after all. You feel your sweat drying two steps past the door. You kick off your shoes and head straight to the fridge, sighing happily as the cold air rushes you when you open it. You grab a cold can and press it to your cheek before cracking it open and quenching your thirst.

"Man, it's cold in here," Quinn says, coming through the door. You tense up, not in the mood to engage him right now. You turn around, ready to give him an earful, when he sets down the cooler by your feet. "Nico forgot that he had brought it down already, just needs a a refill," Quinn explains, already opening a bag of ice and pouring it in. You put your drink down and help him by dropping some beverages from the fridge into the ice filled cooler. He doesn’t say a thing, and neither do you, despite having a lot in your head. Do you even like me?

The refrigerator door closes and this time it’s your thoughts that chill you, enough to make you shiver. Because he never once said he likes you. Sure, he said he wanted you, but at seventeen you knew those two things weren’t one and the same.

The hickeys start to feel like plain bruises, your chest aching at the realization. Through all his gloominess, you liked him. You liked him when he had braces. You liked him through every bad haircut. You liked him in the summer rain, under the hot Michigan sun, and in the seasons when he was nowhere near. But he was a pearl, and you were still trying to figure out how to shuck an oyster.

It went against every standard you held yourself to. But you like him, so you sneak out to meet him by his dad’s boat, late into the night. He stands on his dock at one in the morning, hands in his pockets.

Do you like me? The question is there, on the tip of your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to ask, ruin whatever could happen between you. He takes your hand, helps you onto the boat, and with the engine low, drives across to the quiet side of the lake and turns it off.

It's so quiet you can hear the water lapping at the side of the boat, and the distinct lack of energy lines you found in the city. The houses along the lake had all gone dark, save for any garden or outdoor lights. They join the stars, twinkling in the dark of night.

He's laid out what looks like every one of his moms blankets at the back of the boat and sits back on pillows you recognize from his couch. He pats the blanket next to him, but you move to straddle his lap, instead. His hands immediately find your hips, but his lips don't meet yours as fast as you expected them to. They part, asks you, "Are you sure about this?"

How can he ask that? When he's gone through all this trouble, already made you finish twice, and hasn't gotten a thing in return? How can he ask that, when it's so painfully obvious that you like him? That you've always wanted him; from the moment you knew how to want a boy, you wanted him. You think about telling him you've never been more sure of anything in your life. You also consider lying, tell him you just don't want to be a virgin anymore. But he knows you well, knows every tell you have. Not trusting your own voice, all you do is nod, lean in, and press your lips to his, hips rolling.

"Just say the word and we stop." He gives you an out, but the moment his tongue is in your mouth it doesn't cross your mind once.

Getting the condom on was trickier than you thought it would be, at least in the dark, lit only by the moon and stars. You both laughed when you rolled it on the wrong way, rendering it useless. He's glad Matthew gave him three, and the two of you manage to figure it out. He confesses that it's his first time actually having sex, and you're surprised and elated that he's doing it with you. You tell him he's your first, too, and you see the relief wash over his face.

You warn him not to leave any more marks on you, the existing ones will take long enough to fade. There wasn't much of the summer left, and it would be cooling down soon, but even you know how unusual it is for you to be covering up so much. He's got a dirty mouth, low groans of mine, mine, mine all across your skin. He kisses each healing hickey. You follow with soft moans of your own; yours, yours, I want to be yours. He fucks you slow and sweet and you feel like you might be.

You lay with your head on his bicep, both coming down from the summit. The stars blink back at you, and with your leg hooked over his torso, you reach down and pet his cock back to life. He's eighteen, just fucked for the first time, and he doesn't know when he'll get the chance to again, so of course he's getting hard. You've moved from his side to between his legs; of course he's getting hard. It's you, of course he's hard. He runs his hand through his hair, adjusts so he has a better view of you, not that it matters because as soon as you take him into your mouth, his head falls back against the cushions.

The warm summer air envelopes the both of you like a blanket. You're lying naked on the lake you both grew up on. He fills two condoms and you think he's finally spent, holding you like a teaspoon, until you feel his dick get heavier against your inner thigh. You make no move when he reaches down, runs the tip of him along your slit, sopping wet from multiple orgasms. He threatens to dip in with each pass; up, down, up, down.

"Can I?" he asks, completely void of all rational thought. His breaths are hot in your ear and while you want nothing more than for him to fuck you raw, “I just want to be inside you... No moving, and I won't cum… Honestly, I think I'm out." He makes you giggle, and you scoot your hips back, push him in yourself. You both sigh contentedly, and he hugs you close, snugs his head in the crook of your neck.

You wake when the sun breaks the horizon. Thankfully the morning light wakes you up early, before any other boats hit the lake. You're definitely suspiciously parked, out in no mans land.

Quinn's arm is around your waist, and with each sway of the boat, he gets harder inside you. His grip around you tightens, and you start to squirm against him. "Fuck, baby, stop moving..." He groans, and it's his morning voice that sets you off. You turn your head, look over you shoulder, and you want him all over again, moving your hips in time with the rocking of the boat to get yourself off on him. He tries to keep you still, but can't even control the way his hips move desperately against yours.

He doesn't pull out, as irresponsible as it is, he doesn't want to. He cums inside of you, and you like it so much you cum, too. Your hips slow to a stop, and your eyes widen when you feel the mess between your thighs. You scramble to sit up, unintentionally giving him a great view of his cum dripping out of you. As scared as you are, with the way he's looking at you, you finally feel like you're his.

Early that afternoon, you're in the passenger's seat of the Hughes' family car, while he drives to the nearest grocery store. Under the guise of helping pick up last minute items for the barbeque your parents were hosting tonight, you were running to the pharmacy to pick up Plan B.

It's Quinn that walks up to the counter and finds you in the drinks aisle with a box in his hand. Your mom texted you a list, so you do end up filling a cart with Quinn. Neither of you are too chatty this morning, nerves both high hoping there were no consequences to recent actions. You're surprised to hear your name called down the aisle, and it’s the Tkachuk brothers that find you two.

"Yo, fancy seeing you two here," Brady says, daps up Quinn and Matthew does the same.

"Just pickin' stuff up for my mom for tonight," you tell them honestly, but you don't miss the way Matthew's eyes flicker between you and Quinn. Quinn is really good at being neutral.

"Nice, so're we." Brady shows you his basket full of fruit and cheese.

"You're coming over later, yeah?" You try to hold a normal conversation with Brady while Matthew and Quinn have a silent one of their own. Matthew's grin turns shit eating when he catches wind of the little blue box sitting in your cart.

"Yeah, we'll see you then?" You're relieved when Brady takes it upon himself to walk away, taking Matthew with him. The older Tkachuk whistles low as he departs, patting Quinn on the shoulder as he goes. You whack the same arm.

"You told Matthew?" You whisper furiously, pushing the cart down the aisle.

"I never told him it was you," he cards a hand through his hair, looks down and looks at you as he does. An unfair, fail safe move; It should be illegal to take your breath the way he does. "Who do you think gave me the condoms?"

The barbeque at yours is probably the last time your families will all gather this summer, parents and kids all in one place that isn’t the country club. Your mom takes great pride in being a gracious host. You’re in the kitchen, helping her finish a couple platters. You look up out the window and see your dad handing Quinn a beer over the grill. Your parents didn’t mind giving you kids a drink or two, as long as it was low in percentage and no one was driving. He brings the bottle to his lips and finds you through the glass, sends you a big smile.

“Honey?” Your mom calls, “Are you coming?” She glances at Quinn out the window, tries to keep her smile to herself by bringing one dish to the table. You follow her out to the deck and set one down, too. The cropped tank top you’re wearing has a high neckline, keeping you safe from suspicion.

You’re surrounded by friends and family on perhaps the nicest evening on the lake. The pretty patio lights your mom had your dad set up switched on; the sun now far enough that the solar panels couldn’t read its rays. You hold a plate for Quinn to take things off the grill and set it down on the table once it fills up. There's a long table in the middle of your patio, you and your mom had set up together complete with a tablecloth and floral details. As soon as the meat starts to hit the table, the guests flock to a seat.

Off the conversations of your parents, you realize that Quinn will be applying to colleges next year. Trevor is going to follow Brady to Boston, and Nico's going to try his hand at the hockey leagues back home in Switzerland. He's confident that he'll be able to catch a scout's eye from across the water. Chelsea got into UCLA, and Quinn wants to go to one with a good hockey program, after all, he has a big dream to achieve. He sits beside you, but hearing him talk about it makes the gap between you feel even bigger. You wonder if it shows on your face, because once glance at you and you feel his hand on your knee under the tablecloth. His touch is warm and assuring, but does nothing to settle your thoughts, only distracts you momentarily.

At the end of the night, you and Quinn sneak away, down the dock towards the lake. If anyone notices, they let the two of you go. You both did lots to prep and set up the night, the other kids can help bring things inside. You stop before the dock, on the grass; your usual spot. Knowing you're out of sight, sitting in the grass under the stars, he takes your hand in his. He's touched you all sorts of ways in the last three days, but you like this the most. He looks through you like glass, holds you like you'll shatter. "What's the matter, Angel? You seem bothered."

"I shouldn't be," you confess, "I guess... I feel like you're leaving me behind?"

Quinn hums, nodding slowly, thinking before he speaks. "It's harder to leave the lake this year, for me for sure." It's hard for me to leave you.

"I just mean, when you go to college and all..." Where does this leave us?

"I see." His thumb strokes the knuckles of your hand. "I..." like you but can't be in a relationship right now. He starts but doesn't finish, knows it's the wrong thing to say, so he tries to think of the right one. There are a lot of things in the way right now. He knows he should just be honest, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared out of his mind to say what he actually wants to say. "I'll miss you," he says, "I miss you every time, actually... remember when I said Luke texted you on my phone?"

It feels like ages ago, but you'd never forget the way your heart skipped in art class in the eighth grade. But you're petty, always have been, "The time you left me on read?"

"Did I?" he chuckles under your glare, scratches the back of his neck bashfully. "I'm sorry, Angel," his arm comes around you, hugs you to him, "Well, it was me. I wanted to talk to you, just didn't want to talk about Jack and Luke and... I didn't know how to get any further with you. Can I text you?"

Your heart is like a stone skipping over water, your breaths shallow. "Okay..."

"Just okay?" he teases, leans down and brushes his nose to your cheek.

"Okay," you playfully shove him, "I'd like that." If you were being honest with yourself, you didn't want to be in a long distance relationship during your senior year. Whatever it is that you have with Quinn would have to remain at the lake for the time being. And you would have to be okay with that.

The week passes by so quickly. It's Friday and you're sad, because all your friends are leaving, one by one.

Q ♡ : Good morning, beautiful.

Quinn texts incite both joy and anger in you. He's so painfully boyfriend material, and each morning he reminds you.

Morning

Q ♡ : Can you meet me at our spot?

Our spot. You have to remind yourself it's not happening. He's not going to get down on one knee, he's not going to ask you to be his girlfriend, he's not going to do anything of the sort. He's going to pack up his parents' car in a few hours and drive off to the airport and fly home and apply to a college far away and you won't see or hear from him until next summer.

Q ♡ : I want to see you before I go

I'll be there in 5?

Quinn's already there when you get to the grassy area just off your deck steps. Our spot. He's holding something covered in plastic wrap in his hand, with a little shovel at his feet. He sees you.

"What do you have there?"

"Something for future you," he hands it to you, lets you hold it in your hands. It's a box, wound tightly with plastic wrap.

"Future me?"

"Yup." He's pretty excited about whatever's inside, beaming as you turn it every which way. "I'm gonna bury it right here, at our spot. Next summer, you get to dig it up."

"What's stopping me from opening it right now?"

"Well, for one, a shit ton of plastic wrap. Second of all, me," he swipes it from you, and starts to dig a relatively deep hole in the ground. You crouch down, watching him work with his hands that you like so much, "and third, you won't." He drops the box in and you help him fill the hole. Your dirt covered hand brushes his, and he stops to smile at you.

"Do I have dirt on my face or something?"

"No, not yet." Before you can ask, he brings a hand to your face, and pulls you in. You fear it's the last kiss you'll ever share; a lot can change in a year. It's enough for you to set aside the thought of dirt on your face and kiss him back. His kiss is slow and lingering, and he barely pulls away when he does, resting his forehead against yours.

You find out Quinn got accepted into the kinesiology program at the University of Michigan, not through him but through Instagram. You text him congratulations and he tells you it's because they had the nicest rink. He's so close to the lake, you joke about meeting him there during his reading break. He leaves you on read and you wish you never said anything.

You complain to Julie, because she always knows when something is wrong. You’re in her bedroom, laying across the foot of her bed while she sits on her vanity chair. You have to tell her everything, she’s your best friend. Maybe not everything. Maybe you don’t mention that you fucked on the boat that she rides every summer.

“Girl, you gotta get your mind off him.” She’s sorting her makeup brushes, talking to you through the mirror. “He texts you just to ghost you and that’s not fair! He doesn’t get to have you just when it’s convenient for him.”

She’s right, so you let her take you to the basketball team’s party that weekend. You play beer pong with Jason Robertson, for old times sake, and Julie captures it on her Instagram story. There’s no bad blood between you anymore, and the two of you dominate the table that night.

Quinn texts you for the first time in three weeks and you leave him on read.

Q ♡ : Angel, I’m missing you extra

Q ♡ : Are you mad at me?

Quinn is nineteen when he gets drafted for the Vancouver Canucks. He’s surrounded by family and he’s got 91 notifications and he can’t help but notice that not one of them is from you.

You��re eighteen the first summer you spend without Quinn. He’s busy in Vancouver, getting to know the city and his new teammates.

Julie takes it upon herself to make it the best summer ever. She pulls you from the depths of your own despair, and gets you back on your feet. Tells you the world doesn’t revolve around Quinn Hughes, and neither should yours. As much as she likes Quinn, she hates the way he has you moping around.

Our spot, he called it. You don’t find yourself there once that summer.

Quinn is twenty the next time you see him. He’s got the makings of a beard, he fills out his tshirts, and he looks as stoic and haggard as ever. He calls to you from his porch.

“Hey, Sunshine.” You didn’t think his voice could get any deeper. It’s hoarse from being used more than he’s used to. You sit up from where you lay across a patio chair, rush embarrassingly quickly to where you can see him through the trees.

“Quinn?” You hate the way you feel; your heart betrays every thought in your mind.

“I missed you,” he leans against the bannister, “Come over later tonight?”

His invitation is nothing like you think it is. You and Julie descend the steps of the Hughes’ basement to a room full of faces, both familiar and not. Quinn comes to greet you while Julie makes her way to Jack, who’s surrounded by girls.

“How’ve you been?” He doesn’t hug you like Luke does. He keeps his distance, one hand on a red solo cup and the other in his pocket. “Did you bring Jason?”

“I didn’t. What’s with the small talk?” You mutter, crossing your arms over your chest, attempt to close yourself off to him.

He leans down ever so slightly, still doesn’t touch you once, “Nothin’ small about it,” he says, low in your ear. His confidence is new to you, and while your mind is still figuring out if you like it, there are butterflies in your stomach that certainly do. A lot has changed over the years. He pulls away, “Let me introduce you.”

You find out he’s only invited two guys from his college team. It’s Nico and Trevor that brought all the ladies, and are grumbling about it when they’re all interested in Jack. You giggle when they tell you, because there’s nothing that makes you laugh quite like Nico not getting what he wants. Quinn smiles softly at the familiar sound, and offers to get you something to drink. He hands you a watermelon vodka sprite and you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. Running his hands through his hair, the backwards baseball cap, each lick of his lips.

The girls that don’t get Jack’s attention quickly decide that they’d gladly take any of the Hughes. You have the right mind to tell these college girls that Luke’s only seventeen, until you remind yourself that you have no ground to stand on. You were seventeen once, too.

You were seventeen when Quinn first put his hands on you, you’re reminded of it when is hand finds your hip. You stare at him over the rim of your cup as he talks to the friends he introduced you to. His arm around you is loose, and while you want nothing more than to take a step closer, you don’t.

A girl comes up and asks him to be her beer pong partner, points behind her where Trevor and Mila are setting up the table. He glances at you with a look you’ve never seen on him before, and excuses himself to follow after her. Now your hip is cold and it has nothing to do with how short your crop top is.

You find Chelsea and Julie at the other end of the couch.

“You two are peas in a pod, you know that?” You and Julie are seemingly in the same boat, and Chelsea is all but amused.

“What are you jealous about?” Julie snaps at you, “You’ve had him in your pocket for the last how many years?” You rub your face with your hands, because that was then. Right now, he's playing beer pong with a girl you fear he finds much prettier than you.

“You know he’s only doing this because he saw you playing pong with your ex on Julie’s story, right?” Chelsea says.

“Huh?” Julie drawls, words extended by alcohol, “That was like, months ago.”

“You’ll probably remember this months later, too,” Chelsea’s eyes flicker to Jack, talking with a girl seated in his lap. Julie rubs her eyes, too.

“Whatever, I am so done with Jack Hughes.” You watch her storm off towards the pool table, and from where you sit, you see that Jack notices her bad mood, too. You pray that he gets up and follows her, and he does. You always want what you can’t have, and you hope Julie hasn’t closed her heart off to Jack just yet.

“So, he’s doing all this just to make me jealous?” You ask Chelsea, eyes on the brown haired boy tossing ping pong balls across a table.

“Mhm, fight fire with fire no?” she follows your line of sight, “Were you not doing the same when you decided to play with Jason?”

You don’t say anything because there’s nothing more to say. She’s absolutely right that you had Quinn in your head and your heart, however bitterly at the time. Your eyes widen, and you scramble to your feet. “I gotta go,” you rush out the side exit before Chelsea can respond. She doesn’t miss the way Quinn looks at his phone and leaves mid game, following after you only five minutes later. She’s a poet and hopeless romantic; she‘ll notice every glance and touch. Chelsea smiles softly to herself and takes Quinn’s place against Mila and Trevor.

Meet me at our spot.

“You never dug it up,” he’s breathing heavily when he gets there, as if he ran to you, “I thought you forgot.”

“I did, and I didn’t,” you say, defences up again. “Why didn’t you text me?”

“You’re the one who stopped texting me,” he responds fast, looking at you incredulously, then question for question, punch for punch, “Why didn’t you dig it up?”

“I didn’t want to,” your voice is cold, freezes over what you really want to say. I didn't want to do it alone.

The look on Quinn’s face almost made you take it all back. He takes a step back from you, like you struck him. “Well, it’ll be here when you want it,” his tone doesn’t match yours. It’s soft and sad and he’s already walking away.

The taste of watermelon is bitter on your tongue as you walk home alone.

Julie stumbles home around half past one and passes out quickly. You’ve been lying in bed for hours trying to sleep, but your mind just keeps racing. Are they sleeping over at the Hughes? All those pretty girls?

You check you phone for the time, see a text from Quinn from an hour ago.

Q ♡ : I’m sorry

Q ♡ : Let’s dig it up together

He could always see right through you.

It’s four in the morning when you meet Quinn at your spot. He’s got a shovel in hand, the same one he used to bury it. This time, he hugs you when he sees you and you hug him tightly back, breathing him in. “I’m sorry, Angel,” he speaks into the top of your head, “I shouldn’t have held anything against you…”

“I’m sorry, too,” you look up at him, keep him close, “I should’ve texted you back those times. I should’ve called.”

“You were busy,” he shook his head, “I understand.”

“I’ll never be too busy for you,” you tell him earnestly, and his gaze visibly softens, and the two of you get to digging. Quinn dusts the box off and begins unravelling all the plastic. Dawn breaks the night sky when he hands you the small box. You shake it to your ear, but don’t hear anything. He’s avoiding eye contact with you now, sits down in the grass and leans back on his hands. “Go on, open it.”

A year late too late, you open up the box to find a small, folded piece of paper.

Thank you for seeing me when no one else does. When I’m with you, I lack nothing. You mean everything to me. I’ll never be the loudest guy in the room, but if you let me, I’ll never shut up about how much I love you.

“Don’t laugh, I literally had Chelsea proof-read it.” He’s forcing himself to watch your reaction, turns his face when you look at him. He falls back in the grass, doesn’t expect you to throw yourself at him the way you do. Your arms around his neck, you kiss him with all your heart.

“Nico is gonna lose his mind,” you giggle, pull away a couple millimetres, “Because I really have loved you all this time.”

He sits up, brings you with him, and kisses you as the sun starts to rise. “God knows, I’ve loved you for so long.”

You’re nineteen the summer you’re head over heels for Quinn. You tell your parents and they’re not surprised in the slightest. Your friends all claim to have known for years. Nico tries to take credit for setting you guys up. You sneak off to watch the sunset with Quinn all the time. He takes you on late night drives and even tours you through his old college campus. You’re his just as much as he is yours.

Quinn’s debuted in the big leagues, and he’s on track for the Calder Award. You care a lot more about hockey, now that your boyfriend plays professionally. You watch all his games no matter where you are, and he always makes sure to see you when he’s playing in your city.

Long distance is hard, but the two of you make it work. It’s a lot of long, late calls, post office problems, and good morning and good night texts, but not a day goes by that Quinn doesn’t make you feel loved.

When he’s with you, he can finally drop his shoulders, feel the connective tissue between his joints just release. He’ll never know rest like the relaxation he feels when he’s with you. And while his life is now in the city of Vancouver, his heart remains on a lake in Michigan. He’ll return to it, year after year, because that’s where he knows you’ll be.

You’re twenty-two when he asks you to move in with him. You’re at the driving range, hitting a little white ball with all your might.

“I’m in my second year at NYU,” you shake your head, though you can’t help daydreaming of the idea of waking up next to him every day. He leans against the pillar, dropping you golf balls in between swings. You push it around on the green, centring it on the patch of turf where you like it.

“UBC has a good program you can transfer into. With your transcript, there’s no way you don’t get in,” he presses on, “And… I’m gonna be captain next year… please, baby, I need you.”

He looks at you with his stupid puppy dog eyes, runs his hand through his hair. That’s all it takes for you to cave. “Fine, only if I make the transfer. Don’t get your hopes up.”

You swing and it flies close to the sun.

Quinn is twenty-three when his home becomes yours. His lack of things is compensated by your abundance of personal touches. Cute couch cushions and bedsheets, stuffed animals, and house plants.

On a good day, on a bad day, on days that were just plain long. He comes home and melts in your arms every time. What a privilege it is to be loved by you.

He no longer counts the days till summer.

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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Don’t let me love you ♡ Hyunjin (Siren part II)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, friends with benefits to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, mentions of smoking, drinking, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm delay/denial, sex toys, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, choking (only a little tho)

♡ Word count: 15.7k

♡ Synopsis: Hyunjin has been a camboy since he turned eighteen and a host since the age of twenty. His life and line of work had him building up a fortress of walls to keep himself safe, but he’s powerless as he watches you unknowingly break them down. Although he knows you deserve better than him, he battles with a selfish desire that wants nothing more than to allow himself to love you.

♡ A/N: Part two of what was supposed to be a one-shot, but people made my brain think things and I wrote 15.7K WORDS. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that so many people actually wanted a part two of something I wrote, so I wanna say thank you 🩷

← part I

Your situation with Hyunjin has been going on for almost eight months now.

Some things have changed; he’s undoubtedly more clingy with you, and you started hanging out with no intentions of having sex. What remains unchanged, however, is the fact that he’s still the same old egotistical idiot.

The thing is, you somehow grew to like that about him. It’s amusing to you just how much he loves himself, gloating about his conquests at the club or bragging about maintaining his number-one spot on the camming website. Although this only makes you even more certain you would never entertain the idea of being with someone like him, having the man who makes you come so hard also make you laugh just as much is a nice bonus.

Hyunjin began coming over to your apartment around two months ago, gradually wearing down your resistance with a lot of pestering until you finally let him in. Your home was almost sacred to you. Hooking up in his apartment was one thing, doing that in the familiarity of your home made it feel almost too intimate. You’ve fucked on the couch, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, but you never allow him into your bedroom. You’re not entirely sure why, but it would feel as if you were tainting your favorite place if he were to fuck you in your bed.

You’re getting ready for a date in your bathroom with Hyunjin sitting on the floor behind you, claiming the view of your ass from that angle was optimal. He lets out a loud chuckle as he watches you dab yet another layer of concealer on the hickey he left on your collarbone earlier tonight.

“Fuck off,” you snap at him. “You think this is funny?”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause it is,” he simply says, and you see him shrugging in the mirror, a grin tugging at one corner of his lip.

Hyunjin has the maddening habit of marking you. Although you told him numerous times how much you hate it, he conveniently ignores that when you have sex, and you’re always too clouded by lust to say anything about it.

“What are you doing on your livestream tonight?” You ask after finally making the small, red blotch on your skin imperceptible.

Watching Hyunjin cam has become your go-to de-stressing method after work. Sitting in a corner far away from the camera, you watch him do his job with ease, like it’s second nature to him. It’s almost intoxicating how he seems to always know what to say to get his viewers going, knowing exactly when to be mean and when to play the role of a caring boyfriend. It makes you clench around nothing, hungrily watching as he makes himself come all over his stomach so deliciously it has you eager to be fucked as soon as he’s done.

He hums. “Well, they really seemed to like the toys I tried last weekend, so I guess that’s what I’m doing for the next few weeks.”

“Ooh, so you’re sticking to the toys now,” you tease him with a grin.

Last Saturday, you watched as Hyunjin opened fan gifts he had received in his PO box during his livestream. Some were extremely questionable (if you had a nickel for every time he pulled out used panties from a box, you’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice), while some were exactly what you would expect to be sent to a camboy. A variety of BDSM gear, kinky costumes fans wanted him to wear, and of course, a lot of sex toys.

Hyunjin shrugs again, leaning on his left hand and staring up at you through the mirror. “I kinda have to do whatever my viewers want to keep my number one ranking.”

“And are you going to the club tonight?”

“Nah,” he yawns and rests his head against the wall. “Took the day off. My spot there is secured,” his lips upturn into a grin. “No other guy at that club can compete with me.”

That’s another thing you learned about Hyunjin these past months; his club and website rankings are extremely important to him. You also learned he has an Only Fans account on the side where he shares videos and pictures of himself, and he pesters you about making any type of content with him every couple of weeks. You were tempted after seeing the enticing amount of money that was in it for you, but your decision was unswayed.

Your confidence wasn’t like his. You’re sure having your performance and appearance scrutinized by strangers would make you go insane.

Nonetheless, you struggle to conceal your jealousy toward Hyunjin’s jobs, as they seem so damn perfect in your eyes. How great would it be if you could essentially work only when you felt like it? Not to mention the fact that both his jobs are basically having orgasms and looking pretty, which certainly seems heavenly when compared to your headache-inducing corporate job.

He even delayed the starting time of his livestream tonight for the sole purpose of tormenting you while you get ready.

Jihoon is your first proper date in almost a year, as you only allowed yourself the luxury of dating after getting the promotion you were working for. He’s in your company’s finance department, and you two have been casually flirting for three months. You tried your best to ignore him for a couple of weeks, but not only was he ridiculously good-looking, he was also the breathing definition of boyfriend material. He was kind, holding doors open and helping other workers carry heavy boxes with a smile on his face. He was caring, always arriving at the office with coffee for his coworkers, having memorized everyone’s order.

Not to mention the whispered rumors that echoed through the hallways of the ninth floor. Your friend, who had recently moved into the finance department, shared them with you after a drunken night out. Jihoon was apparently amazing in bed, all while being a perfect gentleman. The perfect blend of rough and sweet, and never one to kiss and tell — all these rumors apparently coming from women in his department who had dated him and couldn’t keep themselves from gushing about their unforgettable experience with him.

But it would be a lie to say you were excited about this date because of him.

It was the prospect of how much this could vex Hyunjin that really got you eager.

A couple of nights ago, you joked with Hyunjin about how Jihoon was the complete antithesis of him, hence why he was the ideal candidate for a boyfriend. Hyunjin’s reaction was exactly what you anticipated, with him becoming visibly annoyed and grumbling about how Jihoon probably talks a big game but does the bare minimum in bed.

You simply laughed because the mere thought that another man could be just as good, if not better, than him in bed was what ticked Hyunjin off. Never mind that you said Jihoon was perfect because he was everything he was not.

“You know,” Hyunjin suddenly says, “We should make a bet.”

And you hesitate for a beat and a half because you know Hyunjin.

Still, you sigh and answer, “Sure. What kind of bet?”

“If this guy is really that good in bed, then I’ll pay for your next date myself,” he vows, his smirk only growing as you turn to look at him through the mirror. “If he’s average, you go on a date with me.”

You silently look at him for a few seconds before laughter bursts out of you.

“Hyunjin, do you fucking hate me?” You ask, turning your body toward him. “I get shitty sex then have to endure a date with you?”

He shrugs, rising to stand in front of you. “This just proved to me how much faith you have in your date,” he calmly says. He then leans into you, caging you against the countertop, hands beside your body. Hyunjin bends his face to yours, his breath tickling your skin as he speaks, “Just admit you know no guy will ever be a better fuck than me.”

You scoff at his arrogance, pushing him until his back hits the wall.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Hyunjin follows you when you leave the bathroom to grab your purse in the living room, loudly clicking his tongue behind you.

“Why’d you dress up for him?” He huffs, and you turn to look at him with a raised brow. “This fucking short dress and shit.” He rakes his eyes over your body from head to toe, tugging at his bottom lip. “I should make you dress up for me, too. You look hot.”

