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star2fishmeg · 4 months ago

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ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ

[25.3k] Pairing | Quinn Hughes x afab!reader Summary | summer houses and situationships. For three years straight everyone had to watch Quinn and y/n be more than friends but less than a couple until the curse of the lake house stirs the pot Warnings | 18+ smut, childhood friends to situationship to lovers, swearing, the Tkachuks-, underage drinking, insecurities (appearance, self-esteem), dry humping, protected p in v, suggested blowjob, jealousy, angst, making out, creepy behaviour towards y/n, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl), fingering, fluff Authors Note | my canucks pint glass arrived and i really put my whole megussy into this. Based on this after hours! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ♫ objects in the mirror - mac miller [small worlds masterlist]

The Hughes lake house had some sort of curse to it. One that turned hot summer days, even hotter and changed the trajectory of relationships. Quinn and y/n could go through the school term smoothly, balancing homework, hockey and hanging out without stress, distracted by their friend groups until the summer. But one foot on the lake house driveway and the atmosphere would shift. Hormones would surge, and suddenly, all that mattered was who liked who, how good they looked and if they were missing out on core experiences. Something about that lake house confining them just stirred the pot too well.

Y/n L/n had lived next to Quinn Hughes since she was a child in a quiet neighbourhood in the suburbs of Toronto, where surviving winters became second nature, where watching hockey became second nature due to her father’s unhinged passion for the sport that flowed through the genes. Her mother never really understood it, but her children did, resulting in the winter’s plans revolving around the hockey schedule, but bumping into Ellen Hughes next door, she came around.

Ten-year-old y/n sat on her front porch step, huddled in her thick coat and hat while the cold bit her nose frozen. It had finally stopped snowing, the one day in January when it hadn’t snowed once, not that they needed any more, the houses constantly blanketed in white, driveways and roads shovelled and gritted clear every morning. She could’ve been building a snowman with her little brother and dad, watching TV with her mum in the warmth of the living room, or even sledging with her friends as she had originally planned. However, instead, she sat stiff, but happily, on the step and watched the Hughes boys play hockey on the road with their two beaten-up goals, sticks and a plastic ball (it used to be a puck but since Jack sent it straight into her dad’s car door last year, Jim sent the terrified boy over to apologise and told them to use hollow plastic balls while on the road). She smiled brightly the whole time, listening to the ball rattle and skid along the concrete, and Quinn scolded Jack for being too rough on Luke, who had no choice but to be the goalie, being the youngest of the three. Fortunately, she’d never had to have that experience, but Luke’s lip wobbling and Quinn pulling him into a hug was like looking into a mirror, reminding her that she had a six-year-old brother to take care of.

She’d been too focused on watching her brother fuss around with her dad, both attempting to roll the snow into their snowman’s head to notice the first time Quinn approached her. His boots crunched into the grit along the path, two hockey sticks in his hockey-glove-clad hands and stopped a small distance opposite her sitting figure. She looked up at him, almost startled that he’d approached her after ten years of being neighbours, his chubby cheeks flushed pink and tufts of brown hair sticking out from under his Maple Leafs beanie. Many days, she’d watched him from afar, out the window or school, observing his comforting demeanour in nothing but adoration like a little puppy; whatever Quinn was up to, her curiosity was piqued. Now he’d seen her physical being and why her heart raced was confusing and nothing she’d felt before.

“Would you like to join us?” he asked politely, holding one of the sticks out. That’s what he was, the quiet and polite brother, she’d noticed that at the neighbourhood barbecues at least, compared to Jack, who, while Quinn softly offered her participation with heaven in his eyes, yelled at the top of his lungs for Quinn to hurry up. The middle child, the loudest child, but the one with the biggest smile and brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“Uh,” she pursed, “yeah, but I don’t know how to play.” She lied, of course; she knew how to play, but the boys were so much better than she was and looking stupid wasn’t part of her ego; she was the eldest daughter, and failure wasn’t an option.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.” he giggled and let her take the stick, patiently waiting for her to follow him. Stick in hand, she followed, gaze never leaving his face.

“I don’t have any gloves either.”

Quinn halted, spinning on his heel and tucking his stick under his arm. He took her free hand, gently pulled it towards him, and un-velcroed his glove, “Use mine, it’s better your hands protected from Jack.” He repeated for her other hand, flashing a smile before heading to his brothers.

“Y/n’s playing?” Jack piped up, she nodded, “Cool! Now we have a goalie so Luke can play!”

Quinn scowled at him, “No, we have even teams. Y/n’s the oldest so she can choose her teammate.” He wasn’t wrong, she was just about older than Quinn, not by much.

“I pick Quinn. He’s gonna teach me how to play though.” The choice wasn’t much of a surprise to Jack, he may have been nine but the moment his brother stopped their game - a rare occurrence - and laid eyes on her, he figured that Quinn’s priorities had shifted and all of a sudden their trio would develop to a quartet.

Jack let out an elongated whine, “She doesn’t know how to play? Quiiiiinn!!”

“So? We didn’t at one point.” Quinn asserted in his stern tone. That was the last complaint Jack made. He watched his older brother teach her visually with patience; hand positioning on the stick, stance how low she needed to be, how to shoot and manoeuvre the ball, praising her passing to him. Luke and Jack watched quietly, the latter not too convinced she was a beginner at what he was watching but Quinn had never smiled that softly before, not even with Luke, and never had that level of patience with them. Seeing how encouraging Quinn was being, either way, Jack knew exactly what kind of hockey player he wanted to be.

Five years later Toronto still wrapped itself in its white blanket, pinching civilians with its cold hands and being a safety hazard to the roads for no real reason. Y/n had grown to hate it, not because she didn’t think it was beautiful, but because she missed the months when she didn’t have to spend five minutes just layering up before she could leave the house. What she didn’t hate was watching her brother be forced into shovelling the driveway. Her father and Jim seemed to have formed this alliance involving the youngest doing manual labour before school, and let Quinn, Jack and y/n watch and sit smug. Jack said it was because they skipped hockey practice to go to the arcade, which although no one would say aloud, she knew that it was her brother’s idea, that’s just eleven-year-old boys. She and Quinn neither confirmed nor denied the story, even if they had known about it the whole time, Quinn even heard them talking about it and y/n caught them at the arcade on their hands and knees scavenging for coins.

What had changed in those five years was life itself. Fifteen years old, the age when classmates' growth spurts became the bane of every parent’s existence, boy’s voices dropped and cracked and when everyone suddenly cared about everything about anyone. What they were wearing, how big their chests had grown, if it was normal for tummies to fold when they sat down, who was dating who, where the term ‘slut’ was thrown around casually, who was hot and who was not, what was cool and what was cringe - the whole ordeal that tore teenagers up inside.