By now, you’ve learned that the best course of action to follow when dealing with Hyunjin’s monumental ego is to ignore it altogether. It’s also quite entertaining to purposefully give him answers you know will vex him, so you sweetly smile at him.

“Thank you,” you beam, your fingers toying with the hem of your short dress, pulling up the fabric. “Hopefully Jihoon thinks the same.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, curling an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. He harshly presses his lips to yours, undoubtedly smudging your lipstick. His tongue pushes past your lips, brushing against your own. It’s almost like an act of possessiveness — leaving his taste on your tongue before you go off to your date with another man.

He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer. But just as you’re getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the sound of your doorbell echoes through the room, and your eyes widen. Pulling away, you promptly push Hyunjin back and wipe the corners of your mouth. You stifle a chuckle when your eyes land on his face; red lipstick smudged all over his lips.

“Stay in the bathroom until I leave,” you tell him while grabbing your purse from the couch. He rolls his eyes again, this time with a scowl contorting his features.

You smile at Jihoon when you open your door. Barely giving him the chance to say hello, you hurry him toward the elevator, reminding him of your reservation. You know Hyunjin, and you wouldn’t put it past him to show up behind you simply to stir up some drama.

But that’s the thing; you know Hyunjin, yet you still choose to stay in this strange arrangement with him. Because it’s the fact that you know him, for some reason you’re unsure of yourself, that makes you actually like him a little bit.

Hyunjin ends his livestream as usual, saying goodnight with a promise of seeing his viewers again tomorrow night. He never acknowledges tips and addresses no one by their name or username. Some cammers wear masks to conceal their identities — this cavalier persona, uncaring and nonchalant, is Hyunjin’s mask.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he goes on to do the arduous task of cleaning up the fleshlight he used tonight. It was a gift from a viewer, who begged him — with quite a lot of tips — to use it for her. What was initially meant to be a one-time thing has now become his new routine, as his viewers couldn’t get enough of it.

Hyunjin hates this part of his camming job: the incessant need to please the people who watch him, lest they abandon him and move on to a new cammer. He doesn’t mind the sex toys — although cleaning them makes him want to throw his entire collection out the window — but he’s had to do a lot of shit he really didn’t want to, all in the name of maintaining his number one spot.

He was eighteen when he first started. In desperate need of money after moving out of home for college, one of his friends suggested he sell his nudes to people around campus. When Hyunjin scowled and asked why the fuck that was his first and only suggestion, the boy laughed. He remembers his words to this day:

“Hyunjin, you know you don’t really have anything else other than your looks. Your grades are shit, and you’re lazy as fuck. This is pretty much the only way you can ever make money.”

And by that age, that was nothing new to Hyunjin, as he had heard different variations of that same speech his entire life. When he was a child, his parents urged him to become an idol or a model, going so far as to motivate him to ignore his schoolwork to attend auditions (even when he whined about how much he hated them).

His mother always said his face had the power to make people love him while studying would only lead to success.

“It’s much better to be loved, Hyunjin,” she told him when he was ten. “Anyone can reach success if they try hard enough, but being loved is a privilege only special people can have.”

By his late teens, when his reputation began to precede him after countless hookups during high school, his friends assured him he could make a lot of money off of sex.

Either way, the consensus was always that the only thing Hyunjin had to offer were his looks and body.

At first, he hated it. He wanted nothing more than to be appreciated for anything other than what his face looked like, or how good he was in bed. He got his grades up, excelled in hobbies he actually liked, and even set goals for himself after college. But Hyunjin never heard a word of praise from his parents, and his friends were always more interested in who he was hooking up with than how he got to the top of his class. After a while, he realized he was simply fighting a losing battle.

So he accepted that truth, because it couldn’t hurt him if he were the one to incentivize it.

That was why he decided to follow his friend’s asinine suggestion.

His first endeavor was with simple videos of himself jerking off in front of his mirror, the shitty camera of his phone certainly hindering his attempt at making the whole thing pleasing to the eyes. He would promote them through text messages to acquaintances he’d met at parties at first, later creating a Twitter account dedicated solely to selling these videos. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was certainly more than his friends made while working monotonous shifts at coffee shops.

Only four months later, he coincidentally entered the world of camming through a girl he had been hooking up with.

They were in her bedroom, just about to have sex, when she giggled against his lips and told him she could make a lot of money if he fucked her during one of her livestreams. He said he could make a lot of money if she let him record them fucking.

They ultimately reached an agreement, and Hyunjin appeared on his first-ever livestream that same night — a mask covering both their faces and the money made split evenly between them.

He recalls how his eyes were glued to her computer screen the entire time. He was used to praises and compliments, but there was something different about having a stranger openly say they’d do anything to be in that girl’s place, that they would pay to have him fuck them, or even something as simple as telling Hyunjin how good he was. It had a rush of euphoria cursing through his veins.

It was as if, for the first time in his life, he had found something he was truly good at, something that he was entirely in control of. He was a natural, and he enjoyed every moment of it, easily slipping into the persona he wears to this day.

He got drunk on that validation and was desperate to have it again.

After that night, he created his own account, with many of his hookup’s viewers following him immediately. He dropped out of college soon after he started, as the money he made from camming along with selling his content on Only Fans already exceeded the estimated salary in his field of study.

Hyunjin was good, and he loved being good. Most importantly, he loved knowing he was good.

That’s why he simply ignores the few times he’s had to do things he wasn’t all that keen on doing. Because at the end of the day, that’s the only thing he’s good at — pleasing people, no matter the cost.

After a long shower, Hyunjin walks back into his room and sinks into his bed. He’s glad he took the day off from his job at the club since a viewer tipped him $300 to edge himself for as long as he could tonight. After an hour of that, the only thing he wants is to curl up in bed and sleep for hours.

He buries himself under his blankets, but just as his eyes flutter closed, the sound of laughter echoes through his room. Your laughter.

He sits up in bed almost immediately, a grin etched onto his lips. He still remembers the day he found out his walls were paper thin; the day you touched yourself while he was streaming. He knew you were so sure you had been quiet — only letting out small whimpers and sighs — but he heard you regardless, and your pretty noises made it even easier for him to come that night. He initially assumed you were simply masturbating, but when you came knocking at his door the very next day to complain about how noisy he was, he knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice.

Hyunjin has fucked many women in his life, but for that silly fact alone, none piqued his interest quite like you did.

He rests his back against the headboard, ready to listen to you complain on the phone to some friend, grumbling about how fucking awful your date had been. But a masculine voice suddenly permeates through the wall, filling his room with the sound of your date’s obnoxious laughter.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” he slurs, clearly a bit tipsy.

“Me too,” you giggle, and Hyunjin’s face twists into a scowl. Since when do you giggle like that?

He hastily yanks the covers off his body, rushing to settle into his computer chair in a shameless effort to hear your conversation more clearly.

“Sorry I laughed when you spilled your drink on your dress,” the guy — whose name Hyunjin frankly didn’t care enough to memorize — apologizes before adding, “Do I make you that nervous?”

And it’s like Hyunjin can hear the smirk in the man’s voice. Why the fuck must this annoy him so much? Couldn’t you go back to his place to fuck? Maybe you’re pissed at him over the bet, and this is a desperate attempt to prove you’re right. He scoffs, running a hand through his hair before reclining on the chair.

Just means you’ll be having mediocre sex while he listens.

“Of course I was nervous,” you reply. “Look at you, this shirt’s been driving me crazy since you picked me up.”

The man snickers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you state matter-of-factly, “Kept looking at your arms the entire night. Couldn’t think straight,” your voice drops to a whisper, and Hyunjin could recognize the alluring lilt that envelops your voice from a mile away.

You use it with him almost every night.

Your date hums. “Oh, you like my arms?”

And Hyunjin can just picture the man flexing his muscles. What a fucking idiot.

His room is filled with the creaking sound of your bed, and he physically cringes. He can’t believe you’re really gonna make him listen to you fuck another guy. He especially can’t believe you so easily let this fucker into your bedroom. Hyunjin has known you for eight months, and you still adamantly insist that your bedroom is off-limits.

Maybe this is his long-overdue punishment for making you lose sleep for a month.

Your room suddenly falls into an odd stillness. All Hyunjin can do is sit in the dark, consumed by the incessant ticking of his clock, unable to tear his gaze away from the wall in front of him. His mind becomes his own worst enemy, flooding his imagination with vivid images of you laid out underneath this man, his arms you seemingly love so much caging you between the mattress and his body while his lips explore every inch of your skin. Or maybe you’re on top, rolling your hips in that slow, tantalizing rhythm that drives Hyunjin mad while looking at him with lust-clouded eyes.

The sound of you softly whimpering shakes him out of his thoughts, and Hyunjin subconsciously clenches his fists. Despite hearing the guy talk to you again, all he makes out is a jumble of garbled, muffled sounds.

He isn’t sure how long he stays there, eyes boring holes into the wall until his vision goes blurry and gnawing on his lips until he tears at the delicate skin. His ears sting with the sound of your bed frame hitting your shared wall, and your sighs and moans he loves so much only seem to mock him.

When the sardonic symphony eventually fades into silence, Hyunjin remains where he is. He feels powerless; he can’t stop how his heart weighs heavy in his chest or do anything but feel the scorching flame of anger searing his veins.

He’s memorized your date’s name by now — Jihoon, as your voice repeatedly called out.

For the first time in so long, Hyunjin was no longer in control.

Hyunjin struggles to conceal his annoyance when you show up at his door the next day as if nothing had happened. The hickey he gave you no longer being concealed by makeup and your ever-present grin only added to his aggravation, as if you were relishing in his agony. He wants nothing more than to fuck that smug grin off your pretty lips, but he can’t bring himself to touch you. Not when his ego is bruised by how easily another man could please you.

After all, that was all Hyunjin had to offer. Why were you even here in the first place? If you had already found someone else to fuck you, he had nothing more to give you.

Sitting on his couch, Hyunjin’s frustration gets the best of him, and he’s the first to break the silence.

“I don’t even gotta ask if you had a good time last night,” he sneers, and you stifle a chuckle, trying but ultimately failing to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, the restaurant was nice.”

Hyunjin can’t contain the scoff that escapes his lips, his mouth curling in disdain. “You know damn well I’m not talking about the restaurant.”

You cock your head to the side, brows knitting together as you put on your best act of naivety.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” You ask, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Hyunjin is pushing your body onto the couch before he realizes what he’s doing, the rage he felt last night no longer laying dormant in his bloodstream. He cages you against the cushions, his hands resting beside your body. You instinctively spread your thighs to accommodate him.

“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?” He asks, bending his face to yours. You shrug with a contented sigh, lifting your arms to wrap around his back.

Hyunjin scoffs, and you let out a yelp as he abruptly hoists your legs over his shoulders, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs. He leans down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth but pulls away before you can register to kiss him back, leaving you to chase after his touch.

“Is this how he fucked you?” He asks with a hum, his lips hovering mere inches above yours. His hold on your thighs becomes bruisingly tight as he waits for your answer. “Hm? Did he fuck you good?”

“We were both tipsy,” you murmur, breath hitching as he pushes his hardening member against your clothed core. “It was okay.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips, and Hyunjin mockingly pouts. “So he wasn’t the sex god you were promised, baby?”

You roll your eyes. “I just said it was okay.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, his gaze transfixed by the way your eyes look up at him while you subtly roll your hips up into him. He’s not stupid, he knows the reason why you have such an infuriating effect on him. He’s never going to be good enough for you outside of being a good fuck, yet he feels a blooming yearning inside of his chest that makes him selfishly want to keep you to himself. Even if he has nothing else to offer you.

So he chooses to swallow his pride, just this once, to prove to you why you should choose to stay and stop searching for pleasure in other men — because Hyunjin knows you will find much more than that in them. Much more than what he has.

“‘Okay’ isn’t what you deserve,” He tuts, his mind slowly fogging over with desire as you roll your hips harder against his length. “Isn’t what you’re used to after all these months, is it? Hm?” He urges, raising a hand to lightly brush against your jaw before gripping it. “Answer me.”

Hyunjin knows you’re struggling not to give in; that’s one of his favorite things about having sex with you. The push and pull, how you try so hard to act tough and unbothered but ultimately melt under his touch every time. Even so, he was only able to truly break you for the first time a couple of months ago. You’re obstinate, he’ll give you that.

You shrug again, and he knows it’s the only answer he’ll get from you for now.

“Are you gonna see him again?” He asks instead.

You let out a quiet sigh as Hyunjin lazily grazes your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t think so.”

“Yeah?” He asks, arching a brow almost knowingly. “I can’t help but think you only brought him home to make me listen to you.”

And you giggle at that. The same overly sweet, coy giggle Hyunjin heard through his wall last night.

“I guess you’ll never know,” you simply answer, running a hand through his hair and lightly gripping a fistful while your eyes flicker down to his lips.

Hyunjin wastes no more time talking to you — he knows your conversations usually lead nowhere. He crashes his lips into yours, fingers gripping your jaw once more and forcing your lips open, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. You whimper into the kiss, a sound he knows slipped past your lips unwittingly. Your tongue swirls against his, and he savors your taste with a low hum.

You tilt your hips up, chasing after him again and whining when Hyunjin moves out of reach. He smiles.

“You want me to give you what you’re used to?” He asks against your lips, and you’re quick to nod. “So fucking greedy, made me listen to you get fucked last night only to come running back to me.” He slides his hands under your ass and picks you up effortlessly, carrying you toward his bedroom with an exasperated sigh. “Would’ve been easier if you just admitted no guy will ever be as good as me, wouldn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, but your words are cut short as Hyunjin throws you onto his bed and promptly walks to his wardrobe. “At least Jihoon got to it quick. I’m not one of your viewers, I don’t care much for your chatter.”

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh, retrieving a small blue box from among his clothes and sitting at the edge of the bed. “He got to it quick? Is that your way of telling me your date was a one-minute man?”

You open your mouth as if you’re ready to refute him but ultimately close it and cross your arms over your chest, willing him to do something. Hyunjin stifles another laugh.

“Good thing you have me, then,” He mutters, the goading lilt to his voice impossible to disguise. Placing the box on his nightstand, he hovers over your body once again. “I got all these toys, and we never got around to playing with them together.”

You visibly shudder, nodding slowly as Hyunjin looms over you. He slots your lips together once more, this time much more softly. Your tongue lightly brushes against his bottom lip, licking into his mouth as your thighs wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles behind him and drawing his body flush against yours.

With each languid and deliberate stroke of his tongue, Hyunjin revels in the way he can feel you grow more impatient, tugging at the fabric of his shirt and rutting your hips against his. His hands slip under the hem of your shirt to grip your waist, easing your movements. The way his cock strains against his sweatpants becomes impossible to ignore as his hard length presses against your warm core harder and harder with each roll of your hips.

Hyunjin’s hand glides from your waist to your stomach, caressing your skin before finding its way to your cunt, fingers harshly pressing against your clothed wetness. You whimper into the kiss as he lazily circles your clit over the fabric of your shorts.

“Let’s make a deal,” Hyunjin whispers as he pulls away. “You admit I’m the best fuck you’re ever gonna have, and I might let you come.”

He punctuates his words with a firm press of his fingers to your clit, and he can visibly see your resolve crumbling before him, but you still force out an indignant huff.

“In your dreams,” you shakily breathe out.

Hyunjin shrugs, his fingers leaving your core and traveling over the expanse of your stomach. He promptly rids you of your shirt, and you hiss as his hands brush against your sensitive nipples, Hyunjin watching as they immediately stiffen in response.

Your habit of not wearing a bra nearly drives Hyunjin insane — even on the first day you came knocking at his door, he remembers having to fight the urge to glance down at the way your nipples peaked beneath the fabric of your white shirt.

You’ve been driving him crazy since you walked into his line of sight.

Hyunjin lightly massages your breasts before grazing your hardened nipples with his thumbs, swiftly sucking one into his mouth, causing sighs to spill from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair. He flicks the stiff bud with his tongue before grazing his teeth over it, and you roughly tug at his roots. He smiles against your skin, nudging the peak of your nipples with his lips and sighing.

“Say it,” he calmly tells you, but your only response is tugging harder at his hair. “You’re so stubborn,” He chides, tugging his shirt over his head. “I told you, you’re only coming if you fucking admit it.”

He slowly moves onto the foot of the bed, his hands roaming along your legs with featherlight touches. He places wet kisses from your stomach to your inner thighs, sucking lightly at the skin until his lips hovered tantalizingly close to your still-clothed, aching cunt. And then he stops, instead pressing a kiss to your hips.

“Hyunjin,” his name falls from your lips as a breathy whine. He looks up to find your gaze already on him, eyes silently pleading. He grins, thumbs drawing circles on your inner thighs as you push your hips into his face, but he promptly pulls away. “Please,” you finally whisper, although barely audibly.

Hyunjin hums, satisfied, pressing a wet kiss to your core through the fabric of your shorts before sliding them down your legs along with your panties. He hisses through his teeth at the sight of your wetness, thumbs gliding up and down your folds before spreading you before him. His tongue immediately pokes out to travel up your slit before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit, sucking harshly, and your hand soon flies to rest on his head.

He lifts his eyes once more, humming against your folds as he finds your head rolled back onto his pillows, lips falling open as you softly mewl. He could listen to your sweet sounds all night, reveling in the way every flick of his tongue made you become louder and louder until you were all but screaming his name.

But he has to teach you a lesson tonight.

His tongue delves deep into you, gliding against your slick inner walls, causing even more arousal to flood his lips. His eyes flutter closed with a pleased hum, lapping up every drop of your wetness.

“Fuck,” you rasp, and Hyunjin knows you’re close.

With a wicked grin, he slips two fingers into your warm cunt, curling them just the way you love while his tongue expertly circles your clit. When you roll your hips against his lips, yanking his head toward your body, Hyunjin pulls away.

He watches as your eyes shoot open and you frown at him, but he simply grins, thumb wiping at his glistening mouth before slipping the digit into your agape lips.

“Say it,” he repeats, unrelenting, and stifles a laugh when you groan loudly.

You hook a leg around his waist, bringing his body close to yours again, the heat of his thick cock pressing against your soaked cunt. Hyunjin sucks in a breath, focusing on reining in his emotions, determined not to let you win. His mind is already completely clouded with lust, desperate to fuck you into the mattress, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of watching him give in to you.

He bends his face to yours, gasping out a curse as he watches the way you swirl your tongue around his finger with a hum, lazily sucking it while maintaining your eyes locked onto his. He presses the pad of his thumb down onto your tongue, and your lips obediently fall open before upturning into a taunting smile.

You still think you’re in control.

Hyunjin shakes his head, his resolve coming back to him.

His fingers fall from your tongue, and he presses his lips against yours. You melt into the kiss, hands traveling down the expanse of Hyunjin’s abdomen, then back up to wrap around his broad shoulders. He lets you do as you please, rummaging through his box until his fingers brush against what he’s looking for. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, ultimately distracting you, and you let out a small whimper, which grows into a loud groan as he presses the blunt tip of the massaging wand to your clit and switches it to the medium setting.

“What the fuck,” You all but growl into his lips, and Hyunjin hums.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

You let out a shuddering sigh. “T-Too much,” you whimper, hands scrambling for Hyunjin’s arms in an attempt to ground yourself, but ultimately clawing at his bedsheets.

He glides the wand along your drenched folds, moving up and down, eyes transfixed on the way your arousal drips out of you and coats the toy. Your entire body jolts when he harshly presses the vibrating tip directly onto your clit. He could come just by watching you squirm underneath him, loud groans falling from your lips. How he wished Jihoon could be in your room, listening to how beautiful you sound when you’re actually being taken care of properly.

Hyunjin feels his cock twitch every time your body shudders, trying to escape the relentless vibrations, sticky precum gathering in his sweatpants and increasing his discomfort. He desperately wants to fuck you.

With a low grunt, he leans in closer to you, pinning your arm to your side and flicking his wrist as he presses down harder on your swollen clit.

“Got no idea how pretty you sound, do you?” He hisses, “If only you weren’t such a fucking brat and just — fuck.”

His words dissipate when your free hand wiggles between your bodies and pulls down his sweatpants, freeing his cock. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, squeezing him tightly before frantically stroking him. The sounds that echoed through the room were lewd, unmistakable evidences of both your arousals.

Hyunjin pulls the wand from your clit, turning down the vibrations and letting it rest against one of your peaked nipples while he grips his cock in his fist, the swollen tip prodding at your entrance, just barely pushing in. You whimper loudly, clutching his arm, fingernails digging crescent moons into his pale skin.

“Come on,” he growls, cock now gliding up and down your slit. “I know you wanna come, just fucking say it.”

But you’re unrelenting, staring into his eyes and weakly shaking your head.

Hyunjin stops his movements altogether, his shaft nestled against your soaking cunt, the head of his cock resting heavily on your clit. He presses the wand down onto his length, increasing the intensity to the highest setting. A loud, broken moan falls from your throat as your shaky hands grip his wrist, your back arching off the bed. You try to push the toy away, but Hyunjin’s free hand wraps around your neck, effortlessly pinning your pliant body down onto the mattress.

He presses his forehead to yours, his sweat dripping down onto your breasts as he fights off his orgasm.

“Fucking say it,” he hisses, tears gathering in your lashes. The unyielding vibrations from the wand traveling through his cock and going straight onto your clit, coupled with the way his hand tightens around your throat, finally have every bit of your resolve crumbling.

“You,” you choke out, “Best fuck I’ll ever fucking have, Hyunjin, god — I wanna come, please.”

Hyunjin feels satisfaction enveloping his entire being, and the pleasure intensifies tenfold, his cock twitching and a low groan reverberating from the depths of his chest.

“Come for me, baby,” he breathes out, giving your neck one last squeeze, and your climax erupts from you with a loud cry. As your entire body convulses and your head tilts back, Hyunjin can feel your release coating his cock before dripping onto the sheets below.

As you struggle to catch your breath, your grip on his wrist tightens and your body squirms away from the vibrations, but Hyunjin only presses down harder, seeking his own release. He soon comes with a sigh, eyebrows scrunching together, his cum landing all over your cunt.

He turns off the vibrator, labored breaths mixing with yours as you two come down from your highs.

“You’re fucking insane,” you chuckle after a beat.

And Hyunjin’s lips stretch into a lazy smile. “And you owe me a date.”

You were reluctant at first, having assumed it was simply Hyunjin’s ego talking that night, only teasing you because you were going on a date with someone else when he proposed that odd bet. However, you eventually found out he wasn’t at all joking and actually wanted his ‘prize’ — as he called it — for winning the bet.

Figuring out a date was an aggravating task, given that Hyunjin worked on weekends and you worked on weekdays. You told him numerous times to just let it go; you could simply hang out in his apartment like you usually did and call it a date. It wasn’t anything serious, just another one of his whims.

But Hyunjin’s persistence was unwavering, and he settled for taking yet another day off and canceling his livestream altogether so he could take you out on a Saturday.

Although you weren’t looking forward to it at first, you unknowingly smiled whenever you saw the day marked on your calendar alongside your endless work assignments. It was ridiculous, and you wouldn’t admit it to him, but deep down, you were actually excited about this date. You wanted to know what it’s like to have a conversation that doesn’t end in you two bickering, wanted to know what it feels like to hang out with him without the thought of fucking looming over your heads.

You were strangely excited to get to know Hyunjin outside the four walls of your apartments.

But the Sunday before your date, disappointment washed over you like a cold bucket of water when Hyunjin told you he had to cancel.

What did you expect? You knew Hyunjin. This should’ve been the obvious outcome from the start, but you were stupid and allowed yourself to be swept away by a hope that proved too good to be true.

He waited until he finished his livestream to tell you — as if canceling less than a week before wasn’t already bad enough. Your irritation reached its peak as you sat in his bed and listened to him insist it wasn’t his fault.

“One of the other hosts had a family emergency so he’ll be gone for two weekends,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. Family emergency. Of course.

“Hyunjin, you say that like you don’t take countless days off with no issues,” you refuted, and his frown deepened while he shook his head.

Just say you don’t wanna go on this stupid date.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s not like that. We have rules to follow,” he insisted. “Only one host can be absent at a time. I don’t have a valid reason for bailing on Saturday, so I’m forced to go.”

“Or you’ll lose your precious number one spot?”

“Or I’ll lose my fucking job.”

And you simply shrugged as you ultimately realized that was yet another pointless conversation between you. You then went on to have sex, as you always did when confronted with the threat of a serious conversation, and the topic was forgotten.

At least by Hyunjin.

You spend the next days avoiding him to the best of your abilities. Deep down, you know you’re behaving like a child, but the way you allowed yourself to get excited over something as stupid as a date with him still makes you feel pathetic. It’s impossible not to feel like he raised your hopes only for the pleasure of shutting you down. All because you went out with someone else, and you know that was a blow to his ego.

You two have never been anything more than friends who hook up — and even using that term feels almost comical, seeing as you two can’t have a conversation without it turning into a petty argument or an ego battle — but his insistence on this date, and your own eagerness seemed to hint at something more.

Clearly, you were mistaken.

You brought Jihoon back to your apartment hoping to have mind-blowing sex after a nice date. Plus, you knew Hyunjin would hear you, and you terribly wanted to deflate his ego. A win-win situation in your book. Instead, you had mediocre sex at best. Jihoon skipped foreplay entirely, simply pounded into you, and finished far too quickly while leaving you hanging.

Maybe he was too tipsy to perform well, or maybe the women in your office are living in a depressing reality where a guy’s ability to find the clitoris means he’s a god among men. Either way, even after putting on your best performance, Hyunjin still saw right through you.

And the worst part is, even you can’t explain why you did that. Your mind argues it was all for the pleasure of vexing him; he’s been annoying you since he first moved in next door, after all. But your heart is quick to jump in with a list of facts and reasons why that can’t be the case — all while presenting some valid arguments that lead you to believe you might like Hyunjin more than originally planned.

But he was still Hyunjin at the end of the day. Your egotistical idiot neighbor whose fragile ego you hurt, so he’s retaliating.

After three days of successfully ignoring Hyunjin, one of your friends at work makes all your work crumble with a single phrase.

“I can’t believe we still haven’t gone back to The Siren,” she grumbled during lunch, and you stabbed an innocent piece of broccoli with your fork.

That was all it took to ignite your curiosity.

You sit at your desk later in the day and look up that damn club, telling yourself you simply want to find out why your friends are so desperate to go there. This has nothing to do with Hyunjin.

Upon entering their website, you realize The Siren wasn’t a nightclub as you had imagined; it’s an elegant lounge with a lavish-looking bar you’re sure charged $5 for a bottle of water. As you read the club’s About Us page, the entrance fee almost has you choking on your coffee, despite it being expected for such a place. Among several rules, one catches your eye:

The club allows a maximum of twenty attendees per night, offering a choice of twenty-five hosts.

You gnaw on your bottom lip at the realization that perhaps Hyunjin wasn’t lying, and that was the reason only one host could be absent at a time.

Eventually, you find your way to the Hosts section of the website. You’re a bit taken aback by how these men are presented as amenities, like products displayed at an online shop, with nothing but their names and a picture along with their price.

They’re divided into tiers: gold, emerald, and platinum. Hosts in the gold tier are younger, most likely having just started on the job, and their prices are the most affordable. The emerald tier is more expensive, with some hosts who look old enough to be your father. The disturbing realization dawns on you that these men’s values diminish as they age.

On the platinum tier, only five hosts are displayed, and you blanch at each of their unique prices. Hyunjin is the most expensive, at $500, excluding extra fees. You click on his black and white picture, and a myriad of photos of Hyunjin flood your screen. You’re struck by how different he looks in these shots; his styled hair and impeccably tailored suits look nothing like the man you see at your apartments every day, lounging around in sweatpants and loose t-shirts.

A description sits at the top of the page, short but still enough to make you grimace.

Hyunjin has held our club’s esteemed number-one position for two consecutive years now, and rightfully so. Complementing his striking good looks is an alluring personality that will make you feel cherished throughout the evening. His undivided attention will undoubtedly meet your satisfaction, and his additional services will leave you breathless.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting — you were already aware of the nature of Hyunjin’s job as a host — but the club’s portrayal of these people as mere products leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your curiosity has morphed into frustration as you return to the homepage, but a message catches your eye just as you’re about to exit the website. Three spots are now available for Saturday night due to the absence of one of their hosts. And before you can even process your actions, you’ve already booked these spots for you and two friends.

Thank you for choosing to unwind at The Siren! We will contact you individually regarding further details, including host orders.

Host orders? That is enough to make you close the website.

You can’t believe you’re going to do this. You know for a fact Hyunjin will be upset, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he wants to toy with your emotions, you have every right to show up at this club.

You wait for Hyunjin to leave for work to get ready on Saturday. You weren’t able to avoid him this afternoon and spent the day lazying around in your apartment, binge-watching some new reality TV show he’s obsessed with.

You expected Hana and Naeun to eat you alive for buying tickets to this overpriced club without consulting them first, but their excitement overshadowed any anger they had. You also played up your excitement, although, by the time your shift had ended, you mostly felt regret for spending all that money purely out of spite.

The email you received explains The Siren has a strict dress code, not allowing any client in unless they’re dressed to their standards.

The patrons are required to match our club’s overall atmosphere.

You rolled your eyes. At least their arrogance fit their ostentatious price.

As you skim through their several other rules, you find out that booking a host isn’t mandatory, and often, hosts will seek out patrons themselves if they’re free for the night.