Y/n hadn’t cared too much for what she wore, or how she looked until a couple of girls at school pointed out that wearing graphic t-shirts and cargo trousers made her a boy (which was absolute bullshit, but one person’s insecurities become someone else’s in adolescence), and that having a few spots on her skin meant she was ugly. And if it wasn’t girls tearing each other to shreds over minor things such as that, then it was the boys in constant competition with one another to be ‘the alpha male’, as Quinn described to her. The other thing about the situation was that someone had projected the idea that boys and girls simply can’t be just friends. And if by chance the two groups were, the belief was that one of them was secretly in love with the other, or they were using them to get to their friend or learn how to impress. Fifteen-year-olds really couldn’t decide if they wanted to kiss or kill each other on-site. Y/n knew what she wanted, but wasn’t sure if she was allowed to want it. Her friends asked her regularly; ‘do you prefer Jack or Quinn? Who’s cuter?’, to which she never replied, at least twice a month.

Bang. Swipe. Bang. Swipe. Bang. Y/n and Jack shot pucks into the net consecutively like clockwork. With Luke and her brother at practice (this time) and Quinn out with friends, she and Jack were left to entertain each other. Usually, the eldest Hughes would’ve been the one shooting pucks with Jack, but the more y/n joined him, the more Jack preferred rallying with her.

Jack took a firm shot, the puck darting but bouncing off the crossbar, thumping into the fence, and chipping the wood, “Oh come on! We had such a good thing goin’!”

She only giggled and watched him gather pucks to start rapid firing to make up for it. His eyes shined, a fire burning in them as he went on. She knew the girls fawned over him, worshipped him like some prince despite never speaking to him. She knew they thought he was pretty, she knew he was pretty with a charming smile and that Jack used to navigate his way around school. But on the ice that didn’t matter. At home that didn’t matter. Those girls would never know Jack, they’d never know that the moment something's wrong he’d run to Quinn, never know that he’d do anything for Luke and most importantly they’d never know that he and y/n spent more time together than either of them let on.

“Are girls and guys your age allowed to be friends?” she blurted out, staring blankly at him. Jack lowered his stick and turned to face her.

“What?,” he said, dumbfounded at such a random question to ask on a Saturday afternoon, “Why wouldn’t they? Someone say somethin’ to you? Someone makin’ fun of you and Quinn? Did Quinn say anything?”

He may be a little brother, but he was also, someone’s older brother. The way his boyish smile dropped and jaw tensed, the grip on his hockey stick tightened, how could anyone not think Jack Hughes was cute?

“No, no- Quinn’s fine! Just that kids my age say that they can’t. That one of them always likes the other. But hearing what you said makes me realise it’s just dumb.”

“Well, you’re a girl, I’m a guy and we’re friends, right?” his body relaxed, and he turned to shoot pucks again. Hockey mind, hockey heart. Y/n watched him momentarily before rejoining him, sweeping a puck from the pile between them and whacking it at the net. “You and Quinn are friends too, right?”

As she lined up her stick to take another shot, she paused, her mind draining, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she took the shot, Jack following with a toothy grin, “Rowdy, do you think your girl friends are pretty?”

She’d thought about it regularly if it was acceptable to believe your friends were attractive or if you had to believe they weren’t. It was hard to deny that Hughes had strong genes, Ellen was beautiful after all. Luke still had the cuteness of youth, barely grown into his features, Jack owned the blue eyes and pretty smile of a prince but Quinn? The dark curls and quiet nature was his forte.

“Some,” he shrugged, “Quinn thinks you’re pretty. He likes your t-shirts and laugh.”

Y/n froze and looked at him bug-eyed. He snitched on Quinn so casually, like the weight of his words wouldn’t unleash butterflies into her stomach. At the same time, she tried to process the information, she couldn’t help but be curious to know what kind of conversation went down for Quinn to admit that.

“My friend, Trevor, thinks you’re pretty too, but I think he just likes your boobs. Oh, one of Quinny’s friends said he’d take you, whatever that means, but Quinn literally yelled at him. I have never seen him so close to hitting a guy.”

Trust Jack to spill all his friend’s and brother’s secrets, she’d expected nothing less from him. Quinn getting so riled up over a comment wasn’t on her bingo card, he wasn’t the kind of guy to react aggressively let alone hit someone, he rarely fought in hockey let alone outside of it. The other two comments didn’t mean half as much as Quinn’s, teenage boys were immature and violently horny, but processing what Quinn’s friend had - allegedly - said did bring a nauseating feeling in her stomach, but she didn’t think any of his friends would ever say anything like that out loud ever again, not while Quinn was around at least.

Thirty minutes. Quinn had gotten home from practice thirty minutes ago and her phone hadn’t flashed once. Thirty minutes of constant checking for his name on her screen, although nothing new. He always texted her after practice, letting her know he’d be home if she needed anything, but this evening he hadn’t. If it were anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye, but she watched their car pull up on their drive, she watched Jack barrel out but hadn’t seen Quinn. While she waited, she completed her homework, milked Vine dry, and scrolled Instagram and YouTube wasn’t hitting. Y/n sighed, tossing her phone onto her bedsheets, grabbed her plaid pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and concluded a shower should ease her mind.

It didn’t. She dropped him a text but to no surprise, it sat unread. Her stomach stirred, her gut feeling wailing sirens and adrenaline swirling through her body. Looking at the time, 19:48, and weighing out the decision that he was only next door, y/n slipped a hoodie over her head, threw her trainers on and crept out the front door to the Hughes. If he wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him, prepared for whatever mood or situation he was in.

She knocked gently twice, knowing she wouldn’t be waiting long since Jim was a prompt door-answerer. Even so, the breeze was nippy, her hoodie not doing much to hold her warm in the evening chill. The lock jolted from the other side, but Jim didn’t stand before her this time, it was Jack, who couldn’t have made it more obvious that his nerves struck him by his wide eyes and faltering jaw as if he were trying to get the words out.

“Is Quinn home?”

Jack, stepped back hesitantly, letting her shuffle past him and into the hallway, “Uh, yeah but he’s pissed. Like, really pissed. Mum’s already tried to talk to him but…just be careful, remember that anything he says when mad, he doesn’t really mean.”

She nodded, heart hammering in her chest as she carefully made her way up the stairs, tiptoeing around loose hockey gloves. The wall was covered in family photos and awards, y/n always noticed the photograph of all three boys standing outside last autumn, Quinn wearing the grey hoodie that was glued to him, Jack in full burgundy (hat and coat too) and Luke in a Michigan University fleece that looked a little big on him, all refusing to smile. The landing upstairs was fairly simple, the stairs being in the corner, and the corridor being a long strip. Luke’s room at the front of the house facing out into the street, Jack’s on the left side opposite Quinn’s, whose was on the right next to the stairs and Jim and Ellen’s at the back, facing into the garden. Considering they were neighbours, her house layout differed entirely, but after many years of running in and out, she memorised the rooms.

Standing outside his door, she knocked softly and waited for approval. She knocked again but also received no answer. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, she turned the handle and poked her head through the crack. He’d heard the door click, stuffing his navy sheets into his face as she padded in quietly, closing the door behind her. The pounding of her heart stayed, her palms becoming clammy seeing the state of his room. It was never tidy, but the laundry hamper being kicked over was new. His collection of hockey sticks that he was adamant to keep upright had toppled to the floor and going by the skewed photo frame on his wall indicated that he’d slammed the door harder than he meant to. Sending his sulking figure a glance, she repositioned the photo. One where the two of them sat in her living room, huddled together wearing - Quinn’s - Maple Leafs jerseys while watching the game.

“Fuck off, Jack,” his voice barely audible, “If you’re here to chirp, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Quinn felt the mattress dip beside him, “Not gonna chirp you, Q.”

He shot up, the duvet whipping towards her to uncover a dishevelled Quinn, hair tousled and t-shirt crumpled from hiding under his covers for so long, “y/n? Shit, sorry. Are you okay?”

Whatever sour mood that intoxicated him washed away and was replaced with concern strangling him. His eyes widened, he’d completely ghosted her, too wrapped up in his self-wallowing, stomach dropping at how close he was to taking his frustration out on her too. He ran his hands over his face, the giggle she let out soothing his mood like a warm embrace.

“I’m good. But a little bird told me you’re not,” taking his hands into her own, she pulled them into his lap, “You wanna talk about it?”

His gaze softened, shoulders slumping but heat rising in his neck as he kept their hands in his lap. She was so cold, although not far, she still came to him in thin pyjamas while the cold raged in a bitter attitude. Her thumb circled over his knuckles, attempting to calm him but instead of his heart finding a slow rhythm, it thundered in his chest unbearably.

He shrugged, “Not much to say,” his jaw opened, fumbling to get the words out, “I don’t know, practice just went to shit. Felt like I could’ve done more, got screamed at by coach, alone, I was sloppy…but don’t pep-talk me, mum’s given me like, five.”

Y/n watched the light in his eyes fade, his voice becoming raspy the more he spoke about just a bad day. But a bad day was never a bad day with Quinn, it was the weight of the world crushing his shoulders as the oldest, and prodigy. If he slipped up once, it meant he would keep slipping up and let everyone down, let himself down until nobody believed in him anymore. She got it. She empathised, one of the only people in his life who could read his mind, dig into the crevices of his anxieties and ease them with just her existence alone. The more their skins held contact, the more fuzzy he felt inside, like a thousand flowers blooming in his chest at once.

“Wasn’t gonna. C’mere,” she held her arms out, letting him melt into her for a much-needed hug. Much needed indeed, Quinn’s arms hugged her waist tightly, burying his nose into the hollow of her neck while her fingers carefully threaded through his thick hair. Every insecurity that ate him up flushed away like the world had frozen and it was just the two of them, on his bed, wrapped up in each other with a confusing lightheadedness between them. Feeling his face nuzzle into her shoulder, her lips twitched into a smile and planted a chaste kiss on his hair. She realised she had done that seconds afterwards, as if she’d done it on autopilot but it was something she’d seen her parents do when seeking comfort, and she’d watched it on TV shows. Nerves choked her, hoping Quinn wouldn’t find it weird and shove her away, yelling all sorts of horrible things and never wanting to see her again. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled their bodies backwards into his mattress.

Unwrapping her arms from his shoulders, she propped herself up, hands either side of his head while his hands sat loosely on her waist. His throat dried and he gulped, y/n’s nose ghosting his, eyes meeting before darting away to each other's lips, only to scan features. Her ears burned, the butterflies in her stomach storming and in that moment she accepted that she did and could find Quinn Hughes attractive. His hands on her body, his captivating eyes, the brown curls, the mole on his right cheek, plump lips slightly parted. The way his awful mood was sidelined when he knew it was her in his bedroom. All in her grip, right in front of her.

“Come back,” he mumbled, arms snaking around her waist firmly. Y/n nodded, licking her lips with adrenaline surging through her veins. Did kisses mean anything? What did it feel like to taste another person? How did kisses work? There was only one way to find out, and she had the opportunity clawing for her, “Stay.”

She lowered herself onto her elbows and tucked herself into his chest, her ear pressed against his pectoral, listening to his nerves pulse rapidly and laid her hand flat on his chest. They shimmied around, untucking the duvet from their bodies and pulling it over themselves. Quinn’s hand slipped into her pocket, sliding her phone out and placing it on his nightstand. She should’ve told her parents where she was, but with enough faith Ellen or Jack would say something. That was the last thing on her mind, the biggest crisis that set all alarms off inside her head was that she was cuddling a boy for the first time. She was sharing a bed with a boy. And she liked it. Perhaps more than she should have, this was her childhood best friend, a boy she’d grown up with, and although properly known for five years, had spent almost every day with him.

Quinn’s eyes fluttered closed, a small smile creeping onto his lips yet he could never describe the mayhem that stormed in his stomach. He almost kissed his first and best female friend. In his bed. Alone. Where no one would know about it. He wasn’t ready to try and forget about it yet, move on and hope she wouldn’t think he was using her or thinking she was easy. His friends had said he was lucky to have a girl friend because it meant he could get whatever he wanted, not that he agreed with that stance. He held her close and firm, relishing in the company of another while it lasted, and before his parents would give him an earful about it.

Valentine’s Day was far too meaningful for teenagers, at least in y/n’s mind. You’re essentially celebrating a relationship that’s likely to end by the end of high school but acting like it’s the live-all and end-all. Or maybe she just didn’t understand the feeling or concept. No one had ever asked her out or asked her to be their Valentine before. She watched a couple of her friends go through it, one being over-the-top romantic with a bouquet, card and gift and the other being underwhelming, being nothing but a few words and a box of chocolates hand-me-down. He could have at least bought the chocolate himself instead of using one another girl gave him.