Be prepared to be approached by one of our available hosts at any given moment. Should you be fortunate enough to capture their attention, that is.

Among the rules, you’re also explicitly told that tipping the hosts anything beyond their set prices is strictly forbidden. The more you learned about this club, the more you struggled to understand why Hyunjin held it in such high esteem.

You bring out your best dress from the back of your closet, hoping you ‘matched the club’s overall atmosphere.’ You let out a heavy sigh as you make it past the What Not to Wear crew guarding the entrance alongside the bouncer, and you are officially in.

“This is your first time here, right?” Hana asks you, linking your arms together. You nod, and she grins before adding, “You’re in for a treat.”

The Siren is exactly what you saw in the pictures, only the dim glow of purple neon lights illuminating the extravagant chandeliers, corner sofas, and opulent decorations you know cost more than your month’s rent.

The owner herself personally escorts every single patron to their seats — a tradition spanning over a decade since the club was first inaugurated. Briefly introducing herself as Taeyeon, the beautiful woman leads you through a long corridor adorned with the hosts’ pictures on the walls. Finally, you arrive at a sofa, where a champagne bottle nestled in an ice bucket already waits for you. She informs Naeun that the host she ordered for the night will be a bit late due to personal reasons, before bidding you goodbye with a smile.

You awkwardly shift in your seat as Hana leaves to fetch you drinks from the bar, and your eyes scan the lounge as it slowly fills up with people. You notice a few of the men you saw on the website parading around the club, a grin etched onto their lips as they lock eyes with a few of the patrons. Other hosts are already tending to their ‘dates,’ sitting beside them on the sofas and attentively listening with warm smiles.

Hyunjin wasn’t lying when he said his job was making lonely women feel wanted.

The club itself is rather boring without the satisfaction of a host pampering you. The slow jazz music playing softly in the background makes you feel almost drowsy, and the dim lighting does little to help. For an hour, you watch as hosts come and go. Some lead their clients toward the bar area, partaking in drinking games with other clients and hosts. Others guide women up the black, shimmering staircase at the back of the club, leaving you to wonder where they could possibly be off to. Thankfully, you’ll have Hana to keep you company when Naeun undoubtedly disappears off to somewhere with the host she ‘ordered.’

Your gaze falls on the sofa in front of you, where a host’s dimpled smile lights up his face as he playfully strokes a woman’s cheek, eliciting a shy giggle from her lips before she continues her story. His intense gaze remains fixed on her face, his hand soothingly trailing down her back while he nods, seemingly enthralled by their conversation. It would be a lie to say coming here after a tiring week at work wouldn’t seem like stepping into a dream. Even if it’s all a well-constructed lie, having a handsome guy cater to your every need and listen to you complain without uttering a word is almost fucking idyllic.

Your eyes then wander toward the back of the club, where a small group of hosts is huddled around a circular table, quietly laughing among themselves. Sitting at the center, Taeyeon’s intent gaze oversees her club’s activities while engaged in a heated phone conversation, her scowl deepening with each word she mutters.

You assume these hosts weren’t booked for the night or are still waiting for their clients to arrive. Just as you’re about to advert your gaze, Hyunjin emerges from a door on the left. His hair is meticulously styled, slicked back to reveal his gorgeous face, and his tall figure is dressed in a white button-up shirt tucked neatly under an expensive-looking black blazer.

Hyunjin has always been beautiful in your eyes, but seeing him exude so much confidence stirs up something inside of you.

His mere presence captivates you so strongly you find it impossible to look away, even as his gaze meets yours. A look of utter bewilderment washes over his face as he stills his movements, looking almost startled. You two fall into an impromptu staring contest as if you’re attempting to communicate with your eyes alone until Naeun taps your shoulder, snapping you out of your haze.

“He’s so fucking hot, isn’t he?”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“The host you’re ogling at,” Naeun giggles, “I saw him on their website the first we came here, but I was too late so I couldn’t get him to myself. I’m so glad you asked us to come tonight ‘cause I got to order him before he was booked,” she explains, and you feel as if all the air has frozen in your lungs. Hyunjin is the host your friend ordered. “I’m fucking broke now, but I know it’ll be worth it.”

You inwardly grimace at how she talks about Hyunjin, almost like he’s only a shiny toy she couldn’t buy in the past. That, coupled with how booking a host is so casually referred to as ordering, makes you feel a bit nauseous.

Hyunjin eventually walks over to your table, as you knew he would. He’s Naeun’s host for the night, after all. As he slowly strides toward your sofa, his focus remains solely on you. For a split second, his eyes flicker with something akin to sadness before he quickly resumes his usual persona.

He immediately takes Naeun’s hand, kissing her knuckles with half-lidded eyes and a sultry grin. The way he looks at her has the knot in your stomach tightening, aching with the realization that it’s the same way he always looks at you. You were never anything special or significant to each other — you’re well aware of that — but the sting you feel is unbearable for some reason.

Hyunjin sits beside Naeun, and his focus shifts entirely to her. His wandering hands leave a trail of goosebumps from her arms to her bare legs, while his whispered words make her cheeks flush a rosy pink. And it feels as if he’s completely ignoring your presence, which is such a foolish thought you almost feel ashamed. This is his job, but reminding yourself of that every couple of minutes somehow only makes you feel worse.

Because this isn’t a one-time thing, this happens every single time he works.

At some point, while you were too busy engrossed in Hyunjin and Naeun, Hana got a host of her own. With his bleached blonde hair, a constellation of freckles on his cheeks, and a deep, gentle voice, it seems he’s done his job at captivating her. Each host seems to embody a specific persona. From his less-touchy demeanor to the softness in his eyes when he looks at Hana, it’s clear that this guy is going for the caring boyfriend type.

As you remember how available hosts sometimes approach clients themselves, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. If they’re available, no one has booked them for the night, meaning they won’t earn a single dollar. Their focus will undoubtedly be on finding the wealthiest available patron. Hana came from old money, only working at your company after falling out with her family, but her head-to-toe Chanel attire radiates wealth. It’s no wonder this host so graciously chose to sit beside her.

Eventually, Hana is led to the large bar by her host, and the atmosphere in your little space becomes increasingly uncomfortable for you. Your neglected drink is now lukewarm, leaving a damp spot on the hem of your dress as condensation seeps through from where you rested the glass on your thighs.

Hyunjin leaves a few minutes later, taking Naeun by the hand. He briefly turns to look at you, his gaze now nearly unreadable. Only disappointment — or was it hurt? — flashes in his brown eyes before he walks away to lead her up that stairwell.

You sit alone for what feels like an eternity, the once bustling lounge slowly falling into a deafening silence around you. Jealousy and hurt intertwine inside your brain, spinning around in an endless cycle and making your head throb.

You’re only waiting until you’ve finished your way too expensive Cosmopolitan — far too warm to be enjoyable now — when a figure suddenly sits beside you. To your surprise, it’s a host. His styled dark brown hair is messy as if he’s been running his hands through it, and his black button-up shirt has the sleeves rolled up, exposing the veins running along his forearms. He’s hot, there’s no denying, but your sour mood won’t be solved by some eye candy.

“Seems we’re both alone tonight,” he starts, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.

You simply hum, taking a final sip of your drink before placing the glass on the table. You’re not really in the mood to entertain this conversation, so you uncross your legs, ready to leave.

But your movements halt when his hand gently rests on your knee.

“You seem so lonely here all by yourself. Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, and your eyes narrow. He lets out a hearty laugh. “No need to act so suspicious, I’m just making an offer. We’re both alone. What’s the harm?”

To say you were skeptical would be an understatement. You clearly remember his face from the website as he was right beside Hyunjin, at the number two spot of the platinum tier, his price only slightly less offensively expensive.

“I’m Minho,” he offers his hand, which you reluctantly take after telling him your name. After your awkward handshake, you try to pull back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he places your clasped hands on your lap, his thumb drawing circular shapes on your skin as he continues, “I waited all night for my client to show up. I could really use a distraction.”

Of course.

You take a deep breath, and your gaze shifts towards his face.

“I don’t have money to order you, sorry.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Minho’s lips, his hand leaving yours and finding the skin of your thighs. “How about I make this my treat, then? My client has this habit of ordering me and then ghosting me,” he sighs, “Isn’t that cruel? Taeyeon said she won’t let it fly anymore and is refusing to give her a refund for tonight.”

As Minho’s soft touch glides along your skin, his fingers inching closer to the hem of your dress, your mind replays the scene of Hyunjin’s hand on Naeun's legs. The way he touched her mirrored how he had touched you so many times, and it replayed in your mind like a flickering film. It ignites the flame of ugly jealousy inside of you once more.

“Your treat?” You whisper, and Minho’s face inches closer to yours, your noses brushing together.

“I’d hate for a pretty girl like you to go home unsatisfied,” he whispers.

You’re walking up the gleaming steps of that staircase before you can make sense of what you’re doing. Minho’s hand doesn’t leave your skin for a second, fingers now gliding across your arms as he leads you down a wide corridor. You eye the place curiously, taking in the row of closed, dark wooden doors lining both sides of the hallway.

Minho leads you toward the only door that has been left ajar, and it finally dawns on you what happens on the second floor of The Siren.

The room is not large; a round bed occupies most of the space between the small bar and the dark velvet couch. Following your initial conversation with Hyunjin about this job, he consistently evaded any further questions you asked until you eventually gave up. You always assumed he found the subject boring, much like you did when forced to talk about your own job.

You knew his job as a host meant pampering women, making them feel wanted and tending to their every need throughout the night. It seems your brain conveniently failed to remember that it also implied having sex with them.

“I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You feel a shudder run through your body as those words ring inside your mind. That’s what extra fees meant.

Hyunjin led Naeun up those stairs. It doesn’t take much imagination to know what they were doing at that exact moment.

Minho locks the door behind you, and his strong arms circle your waist, drawing you closer to his body. His gaze drops to your lips, and a smile spreads across his face.

“Is this okay?” His voice is gentle, with no pressure lingering in his words. You know you could say no, go back home, and wallow in your self-pity for the rest of the night.

But you don’t want to do that.

Because you know Hyunjin is currently fucking your friend. And, despite the rational side of your brain screaming that this is his job, it does little to extinguish the searing fire of jealousy that burns under your skin.

So, you allow yourself to fall into bed with Minho.

His touches are almost feather-light, his kisses gentle, and his movements deliberate as he fucks into you.

It feels good, but it’s not what you’re used to.

It’s not Hyunjin.

Hyunjin returned home as soon as he possibly could after his shift.

Any anger was dampened by the sadness and shame he felt because you had to see him at the club. It’s his job, but it’s a job he never truly loved. He feels vulnerable and powerless as a host, a stark contrast to what he feels when camming.

Taeyeon personally scouted him from his livestream. He was twenty and already making enough money to provide for himself. He didn’t need a new job, but the allure of the validation he knew it would provide him was enticing. Compliments and adoration fueled Hyunjin throughout his entire life. He knew it was a bit pathetic, but that was how he was taught to be.

During his training period, Taeyeon and the older hosts instructed him. They taught him how to erase his true self to fit into what would most appeal to clients. That was easy for Hyunjin. He’d already been doing that for most of his life.

He wasn’t tricked into anything. He was given a meticulous explanation of every minute detail of the job and was allowed to set hard limits for anything he wasn’t comfortable doing. Taeyeon treated the hosts like her family, like older and younger brothers she cared for. She provided apartments for those who came into the job with nothing, paid off student debts, and was always willing to listen to their problems.

She would be the perfect boss if not for her love of money.

Every host receives only 5% of any money they make for the club. Hyunjin, as the highest-paid host at The Siren, only makes around $100 per weekend — if he’s lucky enough to have clients booking him for extra services every night.

He knows he’s being exploited but can’t bring himself to quit.

When he first discovered the ranking system at the club, he turned to smoking because of pressure. Naturally, he started at the lowest tier but needed to climb as fast as possible. He was determined to do whatever it took to reach that number one spot. He bleached his hair, splashed out on clothes he didn’t like, and even took up groups of clients per night. Hyunjin had always found comfort in sex. He had complete control of the situation and the satisfaction of knowing he was the reason someone felt good was just another form of validation, like he was loved for as long as the sex lasted.

Sex at the club was never like that. It was a chore, something he did because he had to. It wasn’t anything like camming, and it wasn’t like having sex with someone he actually cared about.

It wasn’t anything like having sex with you.

Seeing you that night only made it harder for him to drag himself up those stairs and do what was expected of him.

Hyunjin got home that night and fell asleep on the couch. He couldn’t be bothered to do anything, especially shower, as the thought of facing his reflection in the mirror was unbearable. Different emotions swirled inside him like a tornado until they ultimately consumed him before he finally dozed off.

He thought he could trust you, thought you knew him well enough to understand why he wanted to keep this part of himself hidden from you. The night he first told you about this job, he put on a mask — like he always did — and put on his best act, playing up his arrogance despite how scared he felt. When you told him that same night he wasn’t anything worth falling for, and that you could be together only until you found something better, he felt as if his heart had shattered for the first time in his life.

That was the night he realized a mask couldn’t protect him from everything. Especially his own heart.

It wasn’t intentional — liking you this much hasn’t been exactly enjoyable. It simply happened. Because you were the only one who ever chipped away at his impenetrable wall and saw the closest thing to the real Hyunjin, yet still chose to stay.

You hadn’t stayed because of his looks; you two never cared about impressing each other.

You hadn’t stayed solely for the sex; you two often got together simply to enjoy each other’s company.

Hyunjin couldn’t be blamed for assuming you had stayed because you knew him. Not the mask he wore or the persona he showed to the world — the real him.

But tonight, even among all the designer clothes and expensive drinks, he felt as if you had just witnessed him at his lowest. And he could only hope you still chose to stay after that.

You’ve barely been awake for an hour when a knock echoes through your apartment. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, because there’s only one person who could be at the other side of the door.

After your jealousy-clouded brain made the asinine decision to sleep with Minho, you’ve locked away any and every thought into a pretty little box inside your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you had done because you knew the remorse would slowly erode your mind. You certainly didn’t want to think about Hyunjin, as even the faint memory of his eyes from the previous night would dig at your heart until it shattered.

But there was nowhere you could hide outside of your mind.

Hyunjin is quiet as you open the door, and he remains quiet as you two sit together on your couch. Your tea sits forgotten on your coffee table, and you focus on the swirls of steam rising from your mug as you endure his silence.

You force yourself to speak when your tea finally goes cold.

“I’m sorry,” you simply say.

Hyunjin’s hands tug at the sleeves of his sweater, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Why did you come to the club without telling me?��

“I was angry at you,” You bite your lip, knowing your reasoning is ridiculous. “Because of the date…” you trail off, and Hyunjin turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he walked into your apartment.

“So you thought coming to my work would be a good idea?”

You shrug, instinctively looking away as you feel the intensity of his eyes on you. It was just like when you first met him, only it made you ashamed instead of flustered. You missed that initial lightness, but you knew that was long gone now. Sorting out your issues with Hyunjin was necessary if you ever hoped to have a healthy relationship. If every conversation turned into an argument that would only be avoided through sex, there was no point in dragging this on.

“I wasn’t thinking,” is all you can say.

Hyunjin scoffs. “That was kinda obvious.”

The biting tone in his voice makes you rise to your feet, shaking your head. You put as much distance between you and him as possible.

“What? You wanted me to be rational when I thought you were just playing with me?” You throw your hands up as you blurted out, exasperation consuming any remaining trace of pride within you. “When I thought you were having fun acting jealous and proposing dates only to come up with shitty excuses to shut it all down?”

“Playing with you?” Hyunjin mirrors your words, eyes narrowing as he closes the distance you had created. “I thought you knew me enough to know I mean it when I say something. I wanted to go on that date with you, and I was fucking jealous. That night you forced me to listen to you fuck another guy made me wanna punch my fucking wall.”

You open your lips, but no words come out.

You’re embarrassed. Going to The Siren wasn’t the first childish thing you had done out of spite because of Hyunjin. But your anger was never directed at him. It was always you; for allowing yourself to become so attached to him and like him so much that it drove you mad.

Going on that date simply to rile Hyunjin up, showing up at his job because you felt entitled to when your mind insisted you had been wronged — that was all you and your stupid mind being incapable of accepting the fact that you have fallen for the guy you swore would never be of any significance to you.

The guy you so proudly declared unworthy of falling for.

“Are you really not gonna say anything?” Hyunjin lets out a weak laugh, and when your eyes meet again, his expression leaves no room for doubt this time. Sadness swims freely in his eyes while they well up with tears that he vigorously fights to hold back. “I thought you knew me,” he reiterates. “Thought you stayed because you knew…” He trails off, shaking his head.

As he turns to leave, you instinctively reach out for him. After nine months of knowing each other, you hold his hand for the first time.

“I do know you, Hyunjin,” you blurt out, squeezing his hand when he refuses to look at you. “I stayed because I know you. Beyond your rankings, beyond that club, beyond this damn wall you built around yourself. At least a little bit, I know you.”

He takes a deep breath before his eyes lock on yours again. “I feel like you’ve been tearing down brick by brick of my wall.” He’s the one to squeeze your hand this time. “I kinda fucking hate that.”

You attempt to stifle a chuckle, but it escapes your lips nonetheless. Hyunjin smiles.

“I’d love to know you even more, beyond this mask you wear all the time,” you confess. And you’re tired of hiding behind your own mask, so you tell him, “It’s tiring feeling like I only know half of who you truly are when I already like you so fucking much as it is.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen, surprise eclipsing any trace of his initial sadness.

“What? You like me?” He sputters, and you bite your lips as a smile spreads on your lips.

You cannot believe this is the same Hyunjin whose ego made you want to punch his face.

“Well, no shit,” you chuckle. “Why do you think I put up with you for so long? Don’t you think if I was looking for something better, I would’ve found it already?”

Hyunjin’s lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, his fingertips barely brushing against your skin as he cupped your face.

Your lips part for him, and a low hum resonates from his chest. You wrap your free arm around his shoulder, your hands still tightly intertwined, and pull him closer to you. It’s an awkward position, but neither of you is willing to unclasp your hands.

Hyunjin’s tongue glides languidly into your open lips, making you clutch at his arm as your mind goes dizzy. You had never kissed like this — always too impatient and lust-drunk to savor the feeling of each other’s lips properly.

It sends your entire body ablaze.

He’s pulling away far too soon, tugging at your bottom lip with a small smile.

“I’m not something better, but I’m gonna be,” he mutters against your lips. “For you.”

But you shake your head. “Just let me in. You’re already more than enough.”

In order for your efforts to work, you and Hyunjin established three crucial rules: absolute honesty, open communication, and no fucking until significant progress is made.

You start slowly, with that unfulfilled date that had been the catalyst for you two finally confronting your feelings.

Hyunjin was nervous. The few times he’s gone on dates, his mind was set on wrapping it up as soon as possible to take the person home. It didn’t matter where they went or what they did; every date inevitably led to his bed.

This time was different.

You certainly weren’t expecting to have a picnic on a Saturday afternoon. Your surprise was evident as your eyes widened at the sight before you: Hyunjin, standing at your door with a picnic basket and a digital camera slung around his neck. When you jokingly commented on how that was the most un-Hyunjin thing you had ever seen him do, he nonchalantly shrugged.

As you two sat together under a tree, however, he told you he’s always loved picnics. Growing up near a park, picnics became a family tradition that started when he was just a kid and still happens whenever he visits his parents. The silly smile that was etched onto your lips lingered throughout the entire day. Hyunjin’s closed-off nature made that small piece of information feel like a precious gem you had just collected. It was far greater than any of the pointless conversations you two had in the last nine months.

It felt like watching another brick from his once towering wall shatter to the ground.

Hyunjin quit his job at the club a month after your first date.

He didn’t elaborate on it at first, simply telling you it felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. You had now learned it was best to give him space, as his tendency to shut himself off only worsened if he felt pressured. Deep inside, Hyunjin yearned to share every little detail about himself with you and hear your own stories in return. However, years of keeping everyone at a comfortable distance hindered his ability to open up without feeling vulnerable.

So you only pulled him into a hug, running your hands through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. You two then set off for your date at a bakery close to your apartments, with the subject seemingly forgotten.

Until Hyunjin suddenly told you the entire truth under a lamppost in front of your building. He whispered that he didn’t want to go home yet, and you found yourselves sitting on the sidewalk as you listened to his story. You weren’t exactly shocked at the information dumped on you, but it still made your heart sore. He was taken advantage of because he longed to feel accepted, to feel loved.

During the elevator ride, you could tell Hyunjin was struggling to hold back tears with every ounce of his strength. You know he was eager to be alone when he pressed a weak kiss to your forehead before heading towards his door. So you reached out for his hand once more and pulled him toward your apartment despite his protests.

That night, Hyunjin struggled to suppress his tears until they ultimately overflowed out of his eyes and down his cheeks as you held him on the couch. Before you knew it, tears unwittingly streamed down your face as well. It was as if your emotions were a mirror image of his.

Another brick down.

You discover Hyunjin’s love for photography by accident.

Everywhere you went together, his camera was draped around his neck. At first, you paid little attention to that detail. His job consisted of being in front of a camera; it wouldn’t be outrageous to surmise he simply enjoyed documenting his daily life. You teased him about it one day as he stopped in front of a flower shop to snap yet another picture. He shrugged, casually telling you he’d been taking pictures since his teenage years, later majoring in photography before dropping out of university.

Unable to tame your nagging curiosity, you urged him to show you his pictures. Nestled deep inside his wardrobe were several boxes filled with photographs he had taken over the years. Most captured the simple beauty of ordinary places and simple things, like the pretty flowers he saw at the shop you walked past, but some showed people candidly laughing while immersed in the happiness of their daily lives in parks or museums.

He wore an unabashed grin on his lips when he opened another box, this one containing around ten developed pictures of you. Among the small pile of photos, one catches your eye: your smiling side profile beaming at a group of kids, a hand shielding your eyes from the sun. You turn the picture around, and the words “First date. I was so nervous, and she was so pretty” are scribbled in black sharpie. Hyunjin groaned beside you, telling you he just jotted down something stupid without much thought. It made you smile like a kid.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I never show them to anybody. None of them are really good, anyway.”

You furrowed your brows at his words, studying his face for any hint of sarcasm. His pictures were beautiful, perfectly depicting how happiness and mundanity often blended into one unbeknownst to people. But Hyunjin noticed, with his camera always ready at the right time for the perfect shot, even with things as small as a snapshot of your first date.

“They’re amazing, Hyunjin,” you told him matter-of-factly. “This is the kind of thing you’d find in art galleries. I can’t believe you keep this talent hidden.”

He shrugs your words off at first, taking a photo in his hand and studying it for a few seconds. His lips curve into a small smile, shyly at first, until his face is beaming as he looks down at his work. You can’t help but smile along, noticing how his cheeks blushed for the first time since you met him.

Another brick down.

In two months, you and Hyunjin went from meeting only at your apartments to going on weekly dates and from pointless bickering to actually understanding each other. The more he opened up, the more you found yourself being vulnerable around him as well.

You learned Hyunjin’s confidence was truthfully a part of him; he simply played it up to a maddening degree to protect himself. He is a confident man, but he’s certainly not the egotistical idiot you once believed him to be.

Your suspicions about him secretly being a softie were also confirmed as you witnessed him cry nearly every time you watched the romance movies he sheepishly confessed to loving. At first, he would sniffle, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat, before excusing himself to the bathroom. A few movies later, he allowed himself to openly cry in front of you for the second time. He’s proven to be a certified crier since then, often laying his head on your chest and silently shedding tears while you played with his hair.

At the end of the day, Hyunjin was a flawed, complex person like any other. He wasn’t always soft and sensitive, but he wasn’t only a cocky and smug little shit, either.

You found you loved both sides of him equally.

Your rules proved to be exactly what you needed, as you only felt closer to Hyunjin each passing day.

But a particular rule became your number one enemy after a month.

Your pent-up sexual frustration seemed to escalate with each passing day, fueling an increasing desire to just say fuck it and climb on top of Hyunjin. It certainly didn’t help that he was even clingier now, long limbs always tangling with yours when you lay on the couch, or his warm body pressing against you while you were cooking. Not to mention that you listened to him livestream every weekend. You opted to wait in his living room — because watching him would just be masochistic — but it felt like you had been transported back in time. Sitting alone for hours and listening to him moan was still as torturous as the first time it had happened. Even if you touched yourself to the sound of his voice, it was never enough.

You knew what you needed, but you have been essentially blueballing yourself for a month now.

As you two lie on your bed, watching another sappy romance movie, you can feel the heat rising inside your body, like a thermometer reaching its peak. You were fully expecting Hyunjin to cry, but this movie turned out to be far more erotic than romantic. His persistent need to have his lips on you — be it with a kiss or with lazy nibbles on your neck — also certainly doesn’t help your suffering.

You power through as you watch the love interests making out while Hyunjin lightly presses his lips to your neck, his body all but caging you against your bed. But the moment the couple heads to the bedroom, hastily undressing each other with heavy pants and sighs, you absentmindedly part your legs. Hyunjin is hovering above you before you can make sense of what’s happening, your laptop carelessly thrown to the side. His body pressed against yours, fitting perfectly between your thighs, as his darkening eyes bore into you.

“Hyunjin,” you have half a mind to say, “Our rule.”

He simply nods, and goosebumps ripple across your body when you feel his hardening member brush against you.

“We made progress,” he states with a grin. “You even let me into your room now.”

“It’s not enough to justify fucking again.”

As much as you were desperate for it.

He swallows slowly, nodding and bending his face to yours. “But our rule says no fucking,” he reasons. “If I make love to you, then it won’t even count.”

“Love?” You whisper, and the thermometer shatters as he presses a long kiss to your open lips.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin smiles between kisses, brushing his lips against yours. “Love.”

It’s not a clear confession, not a beautiful I love you whispered between kisses — but you know Hyunjin, and the sincerity in his voice says everything.

Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as you pull him even closer to you, and he promptly presses his mouth against yours, his tongue teasingly gliding across your bottom lip. Each roll of your hips ignites the heat within you like scorching lava, your desire swallowing you entirely after so long of craving this.

His tongue presses against yours, effortlessly taking control of the kiss, capturing your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it and traveling toward your jaw. He sucks the sensitive skin into his mouth with a hum, drawing out a whimper from your lips while he moves down the column of your neck. Smiling against your collarbone, Hyunjin alternates between harsh nibbles and soft kisses, leaving blooming rosy spots on every inch of your skin. He travels toward your chest, his hands slipping under your shirt and brushing your skin before tugging off the fabric.

Hyunjin’s hands cup your breasts, your nipples tightening under his attention, and his lips move down your body, placing kisses from your chest to your stomach. His hand eagerly kneads the soft skin of your chest while the other pinches your nipple, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingertips.

“I missed this,” he whispers, voice muffled against your skin, and you let out a shaky breath as a response when his fingers toy with the waistband of your sweatpants. “That was a stupid rule.”

“Shut up.” You let out a breathy laugh. “It was a great rule, it helped us make progress.”

“Fuck progress,” Hyunjin groans, tugging your sweatpants off.

He wastes no time hoisting your legs over his shoulders, causing you to shudder and goosebumps to ripple through your body when his lips close around your clit without warning. His tongue licks long stripes up the length of your slit, his fingers spreading you open so he can lap at your arousal with a low hum. Hyunjin’s thumb rubs circles around your clit as his lips find your inner thighs, sucking and biting at the skin, leaving another blushing trail of his yearning for you.

His tongue delves into your wetness, savoring you with tantalizing, pleasure-filled groans that travel through your cunt. The insistent throb between your thighs intensifies, your hand tugging at his hair and your hips rolling into his touch as you arch your back. Hyunjin’s fingers dig into the skin of your thighs while you reach your peak, his teeth pulling your clit gently as you come with a broken cry.

Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are heavy with lust when he looks at you, his firm grip keeping your legs over his shoulders.

“You still think that rule was great?” Hyunjin gives you a lopsided grin that almost has you rolling your eyes, only he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, rending you unable to do anything but mewl and tug at his hair. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your inner thighs once more, his eyes still locked onto yours.

You needed him closer, his strong arms surrounding you and his scent enveloping your senses until you felt dizzy. The mere thought of his cock has you clenching, arousal trickling down your slit, and you tug at his hair harshly with a whine.

Hyunjin climbs over you again, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid movement and crashing his lips into yours, the taste of your release swirling in your mouth as your tongues meet.

“You’re so fucking needy,” he chides. You simply hum, his thick length brushing against your core as he leans down to kiss you again.

“You’re one to talk,” you smirk, breaking the kiss and rolling your hips up into his erection. Hyunjin scoffs, his hands capturing your wrists and pinning them over your head, his eyes darkening as he looms over you.

There’s no more push and pull between you two during your daily lives, but it’s something you hope never fades away during sex. You’re sure Hyunjin’s need to have control, coupled with your taste for riling him up, will make sure that never happens.

But Hyunjin has no intentions of making you beg tonight — not after so many weeks of making himself cum to the thought of your pretty cunt, knowing that damn rule kept him from actually having you.

He tugs his sweatpants out of his way, one hand still pinning your wrists to the mattress. You bite your lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavily, tantalizingly close to your sopping cunt. Hyunjin strokes himself hastily, clearly having grown impatient, precum dribbling from the ruddy head of his cock and easing the glide of his fist.

The swollen tip slides against your wetness, and he lets out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours. The delicious stretch as he presses inside has your hands instinctively reaching out to him. But his grip on your wrists only tightens, keeping them in place as he leans into you, stretching you further with a hiss.

“Fuck, I missed being buried in your cunt,” Hyunjin mumbles, and you moan as his teeth nip at your earlobe. “Always so tight, like you were made for me.”

He sheaths himself inside of you completely, and you arch your back with a groan as his cock twitches inside your sensitive spot.

“Made just for you,” you choke out as Hyunjin slowly thrusts into you, agonizingly slow and deliberate movements making you dig your nails into your palms. “Hyunjin,” his name dissipates into a whine as he pushes his cock in and out of you languidly.

He chuckles against the shell of your ear, and you wrap your legs around his torso, rolling your hips faster against him. The drawn-out moan that escapes his lips has your cunt clenching and leaking more arousal around his length.

“D’you still like the sound of my voice that much?” He hums, and you nod with a sigh. His slender fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “Yeah? Like it when I moan in your ear?”

He finally picks up the pace, pulling back before snapping his hips forward. His lips swallow your moans as he kisses you once, his hand finally releasing your wrists and digging into your hips as he pumps his cock into you. He leaves a trail of wet kisses along your sweaty skin, tracing his tongue along the marks he left earlier.

“You’re mine,” he groans against your skin. “Been dying to say this for so fucking long.”

You gasp at his words, your body jerking when he slips his hand down to circle around your swollen clit. “‘M yours,” you whine, “Fuck me like I’m yours. Please—”

Hyunjin groans, your words igniting a fire within him, and his hips fall into a ruthless pace, pistoning his cock into you while his fingertips expertly stroke your clit. The hot coil of desire in your stomach tightens, finally breaking as your climax surges through every fiber of your being, a million stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Fuck, you always feel so good,” Hyunjin rasps out, his movements shifting into a messy tempo. “Gonna fill you up, okay?”

You nod with a whimper, your overstimulated cunt clenching around his cock as his thrusts remain unrelenting. With a low grunt that ripples through his chest, Hyunjin’s hips slam into yours, his cock twitching and his grip on your throat tightening. He paints your insides with a final testament that you were his.

He stills on top of you, pressing featherlight kisses to your cheeks and lips, his cock softening inside of you as you stay that way for a while. When he pulls out, his fingers promptly smear his cum over your cunt as it leaks out, two digits thrusting his release back into you with a contented hum.

“Can we still fuck now that I found something better?” You ask him with a grin, and he laughs, burying his head in your neck.

Your mind is wholly clouded with bliss — both from your orgasm and the feeling of love that courses through your veins. You inwardly laugh. Hyunjin fucking you in your bedroom had definitely not tainted it. He had basically transformed your bed into a sanctuary.

Hyunjin helps you shower, gentle hands wash and caress your body before coaxing your third orgasm out of you under the soothing cascading water. He makes you a cup of your favorite tea the way you love it — which he made sure to memorize — and insists you two finish watching the forgotten movie before going to bed. It feels awfully domestic, and it would be a lie to say you hated it.

That night, you fall asleep beside Hyunjin in your bed for the first time; inside a little sacred space you are slowly building with him.

It was never your intention to be his. You were certain Hyunjin was the type of man who would never allow himself to be vulnerable, to truly fall in love with someone without his ego getting in the way. By keeping him at arm’s length, you believed you were guarding yourself from inevitable heartache.

Behind his cocky smirks and self-assured words, an amazing man hid himself out of deep-seated fears of rejection, unworthiness, and not being loved for his true self. Each day, he allowed glimpses of himself to shine through the cracks in his fortress. He became an enigma you were dying to unravel because you knew he was worth it.

Because you knew him.

And unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin has been yours all along. From the moment you walked into his apartment with a scowl and frustration-filled words, it was as if his heart became wired to crave you. He was simply hoping and waiting for you to become his as well.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie, @vlctorriaa, @yongbokkiesworld, @kiensecent, @redstayrosie, @wormieieie, @soonie1010, @dessianna1, @minimin1993, @idontlikecoffeeortea, @ashleighland, @oddracha, @sushiinmidnight, @lailac13, @badmaeda, @hynjinniesworld, @iheartjazz444, @cypher-girlx, @isagerada, @leviathanlee26, @sailor--sun, @binniesbabygirl

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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I can hear the siren ♡ Hyunjin (Siren part I)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, neighbors AU, strangers to “lovers”

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, voyeurism if you squint, hate sex kind of?, masturbation, thigh riding, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, Hyunjin’s a bit of an asshole but I love him

♡ Word count: 7.9k

♡ Synopsis: To say your new next-door neighbor is loud would be an understatement. Three times a week, at the same time every night, he will laugh and talk loudly for an hour. After that, like clockwork, a cacophony of his groans and moans will fill your room through your shared wall. He’s most certainly entertaining some hookup, or maybe a girlfriend. You frankly don’t care — all you know is you want your peace and quiet back. But you never would’ve guessed what you would find out upon confronting him.

♡ A/N: Once again, I cannot shut up and this ended up being much longer than I had originally wanted. One day, I will write a one-shot that’s less than 5k words, but today is not that day. I listened to Taeyeon’s Siren while writing this, hence the title. Also think the song’s a little fitting to the story.

part II →

Yet another night, yet another two hours of hearing your next-door neighbor moaning like a porn star for anyone to hear. The thin walls of your apartment, coupled with the fact that your room shared a wall with his own bedroom, make it impossible for you not to hear everything that happens inside his bedroom. Earphones have proven futile in muffling his voice, and you can only distract yourself with mindless YouTube videos for so long before you give up and simply wait for him to finish. Quite literally.

You noticed it was his routine: Fridays and weekends — the nights when he would graciously give the entire building a free show.

But that wasn’t all he did. And that’s what stirs up curiosity inside of you.

An hour before the unholy sounds begin, he spends a significant amount of time simply speaking, laughing loudly, and throwing the occasional suggestive comment here and there. But only his voice can be heard, and considering how damn thin the walls are, you can’t help but wonder why that is. Maybe his hookups aren’t into his long, drawn-out conversations, only there to get fucked and dip as fast as possible. Or perhaps it’s a girlfriend, and he enjoys gagging her. Your mind has had plenty of time to run wild with theories, seeing as he moved about a month ago, starting your own personal version of hell on his very first day.

You complained to your landlord three times now. On the first time, you were dismissed as being too sensitive to noise. Maybe invest in some earplugs, she suggested. The second time, after explaining through gritted teeth that perhaps the entire building could also hear him and it would be wise to give him a warning, she assured you that only your apartment had such complaints — after all, it was only the two of you on that floor. And, on your last attempt before you ultimately gave up, your landlord all but berated you for meddling in your neighbor’s business. She argued he was inside his apartment and could do whatever he desired.

And so, you accepted your fate.

As you walk out of the shower, your bliss at the realization that tonight is a Friday dissipates as soon as it dawns on you that you are in for three days in a row of your neighbor and his antics. You groan, reluctantly making your way toward your bedroom, your body aching after sitting at your desk at work all day. So sleeping on the couch was not an option; your limbs only ached even more the day after you did that to try and escape the raucous noise.

Like clockwork, at exactly ten p.m., his loud voice fills the small space of your bedroom.

“I’m actually going out tonight again, so we have to be quick,” he explains. “But you like it when I’m quick, don’t you? Like when I make you cum so fast you barely have time to understand what’s happening.”

You grimace at his words, burying yourself under your blankets. God.

“I’m going clubbing with a couple of friends,” He continues. “Hopefully, I’ll find a nice girl to take home, hm?”

Crossing out the word Girlfriend on your mental notes, you scoff. What a gentleman he is, letting his hook-up know he’ll have to fuck her fast so he can leave to meet another woman to take home.

“Maybe I’ll record a video for you if she lets me. Would you like that, seeing me fuck another woman? I bet you would.”

What the fuck. The word Girlfriend is added back to your list. Maybe the girl is into that shit, and you’re not one to kink shame so long as everything’s consensual. But you surely didn’t consent to knowing that information.

Soon enough, his voice drops to a sultry tone, and incessant hums spill from his lips. And the worst part of your night begins.

You hate to admit it — seeing as the guy makes you lose sleep and disturbs your peace since he’s graced the building with his presence — but his dirty talk, when coupled with his groans, becomes far less unpleasant and much more enticing. Every night, you struggle for an hour with the uncomfortable feeling of arousal between your legs, the way he alternates between praises and vulgar words causing a twinge inside of you. But you never dare to masturbate to the sound of his voice — that would be going too far. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you follow your rule of waiting for him to finish whatever it is that he’s doing to then finally touch yourself. As you tightly shut your eyes, you focus on your upcoming work assignments, desperately trying to drown out the sound of his voice. Maybe boring yourself to sleep is your only escape.

“Oh, I know how wet you are just watching me — fuck,” he groans, a breathy scoff leaving his lips. “Don’t even gotta tell me. Just touch yourself, it’s okay.”

Your eyes shoot open as it feels as if he’s fucking talking to you. You shake your head, the awful feeling of embarrassment engulfing you in the privacy of your own bedroom.

“I know you want to,” His voice is unrelenting, reverberating through your dark room, punctuated by heavy sighs. “Do it for me, will you? Touch your pretty cunt for me.”

You feel your clit begin to pulse, and a loud groan escapes from your lips. So loud, in fact, you wonder if he heard you through the thin walls as well.

Fuck it, you tell yourself inwardly, it’s not like the guy will ever know what you’re doing.

The sound of his voice was as silky and dark as velvet, covering you wholly and clouding your judgment with each word. You allow your hand to slip underneath your sleep shorts, gasping as you find the fabric of your panties already soaking simply from hearing his words — almost begging, guiding you to let go of your reservations and touch yourself.

“Just like that. D’you like the sound of my voice?” He asked, voice breathless, a deep groan echoing through the walls. “Like hearing me moan for you? Bet you’d like it even more if I was fucking you.”

Your fingers delicately flick back and forth, teasing your clit, your mind now shamelessly imagining his fingertips, his tongue, his cock, anything he was willing to give you. You’re quick to lose yourself in this imagination, despite not knowing what the man looked like — you soon realize that wasn’t at all important, a dark shadowy figure hovering over you proving to be more than enough for you as you felt a rush of wetness pooling between your thighs when your neighbor let out a louder, guttural noise.

“Fuck, I’d love to be stretching that pussy out,” He chokes out, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. You’re now hyper-aware that if you can hear him this loudly, he’d be able to hear you with the same amount of clarity.

Your embarrassment only goes so far, though, as you slip a finger into your cunt, your breath hitching and your eyes fluttering closed to better conjure up the fantasy your mind had been creating. You imagine his long fingers inside you in place of your own, the words he spilled almost nonchalantly being whispered directly into your ears. One finger soon turned into two, then three, the heel of your palm rubbing against your clit as you tilt your hips up. You throw away your last drop of inhibition as you indulge in vivid thoughts, imagining the shape and size of his cock and, most importantly, how it would feel as it filled you up. Your neighbor’s words almost faded into white noise, his grunting the only coherent sound in your ears.

Would he take his time with you, like he always did whenever you heard him? Teasing you for hours as he candidly talked about nothing in particular, rendering you unable to do anything but beg for him? Or would he be hasty, like tonight, his cock abruptly stretching you to the brim, making you feel every inch of his thick length? Would he rather finish on your breasts, your stomach, or maybe your face, taking a picture to keep as a souvenir he could show off to whoever he was with during these nights?

“Come with me,” His voice suddenly became clear once more, deep and hoarse as you imagine his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Think about how good it’d feel to have me come inside you, stuffing that little cunt while you milk me dry.”

You purse your lips as you feel your release approaching, coaxed purely by his words. The mental image of this stranger painting your insides with his release, all the while his intoxicating voice told you how good you were, how warm and tight you felt enough to have waves of pleasure wash over you, body tensing up as your orgasm surges through you.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel your consciousness come back to you. Your fingers leave your core as if you were just burned by fire, which is fitting as a feeling of burning embarrassment wraps around you tightly like a vice.

But the worst part is that the shame quickly ebbs away as you hear your neighbor’s chuckle, the laugh of a stranger you had come to almost memorize.

“You know I’m always glad to make you come. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, everything around you falls into a quiet stillness. You faintly hear as he shuts his front door, presumably leaving for that club he had mentioned, and you’re left to lie with your regrets.

This has just crossed a line, and although you couldn’t bring yourself to feel all that guilty, you still knew it was wrong. You had no choice but to confront the cause of your troubles yourself.

Unfortunately, that cause was a person you had just shamelessly fantasized about as you fingered yourself.

The next afternoon, you stand at your neighbor’s door, hesitant to knock. Since he mentioned going clubbing last night, you knew coming by in the morning would be futile, but you also know — sadly, all too well — that Saturday nights are when he’s the loudest, and he only stops well past midnight. You settled for the afternoon, preparing lunch as you rehearsed your words in your head instead of enjoying your weekend.

You knock twice, and that familiar voice soon rings through the door, asking for a moment. A minute later, your neighbor is standing in front of you, holding the door open with sleepy eyes that focus on you. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but surely not a tired-looking tall man with messy black hair wearing a pout on his lips, as if you just rudely disturbed him from his sleep (how ironic). From what you heard during the last month, you were ready to have to face a shirtless fuckboy, a permanent smirk etched onto his lips as he eyed you indifferently. Instead, you’re greeted by soft cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Yeah?” Your neighbor croaks out, face still heavy with sleep.

You clear your throat, returning to the matter at hand. “I’m your next-door neighbor, I—”

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” he says before you can even finish your rehearsed opening sentence, his lips curling into a small smile. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Somehow, him being so soft is making you hate him even more.

“I wish I could say the same,” you mutter, “Y’know, you’ve been making my life a living hell since you moved in.”

He doesn’t answer, instead running a hand through his hair, the strands falling into place and away from his face. After a small nod, he opens the door all the way.

“Come on in,” he says, promptly walking inside and leaving you standing in the hallway all alone. You have no choice but to follow after him.

He snatches his cup of coffee from the counter, letting out a tired sigh as he collapses onto the couch and takes a big sip. You sit next to him and watch as he swallows slowly, humming contently, and only then speaking again.

“Why is that?”

You hold back another eye roll. “Well, you’re quite noisy at night,” you hesitantly begin, only now grasping just how awkward explaining this situation will be. “On Fridays and on the weekends, you’re… loud.”

And in an instant, you witness a complete shift in his entire demeanor right before your eyes. Like he’s possessed by something, his once sleepy eyes now bore into you with an intense gaze, and his lips curl into the smug grin you were expecting from the start.

“So you can hear me?” He asks as if you hadn’t just told him exactly that. You feel small under the weight of his darkened eyes, but you shrug, doing your best at feigning confidence.

“It’s pretty hard not to hear you,” you answer simply. “We share a wall, in case you didn’t know. I can hear everything you do in your bedroom.”

He raises a brow at your words as if they piqued his interest. But he doesn’t verbalize it; instead, he speaks in that same nonchalant tone you’re used to hearing through your bedroom wall, “You never told me your name. A bit rude, don’t you think?” He offers you his hand. “I’m Hyunjin.”

You scoff but shake his hand regardless, telling him your name with a sigh.

“You know what I think is rude?” You offer him a forced smile. “Keeping your next-door neighbor up all night with how fucking loud you are.”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. His gaze traces a path from your eyes to your lips before lingering on your thighs. You instinctively cross your legs, fingers smoothing down the fabric of your shorts. Locking his gaze with yours once more after a few seconds, he cocks his head to the side.

“So I’ve been keeping you up all night?” He muses, and you feel a warmth spread across your cheeks at the rough rasp in his voice.

It’s almost as if he knows what you did last night and is teasing you.

Although you know that’s impossible, your words still get choked up. Hyunjin was undeniably attractive — whether it was looking as soft as he did while answering the door or as if he could devour you with his gaze alone as he does now. You couldn’t be blamed for feeling flustered, especially after everything you heard this man saying and doing.

“Well,” you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. Showing your outrage at this entire situation is your best bet, so you allow for the anger you felt during all those sleepless nights to seep through your veins. “It’s kinda hard to sleep when you’re moaning like a porn star.”

But Hyunjin fully chuckles at that. “So I sound like a porn star?” He nods with an amused hum. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Never mind anything you had thought upon seeing him open that door; Hyunjin is everything you thought he would be.

“Look, I didn’t come here to stroke your ego. You’re clearly doing just fine in that regard,” you grumble, and he scoffs beside you, leaning back on the couch with a smug expression you want to slap away from his pretty face. “I came here to ask if you could move whatever it is that you do to the living room, or maybe keep it down. I’m sure that’s not too much to ask.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue almost mockingly. “Oh, but it is too much to ask. I can’t really do any of those things. Sorry,” he shrugs, “The building has thin walls. You’re just gonna have to get used to it, I’m afraid.”

You stagger at his words, his lack of common sense seemingly higher than you initially gave him credit for. You’re unsure whether to laugh in sheer disbelief or cuss him out as anger slowly bubbles up inside your chest. How unfairly attractive he looks at the moment isn’t helping your case — he spreads his legs further as he shifts on the couch, bringing his mug up to his full lips and watching you almost uninterestedly with half-lidded eyes.

Fuck this guy.

“What is it you do that’s so important that you can’t at least keep it down? Can’t your girlfriend get off without your obnoxious dirty talk? Is that it?”

Hyunjin shakes his head dismissively. “Don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Your dates, then. I honestly don’t care.” You roll your eyes, which elicits a small laugh from him. You have never wanted to punch someone so badly, all while also wanting them to rearrange your guts. “Whoever it is, whatever it is that you do, can’t we compromise and you be quiet, at least on Fridays? I get home from work exhausted and have to put up with your shit when all I wanna do is sleep.”

“Ah, but Fridays are the most important nights for me,” Hyunjin tells you with a condescending lilt in his voice. “That’s also not possible, I’m so sorry.”

“I see.” You suck in a deep breath, your eyes narrowing and hands curling into fists on your lap. “Then would it be possible for you to move your… activities to the living room?”

Hyunjin contorts his face, shaking his head while that grin is still etched onto his lips. “Yeah, no, that’s also not possible.”

“You’re extremely inflexible, do you know that?” You blurt out, “I’m not asking that you move out, I’m simply asking that you fuck whoever it is that you fuck every weekend somewhere else.”

His piercing gaze lingers on you briefly, as if he’s carefully considering his next words. Sighing, he sets his mug on the end table and sits up straight.

“Let’s make a deal,” he proposes, carelessly ripping a piece of paper from the open sketchbook that lay on the coffee table and jotting something down. “Tonight, you wait for me to start my activities,” he says with a poorly concealed chuckle. “And then you go on this website. Maybe it’ll clear up some things inside your pretty little head. Can you do that for me?”

He hands you the note, eyes darting down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze. The tone of his voice is the same that echoes through your bedroom during those nights — exactly like the one that coaxed an orgasm out of you just last night, and you absentmindedly squeeze your thighs together.

You need to get out of here.

With a small nod, you swiftly stand back on your feet and walk toward the door of his apartment that was left wide open. You quietly mutter a goodbye as Hyunjin says something about it being a pleasure meeting you, all while amusedly staring at you.

It’s only as you close your front door behind you that you look down at the piece of paper that you subconsciously crumpled up. Scrawled in a messy handwriting is simply a website address:

fivestarcam.com

You furrow your brows, walking toward your bedroom as you rack your brain for how a website could possibly give you answers. It dawns on you, then — all the trouble you went through, and yet, no solution to your problem.

Ultimately, you decide you’ve already wasted too much of your patience on this man today, throwing the piece of paper on your bedside table and going about your day, enjoying the tranquility of your apartment while you can.

Night comes too fast, the sun setting outside unbeknownst to you as you lie on the couch for nearly three hours, your focus solely on the plot of the movie playing on your phone. Soon enough, ten p.m. rolls around, and you drag your tired body toward your bathroom. You take a shower with no rush, knowing full well that by the time you walk into your bedroom, Hyunjin’s activities will already have started.

Sure enough, you’re greeted by a drawled-out groan as soon as you enter your room. With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself onto your bed. Your bedroom had always been comforting, your bed almost like a safe haven from all the stress life threw your way. Yet now it’s simply the place where you lie awake for hours, simultaneously vexed and uncomfortably turned on.

You lie still for a while, Hyunjin’s vulgar chatter like the background music to your spacing out, until you remember the piece of paper he gave you earlier. How would a website clear up any of your confusion? And, more importantly, why should you even care enough to find out? From the little interaction you had with the man, you know for a fact Hyunjin will remain unchanging in his obnoxious ways.

However, you’ve always been too curious for your own good, and the mere prospect of understanding this annoyingly enigmatic man even a tiny bit has you hurriedly picking your laptop off the floor and typing out the website address on your browser. Curiosity killed the cat.

The first thing that greets you is a message asking that you verify being over the age of eighteen. All you have to do is click a button, which seems counterintuitive, but you have little time to worry about that when your screen is filled with preview thumbnails of several live broadcasts.

You’ve heard of camming websites before, of course, but you didn’t know they were still a thing nowadays, what with the rise of Only Fans and other more independent ways to go about making money like this.

Your eyes scan the page with agape lips. Men and women — some in their underwear and some already naked, some showing their faces and some wearing masks. And then, your eyes land on a particular thumbnail. At the Top Cammers of The Month section, on the number one spot, is a fully clothed man with familiar long black hair. Only the bottom of his face can be seen due to his camera angle, but that is more than enough as your gaze fixes on his full lips.

That’s undeniably Hyunjin. Your neighbor, Hyunjin.

Before you can make sense of your actions, your fingers are already hovering above the touchpad as you watch the thumbnail image change into a new one. Curiosity is eating away at you, and you can’t deny that your nosy mind is eager to finally see Hyunjin rather than only hear him.

Ultimately, you decide this is ridiculous.

But your twitching fingers brush against the touchpad just as you move to close your laptop, promptly clicking the live video, your screen now filled with the image of Hyunjin in his bedroom. He’s shirtless now, palming himself through his sweatpants — the same ones he wore this afternoon.

“You wanna know how clubbing went last night?” He says with a grin, and you now understand his incessant talking is merely him answering comments from his viewers. Various different names fly through the right side of your screen, some with tips attached to their comments and some simply drooling over Hyunjin as he essentially sits in front of the camera doing nothing.

A cocky smile is spread on his lips once you shift your attention back to him.

“I guess you’re good at following orders,” he chuckles. You then realize your laptop’s volume is on high, and the speaker’s noise permeates through your wall and into Hyunjin’s bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, and you scramble to find your earphones in your bed.

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip as you plug them in, suddenly too aware of the fact that he can hear you just as well as you can hear him. Hyunjin’s smile shifts into a small laugh, his hand wrapping around his length through his sweatpants, the firm outline of his cock straining against the fabric. You feel a tingling sensation spread through your body, your inner muscles clenching as you watch the way his hand squeezes along the thick outline, the muscles of his stomach contracting as he lets out a broken sigh.

This feels wrong, as if you’re nothing more than a pervert watching Hyunjin for your own pleasure. But then again, it was he who gave you the website address in the first place. Why else would he have done that if not for you to watch him?

“I have a special someone watching tonight,” he murmurs, and you can just imagine his gaze right now — his eyes hooded and piercing, locked onto the camera with the same intensity as when he looked at you earlier today.

Hyunjin’s hand reaches inside his sweatpants, withdrawing his cock from the constraints of the dark fabric before you can make sense of what’s happening. Your gaze remains fixed, unable to look away from the red, swollen head that stands out against his pale skin. With lazy movements, he begins stroking himself, the precum dripping from the tip easing the glide of his hand. You bite the inside of your cheek as more arousal leaks from you, gathering in your panties.

“Hope she likes watching just as much as she liked listening to me last night,” Hyunjin rasps out, and you immediately close your laptop, throwing it to the side before burying your face in your pillow.

He knows you got off to his voice. He has to know.

And, unfortunately, your brain is currently too clouded by lust to function properly, and the only logical solution you can come up with is to go knocking at his door tomorrow.

You stand in front of Hyunjin’s door at the same time as yesterday, a strange blend of anger and curiosity making you knock frantically until he answers with that annoyingly alluring smirk on his lips.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Hyunjin asks before you can even utter a word, his voice filled with a goading tone.

You push past him, walking into his apartment with a scowl. “Why did you send me that?”

He only shrugs, closing the door behind him before stretching his arms above his head with a sigh. “Needed you to understand why I can’t just stop doing what I do. It’s my job,” he reasons, “I figured showing you was more effective than telling you.”

A scoff involuntarily falls from your lips, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “So you just sent me to a website full of porn without even asking me if that was okay? I don’t care if that’s your fucking job, I never asked you—”

“Did you stay till the end?” He asks, a lazy grin on his lips as his gaze wanders across your face. Clearly, he’d completely ignored every word that came out of your mouth.

“Hyunjin, are you even listening to me?”

“I was thinking about you, y’know?” He continues, taking a step toward you. “Was really easy to come when I knew you were watching me.” He cages your body against the door with his, both hands resting beside your head. His dark gaze locks onto you, causing your breath to hitch. “All I could think about was how you were secretly listening to me all this time. Such a dirty girl.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. You want to tell him you weren’t secretly listening to him; you were merely thrown into this situation against your will. But his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips, lingering before roaming over the swell of your breasts, causing your thoughts to blur and your words to die in your throat.

“Kept thinking about how I never heard you,” he says, almost as if he’s wondering aloud. “When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”

His gaze finally travels back up to yours, and the fog of desire clouding his eyes is unmistakable. The moment you knocked on his door, you knew this would happen. You weren’t naïve, and Hyunjin wasn’t stupid; the moment you pushed past him and into his apartment, you both knew where this was going.

“Don’t have time to go on dates,” you murmur as Hyunjin leans down, humming low on his throat.

“Well,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “You got to listen to me, got to watch me… Don’t you wanna know what it feels like?”

You can only nod, and Hyunjin immediately presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He wedges his knee firmly between your thighs, as if he’s silently demanding that you give in to him. Little does he know you’re already way past that point.

Breaking the kiss, Hyunjin studies your features for a beat, the pad of his thumb gliding across your bottom lip as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“You really want this?” He asks, and you can’t help but feel he does it simply for the pleasure of hearing you beg.

But you happily comply either way.

“Please,” you breathe out, and Hyunjin chuckles, firmly pressing his thumb into your mouth and watching as you wrap your lips around it with a contented hum. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Hyunjin pushes his thigh against your core, the seam of your shorts creating a delicious friction against your clit. You can feel the warmth of his body as he presses up against you, and a sigh falls from your lips, your hands gliding up around his shoulders. You have no reservations left in your body; the only thing replaying inside your mind at the moment is the image of Hyunjin’s cock on your laptop. He was right. You were dying to know what it would feel like.

His strong hands firmly gripped onto your hips, guiding you to move against his thigh, each back-and-forth motion increasing the pressure on your aching clit. It felt too much, yet not enough at the same time. But just as you’re about to plead for more, Hyunjin’s pressing his lips to yours again and swallowing down your voice. His tongue slides against yours, the taste of coffee and smoke lingering in your mouth as he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling gently before letting go.

You feel your mind go fully hazy as Hyunjin lifts his thigh, bringing you up to your tiptoes, his muscles flexing and prompting you to roll your hips faster, harder.

“Who would’ve thought, huh? Just minutes ago you were acting like I was the worst person alive,” He lets out a low chuckle, amused, and your grip on his neck tightens as you feel the familiar vexation he brings out of you bubble up inside your chest. “Now you’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat.”

“Shut up,” you choke out, your brain too lust-hazed to conjure up a better response. You don’t particularly care what he thinks of you so long as he keeps his bruising grip on your skin, guiding you to roll your hips against him.

Hyunjin trails kisses down the skin of your neck, settling at the dip of your collarbone and sucking on the skin while you eagerly quicken your speed. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, undoubtedly marking you, while his thigh begins to bounce against your cunt, and you can feel the familiar aching warmth of your orgasm beginning to tighten in your stomach. But just as you’re about to be hit by the release you’re so desperate for, Hyunjin’s hands leave your hips and slide down to your ass, any stimulation you had before coming to a halt as he picks you up and makes his way to the living room.

“What the fuck?” You all but yell, earning you a hearty laugh from Hyunjin. “I was close, you asshole.”

He roughly throws you onto the couch, a condescending pout etched onto his lips.

“But that’s no fun for me, is it, baby?” He hovers over you, spreading your thighs apart and slotting himself between them. In stark contrast to his words, he gently lifts your shirt over your head, feather-light touch sending shivers down your spine. “Greedy girls don’t get to come.”

You feel your insides clenching at his words, and although you despise the effect he has on you, you’re already here, laid out before him, so you might as well indulge him. You gently push Hyunjin back until he sinks into the sofa, legs lazily spread apart and half-lidded eyes fixated on you. As soon as you clutch at his shirt, he promptly tugs it over his head in one fluid motion, and you attach your lips to the bare skin of his stomach, trailing kisses down the expanse of his torso.

You waste no time tugging his sweatpants down and out of your way, his cock now hanging heavily before you, just as pretty as it had seemed on that little screen. Hyunjin’s hand soon wraps around himself, stroking lazily while you watch the precum dribble from his tip. Tentatively, you grab the base of his cock, bringing your tongue to the head and tantalizingly lapping at it. Hyunjin lets out a quiet gasp, his own hand leaving his length and tangling in your hair, guiding you forward toward his cock. You part your lips and suck the head into your waiting mouth, hands now stroking his length at a slow pace while you lick up his slit, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. You hold back a chuckle when you feel him twitch under your touch, a soft whimper falling from his throat.