With the final bell ringing a few minutes ago, the hallway was finally empty, only y/n and a few other students left at their lockers. She had time, her dad wouldn’t arrive for another seven minutes to pick her up since the Hughes boys left pronto for practice. She fished through her locker, checking for any love letters that could have been posted through the vents but to no surprise, nothing out of the ordinary. Did Quinn receive anything? Did other girls like his brooding demeanour like her? Did he accept any confessions? That hit her in the gut, hard. He wasn’t hers but why did thinking about sharing him make her blood boil so much? Exhaling sharply, she slammed her locker shut, only to come face to face with a guy who resembled Quinn, but instead of blue eyes his were brown, and his bone structure had chiselled out faster. He leaned against the lockers, arms folded and flashed her a smile. She thought she recognised him, he played on the same team as Quinn and Jack. His name wasn’t important (she couldn’t remember), but she’d be lying if she said he wasn’t attractive.

“Hey y/n,” she smiled at him, “So uh, this ain’t easy but you’re hard to catch alone.”

“Can I help…you?” she bit her lip, the pit of her stomach becoming tight and tingly with his eyes never leaving hers.

“Just wondering if you’d wanna grab smoothies this weekend…like a date?” he didn’t speak softly like Quinn, he was loud and almost expectant. She wondered if he would pay, or if she had to. Quinn always paid, and always knew her order too. Even if she didn’t ask him to, he’d do it. Snapping back to the situation at hand, her breath hitched. She needed to stop thinking about Quinn. He wasn’t Quinn and the latter had nothing to do with him. Perhaps agreeing would get him out of her head.

“Uh, sure but-” before she could finish, two of his friends burst out from around the corner, high-fiving and laughing like deranged hyenas. The guy in front of her also started laughing, looking down at her with a condescending glint in his stupid eyes.

“YO! That’s twenty bucks!” his friend yelled to the other, slapping his hand out, “Told you he’d do it!”

“Shut the fuck up, you got lucky! He caught her when Quinn wasn’t around.” The other grumbled, dropping the cash into his hand.

The guy at her locker laughed, “As if anyone would ask you out, be real, y/n.” And all three left, karma soon hitting them at realising hockey practice started ten minutes ago. Y/n stood frozen, emotions swirling and nausea she could only describe as a whirlpool of humiliation and stupidity. She should’ve listened to her gut when it raised red flags.

As if anyone would ask you out, y/n.

He caught her when Quinn wasn’t around.

All she wanted was Quinn now, to run and squeeze him, but instead, she had a quiet car ride home with her dad to get to.

Quinn pulled his gear off aggressively, chucking his helmet into his stall, almost shoving the gear into his bag, disregarding how expensive the lot of it was. It was one of those days where he wished he could leave his stuff at the rink. He spoke to no one and no one dared talk to him, not even Jack, who’d warned his friends to lay off the chirping. When he’d overheard his teammates proudly laughing about what they’d done to y/n in the hall, his offensive-defensive playstyle switched to straight-up bloodlust with poison in his eyes. Now even in the locker room, his jaw clenched harshly and the other boys swore they could feel the rage radiate off his body.

“Yooo, Hughes,” Locker Guy mused casually, a shit-eating grin smeared across his face, “why so worked up? S’just a game.”

Everyone eyed each other, although he was referencing hockey, Quinn was not in a hockey mood. He approached Quinn, throwing his arm around his shoulder while he packed the last of his stuff away.

“Silent treatment? Damn, didn’t know it meant that-”

Before he could finish, Quinn swung, right-hooking his cheek. Locker Guy stumbled back, cupping his cheek with wide eyes. He was stunned, the room was. Not even Jack had seen him hit a guy before, and Quinn didn’t think he would until then, but the adrenaline and aggravation just got the better of him and he’d seek revenge in any way if it would be for y/n.

“Take the twenty and shove it up your ass,” he slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his stick, “y/n’s not just a game.” And he stormed out. Jack bid goodbye to his friends, sloppily grabbing his bag and stick before stumbling out after Quinn.

When arriving home shortly after, Quinn dumped his bag in the hallway, ignoring Ellen’s voice calling for him, Jack did a good job at covering for him. He burst into his room, rummaging around his desk for a post-it note, scribbling his mind on it. Pulling a small box from his school bag, he stuck the note onto it and rushed out of his house as fast as he’d rushed in.

He rang the doorbell and pounded on the door but to no avail. Her parent’s cars were absent but he knew too well that she had nowhere to be on a Tuesday evening. Groaning, he jogged to the side gate, rattling the handle and pushing it open, listening to it creak and click behind him. He didn’t bother sneaking around, the security light bright enough to illuminate the entire garden for anyone to try. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he would’ve taken more time to appreciate her mother’s handiwork: flowerbeds of pansies waiting for their time lining the fences, he remembered planting a few before the snow season. Quinn reached the back porch steps, walking up with a light foot and trying the back door. Locked. Of course. Spinning on his heel, he swore under his breath, completely jumping down the three steps and taking a short right to find the trellis on the wall.

“Mrs. l/n, I sincerely apologise for this, once again,” he mumbled, taking the box between his teeth and carefully placing his hands and foot on the wood, hoping that he hadn’t crushed any of the flowers weaved through. He slowly climbed until the porch roof came to his level. Thanking the heavens that the pitch was low, he used all his upper body strength to hoist himself on, ensuring his footing was secure, taking the box from his mouth and creeping up to her bedroom window.

Y/n sat on her bed, cosied up in her pyjamas and laptop playing YouTube, anything that would redeem the afternoon she’d had, but nothing could prevent the tears from spilling out her eyes when the memory of it flushed over again. Her parents had gone out, and her brother went to his friend’s for dinner so she lucked out on being left alone for the evening, she didn’t feel like discussing how her day went. The quiet car ride home was enough, even though her dad knew something was wrong.

The screen on her phone flashed, and she would’ve ignored it if it hadn’t flashed a second time immediately after.

Qutie At window pls open It’s cold

“The fuck?” she whispered, drawing her blind and sliding the window up, watching Quinn clamber his way into her room. She hastily wiped her eyes, “Q, you could’ve just knocked?”

He straightened out his clothes, closing her window, “I did. And tried the back. And here I am.”

“Oh…sorry,” she bit her cheek, “Q, I’ve had a bad day, I’m not really-”

“-I know. I know what happened, and he won’t think about it again,” he paused, peering down at the box in his hands, “actually he won’t talk to you again.”

“What did you do?” she asked, stepping closer with her arms folded, the sun breaking through her grey clouds after the storm.

“It doesn’t matter,” with a gentle smile and rosy cheeks, he held the box of chocolates out to her. Her gaze jumped from him to the gift in her hands and scanned the note stuck on top, the words written in red with little heart doodles. Her lips twitched upwards unstoppably and the blossoming warmth spread through her body and soul again.