Hyunjin’s hips buck up into your lips, and you promptly open your jaw wider and slide his whole length down your throat slowly. You weren’t lying when you said you had no time for dates, which is why you find yourself struggling a bit. It truly had been a while since you had a proper fuck, but you would never give Hyunjin the pleasure of hearing you admit it. Breathing through your nose, you’re finally able to move up and down his cock, swallowing all of him. Your eyes well up as his fingers tug harshly at your hair, shoving your mouth back down the entirety of his thick length. A choked-out whimper falls from your throat, and you instinctively move your gaze toward his.

“God,” he rasps out, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip and eyebrows knitting together. “You take me so well.”

You promptly remove your lips from him with a loud pop, precum and saliva dribbling down your chin as you struggle to suppress a laugh at the utter indignation on his face.

“I doubt you could fuck me if I let you come,” you shrug, and Hyunjin’s expression softens, a scoff falling from his lips.

Before you can say anything else, he’s already pushed you back onto the couch, easily flipping you over so your face is pressed into the cushion. He snakes a hand under your stomach and lifts your hips, quickly working to rid you of your shorts before pressing his cock against your clothed ass.

He leans down, lips pressed against your ear — much like it was in your fantasy back in your bedroom — and whispers, “You need me that badly? I can feel how soaked you are, and all you did was hump my leg.”

You grumble under your breath, but it goes ignored by Hyunjin as he grips your hips and slides his cock under the fabric of your panties, stroking himself along your soaking slit with a low groan. You can feel your underwear gradually dampen more as his precum mixes with your own arousal, the sheer cloth clinging to his cock with each thrust.

Hyunjin’s hand splayed across your lower back, causing you to arch your body and press your hips back instinctively. He chuckles, hand coming down onto the supper flesh of your ass with no warning, a sharp whimper falling from your lips.

“I told you greedy girls don’t get to come,” He reiterates, clicking his tongue and grabbing a large handful of your ass before tugging your panties down your legs. You quietly hoped the trees outside obscured enough of his window, otherwise you’d be in for some interesting elevator rides with your other neighbors. With a hiss, Hyunjin’s thumb presses against your clit before gliding along your wet folds. “Soaking wet,” he mutters, eyes glazed over while he watches your slick coat his finger.

You simply hum, not wanting to stroke his ego any more than you already had by begging him earlier. But you’re unable to contain the gasp that leaves your lips as he pushes his hips forward, the swollen tip of his cock gliding against your warm core once, twice, all while Hyunjin’s hands travel across your ass and thighs. You’re sure he’ll tease you until you give in and beg, but it seems his facade is quick to crumble. He impatiently wraps a hand around his length, finally guiding himself toward your entrance, seamlessly gliding into you with a heavy sigh.

He stills for a second, gaze transfixed by the way your cunt stretches around his thick cock. Until he suddenly pulls out of you before snapping his hips forward again, then again, until he sets a rhythm of deep, fast strokes that have you rocking back and forth on the couch. Pulling yourself up to rest on your forearms, you choke out a loud moan, Hyunjin’s cock twitching inside you at the sound.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He groans, strong arms encircling your body once more, this time pulling you close to him until your back presses against his chest. Hyunjin’s thrusts grew more forceful, the sound of skin slapping together echoing through his small living room as he relentlessly pumped himself into you. His hand wraps in your hair, yanking your head back and humming against your ear, “Go on, you can moan for me,” he hisses, “I know how good it feels.”

Fuck. His ego is surely something you would never get used to.

But you let go, freely groaning at the feeling of his cock pistoning into you. You can feel the curve of his grin against your cheek.

“Like that, I know how much you like it,” he rasps out, “Just as much as you liked touching yourself to my voice like a little slut.”

“Fuck off, you—” you huff, your words cut off by a drawn-out mewl as Hyunjin’s fingers firmly pressed down on your clit, flattening the swollen bud. You couldn’t control yourself after that, desperate whimpers and choked-out moans falling from your lips with each harsh thrust of his hips.

Your sounds seem to stir something inside of him, and his movements grow more erratic, his fingers circling your clit hastily. A crescendo of arousal and pleasure envelops you as more curses tumble from Hyunjin’s lips against your ear, his hand gripping your cheek and pulling you into a messy kiss.

You clench around him, body shaking with the force of your climax as you seek Hyunjin’s arm wrapped around your body for purchase. He continues pounding into you, and you feel yourself squirm, your vision going blurry from the stimulation.

“Gonna come,” he hisses against your lips, “Where do you want it?”

And you’re too far gone at this point, whimpering, “Anywhere you want.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath, pulling out while his hand finds your lower back once more, pushing you onto the couch before flipping your pliant body over so you’re facing him. You watch with hazy eyes as he strokes himself feverishly over your body, his cum soon shooting onto your breasts.

His unreadable gaze lingers on you for a beat and a half before he nonchalantly tucks himself back into his sweatpants and heads toward the hallway. You sit up on the couch, limbs aching, and chuckle to yourself. This was not your proudest moment, but you surely didn’t regret it.

You don’t expect aftercare from someone like him, so you resign yourself to searching for your discarded shirt. But Hyunjin’s tall frame appears before you, towel in hand before you can even stand up. His touch is gentle as he cleans your chest, and although the gesture is somewhat sweet, it feels extremely awkward.

“Really liked fucking you,” he tells you with a grin, “But you gotta leave now. I’m going live later, and I also gotta go to the club tonight, so I have to rest. But it was fun.”

And you simply scoff at his words, rising to your feet to dress yourself as quickly as possible. It was a bit baffling how he could fuck you the way he did, then tell you he’s off to pick up more girls at a club immediately after. But what did you expect? Hyunjin’s ego and arrogance were clear to you from day one.

“Why the fuck do you go clubbing so much, anyway?” You question as you head toward the front door, and Hyunjin chuckles behind you. “Is that your hunting ground or something?”

“You could say that,” he simply says.

As you unlock his door and step out into the hallway, Hyunjin’s voice calls out to you. Turning to look at him, you’re met with that familiar smirk adorning his lips.

“We can do this again anytime you want,” he assures, and the mere thought of letting him touch you again makes you roll your eyes in disdain.

“Yeah right.”

If only you knew then just how awfully torturous it would be to listen to him, knowing what he was doing — most importantly, knowing what it felt like to have him.

Lust completely clouds your judgment when it comes to Hyunjin, and you soon find yourself coming back to his apartment until it becomes an annoyingly pleasurable habit.

Every day, when he hears you get home from work, your phone buzzes with a text asking that you come over and help him ‘warm up for his job.’ The nights of suffering in your bedroom have transformed into watching him from the corner of his room, enthralled with the way he can make himself come on camera so eagerly and later fuck you with just as much vigor.

It’s a nice arrangement, but definitely not one you see yourself in for the long run. Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but you’re not foolish enough to anchor your feelings to someone like him. It’s not his job that’s the problem, but mostly his attitude toward life. He belongs to nobody, while you yearn to belong to someone. Routine is the last thing on his mind, while you revel in its comfort. You could never be with someone like him.

But it is a nice arrangement.

So you find yourself back in his bed again today, his heavy cock in your mouth as he tugs harshly on your hair, painting the back of your throat with his cum. Except this time, he doesn’t immediately ask you to leave.

“What?” You ask, “Don’t you have to go clubbing or something?”

“It’s my day off,” he shrugs, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close and falls back into bed. You furrow your brows, detangling yourself from him.

“Day off? From what, picking up girls?”

Hyunjin chuckles, eyes sleepy. “I work at the club,” he simply says. “I’m a host, I just act like I go clubbing when I talk about it during my lives ‘cause my viewers can be a bit stalkery.”

“What?”

“Have you heard of The Siren?” He asks, and you hum, recalling a faint memory of some of your co-workers mentioning the club in passing. “That’s where I work.”

You nod slowly, still confused. “What exactly does a host do?”

“Well, basically, I get to make money just by making lonely women feel wanted.”

You can’t help but scoff at his crude description. “And do you fuck them?”

“Well, yeah,” he answers like it’s obvious. “It’s part of the job.”

“Fucking hell,” You let out a hearty laugh, to which Hyunjin shoots you a questioning look. “Your sex drive really should be studied.”

His lips upturn into a smirk, and his arms reach for you again, beckoning you back into his embrace. “No need to be jealous, baby. I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you into his chest. He threads his fingers through your hair, and you can’t help but feel… awkward.

“You’re kind of an asshole, Hyunjin.”

He hums. “Sure, but you still let me fuck you.”

You two stay that way for a while, his fingers massaging your scalp as he presses a kiss to your head now and then. It feels disorienting, like a sudden shift from everything Hyunjin had been until now. He was never caring or sweet, he never kissed you if you weren’t fucking, and he surely never cuddled you. Your face involuntarily contorts into a grimace.

You detach yourself from him, getting up from the bed and telling him you’ll see him later. But Hyunjin is grabbing at your arm with a smile.

“Come on, don’t be sad,” he giggles as you try to free yourself from his grip. “I’m really not the type of guy you should have fallen for, anyway.”

You still at his words, face contorting into pure befuddlement. “Fallen for? Who the fuck says I’ve fallen for you?”

And Hyunjin simply scoffs, letting go of your arm as his smile shifts into his characteristic grin. “Well, there’s a reason I’m number one among the hosts at The Siren.”

“Hyunjin, those girls aren’t exactly after you for your personality,” you deadpan. “You’re really nothing worth falling for.”

His grin slowly fades, and it’s his turn to have confusion take hold in his eyes. “What?”

You can tell he wasn’t expecting this. Almost as if he was expecting you to have truly fallen for him simply because he… is him. And you can’t help but chuckle at the situation.

“Hyunjin,” you call out to him sweetly, and his gaze is back on you immediately. “You’re a nice fuck, but that’s really it. Don’t worry about me falling for you.”

You can swear you see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it’s likely only your imagination. He opens his lips to speak but promptly closes them again. He simply stares up at you from where he’s sat on the bed and almost looks sweet. If you didn’t know him, you would undoubtedly be charmed by this convincing facade. You have to give it to him; you do understand why he’s number one at his job.

“But…” He trails off, shaking his head. “But I’ll see you again tomorrow, right?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “We can keep fucking until I find something better.”

You run your fingers through his long hair and make your way to the door, leaving him with an expression frozen in bewilderment.

Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but he’ll never be yours.

But that’s not a problem, as you surely will never be his as well.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

Text

Cravings (1)

Pairing: Vampire! Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Warning: Violence, Language, etc

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is a revised and edited version of the Cravings series with Hongjoong. I hope you enjoy!

"Babe, hey babe." Your boyfriend, Chad, calls out to you, as you're sitting at the kitchen table, looking over bills again and again, running the numbers, hoping to god that you'll come up with a different number the next time. A number that doesn't make you want to rip your hair out and claw the face of your useless boyfriend.

“Hey, woman.” He yells a little louder, as your head is in your hands, squeezing your eyes shut trying to think of a payment you can skip this month because at this rate, you don't know how the fuck you're going to try to pay everything.

You worked too damn hard all day, to have barely anything to show for it.

Ever since Chad had moved in a few months ago, without an invitation, you were stressed. It wasn't like you weren't stressed before, but it was easier to control your finances then. But now, the price of everything has gone up and now your bills have doubled since he decided to stay. He also has not contributed anything financially towards the household, and it's not like you haven't asked him too. You spent months since he's been living with you, begging and pleading for him to help you pay for something, anything. And he always told you,

“On my next check, babe.” but that never came, and you went back to begging.

You paid for rent, utilities, groceries and you even paid when the two of you went out for dinner.

Chad worked full time, but where his money was going, you had no fucking idea. He was constantly going out with his 'boys', often coming home absolutely obliterated, and expecting you fuck him as soon as he got in the door. He told you that it was your duty as his girlfriend. It was almost as though he was offended you weren't attracted to his lack of contributing, while also acting like a man child.

Not to mention the countless hours he spent on your gaming console. When he got home from work, he went straight for it, and spent his time yelling and talking to his friends, while leaving you no time to play any games that you like. Well, that is, unless you wanted to wake up a few hours before you had to work to get on it, but by the time you got home from work, cleaned up the messes he made throughout the day when he got off early, or just called in sick to work, made yourself dinner, showered and got into your PJ'S, you were too damn tired to do anything. You knew you had to wake up the next day and do it all over again, so by the time you actually went to bed, you were already exhausted for the next day.

A part of you started to wonder why you were even in this relationship with him. Maybe you were scared to be alone, you weren't sure. But you felt like you were stuck with him, because for some reason, you thought you loved the guy.

"What do you want, Chad?" You sigh, walking into the living room where he's sprawled out on the couch, headset on and his match paused. "I'm trying to figure out bills, the stuff that I have to pay to keep a roof over our heads, power to play your fucking games, food in the fridge. You know, the shit you said you'd help pay for and I haven't seen a dime?”

"Yeah, that's great babe, good job.” He says, unpausing his game, glancing between you and the screen. “Can you go to the corner store and get those Takis, you know the ones I like? The not so spicy ones though babe, cause remember I have acid reflux, and a diet coke." He says, giving you a half smile, before calling his friend a jackass.

You swore you could feel the rage building up inside of you even more, and it was coming up quick. You could barely hold it in anymore. How uncaring could one person be?

"Are you going to pay for said snacks?" You ask, trying to keep your voice calm, emphasizing on the word pay.

"What?" He cackles. "Babe, no, come on. I'm broke. I don't get paid again for two weeks. You know this."

"You just got paid the other day." You say through gritted teeth. "Where the hell did all your money go?" You ask, your hands balled into fists, your voice becoming increasingly louder.

"You know babe, I had the fantasy football league entry, plus I owed Kyle money for the keg bomber last weekend, and I took the boys out for supper yesterday. Shit adds up." He says, never looking at you, only focusing on the game. You could hear it in his voice, he was beginning to get mad at you. At you!

"That sounds like a fucking you problem! Why is it always on me to pay for everything? It's not my problem because you're not financially stable, Chad. Grow up, you're fucking 35 for christ sakes!" You scream.

You can't even look at him right now. You turn around, stomping to the kitchen. You grab your purse and slip on your shoes before heading back into the living room. Before you're in his view you hear him talking to his friends through the headset.

"Yeah.” he chuckles. She went and got her shoes on and grabbed her purse." He continues. "She's definitely going to get my stuff."

"You know what Chad?” You say, mocking his name. “I'm definitely not going to get your snacks, you can get your own fucking snacks, Chaaad. I'm going out, with my goddamn money. So you can pack your shit and get out." You spit, heading for the door so you can storm out of the house. “Fuck you.” you finish, giving him the middle finger and slamming the door behind you.

You wandered down the street, a light rain falling down from the sky. You always loved the smell of rain, and the look of it. Everything was so beautiful at night, especially in the rain. You took a random turn, wanting to get lost in the city, like you had been for the last thirty five minutes. continuing to walk, you finally found the place you were looking for, but also weren't. You didn't have a specific place in mind that you'd wanted to go to, but when you saw this one you wanted, no needed to go inside.

Pushing open the door, the lights so dim that the place is almost dark. Had it not been for the red lights hanging above the tables, or the string of red lights that wrapped around the ceiling, you wouldn't have been able to see anything. Your eyes dart around the room as you walk further in, taking in the people and the room. A soft beat vibrates through the building, the smooth melody flows through your ears. Your stomach twisted as you made your way to the bar, you felt as though all eyes were on you. It felt dark and eerie, but you welcomed it, you preferred it instead of being around Chad's shitty mentality.

You slid onto one of the empty bar stools and set your purse in your lap, opening it up. You were digging through your purse when you heard someone clearing their throat in front of you. It startled you, you looked up to see quite possibly the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your entire life.

"What can I get for you?" He asks, his voice is deep, yet so smooth and calming.

It takes you a moment to answer. "Um, double vodka and cran please.” You say, clearing your throat. “And for the love of god, please keep them coming." You beg.

The slightest smile appears on his lips, as he makes your drink, and it disappears even quicker as he finishes it up.

"Bad day?" He asks, sliding your drink towards you. He smartly begins making you another, as you chug your first down in 2 large gulps. You slide the glass back towards him and laugh.

"More like a bad relationship." You groan. He nods his head as he slides your second drink towards you.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asks, leaning on the bar with his chin resting on his hands.

“Bartenders are great listeners.” He says, as he waits for you to speak. You gaze into his eyes, they are mesmerizing, they make you feel safe and secure, and like you could tell him anything. You felt like you'd known him for longer than the few minutes you'd been there.

"What's your name?" You ask, you're unable to tear your eyes away from his.

"Baekhyun." He replies. "And yours?" He asks.

"Y/N." You whisper.

"Alright Y/N, what's so bad about this relationship of yours?" He asks, sliding your third drink towards you before taking the empty cup of your second.

"My boyfriend.” You begin. “If he is even my boyfriend anymore, I may have told him to get out as I stormed out tonight.” You giggle, taking a sip of your drink. “We've been together for just over a year, and well.. he's something else, and not the good something else like people usually say. He moved in with me, without even asking if I wanted to, and I just kind of accepted it.” You sigh. “He doesn't pay anything, no bills, rent, groceries, nothing. It's all on me, even though he does work full time. He forgot my birthday, went out and got absolutely plastered with his 'boys'. He's always out with them. Oh! On Valentine's Day, he took me out for dinner, and can you guess who was there?" You ask, giving Baekhyun a smile. “I bet you can't guess.”

"His boys?" He asks.

"You sir, are correct!” You yell. “ I was ignored the entire evening.” You begin to explain. “Oh wait, except when we got there and he asked if I even did anything to my hair.” You say, trying not to laugh but you fail. “and then he and his boys left, I ended up paying the bill, for everyone! And, the kicker, I had to uber home because he had driven us there. Not to mention the fact that he assumes I'm just there for his pleasure, he just expects me to be spread eagle for him whenever he decides to show up." You finish, chugging your drink as you try not to gag on the strong taste of vodka.

"Why are you with him then?” Baekhyun asks you. “He doesn't sound like he contributes to the relationship at all, or makes you happy, so why do you stay?" He wonders. It's not the first time you have been asked that.

'Honestly, I'm not entirely sure." You answer as he slides another drink in front of you.

"Now that's a bullshit excuse." He replies. "There's a reason that you don't want to admit."

"Do you ever smile?" You ask him, changing the topic. “Like a full cheese smile?”

"No." He deadpans. "Now, why won't you leave him?"

"Because it's safe, I guess? I don't know. It's been like a year, and I've sort of just gone through the motions of the year.” You shrug, sipping more of your drink. You're feeling it now and you're going to get a lot more open. “I just dont think I can do any better than him."

"Y/N, you have no idea how much better you could do." He says.

“I've seen the dating pool out there, Baekhyun. Last I checked, good ol’ Chad is my best option.” You laugh.

He doesn't. He continues to stare at you until your smile fades from your face, your eyes still connected with his. You feel like you can't breathe, all this electricity is flowing through your body.

From the second Baekhyun had a whiff of the scent that was coming into his bar, he knew that it was the scent of the one. His mate. He intensely watched the door, his jaw clenching as he waited for you to walk through the door.

As soon as he saw you, it was almost as though his heart could have started beating once again. The ice cold blood that ran through his veins could have turned warm just at the sight of you.

You were beautiful, a vision.

He had always been told that when he found his mate he would know. He was never sure if it was true or if it was an old tale but having been alive for over a century, he had thought it was false, he had never felt this with any other woman he had been with or around. And now he knew why, because all his life he had been waiting for you. You were the person that he would do anything for, the person that he would be anything for. He would fight until the death, walk to the ends of the earth for you.

And he didn't know what to do.

You had finally walked into his life, and for once he felt an ounce of hope, that maybe he wasn't meant to live for eternity alone. That was, until, you had mentioned that filthy, worthless human you called a boyfriend. How could you stay with someone who treated you like absolute garbage? Didn't you know how special you were?

Baekhyun’s body filled with rage when he heard you had thought that nobody better was out there, that no one could love you the way you were meant to be loved.

You were dead fucking wrong.

Your one, he was standing right in front of you, and though you had just met him, he loved you fiercely, with everything he had. And would do anything to protect you.

Anything.

"I appreciate your advice.” You sigh, finishing your drink. You look at your watch, surprisingly it reads 12:45am. ”It's getting late and I have to work tomorrow." You groan. "How much do I owe you?" You ask, grabbing your card from your wallet.

"It's on me." He tells you, grabbing your empty glass.

“No, no.” You semi slur. “I drank, like a lot. Let me pay or tip your fine ass.” You giggle. Drunk you didn't give a fuck.

Baekhyun looks at you, a smile almost crossing his lips. “Next time, drinks are on you.” He says.

"Well thank you." You smile. "It was nice meeting you." You tell him as you slide off the stool, one foot buckling under your weight. “whoops.” You begin to laugh as you stand up, the entire bar is spinning around you.

"You okay?" He asks, watching you stumble away.

“I'm good. I'm good.” You slur, making it outside. The cool air sobered you up a little bit, well enough for you to hail a cab to get a ride back home.

That night when you got home, you couldn't get Baekhyun off your mind, a smile spread across your face as you walked through your front door, and headed into the living room, then it instantly dropped. Chad had not moved from the spot you had previously left him in, hours ago.

"Oh, babe." He says, sucking the Taki dust from his fingers. "Kyle brought me some snacks, since you threw a huge temper tantrum about my snacks, you can just venmo or cash app him, k?" He says, going back to playing his game.

You didn't have the energy tonight to ask him why he was still here. You just wanted to go to bed. You changed into your PJ’s, brushed the smell of liquor from your mouth and flopped into your bed.

That night you dreamt of one man, who was not your man.

The next morning you woke up early and severely hungover. You quickly called your boss, explaining that you must have caught the flu in the night and that you would not be in. Luckily you had a few paid sick days left to use up so you wouldn't be missing out on any money.

As you crawled out of bed, you noticed that Chad's side was still made and cold to the touch, like no one had slept in there all night. You weren't mad about it but you knew that it meant he gamed all night and wouldn't be going to work today. You groaned loudly in frustration thinking of having to spend the day with the guy who wouldn't let you break up with him.

“Morning babe, can you grab me a coffee?” he asks, in his same spot, same clothes, same spots of Taki dust on his shirt that you left him in last night.

“Don't call me that. I believe I told you to get out last night.” You groan, shuffling towards the coffee pot that hadn't even been turned on. “Theres no fucking coffee even made!” You yell.

“Oh yeah, babe, can you make some coffee?” He asks.

Your rage boiled over. You felt like shit and you didn't want to deal with his shit. You stomped, loudly into the living room, barged right in front of his game and ripped the power cord out of the wall, dropping it to the ground.

“BABE!” Chad yells, standing up quickly. “What the hell!?”

“I don't know why you can't get it through your thick skull.” You yell. “Let me dumb it down for you and go slow.” You smile. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Apartment.”

“Why are you being like this? You know I don't have anywhere to go.” He whimpers.

“Not my issue. Pack your clothes and go.” You say. You were so done. You really did deserve better.

“Can I atleast take the gaming console?” He asks, trying to give you puppy dog eyes.

“My console? Absolutely not. You leave what you came with. A garbage bag of clothes.” You walk to the kitchen, opening the cupboard under the sink. You grab a bag and walk it back to Chad and hand it to him. You watch him stuff his few pairs of shorts and pants, shirts and underwear into the bag, grabbing his phone and shoes before asking him for your key. He reluctantly gives it back to you, looking back at you with sad eyes while he takes tiny steps out the door. It takes all you have not to shove him, but you don't and once he's out you close the door and lock it.

You finally felt free.

You crawled back into bed, feeling like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and fell asleep peacefully, dreaming of Baekhyun once again.

You woke up later that afternoon, still feeling nauseous but better than before. You felt like you couldn't deal with that, or anything. Thankfully it was the weekend and you could take this time to decide what you wanted to do. Which was absolutely nothing.

You didn't see or speak to anyone all weekend. You kept holed up in your apartment watching movies, eating Ramen, ice cream and any other bad thing you could find in your kitchen. But once Monday rolled back around, you knew you had to get back to life. You went to work, only to be sent home a few hours early, at 4pm. You were happy and you wanted to go see Baekhyun but you felt like this was too early to be at the bar drinking.

You muddled around your apartment for a bit, deleting texts from Chad, asking you when he could come home and when you were going to stop whining about everything.

When you finally felt like it was an appropriate time to go to the bar, you got yourself semi together and headed out, happily. You walked in, and immediately felt a pair of eyes shift towards you. Your heart skipped. You turned your head towards the bar to see Baekhyun staring at you as he cleans a few glasses before putting them on the rack. He doesn't smile when he sees you, his face is hard but somehow looks softer than it did the other day.

“You're finally back. I was wondering if I'd see you again.” He says, grabbing a glass. “The same?”

“Yes please. And I am back. And I have news.” You grin.

“And what's that?” He wonders, sliding your drink towards you. He leans In closely, his eyes not weavering from yours. Your heart beats loudly, and fast. You wonder if he can hear it, if he knows how nervous and flustered he makes you.

“I, um.” You began. Before you can finish, your phone rings loudly. You roll your eyes at the caller ID, answering it quite annoyed.

“What?” You ask. Baekhyun can hear the sound of a crying man on the other end. “Please. Stop calling me” You snap, hanging up the call.

“Chad?” Baekhyun asks but he already knew. You nod your head as he slides another drink towards you.

“He left the other morning. The morning after I was here..” You announce between sips. “I made him leave. I'm so mad at him right now and I want to hate him but part of me feels guilty for being mean while he's upset.” You sigh. You wished you didn't feel like this. You just wished you had someone who could love you as hard as you loved them.

“I'm proud of you. I hope you're starting to see your worth.” Baekhyun says.

As he walks away to another customer, Chad texts you asking to talk. You reply back, telling him to meet you at your place at 8pm. You really didn't want to leave Baekhyun but you felt like you needed to calmly clear the air with Chad. You pull out two twenties and slide them onto the bar, giving Baekhyun a small wave. He gives you a wink that sends shivers down your spine as you turn to walk away.

You didn't want to go, and little did you know, he didn't want you to go either.

You really shouldn't have let Chad in to talk. You don't know how he does it but he convinced you to get back together with him. He lured you in with the promises of changing, being a better man, spending more time with you and more money on you while also spending less money on his friends and less time on the console. But how funny is it that mere seconds after you agree to a second chance, he's back gaming and you're going to bed all on your own.

Over the next few weeks, you had absolutely no desire to be at home. Chad had gone back to his old self so quickly, it gave you whiplash. He hadn't even attempted to change, and you found yourself craving to be near Baekhyun. So you headed to the bar, everyday after work for a drink, or two, or four.

In those weeks you and Baekhyun spent an ample amount of time getting to know each other, you were sure he knew you better than Chad ever did. You didn't want to see Chad, you didn't want to be near him and it was bad enough that he texted you throughout the day, sending you lists of things to buy from the grocery store, as if he wasn't able to do it himself. However, much to your surprise, he didn't question you when you never came home with his snacks, he didn't check in with you throughout the day or wonder where you were at night, and honestly it no longer bothered you. You didn't care but you couldn't end things again. Not yet.

You felt your feelings for Baekhyun deepen with every encounter the two of you had, every look, every conversation, every time you saw him it was like nothing you had ever felt with anyone. Your emotions were amplified around Baekhyun and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep them hidden.

"One more." You tell Baekhyun, as you set down your fourth glass.

You can tell he wants to smile, but he's too good at controlling his emotions. "You've had enough, I'm cutting you off." He tells you.

You pout, trying to give him your best puppy dog eyes, but absolutely got absolutely nothing from that man and it was frustrating as fuck.

"A bad storm is coming, you should probably get home." He tells you, drying off some glasses.

"I don't want to go home, he's there." You scoff, just thinking about Chad made you want to vomit. "I guess I could just get a motel room.” You mutter. “That place across the street looks okay." You slur, pointing over to the run down motel, that had flickering lights, and probably a rat and cockroach infestation.

"I dont fucking think so." Baekhyun replies. "You need to go home. I'll give you a ride." He says.

"Give me a minute." He walks from around the bar, towards the back of the building, and you can't help but to turn in your stool and watch him walk away, damn he looks good.

Within seconds he's back, grabbing your bag and scooping you up into his arms as he effortlessly carries you out the door.

"I can walk." You object.

"I know." He says, his face stone cold.

"You're very pale." You tell him, as if he didn't know.

"I know." He replies, unlocking the door to his car.

"And you're very cold." You say.

He sighs. "I know." He finishes as he slides you into the passenger seat of his car.

As soon as he started his car, the rain began pouring as thunder and lightning jolted the sky.

"You were right, there's a storm." You say, watching out your window.

"I know." He replies, this time it sounded different. You turned to look at him, hoping you'd catch him smiling but no such luck.

He pulls up to your apartment complex, quickly and effortlessly glides out of the driver's side of the car, making his way to your side before you can even get your hand on the handle. He walks to the elevator with you, steps onto the elevator with you. He stands beside you, his hand inches away from yours, you can feel the electricity between the two of you. The elevator lands on your floor, you step out and Baekhyun follows you to your door.

“You didn't need to walk me up.” You say, already sobering up.

“Just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” Baekhyun says, his face still stone cold. You can hear some music thumping through the door. You really hope it's not what you think it is. You unlock your door and open it to 10-15 people in your apartment. There's maybe 2 that you know, but the rest? You've got no clue.

“There she is!” Chad yells, walking towards you.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He slurs, wrapping his arm around you. A crowd of people gather around, yelling “Surprise!” To you. You smile at them awkwardly, what was happening?

“It's not my birthday.” You hiss, trying to Chad, trying to remove his arm from you. “I'm sorry everyone, I don't know what he told you but it's not my birthday.” You say.

They all turn to each other, whispering things. You look at Chad’s two best friends, Brad and Connor, who you've spoken to multiple times. They just shrug their shoulders.

“Fuck.” He yells in your face, his breath smells like whiskey. He moves away from you, pushing through the crowd to grab a bottle on the table. He takes a full swing, before stomping back towards you. “I'm trying to do something fucking nice for you and you always have to shit on it.” He yells.

“I'm sorry it's not my birthday, and you invited all your friends and none of mine or my family. This is a party for you, with a cover it's supposed to be for me. It's pathetic.” You spit, your face inches away from his. You turn to walk away but he grabs your arm.

“Where are you trying to go? Don't be fucking rude to your guests.” Chad snaps.

“Dude, It's not her birthday. It's fine, just let her go and we can have another shot.” Brad says, trying to descalate the situation. Chad shoves Brad away with his free hand, tightening his grip around your arm.

“Chad stop.” You shout as he pushes you against the wall. Baekhyun lurches forward but you put your free arm out to stop him. You didn't want Chad to get anymore angry.

“What's it gonna take? Huh? You want a kiss? Is that gonna make you less uptight?” He says, grabbing your shoulders and shoving you into the wall, again. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten handsy when drinking Whiskey, but this is the first time he'd ever been close to violent about it. He leans in close to your face, trying to press his lips to yours, sticking his tongue out, trying to slip it into your mouth. You turn your head, trying to avoid him.

“Get off.” You cry out, trying to push him off with one hand, but he manages to pin the other one to the wall. You can't get him off you, your arm was throbbing and you were starting to panic.

“Baekhyun.” You cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Get the fuck off of her.” You hear Baekhyun's voice yell. “Are you hard of hearing?” He asks, swiftly pulling Chad from you and throwing him across the floor.

“Who the fuck is that?” Chad asks, scrambling to his feet and pointing to Baekhyun.

“I want you out Chad. I’m done. This was the last fucking straw!” You cry.

Baekhyun takes your hand and pulls you out of your apartment. He brings you to the elevator and back down to his car, trying to avoid getting you too wet. He buckles you in and pulls out of your parking lot. He drives past the bar and continues until the two of you are out of the city. The rain still pours. Thunder rumbles as lightning lights up the sky.

He continues driving, taking you out into the middle of nowhere.

Baekhyun pulls up to a gate, punching in a few numbers and it opens, he drives down a long driveway. You squinted as you tried to see where you were going but it was far too dark for you to see anything, until you pulled up to a beautiful mid-century mansion that made your mouth drop. It was absolutely stunning and you couldn't believe that he lived there.

"Seriously? This is where you live?" You say.

"My, uh, family, but yeah." He answers, parking the car near the entrance.

He glides out of his seat, walking towards your side again to open the door for you, pulling you inside before you get too wet. He pulls you up a large flight of stairs, not letting you admire the inside of his house. He opens the door to a large room, with a large bed and a bathroom ensuite.

"There's towels if you want to shower, I'll be back in a bit to check on you." He says, avoiding all eye contact before walking out of the room.

You let out a deep breath as you take off your heels, unbutton your pants and unhook your bra, placing it all next to the bed. You sit down on the bed in your underwear and t-shirt, wondering what to do, until your phone rings.

Looking at the caller ID, you didn't want to answer it, but you honestly felt scared if you didn't.

"Hello?" You answer.

"Hey babe, it's me.. it's Chad." He says.

"I know who it is." You sigh.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I.. I don't know what came over me. Seriously, Y/N. I just.. I'm so sorry.” He cries.

“I.. I can't. Don't. Don't call me.” You hyperventilate. “I can't.” You whimper, hanging up the phone.

You stand there, taking deep breaths as you try to fight off the tears. You replay the short conversation you just had, but more so what he did to you. You didn't even want to think about what would have happened had Baekhyun not been there for you tonight. You saw a side of Chad you'd bever seen before and were not interested in ever seeing again. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You sobbed as you sat on the bed.

There's a knock at the door but you don't hear it. The door opens, Baekhyun walks into the room, seeing you on the bed, all he felt was anger.

"Y/N.." He begins as lightning strikes, causing the power to flicker.

"Chad called.” You cry. “He was.. apologizing..but I couldn't stop.. replaying it.” You sniffle.

"I'm so sorry that happened. I should have taken you away the second he put his hands on you." He says, looking at you. You look up at him, tears still streaming down your face. A crack of thunder hits loudly, making you jump, and within seconds Baekhyun's arms are wrapped around you. He rubs your back as you nuzzle your head into his chest.

You're so tired.

Your eyes begin to close until his phone rings. He lays you down before he stands up answering the call.

“I'm sorry, Y/N. I have some things to take care of." He says.

"Oh, yeah, no problem." You say, getting under the covers.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks before leaving.

“I'll be fine, go.” you say forcing a smile.

"Get some sleep." He tells you before walking out of the bedroom door, leaving you alone once again.

You tried to fight the exhaustion you felt, but it was far too hard. You tried watching the door, in hopes he would come back but your eyelids got too heavy for you to keep open, and you swiftly drifted off to sleep.

The warm sun was shining through the window, woke you up. You let out a little stretch before opening your eyes, only to see seven men standing around the bed. You sit up, moving closer to the wall, as these men stare at you. You stared at them all, as they all glared at you, looking similar to Baekhyun.

Pale skin, dark eyes, dark hair, blood red lips.

"Who are you?" One of them asks.

"Y/N." You whisper. “Who are you guys?”

Another one speaks up, looking at the other six men. "I think the better question is, who the fuck brought a human home?"

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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Page 80

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: Smut/PWP sorry Rating: M Summary: Here, right now. Word Count: 0.7k Warnings: public sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), vaginal sex, breath play

When Hyunjin originally suggested ditching the party to go back to his place, he’d put too much faith in his ability to keep his hands off you. There was something particularly enticing about the way you gripped his hand while holding down your skirt with the other, nibbling on your bottom lip as you focused on keeping up with his brisk pace.

Fuck.

In seconds, his resolved crumbled. He couldn’t wait another second to get inside you.

Keep reading

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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BAEKHYUN Fic Recs

M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending

None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works

Messy - two-shot, 14K - by @bobohu4eva - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Good to You Series by @bobohu4eva again because ALL of their works are brilliant and you should read all of them -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Pink Lace Series by... again the brilliant @bobohu4eva -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Sweet Tooth Series by my fave Baekhyun writer (if it wasn't obvious already) @bobohu4eva -> M / A / F / HpE

Ecstasy Series (ongoing) by @bobohu4eva (yes, me simp) -> M / A / F

Deflowered - two-shot, 15.3K - by @bobohu4eva (guys... just read their whole work) -> M / A / F / HpE

Better Than Revenge - one-shot, 20.1K - by @byunified - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Enchanted - one-shot, 21.1K - by @byunified again because they write Baekhyun beautifully -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Redo - one-shot, 17.7K - by @byunified because they are an amazing writer obviously -> M / A / F / HpE

Snapshot & Sequels - one-shot, 3K - by @icequeenbae - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Six Phases Series by @exosmutfactory - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Guys My Age - one-shot, 6.7K - by @bvidzsoo - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Be Mine - one-shot, 18.4K - by @bvidzsoo again because this one is pure gold -> M / minor A / F / HpE

neon moon - one-shot, 6.7K - by @kyungseokie -> M / A / F / HpE

sweet - one-shot, 5K - by @baekluvie - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

candy stars - one-shot, 5K - by @gyukult - full Masterlist -> A / F / HpE

drive safe - one-shot, 12.4K - by @gyukult (go through their Masterlist pleeeeease) -> M / A / F / HpE

Incubus: Coming of Age - two-shot, 10.1K - by @byuntrash101 - full Masterlist -> M / HpE

PARAPHILIA mini Series by @byuntrash101 because their works are amazing -> M / F / HpE

Baekhyunie don't leave me Series by @byuntrash101 again because they are an amazing writer -> M / A / F / HpE?

Deal with it - two-shot, 10.6K - by @byuntrash101 (THEY ARE AMAZING) -> M / minor F / HpE

The Damnation of a Saint - one-shot, 11.4K - by @byuntrash101 (I keep telling you to go to their masterlist) -> M

The Heir - one-shot, 4.5K - by YES AGAIN @byuntrash101 just go to their page -> M / A / F / HpE?

Silver - one-shot, 6.5K - by @lucyjay -> M / F / HpE

The End of the F**king World Series by @noonachronicles - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Trapped in his Maestoso Series by @oohfluffy - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Black and White Series by @baekingpancakes - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Cataclysm Series by @whimsical-ness - full Masterlist -> minor M / A / F

I Give Up Series by @soobadnoonecanstopher - full Masterlist - this was the very first Baekhyun fic I read and it has a very special place in my heart -> M / A / F / HpE

Touch it for Real Series by @soobadnoonecanstopher again because all of their series are absolute gold -> M / A / F / HpE

Come Back to Bed - one-shot, 1.3K - by @writemekpop - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

For Me - two-shot, 13.8K - by @spacequokka - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Moon Rise - one-shot, 3.5K - by @spacequokka again because they are an amazing writer -> M / F / HpE

his one and only - one-shot, 8.1K - by @cosmic-railwayxo - full Masterlist -> A / F / HpE

Prohibited - one-shot, 13.9K - by @kpopfanfictrash - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Imminence - one-shot, 10K - by @kpopfanfictrash again because they are amazing and they have a very diverse masterlist, check it out! -> M / A / F / HpE

Begin - one-shot, 4.1K - by @kpopfanfictrash again cause they are amaziiiiiiing -> M / A / F / HpE

loyal Series by @charmedbaek - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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obsession | chapter 3

pairing: reader x baekhyun

words: 10k

genre: yandere au | this is heavily inspired by the show 'you'

tag list: @mayboy @vishary15 <3

warnings for this chapter: mention of murder, mental illness(s), mention of death(s), manipulation, mature language, violence, obsessiveness, aggression.

do not read if: you are triggered by any of the warnings i listed prior. this fic will contain this theme throughout the chapters. if you are not comfortable with that; please skip this post. please remember this is a work of fiction.

viewer discretion is advised

playlist for this chapter:

be my baby - baekhyun pov

can't take my eyes off you - baekhyun pov

just the two of us - baekhyun pov

i just want to be the one you love - baekhyun pov

(a/n): okay guys, this is the new and better chapter 3 of obsession. i really like the route that i'm taking and i hope you do too. you'll come to understand each of the characters a little bit more. like always, replies are open! please send me messages, requests, your thoughts! always appreciated! reblog and like as it really helps me out. enjoy this chapter!

It was surprising. To say the least. To have the woman that claimed to be your boyfriend’s…girlfriend, talk to you about their relationship. Baekhyun stayed throughout all of it, stating he wanted to be there for ‘support’. You really didn’t care, because everything was happening too fast. It was like you had been hit by a fucking truck; you didn’t have any warning. So as the pretty girl continued to talk, you just listened. That’s all you could do.

“...I’m sorry. I’m sorry that these are the circumstances that you had to find out. I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just his supervisor at the restaurant he worked at. Please, don’t blame him. I was the one who initiated things.”

You interject. “You can’t tell me not to blame him. He was the one who decided to be with you.”

The girl shuffled her feet together where she stood in front of your door frame. You don’t know what to do, Baekhyun is standing behind you now, a hand on your shoulder. It comforted you knowing that he was here. You didn’t know why but you were glad it was him rather than Sehun. Maybe it was because you were close friends with the younger man, he knew Kyungsoo. They talked often, went out for drinks with you guys. So perhaps he knew about the cheating. He just didn’t want to tell you. You scoff as you look at the ground, your thoughts becoming too much.

“How long.”

She does a double take, gulping.

“Two years.”

Oh. That really hurt. To think you had no idea, you assumed you were living your best lives together. For all of that to just mean nothing to him…you meant absolutely nothing to him. You flinch, Baekhyun tightening his hand on you. He moves forward, to stand in front of you.

He inhaled before he spoke. “Maybe you should go, Jihyo.”

Jihyo swayed for a moment, almost like she wanted to say something else. But she quickly agreed, shifting her purse on her shoulder. She bows, and she trots down the stairs. Baekhyun closes the door, his back turned to you. His hand stays on the doorknob, but you notice just how tightly he’s holding onto it. His knuckles are turning white, and you can see him trembling. You walk towards him slowly, confused by his reaction.

You whisper, voice cracking, “Why are you here?”

He still doesn’t turn around, his demeanor was foreign to you. You’ve never seen him act like this; this feeling you’re reading as pure anger.

“That’s just…fucked up. It makes me mad.”

He doesn’t answer you.

You rub your hand up and down your arm awkwardly. Although it was nice to have company, you didn’t know Baekhyun. The whole thing was strange, and you didn’t know why a complete stranger was reenacting the anger you were supposed to be having right now. You were numb, you didn’t have any more strength to confront the situation. But Baekhyun…

“Answer me, Baekhyun.” You try to sternly say.

He stiffened before he turned around to meet your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I told you. I wanted to tell you something about the night my girlfriend died.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He glanced off, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to. Does it matter?”

Did it? You didn’t know as you stood in front of him. You get a better look at him, his black hair was neatly combed back, maybe he puts gel in it. He had dark circles, and his eyes looked irritated, like he had been pulling all nighters. His lips were cracked and dried out. However, just like the first encounter you had with him, he was well dressed. Black slacks that were well ironed, a white collared shirt that looked practically new. You had to wonder how he was able to put any effort into his looks when he went through a loss. You didn’t even want to shower, nonetheless put in any effort into how you dressed.

You stumbled on your words as you broke eye contact with him, shrugging.

“I guess not, “ You sigh as you walk past him, hitting his arm, “Do you want something to drink?”

If you were going to be depressed, you might as well get drunk and depressed. You’re defeated, and you don't care about anything anymore. Baekhyun mutters an, ‘sure’, and you nod. You grab two bottles instead of one, and trudged back to where he stood. He was still staring at you with his bloodshot eyes as he took it. You just made your way to the living room, slumping into the couch as you glug down the bitter drink.

“So… Do you want to ask me any questions?” He walks over slowly, tapping the glass bottle in his hand as he sat down next to you.

No. You shake your head as you let your head lay back on the cushion.

“Not really. I’d prefer not to talk about our dead partners if you don’t mind.”

He blinks and tilts his head to the side, taking a swig of his beverage.

“Well, what do you want to do then?”

You look back at him as you swing your head over. You grimace.

“Nothing. Why are you still here?”

He teasingly places a hand over his chest, forming his pink lips into a pout. He lays back on the couch himself, smirking at you. Yeah, he was cute. You attempt to put a smile on.

“That hurts. I didn’t know you could be so mean, Y/N. If you don’t want me here just say so.”

You could use the company, you remind yourself. “Fine. What do you want to do? Sulk and cry?”

He snorts. “As fun as that sounds, I was thinking we should go somewhere.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him, lifting your chin up as you drink again. He stalls for a moment, just staring, again. He really liked looking at you, huh?

“Do you still want something to eat?”

“Maybe.” You squinted at him.

His eyes glow, that darned smile makes its appearance yet again.

“I know this great take out place nearby. Best. Food. Ever.”

He flashes a toothy grin at you as he pauses after each word. You can’t help but let a giggle escape your lips as you roll your eyes at him. Maybe this will help get your mind off of everything, maybe this would be good for you. Who knows, you’ll end up making a friend.

“Fine,” You stand up and place the bottle on your living room table, “But if this isn’t the best fucking food I’ll ever eat, I’m never going to talk to you again.”

He positions his drink on the table as well, a warm blush creeping on his features.

“If it’s not the best food you will ever eat, you can fucking kick me in the balls.”

You gape at him, “You sure? There’s no take backs. And I’m in a pretty bad mood.”

“Positive.”

“We got a deal. Let me change.”

As you close your bedroom door, you immediately sink down on the ground. You stare ahead of you, Kyungsoo’s nightstand within your vision. You suck in a breath as you push yourself up, walking towards it. You halt as you look at the photo frame he had of the two of you, picking it up gently. Kyungsoo was smiling into the camera, and you, well he had just finished attacking your face with the icing from the cake he had made for your birthday. You’re scrunching up your nose and pissed off, you had spent an hour doing your makeup. You laugh to yourself, raising a finger to brush past his face.

This was hard. Moving on, accepting death, finding out your dead boyfriend cheated on you. You couldn’t even be mad at him, who stays angry at the deceased? Still, you thought as you placed it back on the wooden table faced down, you couldn’t help but know that Kyungsoo wouldn’t have understood what he put you through. That was the type of person he was, oblivious to the pain he might have caused to others, the look of confusion when you did tell him when something was wrong. He never would have wanted to hurt you like he did, but maybe that’s why he snuck around and lied to you. He knew it would break your heart, and he attempted to still stay…right? At least he pretended. You sigh, shaking your head. Stop making excuses.

Then there was Baekhyun. You walk towards your drawer and start to put together an outfit. As you rummage through different blouses, you start to think about the stranger in your living room. He was nice, understanding. He was the only person to get how you were feeling. It doesn't hurt that he’s attractive as well. But you’re not going to pursue anything, you can't. Plus, he was probably looking for a friend too. The connection you two had was rare, with both of your significant others dying. Who wouldn’t want to be surrounded by people that they can relate to?

You shimmy on your jeans and readjust the yellow V-neck shirt you settled on. As you look into the mirror above your dresser, you give yourself a disgusted frown. Your mascara had run down past your nose, the black streaks staining your skin. Your skin was pale, like a vampire had drank all the blood from your body. You try to rub the mascara off with your hand, rubbing furiously. You shrug at yourself, there were still remnants of the black fibers clinging to your cheeks, but it would have to do.

“Y/N? We still going or what?”

Baekhyun knocks on your door, and you jump a little bit. You give yourself one last glance, the sides of your face twitching up, attempting to front a happier appearance. Let’s go, Y/N.

He insisted that you two walked, considering it was close by. You stay looking at the night sky as both of you walk down the sidewalk. Baekhyun had his hands tucked into his front pockets, blabbering about what he does for work. It was interesting, you could give him that.

“It’s fun. The actual term for what I do is called a ‘Perfumer’.”

You tried to hide the snicker, but you can’t help it. It was a pretty fucking funny name. He nudges your arm as he begins to laugh as well. He brings a hand to tap his cheek, fighting off a blush.

“Hey! Don’t make fun of me!” You give him an exaggerated nod, bringing your hands to mockingly put a zipper on your lips.

“I won’t laugh. Go on.” He shakes his head at you, still chuckling.

“I’m responsible for approving or rejecting the batches presented as finished products. I don’t want to brag but not many people do what I do. As well as I do.”

You widen your eyes, amusing him.

“Yeah? Would I know anything you have approved of, Mr. Perfumer?”

Now he’s rolling his eyes.

“Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Versace, Dior. I’ve even started my own line. Have you heard of Privé?”

Holy shit. Of course you know Privé, it took Korea by storm when they released their first perfume. You think you even purchased it after seeing it trend online. But then you think back to your first encounter with him, remembering how he commented on the perfume that you wore. You pause in your steps, Baekhyun mimicking you as he gives you a smug look.

“That’s how you knew what perfume I was wearing?”

“Of course. I literally get paid to smell perfumes, Y/N.”

You put your hands out in front of you like you’re defending yourself. Baekhyun looked high and mighty as he continued to walk. You decide to give him a little push, teasing him.

“Well, I think that’s cool. I can’t believe you work for brands like that. I also can’t believe I’m hanging out with the creator of Privé.”

He tries to pass it off coolly, shaking his head. But you knew he liked that you complimented him. As he leads you down the street past convenience stores and small shops, he stops in front of a small vendor. You peer at the little makeshift shack, a banner reading, “Street Food”.

There were two other people already in line, and it looked like a mother and daughter were the ones who ran it. The younger girl was stirring Tteokbokki in a large pot, while the elder woman was making Hotteok. You realize you’re almost drooling as Baekhyun taps you on your arm, and you chide yourself.

“Guess I picked a winner.” He remarks.

“You just got lucky. I love Tteokbokki,” You reply with a smirk.

As you finally get to the front of the line, the younger girl working the stand suddenly blushes. She starts to put her hair behind her ear, her brown eyes fixated on Baekhyun. You grin at this, kicking his foot. He abruptly looks at you, obliviously. He was reading the prices they had on a piece of paper, but as soon as he turned his head to meet the girl, he smiled brightly.

“Hello. Can we get two servings of Tteokbokki?” Wow, was he a charmer. He put his elbow on the table, cocking his head to the side as he wooed the blushing mess in front of him.

She nodded, “Y-yes. That will be two dollars.”

You go to reach for some money that you brought with you, but Baekhyun rests his hand on yours, shaking his head. He looks back at the girl, who is waiting for payment.

“What’s your name?”

She cracks her mouth open partially, sheepishly looking away.

“Yeri.”

He brings his finger to swipe his lip, his gaze was sultry, and for some reason a twinge of jealousy entered your body. You try to rebuke the sudden feeling, but the more you stared between the two of them, the more you wanted to pull him away. He was here with you.

“I knew someone with the same name. But look, Yeri. The Tteokbokki is two dollars a serving. Why are you selling it to me for only half the price, hm?”

Yeri stuttered. “A-ah…first time discount.” She looks at you for the first time, giving you a resentful frown. She returns back to Baekhyun, beaming. “I insist.”

Before the cocky man could say anything else, the elder woman stepped in. She gave Baekhyun a glare, reaching the palm of her hand out.

“Just give us four dollars then,” She looks down at the girl who’s cowering now, “Yeri, leave the couple alone.”

You snap your eyes to her, shaking your hands.

“Oh no, we’re not-”

“It’s okay. My girlfriend doesn’t care. I was just having some fun. Here.”

Girlfriend? You try to interrupt again, but he pulls out a five dollar bill as he covers your mouth. The lady snatched it out of his hand in a hurry. She pulled Yeri with her, pointing to the pot that contained the Tteokbokki. You walk off to the side, away from the stand. Baekhyun skips over to you, waggling his eyebrows. You furrow yours back at him.

“That was cute. I think she likes me.”

You fold your arms across your chest, not looking at him.

“Didn’t know you were such a playboy, Mr.Perfumer.”

He steps in front of you, ducking his head. He smiles.

“Yeah? Are you jealous?”

You let a bitter laugh out. Why did you get jealous?

“Of course not. Why would I be jealous over a high school girl?”

He shrugs as he stands next to you.

“I don’t know. It sure seemed like it, though. I don’t hear you interjecting that you aren’t my girlfriend.”

“Whatever.”

You don’t say anything else, and he just tucks his hands back into his pockets. When your food was finally ready, the younger girl was stuck deep frying the Hotteok, so the elder handed the cups to Baekhyun. If looks could kill, Baekhyun would be lying on the stone cold ground. Even though you were still trying to push away the thoughts of why you were jealous, you had to admit it was pretty funny. You didn’t miss how Yeri looked longingly at your friend, and you giggle as you jokingly intertwined your arm with his. He shoots you a confused stare, watching your eyes as you look at the girl. His head starts to look back as well, but you tug him along, walking back down the street you came from.

As soon as you’re out of sight, you let go of him, to which he whined.

“I’m cold! You were helping me not turn into a popsicle.”

You pick up a piece of the glorious rice cake, your eyes turning two times bigger. You stick your tongue out at him before you shove it into your mouth. The flavors danced on your tongue, and you couldn’t resist dancing a little bit as you walked. He followed suit, closing his eyes as the food entered his mouth. A small guttural groan comes from out of him and you kick his leg.

“You sound like a pervert.” You say through a mouthful of food.

He swallows as he playfully kicks you back.

“I can’t help it. Look, I’ll admit I’m a pervert if you admit you were jealous earlier.”

You suddenly were interested in the grout sprouting through the cracks of the cement.

“I don’t know what you mean, playboy.” You rebuttal back.

He murmurs out an, ‘Mhm’, eyeing you up and down.

“Come on. Admit it. You were jealous that I was flirting with her.”

“I was not!” Your lips trembling as you tried not to laugh.

He suddenly grabbed your cup of food, making you gasp. He held it up above you, shaking it lightly. You try to jump, but he responds by getting on the tip of his shoes, rising higher.

“I won’t give it back to you until you tell the truth.”

He gives you a daring look. You tap your foot on the ground, thinking about it. I mean, you were only jealous because he took you there and did that. It didn’t have to mean anything else. Did it?

“Let’s say hypothetically I was. Now can I have it back?” You reach up, but he simply grins with his perfect white teeth. Baekhyun shakes his head, getting close to you. You don’t move as he gets right in your face, his breath fanning over you.

“Don’t worry about being jealous anymore. You won’t have to be.”

You purse your lips. The cold air was alarmingly growing warmer by the second.

“What do you mean by that?” It came out as a whisper.

He darts his tongue out, moisturizing his lips. He began to come closer, his lips ghosting over yours. Why aren’t you doing anything? Your heart beats rapidly against your rib cage, and right when you think he’s going to kiss you…

“Interesting.” He smiles.

Your heart flutters, and then he’s gone in the blink of an eye, running down the street. You had to take a moment to collect yourself, and then you find yourself yelling at him as you follow him.

“Hey! Baekhyun!” You’re laughing.

And it was nice. It was dark out, the moon hanging in the sky, the stars faintly out. Even though the streets were dark and you could barely see, the more intently you focused on the boy running in front of you, the more you realized how he was like a light, brightening up your path.

He turned around to look at you, gasping for air as he ran backwards. It was like slow motion, your hair falling in front of your face as you attempted to keep up, him, laughing at you.

You felt okay.

He stayed with you for a couple more hours, insisting that the two of you talked about how great the food was, and as a matter of factly, how he was right. You push him over on the couch when he smugly says it, your hand grabbing the bottle of beer that was sitting next to the empty cups of food you had finished.

“All I’m saying is that I was right. No need to get mad about it.”

You smirk at him before you drunkenly speak.

“I had fun today. T-thank you.”

He sits up, giving you a sweet nod.

“You’re welcome. Listen, we should do this more often. I think it’ll be good for us.”

You agree, you didn’t think once about Kyungsoo the entire time. This would help, and in the back of your head you had hoped he would have said this. You were too embarrassed to admit it; you liked being around Baekhyun. You just met him but you knew that you didn’t want to be around anyone else, no one would truly understand your pain more than him. He speaks again, his tone strained.

“You have something…on your lip.”

You bring your hand lazily to your mouth, trying to feel for something. When you can’t, you peer back into his eyes, pouting. You reach forward, and maybe it was because you were drunk, but you bring his hand to your face.

“Take it off for me, then.”

He gulped, and your eyes watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He was nervous?

“You need…to be more careful.”

He retracts his hand, licking his thumb. Once again, he puts it on your face, and you can’t help but look at him. He was hot. You push up against his finger, surprising him. He falters a little as you move your body close to him, your hand resting on his. He doesn’t move his finger from your lip as you press your chest against him. Why are you doing this, Y/N?

But you don’t listen to yourself. For some dumb, fucking, reason, you wrap your lips around him. You close your eyes as you let your tongue circle around his thumb, saturating it with your saliva. You only open your eyes when you hear him whisper a small, “Ah”. His eyes looked at you hungrily as you finished sucking, making a small popping noise as you let him go. You felt confident, you were in control. Finally, for the first time today, you felt like you had control of something in your life. And you didn’t want to miss this high, so you gave into the desire.

You slam your eyes shut as you push your lips onto his. You bite down on his bottom lip, pulling it back lightly. You hear Baekhyun moan, and that gives you the okay that you wanted. As you’re about to put your needy lips on his again, he suddenly pushes you back. You wobble in place as a sharp shooting pain strikes your heart. Baekhyun is flushed, and he places his hands behind him on the couch like he’s restraining himself.

You slur on your words, “Why did you…do that?”

He swallows. “You- you’re drunk. I- I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Huh. Here you thought that maybe he found you cute too. You blush as you turn away. But he speaks again more earnestly.

“Don’t get me wrong, I find you insanely attractive. At…at least let me take you on a date.”

A date? You were not looking to date anyone right now. Or maybe you were? You were drunk.

“You? Want to take me on a date?”

He instantly brightens. A little too quickly he nods.

“Of course. I would love to go on a date with you. I love-” He stops, and you questiongly stare.

“You love what?”

Baekhyun stands up, rubbing the palms of his hands on his slacks. Your eyes don’t leave him as he awkwardly raises a fist to cover his mouth.

“I love…spending time with you. Is what I meant to say. So do you want to go on a date?”

You shrug.

“Maybe.”

His eyes pierce into you, and for a moment you swear he’s going to cuss you out. He creepily stares at you, and you feel like he’s looking directly into your soul. He passes off the weird moment by smiling at you.

“Well that’s not an answer, Y/N. Can you answer me correctly?”

You didn’t want to lie to yourself, you liked the authoritativeness that was etched into his words. You were also confused by how fast he could switch up his emotions. But in your drunken state you quickly forget about it. He was waiting for an answer, after all.