Will you be my Valentine? - Q

“Sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier, I got swept up. I saw you looking at these the other day, it’s not much but I wanted to-” his speech was interrupted when she threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his torso tight and muffled ‘thank you’s just audible.

Holding her close, he grinned, “-Anytime.”

That summer was the first year Quinn took y/n to the lake house in Michigan. If Jack was allowed to bring his friends, he refused to endure that alone, like Luke had to. Luke begged her brother to be his plus one, but he’d been swept up by his friends too soon. That was also the first time y/n met Cole and Trevor, the two Jack constantly talked about. They didn’t go to the same school as them, he’d met them through hockey camps and they didn’t sound too bad. Quinn always warned about Trevor, something about being a yapper but worse.

Coming face to face with the lake house, y/n hadn’t expected it to be as large as it was, she didn’t really know what to expect when Jim described it as having a games room in the basement that had access to the garden, a first floor that had a beautiful view of the lake from the porch and a second floor with five bedrooms. Yet there she was, standing on the driveway admiring the blue and white home as she’d never seen a structure that big before while Quinn, Ellen and Jim unloaded the car.

“Y/n!” Jack called. She turned towards his voice to be met with two other boys, “This is Trevor,” he gestured to the taller one with tanned skin, “and that’s Cole.” The shorter one.

“Ah, Trevor, the one who likes my boobs,” she recalled, raising her eyebrow at Trevor, who elbowed Jack in the ribs, muttering a ‘dude!’. Cole chuckled at the embarrassment creeping on Trevor’s face, “s’chill. Not the worst thing I’ve heard but definitely something best kept unsaid.”

She may have been okay with it, but a certain brother listening in was far from okay with it, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the suitcases and his brows knitted deep on his forehead.

She tossed and turned, frustrated that her eyes refused to stay closed. Every time, she’d fallen asleep, the thunder outside clapped and jolted her awake again. If it wasn’t the weather hammering down keeping her awake, it was Trevor’s snoring from the bed. Herself, Trevor and Cole ended up sharing the spare room, the boys in the double bed and y/n opting to take the mattress on the floor (she refused to lay next to either of the boys, even if that meant sacrificing the space).

As she lay facing the ceiling, she weighed out her options. She either stay there and have the thunder throw her into a wall and have Trevor’s snoring rattle through her bones or find somewhere else to sleep. The living room was one option, but Jim was an early riser and she didn’t enjoy the idea of being woken up by plates and pans crashing around. Then there were the boys’ rooms. Luke also snored, she knew that first-hand from the journey to the lake house, kid snored like a champ the whole time. Jack wiggled too much, a true duvet twister, waking up with pyjama bottoms to pantaloons. And Quinn, well she knew he was perfect, warm and an incredible cuddler. It wasn’t a hard decision.

She poked her head out the door, peeking left and right. The spare room was on the right-hand side, next to the staircase, while Quinn’s sat at the back left corner. Slipping through the gap, she shut the door silently behind her and tiptoed down the hall to Quinn’s room.

His room looked identical to his Toronto room, blue-grey walls, dark oak furniture and navy sheets, but less hockey. Quinn was a peaceful sleeper, never appeared irritated but his hair was always messy somehow. Y/n slipped under the sheets with him, rolling onto her side to face him. He stirred, snuggling into his pillow and his eyes fanned open. His eyelashes were longer and thicker than she thought, why did boys get that gift but not girls?

“Hi,” she whispered, sleepy gazes locking.

“Hi,” he rasped, voice deeper than usual from being riddled with sleep, “can’t sleep?”

She shook her head slightly. Quinn smiled, opening his arms, rolling onto his back and letting her slot herself into him like a puzzle piece, her head on his chest. She listened to his heart, the rhythm syncing with hers as it lulled her to sleep, Quinn’s arms loosely around her, but enough to confirm that he had her and was still there while the weather screamed and cried outside.

At sixteen, y/n obtained her first boyfriend, Leo, which surprised her and her friends. Not because they didn’t think she didn’t deserve him, but because he was the complete opposite of Quinn and because he wasn’t Quinn. Blond hair, green eyes, chatty and outgoing, always referred to her as ‘princess’ and could be a likeable guy. Except her friends never asked if he would like to hang with them. They never asked if he’d like to sit with them at lunch. Rarely had interest in him and he had no interest in them. They tried to talk to y/n, but her head was too far on cloud nine to hear them. Of course, she took it to heart. They loved Quinn, so why couldn’t they love Leo the same?

The Hughes boys clarified their view on her relationship from the start. Not because they were haters or didn’t like seeing their friend happy, but because Quinn’s glares burned holes. Jack and Luke simply hated him because he spoke shit about hockey, almost on purpose the moment he found out the four of them were close, and because he seemed to irritate their big brother. Quinn refrained from gagging every time he saw the couple together at school, a pang in his chest stabbing him always. But she was happy, and that’s the part that stung the most.

Her brother ignored him on the rare occasion he came over. He was a huge Quinn guy, and having anyone but him in his house felt wrong. Like a parasite invasion trying to take his sister away, he wouldn’t let her ride home with the boys in his thirteen-year-old mind, Leo always insisted they hung out after school. The first time Leo came over for dinner, her brother ensured he displayed all the photographs of the Hughes family and his family together, especially the ones of y/n and Quinn. On another occasion he watched a movie with them, just to be annoying. Leo had tried to get y/n alone in the kitchen, hands on her hips and drawing her close, speaking sweet nothings into her lips and finding the panic in her face adorable. Their lips almost connecting, skin burning like wildfire until three, rubber pucks slammed into the targets that hung on the net in the garden, her brother standing proudly with his hockey stick in hand and side-eyeing the kitchen window, giving y/n time to catch her breath and gather her mind before the blond in front of her swore loudly.

What was everyone’s problem? Why wouldn’t they be happy for her? She was in love, a guy loved her for the first time in her life and she wasn’t even allowed to have that. Well, at least Quinn would be happy, and maybe she could convince him at least to let him join the lake house. Or she hoped.

Quinn gathered the pucks out the back of the net, collecting them into a pile, the wrinkles between his eyebrows prominent. Y/n stood to the side, hands in her hoodie pocket, presenting her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“No,” he said, shooting a puck into the net.

“Oh come on, Q!”, she whined, “It’s a chance to get to know him, he’s a good guy. Please, for meee?”

He stood straight, turning to face her, “Y/n, I love you and I’d do anything for you, but the answer is still no. There isn’t enough space and it’s my lake house, my summer too.” He hoped she’d give up and drop the subject. The idea of y/n and Leo sharing a bed soiled his mood as it was, he didn’t want the thoughts to develop further into what else they could do. If Leo joined, he’d be alone, he wouldn’t wake up with her at least once, she wouldn’t even look at him and his brothers would never forgive him. Everyone’s summer would be ruined.

She sighed in defeat, “He’s the first guy to ever love me, see me for who I am and everyone acts like he’s got the plague! Q, my dad gives him small talk, my dad!”

He stared, a burning stare that ignited goosebumps along her skin, the hairs on end. They’d looked into each other eyes before, but she’d never seen this kind of fire in him. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as trying to calm himself down, nostrils slightly flaring.

“Is that so?” he cocked a brow, his tongue poking his cheek, “y/n, we’re happy for you, but we miss you. I miss you. I miss getting smoothies, I miss Star Wars marathons, shit, I miss watching you make a mess of my kitchen when Luke wants cookies.” He missed falling asleep with her, calling him at silly hours in the morning, organising his hockey cards together, seeing her wear his hoodies and jerseys, and hearing her laugh.

Her face softened, absorbing his cries and guilt swirling in her stomach. She didn’t realise how his voice beat every song she’d ever listened to or how when he was hurting, his tone was soft-spoken. She forgot how much she loved that, and how no one - not even Leo - could replace it.

“M’sorry, Q.” She hugged him, like usual. The tight embrace with her head in his chest, feeling his arms wind around her shoulders in return, nose finding solace in the crook of her neck and kissing her shoulder.

Leo never joined their summer. He was never part of it from the start. When y/n fell back into place with her friends and stopped bringing up Leo, so much relief washed over her daily. The mini-argument with Quinn had paid off because exactly a week before she and the Hughes planned to leave for Michigan Leo had bid his thank yous and goodbyes. She thanked him for nothing messy, but his last words (and reasoning) gripped her around the neck: ‘I don’t think I’m the one you love.’

The moment she stepped out of Ellen’s car, slightly delirious from sleeping on Quinn’s shoulder the whole way, her muscles relaxed. She barely got a chance to stretch before Trevor and Cole came bundling towards her, engulfing her into a group hug while Quinn took his usual duties of unloading the car. All the boys had grown over the winter, Luke grew taller far too quickly, Jack, Trevor and Cole’s voices had dropped and entered that awkward phase where it would break at random and Quinn’s shoulders broadened, his face chiselling out. Y/n felt like the only thing that had changed about herself was the growing number of insecurities. She was at a lake, meaning she had to wear the bikinis she’d spent hours picking out, completely forgetting that Quinn wasn’t the only guy around. What if they didn’t look as good as she thought? What if they were far from flattering? Things she shouldn’t let eat at her but always would linger at the back of her mind.

She lay awake, facing the ceiling listening to Trevor’s snoring from the bed for the second year, but it was worse now his voice was deeper. How Cole slept so soundly was a mystery in itself. At least the weather was silent. Yet her mind could not quiet, the events of the week replaying like a tape, glitching on the last few moments and repeating Leo’s words. With a weight in her chest, tears welled in her eyes. She felt so alone and abandoned in a room with an overwhelming teenage presence. She threw the duvet off, shuffling off the mattress, padding out the door and sneaking down the hall.

Quinn’s door opened enough for her to slip into the room and tiptoed over to his bed, crawling under his covers next to him. His hair had gotten longer, messier and the more she looked at it the harder it was to keep her hands to herself. His cheeks weren’t so full anymore, but the back of her fingers still caressed his cheekbone with a feathery touch. Her smile faded, she hadn’t told him about the break-up, she was supposed to tell her best friend everything and she couldn’t even do that, no wonder Quinn hadn’t spoken much to her. He was in the dark and it was all her fault. But he didn’t ask about him. Maybe he was upset because she hadn’t told him? No, Quinn wasn’t like that, was he? Was he upset?

“Trevor’s snoring?” he mumbled, eyes remaining closed. He heard his door click and felt his mattress dip and nobody else would risk waking him.

“Mhm,” she hummed, watching his eyes lazily open, “part of it.”

He rolled over, pulling her onto his chest and arms around her waist, “I got you.”

Her tears soaked blotches into his t-shirt, little sobs slightly muffled by the fabric as his hand stroked her back slowly. He held her close, letting her cry whatever consumed her out of her system while reassuring her that everything was going to be okay in his gentle manner. He wasn’t entirely sure what was so troubling but he had a keen suspicion it had something to do with Leo, she hadn’t mentioned him for a while and a large part of him was fuelled with adrenaline and hope that he was out of the picture for good. It lit fireworks inside him, and he wasn’t ashamed about it.

“He dumped me, Q,” she sobbed, fingers balling his shirt into fists, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Those fireworks inside him burst an array of colours, “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he said softly, “did he give you a reason at least?”

Her lip quivered, “He…he said he thinks that he’s not the one I love. I don’t know what that means! This sucks, Q. Sucks going from spending a lot of time with someone, having their full attention to just…not. Makes me gag every time I see my friends with their partners. I feel so…isolated, what do I do now?”

Quinn’s lips fell into a straight line, hand still soothing her back. He knew he shouldn’t have been over the moon at the news, but God did he want to dance around his room and punch the air, maybe click his heels for good measure, “You want my opinion?”

He felt her nod, “You still have friends, and you need them more than a boyfriend. Have you thought about him since?” she shook her head, “Then there’s your answer. You miss the feeling, not the person. There’s someone out there who’s gonna love you tirelessly, treat you right and always come when you call. We’re only sixteen, we’ve got time.”

She thought about Leo, properly. She thought about how he spoke to people, and looking back she kicked herself for how she was too swept up in the feeling to realise how his charm was too enticing. She remembered the time he met Quinn, Jack and Luke for the first time, well Jack and Luke. He’d found out about their passion for hockey and openly shared how he thought it was ridiculous and an overrated sport, that all the players were mediocre at most. He told Jack he’d never make it to the NHL because it’s the sort of dream that stays a dream. Leo off the bat despised Quinn, calling him an obsessive creep when he walked into her house to retrieve Jim’s lasagna dish from her dad. Quinn ignored it, but Leo had seen all the photographs her brother put out, and proceeded to rant about how Quinn was just trying to add her to his body count. Quinn heard that, of course, he was only in the kitchen and if he was honest, he was flattered that Leo assumed he even had a body count. Then the kitchen incident flooded back like the rapids ride at a theme park. If her brother hadn’t interrupted them, she would’ve been kissed, but she didn’t want to kiss him and she knew that he enjoyed the fear in her eyes when his grip tightened.