“Sure. But don’t forget your place, Mr.Perfumer. I am a police officer.” You try to make light of the conversation, but Baekhyun strides to you, entering your personal space. You lean back into the couch, not prepared for the abrasiveness. He follows after you, two arms trapping you underneath him. Just like earlier on the street, he ghosts his lips over yours. He doesn’t break his sight from yours as he speaks in a low voice.

“Is that a threat?” His lips were puckered out, his eyebrows caved in like they were sad.

You shake your head. He exhaled as he leaned on his elbow, his right hand bringing a strand of your hair to his nose. He takes a deep breath, and even though you should have found it weird, you were somewhat fond of the action. Again, you were drunk. He drops it from his grasp as he smiles. His hand caresses your cheek, and you rub against his touch. There was something truly intoxicating about Baekhyun.

“The things I’m going to do with you, Y/N.”

He pulls you back up, and you fully process how drunk you were. Everything was spinning, and the only thought you had now was that you wanted to sleep. You voice this to him in a whine, to which he led you to your bedroom. As he tucked you into your bed, you made the mistake of looking at your nightstand. The nightstand that carried a photo frame of Kyungsoo. You shakily reach out to grab it, but Baekhyun stops you. He slaps your hand away as he looks at it as well.

“Don’t do that.” He scolds you.

“I miss him.” You could feel yourself about to cry. He gets on his knees, resting his head on the bed next to your face. You shouldn’t miss Kyungsoo, he did horrible things to you. He cheated on you, he lied to your face, didn’t think about your feelings, he…he left you alone. How selfish of him to die.

“H-he l-left me.” The words came out mumbled together, but Baekhyun understood.

“You want to know something?”

You look at him through blurry eyes. You nod your head against the pillow.

He looks off for a second, like he’s mustering up the right words. Then he gives you those eyes, those pretty brown eyes.

“I’ll never leave you.”

It could have sounded crazy if you didn’t know him, if you didn’t have to mourn the death of your lover. But right now, you need to hear it. It was the only thing that stopped your muffled sobs, you stare back at him and shakily bring your lips up to smile. He winks at you before he kisses your forehead.

“I’ll text you tomorrow, Y/N. I’ll plan our date.”

You feel yourself submitting to the call of sleep, and you fight to keep your eyes open. He chuckles as he brings his fingers to close them himself, and you mumble one last thing before you give into your slumber.

“...Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun’s POV

So he stole some more underwear from you. And one of your shirts. But that was it, he swears. He honestly really wanted to slip in bed with you, hug you, wrap his arms around your perfect, beautiful body. But he restrained himself. He waited until he was sure that you were asleep before he searched through your apartment. As he read through journals of yours, he couldn’t get his mind off of the kiss you planted on him earlier.

He traced his finger over your handwriting as he fought the blush from entering his cheeks.

Baekhyun did not expect you to do that, not at all. But really, he underestimated himself. You were like putty in his hands, you melted from his words, and he didn’t even have to try. How easily manipulated you are, Y/N. As he reads your latest entry in the small black journal, he pauses when he sees his name.

i had to interview a suspect for the murder that occured recently. he doesn’t seem like he knows anything about it and it definitely doesn’t look like he murdered his girlfriend. but as i’m writing this, and since it’s just you and me, why can’t i get him out of my head? maybe it’s because this is the first murder case for this city, and i can’t believe a person like him is capable of it. he’s charming. his name is baekhyun. such a pretty name.

“Pretty, huh?” He takes his phone out and takes a photo of it, wanting to savor the sweet memory.

He closed it and put it back on the desk in your room. When he concludes that he should leave, he turns around and watches you sleep. The way your chest caved in and out, the way your lips were parted every so slightly. He can’t help but walk over and crouch next to you, not wanting to tear himself away from the perfect view. And maybe he does this for a while. Maybe an hour or two. Okay, he stayed there watching you sleep for three hours. In his defense he wanted to make sure you didn’t throw up.

He was obsessed with you. Everything about you drew him in. He just didn’t know how you managed to steal his heart so quickly. He won’t complain though, he wanted you to have it. You could cut him open and take it if you wanted to. He would die for you. But most importantly, he would kill for you. Which brought up the whore of a woman, Jihyo.

He knew what he was going to do. Planned it a while ago, since the day he saw her walking up the very steps he did. It was too easy, really. Another suicide. The letter would read,

i couldn’t take the death of my dear boyfriend kyungsoo. if he had to die, i have to too. poor me! i’m a cunt that deserves to choke on her own blood and have my guts ripped out of me!

Something like that.

He closes his eyes as he takes one final deep breath of your hair, inhaling sharply. He looks at you adoringly before he makes his way out of your apartment. As he skips down the stairs, walking on clouds, he’s shocked to see a familiar car parked next to his. He squints as he continues to walk closer, and then he claps his hands together excitedly.

“Chanyeol! What are you doing here, man? It’s good to see you!”

The taller man scoffs as he rolls his eyes. He pushes Baekhyun’s open arms away from him, making the smaller man frown.

“What are you doing?” He asks in a rude tone.

Baekhyun continues to look at him, disappointed.

“I’m at my girlfriend’s place.”

Chanyeol gives him a death stare.

“She is not your girlfriend, Baekhyun.”

Chanyeol, come on. Don’t piss him off. Of course you were his girlfriend. Just not yet. Baekhyun pushes his hair back as he licks his lips, the words slipping off his tongue coldly.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up if you don’t know what you’re talking about?”

His best friend grabs him by his shirt, swinging his body to slam on the side of his car. He gets in his face, spitting on him as he angrily whispers.

“You need to leave her alone. Do you understand? Sehun told me everything.”

Baekhyun put his hands up in the air, putting a fake confused expression on.

“What do you mean, Chan? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

Chanyeol punches him in the face then, and he’s seeing stars. He laughs as he spits the blood that’s dripping out of his mouth onto him. He never wanted things to get to this point with his dear friend, so this honestly came as a shock. Why did he care if he was seeing you, Y/N? Did he… did he love you too? No, he wouldn’t do that to him. Would he?

“Do you love her?” He hisses out.

Chanyeol blinks in disbelief as he frustratingly let’s his shirt go. He walks in a circle, attempting to calm down. Baekhyun looked down at his shirt, spots of blood covering the expensive material.

What… the fuck.

“I don’t even fucking know her, Baekhyun. You need to fucking see someone. I’m being serious. There’s something legit wrong with your brain. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He came back up to him now, and Baekhyun could see the worry in his eyes. He was so stupid, so so stupid, he thought. He would help him out until he was on his fucking death bed, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Baekhyun. Both of them knew this, Chanyeol more than him.

“Aw, we know that’s a lie. Can I remind you of something old pal?”

He tenderly puts his hand on the other’s shoulder, massaging it, calming him. The boy starts to relax with his touch, and Baekhyun tries to speak as steady as he can.

“Who took care of your dad? Hm? Who is the person who stabbed your dead beat father to death because he couldn’t stand him?,” He looks off like he’s thinking, then smirks, “That would be me. So, why don’t we both admit that we’re oh so terrible people and move on? I’m going to start my new life with Y/N, and you can continue working your little job as Mr.Assistant Deputy.”

Chanyeol falls silent, so Baekhyun takes this as the opportunity to land a nice punch to the man’s chiseled jaw, watching as he falls on the ground. As the older man looked up at him horrified, Baekhyun just towered over him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He spits in his face once more, the crimson splattering over his nose and cheeks. He suppresses a chuckle as he forcefully hits him again, his knuckles now covered with blood.

“If you ever, try to get into my personal life again- I won’t hesitate to kill you. And you know what? I’ll even give you the Park special deal. You want to know what it includes?”

The beaten up man just looks at him, his nose obviously broken as blood drips from his nostrils.

“Three stabs to the heart, and wait for it,” He twists the bridge of his nose, a scream filling the quiet neighborhood, “and a slash across the throat. Don’t ever cross me again, Chanyeol.”

He throws his battered body back on the ground, kicking him in the side for good measure. He groaned as Baekhyun angrily tried to rub the stains from out of his shirt. He just bought this, specifically for you. He inhales annoyingly as he pulls his car keys out from his pocket.

“So after you get your nose fixed, you can apologize by buying me a new shirt. Also, we haven’t done a guy’s night out for a while. We should definitely plan one soon. Goodnight, best friend!”

He waves cutely to Chanyeol, who is still lying on the ground in pain. He starts to whistle as he hops in his car, starting it up. As he pulls out from his spot, he pulls up to his friend’s body and steps on the brakes. He leans over to peer out the window.

“Don’t stay up too late, you have work tomorrow.”

“Fuck you, Baekhyun.”

“I love you too.”

As he drove home, the thought of Jihyo once again popped back into his head. He already knew where she lived, where she worked, even the place she liked to get coffee from. As he paused in front of a red light, he decided to pull out his phone and search her up, seeing if she had posted anything about future plans. Her FaceNook account was made public, so he was able to search through her photos and recent updates. He hovers over a post she made only a couple of hours ago.

going on a very much needed vacation. rip kyungsoo, i love you baby!

What an attention seeking and pathetic post. He clicks on the comment section, reading through her friend’s pitiful responses.

haesoo: i’m so sorry for your loss!

seung-yeon: if you ever need someone im here <3

hyo-joo: where are you going??

Finally someone that can help Baekhyun. He clicked on the reply Jihyo made.

jihyo: no where. just staying at home.

Even better. He was prepared to travel if he needed to, Y/N, but she just made it so much easier. Tapping into her phone would also be a piece of cake, Baekhyun picked up on how to do it from his friend Minseok, who specialized in hacking. He never did question him on it, just accepted his strange request to which Baekhyun would always appreciate. He planned on tapping into it and seeing when the woman would order food. That way, when she’s expecting some pizza delivery guy to knock on her door, he would happily take their place, serving her a much needed stab to the throat. It would taste better anyways.

He finally arrived home, hurriedly taking off his ruined shirt. As he threw it in his washer, he walked back into his bedroom, plopping on the bed. He plucked his phone out from his back pocket, clicking on the photo he took of your journal excerpt. He read it over and over until his eyes grew droopy, a yawn escaping from his lips.

There was nobody else for him but you, Y/N. He would guarantee that no one would get in the way of that. And if someone did, he’d take care of them like how he always does. The blossoming love that you would come to realize you’ll have for him was enough for Baekhyun, he could live, breath, and survive on just that alone. You were his lifeline, his anchor. For the first time, he was able to understand his reasoning for all of the deaths before you. It never made sense to him before, and sometimes he did question how he came to be like this.

All of those things had to happen in order to meet you. His past flings didn’t hold a place in his heart, but they meant something to him. Their deaths didn’t occur in vain, no. He should honestly be thanking them, because without their disappearance in the world, he would have missed out on meeting the love of his life. He could have made the vital mistake of marrying one of those miserable, disgusting vermin. So he pulls up the InstaBram page of his recent ex-lover, Mina.

He stops on a selfie she had taken, and he grimaces as he looks at the red lipstick on her lips.

But he soon smiles shortly after, staring into the eyes that once held love for him.

“Thank you for understanding why you had to die. I met my soulmate because of you.”

He hoped she heard him from hell. Because of course she was there, she caused the impending doom of her demise. And people who make mistakes don’t deserve the luxury to grow wings and be happy for all eternity. He giggles as he strokes his hand over the phone screen, like he’s grazing her soft skin. It was nice when people made it easy for him to kill them.

He shut off his phone, not bothering to take off his slacks since he was so tired. As he drifted off to sleep, he imagined you were there with him, snuggling into his embrace.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Baekhyun had returned to the innocent and sweet age of 13, waking up in his childhood home. He peers at his hands, a strange white glow detailing the skin. He knows what’s happening.

He was dreaming.

He must of have had this dream more than a hundred times, memorized how he got up from his worn out mattress, looked on at the white walls that were turning yellow due to the countless cigarettes he would smoke in there. So he amuses himself this time, deciding to run out of his room rather than nimbly walking out like he’s done so many times. He makes his way down a dark hallway, his eyes searching for a light source of any kind. He brings his hands up to block his vision as a bright white flash swallows the quiet home.

“Fuck!” He yells out in frustration.

Once the bright line vanished, he uncovered his eyes, lowering his arms. The house had natural light pouring into it now, and he could hear someone walking around in the kitchen. He doesn’t want to see them, he hates them. But he knew how this would have to go, it was the only way he could escape from the nightmare. He once tried to lock himself in his room, not wanting to confront the woman. But that ended poorly on Baekhyun’s behalf, he ended up staying up all night because he would continuously get sleep paralysis. So he takes a sharp breath, forcing his legs to step in front of each other to the kitchen he knew so well as a kid.

She looked different this time. Her brown hair was pulled back in a neat bun, no stray aways, it was perfectly formed on her head. She wore a white dress that shaped around her slim body, her hands were busy washing dishes in the sink. As Baekhyun walked up closer to her, she paused her actions, turning her head ever so slightly. She let’s a small, ‘tsk’, glide off her lips.

“Baekhyun. You’re up. Finally,” She slams a plate into the silver basin sink, to which the boy flinches, “You’re about as useless as your sad excuse of a father.”

“I- I know mom.”

His mother turned around, a judging look consuming her features. She had a kind face, it was almost like she copied and pasted herself onto Baekhyun, but there was something that the younger son didn’t yet know how to master that she did. The masking of who she truly was, a fucking monster. She shakes her head as she raises her hand in the air, and Baekhyun cowered in fear, immediately dropping to the floor and whimpering. He hated this dream, despised it. He always acted like a fucking pussy, and there was nothing he could do to stop this recurring memory he buried inside of him.

“Do you know why you kill people, Baekhyun?” The words were like venom, piercing his body and sinking deep into his veins and causing every atom to burn.

When he doesn’t say anything, she kicks him in the side of his rib, making him yelp in pain.

“It’s because you’re my son. Such a waste of life, I told him. Your father thought you were special, but I knew. I gave birth to an evil piece of shit. When I first laid eyes on you I was disgusted by you, the abomination I spent ten months nurturing and growing inside of my body.”

Yeah, he knows that already.

His mother sits on the floor with him, and Baekhyun can’t stop his lips from quivering, his eyes are stinging because he won’t allow himself to cry. He can’t show her that he’s scared, can’t show any signs of weakness. He just has to take the beatings and abusive words, he could never stand up to her. After all, he was her son, and he took after her like this. The unrelenting hatred he carried for others was the root for his uncaring mother; he harvested it from her.

“You’ve never killed someone for the sake of someone else, Baekhyun.”

He zipped his eyes to her alarmingly. She’s never spoken about this before, and this was something that actually happened in his current life. He opens his mouth shakily.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

She smiles at him, the first time he’s actually seen it before in his life. It didn’t suit her.

“Even though I hate you, Baekhyun, I think you’re changing. After all, I did the same thing.”

He falls silent, his body trembling with anger. Stop, don’t talk about it, please.

“Don’t talk about-”

She bunches his hair in her hand, pulling it harshly, and he could hear how the follicles popped from his skull, an immediate migraine surfacing in his head. As much as he tried to pry her grip off of him, it was no use. She would always be stronger than him, even now. So she dragged him from out of the kitchen all the way to her bedroom. He always hated this about the dream, how she carried a supernatural strength that was no match for him. She throws him on the floor, and he doesn’t want to look up. He couldn’t.

“Look. Look at what I did for you, Baekhyun.”

He runs his tongue over his chapped lips, his gaze staying on the floor.

“N-no.”

“I said, look up. Don’t make this harder for yourself.”

This would be the only way he could sleep peacefully throughout the night, but fuck, he really did hate this part. He’s gotten used to the beatings and the hurtful words by now, he had to deal with them in his actual life. He didn’t mind taking it, he believes it made him a stronger person. But this? There was nothing that could shake the awful image from his head, it would always be a part of him.

As he brought his sight to the bed, he sucked in a painful, stabbing breath. The man’s eyes bored into his, no sign of life in them. His head was hanging off the side of blankets, the deep red color splattered on his face and on the white linen. His hand looked like it was reaching out to Baekhyun, and for a second he wanted to hold it, to let his dead father know that there was someone who mourned his death. But his mother steps in front of him, pulling his chin to forcefully look at her.

“He thought you could change. But you were never going to, Baekhyun. I couldn’t let him get in the way to try and help you be a better person. People like you don’t deserve a second chance. You will suffer for the rest of your life, constantly searching for the comfort I never gave you. Y/N reminds you of me, that’s why you did what you did. But understand one thing, son.”

Baekhyun stares at her in a trance, her nails digging into his skin.

“She will never love you the way I did. No one can.”

He scoffs, “You never loved me.”

She lets go of his face and slaps him, and before he could even react, she’s back to gripping his cheeks, giving him the most monstrous, evil look no human being would be able to duplicate.

“I loved you in the only way a human could. I loved you for the monster that you are. I shaped you into what you are, Baekhyun. You should be more grateful. You’re stronger now, more than me. Appreciate the fact that you were molded in the likes of your mother rather than your weak, delusional father. Go to sleep now, and think about what I said. I’ll see you again soon.”

Just like that, he wakes up in a cold sweat, his chest caving in and out in shallow breaths. He stares in shock at the white ceiling above him, raising his weak hand to wipe away the sweat that made its way to his forehead. As he scrambled to make sense of his dream, he couldn’t shake the unnerving thing that his mother told him in the midst of his nightmare.

“Y/N reminds you of me, that’s why you did what you did.”

You were nothing like his mother, Y/N. So why was she saying that disgusting, vile lie? As he continued to catch his breath, he couldn’t shake the words from his head, swallowing him whole. He knows he loves you, he knows that you love him too, there isn’t anyone else for him in this lifetime. He just tries to piece together if there are…any similarities between the two of you.

His mother was cruel.

You were kind and giving.

His mother was abusive.

You were loving and caring.

His mother was the reason he lived.

You were…also the reason that he lived.

Of course, the circumstances were different. While you gave him a true purpose in life, his mother could have killed him off, just like his father. She allowed him to live… just to suffer. You allowed him to live in order to love and cherish you. However, as Baekhyun sat in his disgusting sweaty mess, a fearful thought trampled in his mind.

If you didn’t accept him, if you didn’t… love him. You would be no better than his mother. You would also be allowing him to live to suffer, suffer with the truth that you would never want to be with him. He can’t have that happening, there’s no way. He feels a sense of determination and motivation swirling inside his frame, and he grabs his bed sheets tightly.

You would never be able to escape him. If he had to lock you up and keep you from running away from him, he would do it. But he doesn’t want you to think of it as a bad thing; no, you would come to realize that this is all for the greater good. He wasn’t selfish, he just wanted to shower you with the love and care that you deserved. And if he had to keep you hostage to prove that point, he would happily do so. He starts to laugh in the quiet, dark bedroom. Tears streamed down his face, and he could taste the saltiness of the liquid as it reaches his lips.

“You’re mine, Y/N. Forever and always.”

Chanyeol’s POV

Chanyeol took another pain killer as he sat down in Junmyeon’s office. His friend looked at him with a pitiful look, hissing as he tilted his head at him as he looked at the damage on his face.

So Baekhyun broke his nose. And beat him up. But he also brought up the one thing he told him to never speak about. The job that he put him on, that he paid him off for already. It wasn’t like Chanyeol could ever forget what he did to his father, but why would his friend do that to him? If anything, he was looking out for him, he didn’t want something bad to happen to him. After all, he practically owed him for giving him the life that he always wanted.

To take over his father’s job, to shove it in his face that he was better than him in every way. Chanyeol’s father was a demanding, strict man. He never showed him any love when he grew up, he only expected the best from him. And that… that can grow old rather quickly. His mother didn’t bother to stop his father’s pestering and verbal abuse towards him, in fact she supported his mindset. To that, he didn’t understand at all. But after he replaced his father as Assistant Deputy, he slowly realized the real reason why his mother didn’t say anything about his upbringing.

“Oh, my amazing son. Your father would be so proud of you! Wearing his uniform…you look just like him. Don’t forget to deposit some money into my account, you understand? I absolutely have to buy a new purse for the upcoming fashion show I’m attending.”

He scoffed at that, looking back at the reflection of himself in his father’s clothes. They didn’t fit him right, it was way too small. His tall frame made it look like a halloween costume, the way it was too tight on his thighs and chest. It didn’t look like him at all. He looked like his father, disapproving and unsatisfied. He took some of his father’s words to heart, at least the ones that weren’t so fucked up.

“If you can’t be loyal to something as small as your best friend, you can’t be loyal to your country.”

He said this to him before he went to the Police Academy, excited, but soon after hearing those words, exasperated. There would be nothing that he could do to make his father proud he knew that, but in the back of his head he still wanted to try. The hope that one day his old man would compliment him, even give him a hug that wasn’t for the public to swoon over.

The Park Family are so well put together. You can tell they love and care for each other. He must be so proud of his son for following in his footsteps!

Still, the only thought that still haunted him was the fact that his father died not by his hands, but his best friend. He couldn’t even look him in the face to watch his face become slack, his heart slowly stop beating, look at the way the blood escaped from his neck. He would do anything to do it himself, to prove to him that he was the perfect son that he always hoped for. Would he be proud of him then? That he finally stood up to him and took matters into his own hands? Would he finally be the son he painted him to be if he actually had the courage to kill him himself?

“Chanyeol.”

He didn’t realize he was lost in thought, staring at the stack of papers on Junmyeon’s desk.

“Ah, sorry. What were you saying?”

He grimaced in pain, his nose throbbing. The man across from him frowned as he leaned back into his chair. His tongue poked his cheek as he continued to speak to him.

“I asked you how you broke your fucking nose. I’d hate to see how the other guy looks.”

Baekhyun was more than fine. He probably liked it, the masochistic maniac.

“Yeah, he looked like he got hit by a truck when I was finished with him.”

A lie.

Junmyeon laughed light-heartedly. “Just don’t forget who you are, Chan. The public would be up in arms if they found out their precious Assistant Deputy was out beating up drunk men.”

Chanyeol waved him off, smirking.

“You know they love me. They’d probably find a way to praise me somehow.”

Just then, a knock on Junmyeon’s door interrupted the two friends' conversation. Junmyeon raised his eyebrow, telling the person to come in. The Deputy meets eyes with Sehun, who looks at him in shock. He held a piece of paper in his hand, closing the door behind him.

“Holy shit. What the fuck happened to you?”

Sehun walked over to the both of them, crouching to get a better look at his broken nose. Chanyeol whisked his head away, frowning. Sehun and Junmyeon were close friends of his, they all went to the same police academy. They were good people, well, at least Junmyeon was. Sehun assisted Baekhyun in the murder of Y/N’s boyfriend, and he also helped dispose a body for him as well…but he was a good kid. For the most part.

“Some drunk idiot started a fight with him over a girl. Apparently Chanyeol did more damage to him, but who knows? He could be lying to cover up his huge ego.” Junmyeon snickered.

Sehun didn’t say anything as he stared at Chanyeol. He knew who did it. He shifted his weight to his side, an awkward chuckle filling the tension in the room. He placed the paper he had in his grasp on the desk, Junmyeon picking it up gingerly.

“I just typed out the report for Kyungsoo’s case. If you think it’s okay, I’ll release the statement to the public. They’re all freaking out, it’s like they’ve never seen a car crash before or something.”

Sehun takes a seat next to Chanyeol, glancing at him every now and then. He didn’t know why Sehun decided to help Baekhyun out, he hated him. After he disposed of the body of one of his best friend’s lovers, the young friend insisted that he never do anything for him again. He was traumatized, but not nearly enough to do it again.

Chanyeol’s friend listens to what Junmyeon has to say about the report, and he can’t help but smile. Sehun was hard working, determined, and daring. What he failed to do with those qualities was putting them to use in his gambling addiction. He didn’t come from a family with wealth, which means putting him through the Academy would have to be entirely out of his pocket. He made the mistake of sitting at a poker game, and ended up winning. 8,00,000 won to be exact. But sadly, he didn’t know the people he would become associated with, the people he would be in debt with.

He’s been struggling to make ends meet ever since then, always complaining that he won that money fair and square- but Chanyeol knew him. He knows that he cheated, because when he went to investigate the mafia-like group of men, they told him everything. He originally went over to hopefully get a warrant, to help Sehun out. But after hearing how Sehun cheated by switching out cards on purpose, just so he could win, well. He did it to himself. They even showed him the proof, a camera that was always recording at their little sessions that was hidden in one of the men’s shirt pockets. He laughed at that, watching the boy he thought he knew subtly change his cards, sliding new ones out of the sleeve of his coat pocket. It could be easily missed if someone didn’t get it on camera, then he wouldn’t be doing the gruesome jobs that Baekhyun asked him to do.

“...Besides some of the typo’s, I’d say it’s good enough. Fix them and then release it.”

Junmyeon tossed the paper back to him, and Sehun nodded. He gets up, and Chanyeol follows suit. He waves his hand to his friend, who offered a confused smirk.

“You don’t want to stay? I’m probably going to go drink after this. It’s very much needed. Plus, it couldn’t hurt you more than that broken nose of yours.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, continuing to follow Sehun out of the office.

“I have some things I need to take care of. I’ll see you soon though. I’ll call.”

Sehun nudges his arm as he closes the door, giving him a knowing look.

“Baekhyun really fucked you up. What did you even say?”

They both walk quietly back to his cubicle, Sehun putting his hands on his hips as he throws the report on his desk. Chanyeol sighs, the throbbing pain returning again.

“I just told him to leave Y/N alone. He thought I was in love with her.”

“He’s crazy dude. I swear to god, I don’t know why you’re friends with him. You guys aren’t alike in the slightest.”

If only he knew.

“It’s kind of hard to stop being friends with a serial killer, Sehun. Just keep away from him from now on. If he asks you to do something else, let me know. I’ll deal with it. You have enough on your plate already.”

The black haired man swallowed.

“How does he know things? Like…he knows about shit I did back at the Academy.”

Chanyeol raises his brow.

“Yeah? I don’t know,” He pulls out his phone, looking at the time, “All you should know is that you shouldn’t make him your enemy, S.”

Sehun stills, a paranoid look in his eyes.

“D-don’t call me that. It’s a stupid nickname.”

Chanyeol shrugs, not giving it much thought. He flung his hand on his shoulder.

“Take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”

Chanyeol exited the police station, a heavy weight pushing down on him. He didn’t know much about Y/N, only what Sehun had passed onto him. She was a good worker, got everything done in a precise, orderly fashion. She didn’t make mistakes, and she loved what she did. As Sehun talked about her some more, one thing stood out to Chanyeol.

“I wouldn’t say she’s like a workaholic, but she… she gets obsessive about things. She doesn’t know when to quit, more to speak. When she locks in on something, or someone, she makes sure they don’t get away. Kyungsoo used to joke about her having an Obsessive Love disorder. I never noticed it with her when she was around Soo, but I could definitely see it whenever she worked. She gets in deep, I always have to tell her to go home when she stays too late.”

It was interesting to say the least. But the worrying thing about it was the fact that she was vulnerable right now, her boyfriend dying just makes things worse. Baekhyun knew what he was doing, taking care of her….comforting her. If what Sehun said was true, this wouldn’t end well.

Two people who would obsess over one another could result in… chaos.

124 notes · View notes

choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

Text

Play or Die (Part 2)

Thank you for your amazing moodboards, Ama @everythinkpop

Author: bvidzsoo

Warning: swearing, violence, light smut

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x female reader

Word count: 19. 247

Summary: When you think things turned for the better–You are very wrong. It seems like the Joker likes you too much…

A/N: Okay, here it is. Don’t ask for a nex part because there won’t be one. This one is very long, I am sorry for that…I hope you enjoy it though! Feedback is much appreciated!

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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Desert Flower (m) Ch. 4 [fin] | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader x Baëkhyun

Characters: EXO and X-EXO (not all of them mentioned)

EXO vs X-EXO dynamics, complicated relationships, angsty, action, smut (as usual)

Warnings: sorta mingling with your ex’s ‘evil twin’, mentions of blood/ violence (nothing too graphic… I suppose), Y/N gets teary a lot(?), explicit content, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~13.5k (full), ~2.1k (Chapter 4)

Summary: Baekhyun, your beloved boyfriend of three years, suddenly breaks up with you and disappears from the city in an attempt to protect you. But leaving you alone and clueless means trouble will surely find you. For it is easy to spot a flower in the desert.

Masterlist >> One >> Two (m) >> Three (m) >> Four (fin)

Author’s Note: Yaaay, the finale is here! ✨ Hope you won’t be disappointed [I know it’ll be something you don’t expect, but the end can also be a beginning, right?] Please let me know what you think, I had fun talking to you about the previous chapters!! And thank you for following this story all the way through. Looove 🖤🖤🖤

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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You Ghost (m) | BBH

Pairing: demon!Baekhyun x human!Reader ft. demon!Kai

Demon AU, soulmate AU (sorta?), horror-ish, angsty, smut

Warnings: gets a bit creepy, mentions of blood/ major character death (brief), some mental torture by Kai™, attempted rape (sexual assault), elements of dubcon

Word Count: ~7.6k

Summary: When it turns out that your apartment has a demonic presence, there isn’t much to do for a genuinely good soul like yours. At the edge of despair, you’re offered a pact to keep you safe by someone you used to know. The question is – can you trust him now? And do you even have a choice?