“Can I ask you something…” she peered up at him.

“Anything.” he looked down at her, voice just above a whisper. Her eyes had a glossy shine to them, even if they were red and puffy from crying, he still got lost in them.

“Can you say ‘princess’, for me?”

He raised his eyebrow, but smiled anyway, “Whatever you want, princess.”

“Fucking hell it sounds so much better when you say it,” she groaned, burying her face into his chest, earning a chuckle from Quinn. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, too well like it was made for him. The worst part was the tingling sensation in her stomach which wound through her heartstrings. All despair was eliminated and, once again, Quinn had pulled her into his rip. They lay in silence for a little while, but neither drifted off to sleep, just lying in each other's company.

“He almost kissed me, Q.” she mumbled into the dark, Quinn’s green eye disturbing his peace, “but I didn’t want to kiss him, the vibe was off. And then my friends bugged me about it.”

She pushed herself onto her elbow, propping herself up and gazing into his sleepy eyes. His palms fell to the small of her back.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” an innocent question turned sultry by his brain, heat shooting to his neck.

“No,” his gaze fell to her lips, “have you?”

She denied it. One had cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her bottom lip. She melted into his touch, heart pulsing in her ears. Deja vu burst into the room from a year before, where the last time she hovered above him she wanted to kiss him more than she should have. He parted his lips, the teenage boy inside him begging to peek down her shirt and his desperate longing to taste her colliding and dizzying his mind. Their bodies gravitated closer like a magnetic force neither could control anymore until their lips touched and two souls intertwined sweetly. It was an innocent kiss, aside from the accidental bumping of teeth, it wasn’t quite a peck but they relished in each other for no more than five seconds before pulling away with ease again.

“Can we do that again?” she didn’t need to say anything. She kissed him again, harder, longer, her hand sliding from his chest to his jaw as their lips fell into a pattern of connecting and reconnecting, elation surging through them as they fumbled into giggles. Quinn’s problem with kissing her was that no matter how much he tried to push it down, the craving to kiss her again clawed at him. All it took was a pretty smile and he could kiss her the rest of the night. Y/n’s friends bragged about their first kisses, who they were with and where it happened, but she held the crown for the first kiss in a boy’s bed and a meaningful kiss as the cherry on top.

Michigan’s sun roasted hotter than in Toronto, but it was a pleasant change from freezing all the time. The kind of heat that the boat’s seats would cling onto, and give you the worst shock of your life when sitting down, so when you sat down on the leather, you stayed down with sizzling skin. Although he’d been to the lake his whole life, Jack’s soul still left his body every time he threw himself onto the seats, usually blaming Quinn for not warning him. She was introduced to their boat last year, expecting only a small, fishing boat-like thing but to say her eyes grew so wide they almost popped out her head would be an understatement. She had limited knowledge of boats but her dad fished a lot so she picked up odd things from his raving, but the only way she could describe it was a traditional bowrider, with u-shaped seats in the back deck and bow seating.

Jack and Luke had shoved past everyone and B-lined for the docks as soon as breakfast was over, Trevor and Cole not far behind and bundled onto the back seats of the boat. The driver’s seat was always left empty for Quinn, and the seat on the left side of the aisle next to the driver’s was always for y/n, furthest from the splash zone so she could read in peace. Unfortunately for Quinn and y/n, that also meant they were the ones lugging the cooler of water bottles through the garden and to the docks, handing it to Jack and Trevor while Quinn hopped in, holding his hand out to her and letting her make her way to her seat.

A couple of hours being anchored in the lake, Jack and Trevor had three backflip contests, teaching Luke ‘how it’s done’ and Cole had won himself one hell of a sunburn. Y/n hadn’t taken her shirt off once, occupying herself by applying suncream to Quinn’s face and judging the backflip rounds. She mindlessly watched the four boys tussle around, pulling and pushing each other off the boat and playing in the cool waters. Something about this summer brought a yearning for adventure, maybe due to her age, to make memories or to distract herself from the sinful thoughts of what Quinn now looked like underneath his t-shirt.

“I know you want to,” her head snapped to face Quinn, his voice dragging her out of her head, “I can see it in your eyes.”

She hugged her torso tighter, diverting her gaze to their feet. Was the first time wearing a bikini this terrifying for everyone? Maybe she should’ve started wearing them sooner. She’d be used to it by now.

“I’m not saying you have to, but,” he gulped, taking a deep breath. His next words could either earn him a smile or a slap, “I think you’re beautiful just as you are. And whatever those fuckers think doesn’t matter. Remember that you’re like a sister to Jack and Luke, they’ve got your back too.”

A wide smile broke onto her face. Anyone else could say that and she wouldn't have batted an eye, but when it fell from his mouth like a song, the pressure was exiled from her body. Her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Quinn’s view darted straight to her chest, the bikini top complimenting her nicely, but too well for anyone but him to see (or so he thought). He didn’t think twice about it, it felt pervy and wrong, but at the end of the day, he was just a teenage boy riddled with fluctuating hormones. At least he wasn’t as bad or proud as Trevor, that was the bar. The top was enough. She kept the little board shorts on. Maybe next year she’d be braver.

“Your turn,” with a cheeky glint in her eyes, she leant forward, elbows on her knees and purposely pushing her breasts together. Caught red-handed, in the act, Quinn Hughes. His cheeks burned red, glancing at his brothers and friends (who were on backflip contest number four) and back at her, slipping his shirt off. She raised her eyebrows when he said he’d been working out more, he meant it. When their gazes met, they both knew that if they had been alone with all the pent-up thrill, they would’ve jumped for each other, let their hands dance, feeling every new curve and dip and melt into each other like wax, moulding to however they wanted.

“Not too bad yourself-” Before she could finish, Jack rolled onto the boat from the back deck with a clumsy urgency, throwing his towel over himself and standing in a wide stance, panting as if throwing himself onto the boat took all his energy.

“Thanks dearest,” pant, “big brother of mine and,” pant, “his girlfriend. Wakeboard!”

Quinn and y/n burst into fits of giggles at the assistance but it fell on deaf ears, watching him clamber in was funnier anyway, especially since the other three people who could have helped decided to watch and laugh too. No one denied the second part of his sentence, it certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed, but it had been taken two ways.