Author’s note: My lovely readers, it’s really the time of the year that calls for something spooky~ Tbh I don’t really feel much of the Halloween spirit, but I hope to be able to create it for you with this story, so I’m posting it a bit early 😊 Now, the warnings look kinda scary, and this won’t be a super lighthearted fic for sure. But as an official ‘scaredy cat and hopeless romantic’ [along with a tough ass b, when need be lol] I admit that I personally don’t find this quite that dark (maybe because I wrote it? idk). Still, consider the warnings carefully. I hope you enjoy this mess, please make sure to let me know what you think! My asks are always open, and you can always comment and reblog if you want to support me~

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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Girl, I’m Your Catnip (m) | BBH

Pairing: wolf!Baekhyun x caracal!Reader

Hybrid AU, slice of life, some fluff, PWP, smut

Warnings: altered mental state (in a way?), Baek snapped, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, knotting, cross-breeding?

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You’d been pretty stressed at work lately, so your boyfriend decided to bring something special to help you unwind.

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choiminjae0325 · 10 months ago

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Deflowered - Epilogue

Characters: Baekhyun x fem Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

WC: 7k

Tag List: @bbhile @deligxt

A/N: since the people wanted it, here it is :D please let me know what you think, I always love getting everyone's feedback :)

Masterlist

“Afterwards we can go completely back to normal. I promise.”

That, had been a goddamn lie.

After your morning in bed together, you had politely left and gone about your day, still in a slight daze, but not too worried about what would happen next. Sure the sex was great, but you’d had great sex with one night stands before too, you’d be fine.

Right?

The day after, you texted him. Just a meme you thought he would like. No response.

Baekhyun always texted back, even if it was just a laughing emoji. Maybe he still just needed a little while for things to be normal again.

Three days later you started to worry. You texted him again, asking if he was doing alright. Still nothing.

Then a week passed. It had been years since you’d gone that long without seeing him, and now he wouldn’t even text you back.

You felt yourself slowly losing your mind with worry, you wanted to see him, but it was obvious that he didn’t want to see you at the moment. And even worse, you still couldn’t stop thinking about that morning.

From the way he’d moaned in your ear when he had the dream about you, to the way he fucked you until you saw stars, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You’d lay awake at night at the memory of the sounds he made, trying to find relief on your own but never feeling completely satisfied. He was your best friend and you worried about him and your friendship but you couldn't deny how much you still craved his touch too. The way he was acting was torturous.

By the end of the seventh day, you couldn’t help but try to call him. You didn’t call often, so you hoped it would seem urgent enough and he would pick up.

After two rings it went to voicemail. It didn’t go to voicemail right away, so his phone was on. And it didn’t ring long enough for him to have missed it. He saw that you were calling him, and declined the call.

Not sure what else to do, you contacted one of your mutual friends, to see if they knew what was going on with him. It didn’t feel good trying to get information from his friends when he clearly wasn’t interested in talking to you, but he was your best friend and after all he had promised not to let things get in between your friendship.

You met Kyungsoo at a café near your apartment, getting straight to the point once the two of you sat down.

“Do you know what’s going on with Baekhyun?”

Your friend gave you a confused look. “Something’s going on with him?”

“He hasn’t talked to me at all in over a week. He never does that. I’ve tried to text and call, but nothing.”

Kyungsoo was still looking at you, slightly dumbfounded.

“Um, I don’t know about that stuff, I just know he’s been going out more. He’s been to the bars with some guys from his major a couple times this week already.”

Baekhyun rarely went to bars. They usually made him anxious, especially when he didn’t go with you. He always said it was because when you weren’t there, he’d have to try to talk to girls.

You didn’t want your muffin anymore. Your stomach felt like it was trying to come out of your throat.

Had he slept with you, just to immediately ditch you and go fuck a bunch of strangers? Was he not interested in being your friend anymore, now that he could get attention from other women?

No, he wasn’t like that. You’d been best friends for ten years, that couldn’t be right.

But then why?

The look on your face must’ve told Kyungsoo enough.

“Did something happen with you two? Did you get in a fight or something?”

Your stomach was still churning rather uncomfortably. You weren’t sure what exactly you expected coming here, but of course you’d have to tell him if you actually wanted his advice. Saying it out loud was still more difficult than expected. You felt hot and couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact.

“No… we, um...we slept together.”

You didn’t have to look to see his reaction, the small gasp he let out said enough. “How the hell did that happen?! Haven’t you two been friends since you were kids? I always thought he was like a brother to you.”

You weren’t sure if it was your secret to spill, but if this was going to make any sense you had to tell him everything.

“Yeah... He asked me to take his virginity. He said he was scared to lose it to someone he didn’t know and trust, so he wanted it to be me. At first I said no, because I was worried it would ruin our friendship, but the more we talked about it the more I wanted it too, and he promised it would only be one time and then we’d go back to being just friends.” You felt yourself tearing up, words getting quieter and more difficult to get out. “And now he refuses to even text me back.”

Kyungsoo sighed, dipping his head down to catch your eyes. “I haven’t talked to him recently either, but if you want I can ask him what’s going on. If I had to guess though, I’d say he probably realized that he likes you, as more than a friend. He could be freaking out and just doesn’t know what to do or say. You did have sex after all, and he’d never been intimate with someone before.”

The possibility had crossed your mind, but it didn’t really make sense to you why he wouldn’t at least text you back then.

“He literally told me that that wouldn’t happen, or if it did, that he wouldn’t let it affect our friendship.” You mumbled, frustrated with how blatantly he’d lied to you. Even if that wasn’t the reason, he promised you’d stay friends no matter what.

“Can I ask something that might be a bit… personal? You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I guess..?”

“Was it good?”

You swallowed, and nodded. “Really good, way too good. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

You cringed at the fact that you were telling him all of this, but he was your closest mutual friend with Baekhyun, and he was a guy, so he might understand what was going on with him better than you could.

“It was his first time ever having sex, and it was good? Like actually genuinely good, for both of you?”

You slowly nodded again. “I don’t get it either.”

“Well, the two of you have known each other so long, maybe it makes sense, that you know each other so well that it just works somehow. Or maybe there were already some feelings there that you haven’t fully explored?”

At that you shook your head. “At least before everything, I really only saw him as a friend. Of course I’m not blind, I could always see that he’s an attractive guy but it just wasn’t like that. Like you said, we’ve been friends since we were little kids.”

“Well, how do you feel about him now?”

How did you feel? You missed him, but of course you did, he was your best friend. You wanted to see him, so that you could talk, but also because you wanted to touch him again, you wanted to hear him moan for you, you wanted to feel him nestled between your thighs, lips locked as he rocked into you. No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you still wanted it.

Did that mean that you liked him too?

“Let me rephrase that, if you found out that he did go and sleep with some girl he met at a bar, how would it make you feel?”

Right away you felt that pit of dread in your chest. You didn’t like that at all, in fact it absolutely terrified you because he very well could’ve done exactly that.

“I- I wouldn’t like it.” You whispered in embarrassment.

“And why not?”

You laid your head down on the table, groaning because you knew what he was hinting at and you knew he was right.

“I don’t want him to sleep with other people because I want to keep sleeping with him. And only him.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper.

You finally met Kyungsoo’s eyes again and he raised an eyebrow at you. “So you do like him then, as more than a friend.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, and sighed. “Yeah.”

“I think you should talk to him.”

“He won’t talk to me, though.”

“I can go to his place and try to get him to talk, tell him that you need to talk to him and he’s being a dick ignoring you and breaking a promise like that.”

You had a bad feeling, but hopefully it would finally get him to talk to you.

“I won’t tell him how you feel though, that’s a conversation the two of you need to have on your own.”

You nodded, a little disappointed, but he was probably right. The idea of having to confess to him was still too terrifying for you. If he didn’t feel the same way you could very well lose your best friend.

The truth was, you needed him. Every time you would think back on the semester, the first things you would remember were the times he was there for you, when you were at your lowest. When you questioned your own work ethic and academic abilities, because college was so much more difficult than what you were used to. But he was always there to rub your back while you cried and tell you that you’re smart and you’re capable and that you would get through it. And he was right, you’d done much better than you ever expected to. But you know it wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for him.

You hadn’t ventured out and made many new friends since starting college, since you were always busy studying and you knew you had Baekhyun. The few other friends you had, you met through him. If you lost him, you would be all on your own.

Eventually you thanked Kyungsoo for talking to you and offering to talk to Baekhyun, and you parted ways.

That night you stared at your phone, more specifically the messages you had sent to him, to which he still hadn’t replied.

You tried to convince yourself not to, but eventually you gave in and started typing.

You: (11:26pm) Please say something, I'm sorry for whatever it is that’s going on

You: (11:27pm) I miss you, I want my best friend back :(

You put your phone down, turning over to try to sleep.

When you heard it vibrate you snapped up, grabbing it so fast you almost dropped it to see if it was him who had texted you.

Once you read what was on the screen, you groaned.

It was just an automatic text that a package you’d ordered had shipped.

You still felt your heart racing, just from the left over excitement, that maybe he finally said something back. You felt pathetic.

Kyungsoo would talk to him, and then the two of you would be able to figure something out. You had to. At least you hoped.

“Hi Kyungsoo.” Greeted a very disheveled looking Baekhyun, as he opened the door to let his friend inside.

“Hi, how are you doing?” Kyungsoo asked as he stepped inside Baekhyun’s apartment, closing the door behind him.

Baekhyun stared for a second. It wasn’t like Kyungsoo to ask something like that right off the bat.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you’ve been going out a lot, not that that’s a bad thing, but I thought you didn’t like going out that much. You’ve also refused to talk to your best friend for over a week. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” He responded dryly and turned to go sit down in the living room.

Kyungsoo followed, noticing the half empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. It was barely noon.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on with you man? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I told you I’m fine, just leave it alone.”

Kyungsoo sighed, frustrated with how stubborn he was being. “Look, y/n told me what happened between you two, and you can't just keep ignoring-”

“Yes I can. Now if this is what you came here to talk about, you can go.”

The look on Baekhyun’s face was hard and mean. Even Kyungsoo was a bit taken aback seeing his friend in such a state.

“You know you made a promise right? And to your best friend, too. And now you’re breaking it and won’t even explain yourself? Seriously? I thought you were better than that.”

“I can’t believe she would tell you-”

“What the hell was she supposed to do?” Kyungsoo interrupted. “You are her best friend, and you’re refusing to even text her and tell her you’re okay. Hell, you won’t even tell me.”

Baekhyun sighed, one hand covering his face in frustration. “I-I don’t know if I’m okay, I just know that for the sake of both of us, I can’t see her right now.”

“You make no goddamn sense sometimes.” Kyungsoo scoffed, shaking his head. “Just know that we both want you back to normal again, I don’t know what’s up with you but I miss when you were still friends with her. And she really does need to talk to you.”

Kyungsoo patted his friend on the shoulder and got up to leave, but Baekhyun stopped him.

“Did she tell you anything else, how she feels about… everything?”

Kyungsoo shook his head, and Baekhyun’s shoulders fell.

“Just talk to her, okay?”

Baekhyun didn’t respond.

As soon as Kyungsoo was home, he told you how it went.

It hurt, to hear that he didn’t want to talk about it, and that he didn’t want to see you. Of course it was obvious before, but knowing that he said it directly stung far more harshly. As much as it terrified you, you and Kyungsoo agreed, you had to try to go and see him yourself.

You knew his schedule well enough to know when he’d be home. It felt terrible, showing up unannounced when he obviously didn’t want to see you, but he had made a promise and you deserved an explanation.

The drive over felt like the longest 10 minutes of your life, your heart rate gradually increasing and palms growing sweaty as you neared his home. Before getting out of your car to walk to his apartment, you had to pause and give yourself a pep talk.

You could do this. It was going to be okay. He was still your best friend. He had to be.

Part of you still knew that as soon as you’d see him, you’d break down in tears. You’d missed him too much. You were too hurt by how he was acting. There was no need trying to keep it all inside.

You felt the way your hand shook when you knocked on his door.

After a few seconds it opened, and when you were able to see Baekhyun and he was able to see you, he slammed the door in your face.

You didn’t need to feel your face to tell if it was wet, you knew how hard you were crying already.

You knocked again, “Please d-don’t do this.”

You said it loud enough for him to hopefully hear on the other side, if he wasn’t already on the other side of the apartment.

“I’m sorry.” You heard a muffled voice say back through the door.

He wouldn’t open the door for you, but at least he was there.

“You promised me- You promised this wouldn’t happen.” You sobbed, letting loose all of the emotions you had bottled up.

“I-I know. I fucked up.”

Huh?

“But why? Why are you doing this? Why won’t you talk to me?”

You waited for an answer, but he stayed quiet for a good minute before you heard him again.

“Please just go.”

You felt another sob run through you. Damn him for being so stubborn.

“I-I’m not l-leaving.” You croaked out, one fist hitting the door.

“Y/n, please.”

You heard the pain in his voice. You heard how badly he meant it. But you had been hurting for over a week now too, and you weren’t leaving until he let you in.

“I’ll s-stay here all night if I h-have to.”

It was quiet again, only this time he stayed quiet. You wondered if maybe he’d gone into another room to get away from you. You were still going to stay.

You leaned against the door, forehead pressed against the wood as you tried to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Please, I just want my best friend back.” You mumbled softly, wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

It was right before you were about to turn around and sit down that the door swung open, and you were pulled quickly inside and into his arms.

Your breathing ceased for a moment. You couldn’t have stopped the tears if you’d tried.

Now that you were finally there with him, reality seemed to slow down. He held you tighter than he ever had before, but it felt right. You buried your face in his chest, processing the mantra of “I’m sorry”s leaving his pretty lips. The longer you listened, you came to realize that he was also crying.

Now that you were in his arms, you felt the desire too. This wasn’t like when he held you as you cried over an exam grade. You clung onto him just as tightly, not wanting to let him go now that you finally had him again. You felt the attraction that you had for him deep inside, anchored into your heart. He was your person, not just your best friend. You wanted him in every way you could imagine. The way he pulled you in felt magnetic.

Still, there was fear running through you. Yes, he’d finally let you inside, but you still had a lot of questions that needed answers.

You did your best to steady your breathing, and brought your hands up to his chest, pushing him gently off of you.

When you were finally able to look him in the eyes, you felt like your heart was being torn out of your body. Somehow, he looked even more broken than you.

The hoodie and sweats he had on were old and stained. His hair probably hadn’t been touched in days. The dark circles under his eyes were severe, and he smelled of alcohol. What the hell was going on with him?

“W-what… why..?” You mumbled out through your tears. You didn’t know what exactly you were even asking, you just needed to know everything.

“I- I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, y/n.” He said back to you, voice equally as unstable.

“But why?” You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “Why did you ignore me like that? Why have you been going out so much? Why do you smell like alcohol? I-I’m scared.”

He simply looked down at the floor, mumbling yet another “I’m sorry.”

You felt the frustration welling up inside you, until you snapped.

“Stop apologizing and just tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Your tone was sharp, and you immediately regretted it when you saw the hurt on his face.

“I can’t.” He whispered.

The tears were back in full force again. “Why? Do you just not want to be in my life at all anymore? Was it that big of a mistake, that you can’t even look at me? Is that why you’re going out so much? To go sleep with other girls, now that you feel like you can?”

Your voice was too loud, but you were done holding back.

“Y/n, stop.” He said it with conviction, but you were far from done.

“Do ten years of friendship mean nothing to you? Did I mean that little to you? That you used me so easily just to turn around and ditch me like I never meant anything-”

“SHUT UP.”

He yelled at you. For the first time in years, Baekhyun lost his temper and raised his voice at you.

After that, you kept your lips sealed. The tears kept coming, and he looked down at your broken expression.

“You- you have no idea what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, rubbing his temples.

“Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on, please. I’ve never seen you like this. Whatever it is, I promise you can tell me. I’m worried about you.”

You were pleading with him at this point. You could see the stress on his face as clear as day. He didn’t want to have to treat you like this, but he felt like he had no other choice.

“If we’re going to stay friends, I can’t tell you. And I can’t see you for a while.”

You felt your heart drop. None of it made any sense. All you could do was shake your head and keep wiping your tears away.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. It was clear to you that he was avoiding your eyes so that he wouldn’t have to face just how badly he was hurting you, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Baekhyun, look at me.”

His face stayed turned away from you, and you saw his jaw clench and he shook his head slightly.

You were beyond done with the way he was acting. You placed a hand on either side of his face, forcing him to look at you.

“I don’t know what it is that’s going on, but you have to stop trying to run away from it. You made me a promise. I at the very least deserve an explanation.”

“I know, believe me, I really do, but this just isn’t something I can say to you. If I’m going to keep that promise, I need some time.”

You didn’t want it to have to come to this, but you needed to know if he was going to be a part of your life at all anymore. As much as you loved and cared about him, your best friend of over a decade, he couldn’t treat you like this. He couldn’t just cut you off for god knows how long with no explanation. It was too cruel and unfair. It hurt, to the point where you didn’t want him in your life at all if he couldn’t tell you what was happening.

“If you aren’t going to tell me, I don’t think we should be friends at all.” Your voice was shaky again, sobs threatening to take over any second. “I can’t be your best friend if you’re going to keep so much from me. We’ve always told each other everything. You can’t just act like I don’t exist without even explaining why.”

The look on his face was gut wrenching.

“Are… Are you serious?”

You could only bring yourself to nod weakly. “I’m sorry.”

“But-”

You shook your head, cutting him off as you reached for the door. As soon as he realized that you were trying to leave, his eyes were wide as saucers and his hand firmly held your wrist, keeping you from turning the doorknob.

“Please don’t leave.” He quietly begged.

“No. You made me a promise, and now you broke that promise, completely ignored me for over a week, you look a fucking mess, and you refuse to even explain yourself. As far as I can tell you used me and now that you can fuck other girls, you’re done with me. So congratulations. I’m leaving.”

You tried your hardest to sound strong, but the lack of stability in your voice was still all too apparent. Who the hell was he to demand you stay when he was the one who didn’t want to let you in in the first place?

You tried to pry his hand off your wrist so you could leave, but it was no use.

You shot him a dirty look. “Baekhyun, either you let go of me right now, and I walk out that door or you have to tell me why you’re doing this.”

His grip on your wrist only tightened as his eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed and you jumped when he used his other hand to punch the wall in frustration.

“If I tell you you’re still going to leave. And you won’t come back.”

You scoffed and tried to open the door, but he still wouldn’t let you.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone else.”

“Just let go of me. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I’m serious, I didn’t go out to find other people to fuck. I just wanted to be drunk so I wouldn’t have to think about it so much.”

Now he was the one pleading with you. You weren’t exactly sure why he was telling you this, and while it was a relief, that wasn’t what you were worried about anymore.

“Think about what?”

He let out a pained sigh. “I can’t tell you.”

That was your last straw. With your free hand, you gripped the arm that was keeping you from leaving, digging your nails into his skin as hard as you could until he winced and let go. As soon as you were free you turned away from him, walked out the door and slammed it behind you.

You made your way down the hallway of his apartment building, wiping your tears before anyone could happen upon you in such a state.

Your heart stung. The weight of what had just happened came down on you hard. You lost your best friend. It was no use wiping your tears, they would only keep coming.

On the other side of the door, Baekhyun broke down. Strings of curses fell off his lips, and you jumped when you heard him punch the door.

His mind raced, panic setting in as he processed your words to him. If he didn’t stop you, you would be gone. Ten years of friendship, over just like that. He had to tell you, even if it meant making a huge fool of himself. It was the only thing he could do if he wanted a shot at keeping you in his life.

You turned around when you heard his door swing open. You were on the opposite end of the hallway, almost at the elevator. You stopped.

“I love you.” He said.

The three words echoed through the hallway, and then again in your mind.

This was why he was acting so strange? This was his big secret? It didn’t make any sense. Your brain wouldn’t accept it.

You took a few cautious steps back towards his door. “You… What?”

It must’ve been the shocked look on your face. Baekhyun couldn’t keep it together anymore.

“You heard me, d-don’t make me say it again.”

Now you walked faster, until you were standing directly in front of him again, cupping his cheeks to make him look at you. Your thumbs did their best to wipe away the tears, but they kept coming faster than you could keep up with. There was a deep sadness on his pretty features, one that pulled tears out of you as well. You’d never seen the man look so tired and defeated in your life.

“Is that what you were scared to tell me?” You whispered.

He removed your hands from his face, looking away and nodding solemnly.

“I”m so sorry, I was a stupid horny piece of shit a- and I should’ve listened to you, you were right about everything.”

“What?”

You still couldn’t quite believe what he was telling you. If he loved you, why did he cut you out the way he did? How could he be so willing to hurt you like that?

You walked through the doorway until you were both inside his home again and closed the door.

“That- that doesn’t make any sense.” You said, shaking your head.

“What doesn’t make sense?! Have you not been listening? I’m fucking in love with you! You were right! I was a dumb virgin who didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into and now I haven’t stopped thinking about that morning in a whole week and every time I think about you I feel insane because I want you so fucking bad but I know you don’t see me like that and I feel like a such a fucking idiot.”

It finally sunk in. He meant it. He was serious. He really loved you.

A million emotions ran through you, everything from happiness to fear. He loved you. It seemed too sweet to be real. After you had suffered, missing him, yearning for him, even for just a text or call, it felt too good to be true. Your best friend, the silly kid you grew up with and were always so fond of, had grown into this beautiful man who stood in front of you, telling you he was in love with you.

“You- you don’t know that.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t know what I see you as.”

“All you’ll ever see me as is your best friend. I know that, and it’s okay. My stupidity isn’t your problem.”

“You’re wrong. I haven’t stopped thinking about it either.”

“You- what?”

“I can’t stop thinking about that morning either. I don’t know about love, but I know I want you as more than just a friend.”

Your mouth seemed to be moving on autopilot as you spoke, your brain completely disengaged. The words just slipped out, because you knew they were true. Now that you knew how he felt, there was no more reason to hold back.

He stared back at you, lips slightly parted in shock. Before he had a chance to respond you took one more step towards him, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his.

After a few seconds he stumbled back away from you, eyebrows tightly knit and eyes squeezed shut.

“What are you saying, what does this mean?”

You gazed up at him, drinking in his beauty, feeling the happiness bursting in your chest. You ran a hand over his chest, then cupped his face, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I like you, Baekhyun. I didn’t realize it either until we slept together, but I want you, as much more than a friend. When Kyungsoo told me that you’d been going out, and I thought that you might’ve slept with other people, it made me feel sick. I hated it so much, just thinking about the possibility of that made me so angry and uncomfortable, I knew there had to be something there. And now that I’m here with you I’m even more certain.”

Finally, he seemed to get it. The tears had finally stopped, and he looked down at you, still slightly in shock, but after a few seconds he let out a small laugh, a wide smile finally replacing the sadness from earlier.

“You like me… You really actually like me, and not just as a friend?”

You nodded enthusiastically, throwing your arms around his shoulders again, kissing him with all you had, and this time, he eagerly responded. One of his pretty hands cupped your jaw, thumb running across our cheek as the other found the small of your back, pushing you against him as he held you in place.

You pulled away, still slightly confused. “If that was the big secret… Why did you ignore me like that?” That had been the most painful part, you needed to know why.

He let go of you, sighing. “I really never thought that you would like me as anything more than a friend. You seemed so sure of everything that day, it didn’t even seem like a big deal to you, which is okay, but when I realized that I couldn’t stop thinking about you like that it felt terrible. In my mind there was no way you could feel that for me, and I was just a stupid virgin who wouldn’t listen and ended up jeopardizing our friendship because of it. I thought that if I just forced myself to stay away from you for a while, that I would eventually be able to get over it and we could go back to normal again. I didn’t think there was any other way for us to be okay again.”

You looked up into his eyes, cupping his face, seeing the sincerity on his soft features. You pulled him back into you until your lips touched. His hands were back on you too, pulling you close until you were backed into the door.

It felt electric. Your body was buzzing with the intensity of the moment, and you felt his need for you in the perfectly messy and desperate way he kissed you. You were one fire, and you wouldn’t have given up that moment for the world.

His hand moved to your hip, lifting a leg to wrap around his waist, squeezing the soft skin of your thigh.

You felt yourself getting hungrier for him. You needed more.

Eventually you were able to free yourself from his lips, and you rested you forehead against his, looking at the beautiful way his eyelashes fluttered when he would blink, and how pretty and pink his lips were from all the kissing,

“Take me to bed.” You whispered.

Baekhyun grinned. “Whatever you say, my love.”

He lifted you by your thighs and you gladly wrapped them around his waist as he carried you through the apartment, and into his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, and you quickly pulled off your shirt, followed by your shorts. You stretched yourself out before him, now only in your bra and underwear, and you silently thanked yourself for wearing a matching set today.

He stood at the edge of the bed, smiling down at you, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, before moving down to your neck and chest, his hands gently mapping out your body as he drank in the sight of you. You were getting impatient however, and found yourself reaching up to pull at his shirt, signaling for him to take it off. It doesn’t take long for him to oblige, and you smiled in awe at his bare chest above you. Everything about him was so warm and familiar, you felt another burst of elation in your chest. This felt so good, so right, you had no space left in your mind to question your feelings for him at all.

He was staring down at you again, smiling his beautiful blinding smile.

“I can’t believe this is real. You’re so gorgeous.” He said, still running his hands among your body, as he sat down on the bed next to you.

“Aren’t you glad you told me?” You asked, reaching out for him, wanting him to finally lay down with you.

Luckily for you he did as you desired, pulling your knees apart to get comfortable in between them.

“So fucking glad, you have no idea.” He said softly as his body covered yours, lips once again meeting your own.

Your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, and you felt the hardness under his sweats. He moaned into your mouth at the friction, and the sound had you tightening your thighs around him even more, feeling the wetness in your underwear increasing. He was still so new to this, so sensitive, so perfect.

He wedged a hand under your back, trying to unclasp your bra, but he whined when he wasn’t able to get it open. You giggled, reaching to the front where the clasp really was, and undoing it for him. He had leaned back slightly, watching you as you exposed yourself to him. As soon as the bra was gone, one of his hands cupped your chest, massaging the softness before he lowered his head, taking a nipple into his mouth. You moaned, arching your back up into him, urging him on all you could.

When his hand ventured between your legs, he groaned at how wet you felt, even with your underwear in the way.

“I want to try something…” He whispered, looking at you with big eyes. You didn’t say anything back, but you didn’t need to, the desperate look on your face told him enough.

He spent some time on the other breast as well, before kissing down your stomach, until his face was between your legs. He seemed to be admiring the wet spot on your underwear, thumb running over it lightly, making you shiver. The anticipation was killing you.

He kissed you over the fabric, further teasing you, whether he knew it or not. By now you were squirming against him and letting out little whines and sighs.

Finally, you felt him hook his fingers beneath the waistband, pulling them down your legs. When he opened your thighs, repositioning himself, he looked at you, shaking and completely drenched, all because of him.

You gasped at the first touch of his tongue to your clit. He was messy, clumsy with his inexperience, but god did it still feel amazing. He simply made out with your pussy, watching and listening, trying to figure out what made you feel good. Every time your moans would go up in pitch, he would do the same thing, concentrating on what made you cry out. Soon he was running his tongue directly over your clit, and your hands found his hair, holding him in place.

“God- yes… Just like that.” You encouraged him, feeling the tightness forming in your belly. If he kept it up, you were going to cum.

“Please don’t stop.” You begged, and he hummed in agreement, only speeding up his pace, lapping at your sensitive bud like his life depended on it.

It was heavenly, the feeling of his mouth between your legs. You soon let go, feeling the endorphins flooding you from head to toe as he pulled you through your orgasm, twitching until you had to push him off of you due to sensitivity.

He moved back over you, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Good?” He asked you.

You nodded and threw your arms around his neck to bring him in to kiss you. You could taste yourself ever so slightly in his mouth, but you didn’t care.

The fabric of his sweats was becoming more and more of a nuisance, and you soon found yourself roughly trying to shove the fabric down. You wanted to feel him inside you again.

He rolled onto his back to take them off along with his underwear, and this time you swung a leg over his waist, straddling him.

You planted your hands on his smooth chest, rolling your hips against his cock, covering him in your juices as you got yourself off. Baekhyun looked like he was already about to burst himself, eyes squeezed shut, biting his bottom lip. You didn’t have the patience to tease him any further so you lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance before sinking down on him in one smooth motion.

A lewd moan fell off your lips as he filled you. You watched, when you sank down on him, how his head fell back on the bed and a string of incomprehensible curses left his mouth. You slowly started moving, grinding yourself against him slowly.

By now he wasn’t holding back his moans anymore, and you loved how loud he got for you, whimpering and whining beautifully with every roll of your hips. He surprised you when he sat up, arms wrapping around you as he started moving you above him, as he rolled himself into you from below. It was a two person effort, your movements coming together perfectly, almost as if you were dancing. He was hitting you just right from this angle, and you couldn’t keep yourself from crying out anymore either, the pleasure was too intense.

His lips found yours again and it was all tongue and teeth as you groaned into each other's mouths, consumed by the feeling of him inside you. You felt how he shook as you held onto him, and you knew he was close. You sped up your movements and in turn so did he, until his arms held you down firmly. He thrust into you a couple more times, harder, but slower, as he emptied himself inside you, whispering a string of “I love you”s into your ear as the feeling of euphoria overtook him.

You stayed on his lap, clutching onto him for consistency as you caught your breath, feeling him softening inside you. Before you could move, his hand was at your jaw, bringing your eyes to meet his.

“I love you, and I want you to be mine. Do you want me?” He still looked uncertain, but you knew your answer immediately, quickly nodding.

“Then, can you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.” And you kissed him once more, feeling the love for the man between your legs bubbling up inside you.

Your best friend, your lover, your Baekhyun. He was yours.

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