When the boys were little, Jim and Ellen had reformed the basement into a games room. It had originally been decked out into more of a guest house, with a kitchenette directly under the stairs and opposite were the large patio doors. But they found more use for it with the boys. On the left side of the doors was a c-shape sectional sofa and a TV and to the right a fireplace with a scoreboard for the pool table, which sat in the centre of the room. The bathroom remained in the back right corner. Most of the time, it was only used for video games and pool, as the distance from the bedrooms meant their screaming and arguing was pleasantly muffled but as more people joined their holiday, more friends were made either at the lake or with hockey people who owned a house on the lake, the room got its fair share of usage and everything was sound.

Until the Tkachuk brothers arrived.

Matthew and Brady were Quinn’s friends, Brady being one of his best and knowing Matthew by default. The Tkachuk’s had recently bought a house on the lake, within walking distance of the Hughes but you could hear them before you’d see them. Y/n had first met Brady when Quinn picked him up from his dock one afternoon, and she had no trouble getting to know him, especially when it came to him showing her photos of all of Quinn’s embarrassing moments from before her era at the lake house, and ones during hockey camps. She understood why Quinn got shy when Brady doxxed him like that, but she found it cute either way and he just enjoyed his two best friends getting along.

The seven of them - Y/n, Quinn, Brady, Cole, Trevor, Jack and Luke - sat in a circle, in that order, on the floor, leaning against the sofa, a bottle of vodka and red solo cups between them. The four youngest sat with stars in their eyes, like Brady had bought a mythical creature over, y/n and Quinn exchanged quizzing looks, shrugging.

“Yeah, how did you get this?” y/n asked, picking the bottle up and inspecting the alcohol percentage.

“Matt,” Brady smirked, pride smeared across his face, “one of his friends has a fake ID, and said he’d get me a bottle if I helped him get this chick’s number.”

“And it worked?” Quinn mocked, Jack, Cole and Trevor did their best to hide their giggles.

“Nobody can resist a Tkachuk,” he peered past Quinn to look at y/n, “it’s the pretty eyes and dashing looks, right y/n?”

Jack and Luke side-eyed each other, holding back their laughter at Quinn’s pout. Y/n shrugged, giving boys satisfaction wasn’t something she enjoyed, and seeing Brady dramatically hold his hand to his heart and act offended seemed to lighten Quinn’s mood.

“Can we crack this baby open now? I wanna get drunk!” Trevor cheered, Jack and Cole joining him. Something like that would be exciting for fifteen-year-olds, but (not so) little Luke stayed quiet, shrinking into himself next to y/n. She placed an arm around his shoulder, presenting him with a warm, reassuring smile.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, no one’s gonna force you,” she murmured.

“Come on, Lukey! Don’t be a pussy!” Jack taunted as Brady poured him, Cole and Trevor a small amount. Cole took his sip first, his face screwing up immediately and coughing at the burning down his throat. Trevor cackled, tapping his cup with Jack’s and they both swallowed theirs together. Like karma, Trevor wheezed and held his chest, face scrunching amusingly at the kick. Jack didn’t get off lightly either, his throat feeling like fire and he shook his head, putting his cup on the floor. The rest laughed, hard. The three musketeers were so confident just to have it backfire.

Brady poured vodka into his, Quinn’s and her cups, grinning from ear to ear and placing the bottle back between them all.

Cup in hand, she nudged Luke, “Do you want a small sip?”

He hesitantly nodded, taking the cup gently and letting a tiny drop cover his tastebuds. That was enough for him to jolt back and shake his head. The three eldest bumped cups and swallowed the alcohol in one go, Brady cheering like he’d won the Stanley Cup, Quinn doing his best to suppress the sour expression on his face and y/n exhaled at the flare descending her throat. She and Quinn side-eyed each other, stifling giggles. The rush brought back the rendezvous of her sixteenth birthday where her parents had treated her to a bottle of vodka, specifically instructing she only drink it around them. Hours later when her close friends arrived, and Quinn of course, that bottle and a carton of orange juice was shared between them and drank dry, her bedroom swarming with drunk teenagers hiding hangovers in the morning.

“Wow, my first ever drink turned out to be…actually not as pleasant as I imagined.” Brady’s eyebrows raised, watching the three musketeers urgently agree with him. Quinn and y/n’s grins widened, and they fist-bumped. They’d finally discovered something they had done before Brady. He’d relentlessly teased Quinn with his experiences as he was older, but it was due to Matthew being older. Now, it was Quinn’s turn, he was finally the cool, older brother.

“That was your first?” Quinn teased. Brady blinked twice, opening his mouth to speak but closing it, holding his fist out to Quinn instead.

“You didn’t add a mixer, it’s more bearable with juice,” she stood up and grabbed an orange juice from the fridge. Sitting back in her spot, she took Brady’s cup, poured a little vodka and topped it with the juice, stirring it with her finger, “now try.”

He took a sip, the orange juice slightly outweighing the alcohol and it didn’t tear through him this time, “Okay, you’re invited to every party from now on. Dudes, you gotta try this.”

One empty bottle later the group found themselves slumped back and blurry-eyed. Luke had gone to bed, terrified of the consequences if he were still there in the morning. Quinn and y/n leant into each other, Jack’s head resting on her lap. Brady’s ass went numb from sitting on the floor, but he feared that if he stood up, he’d just meet the floor again but with a bruise when he woke up.

At some point in that hour, Trevor suggested truth or dare, and being too tipsy to argue, they’d all been roped into it. The dares hadn’t been too bad, but as Brady slowly gathered his senses, previous conversations and events flooded back to his active memory. With his sights landing on Quinn and y/n, it was like his and Trevor’s minds intertwined. Calm and collected Quinn had been giggling at others too much throughout the night. Calm and collected Quinn who never seemed to be fazed by embarrassment for too long.

“Jack, truth or dare?” Trevor asked absently.

“Truth.”

“Ass or tits?”

Y/n ran her fingers through Jack’s hair and rolled her eyes. Boys.

“Easy. Tits. Next. Brady, truth or dare?” Jack’s eyes closed, body relaxing when her nails scratched his scalp.

Brady snorted, “Hah, dare!”

Jack paused, thinking about what kind of dare Brady would come up with, “skinny dip in the lake.”

“Dude, if I stand up, I’ll fall. I’ll do it next time we’re on the boat, swear it.” They chuckled, watching his head shake desperately. Nobody would have to dare Brady to do something like that, you could just suggest the idea and he’d be down for the sake of a story. Matthew had shared many stories of his adventures when he was his age, and Brady was determined to be as cool as him and live a wild life like every day was his last day on Earth. “Y/n, truth or dare?”

“Dare, fuck it. Be nice.” Her heart raced, the words falling out before she could think.

“I dare you to sit on Quinn’s lap for the rest of the game.”

Quinn’s muscles tensed, cheeks flushing when Jack sat up. He uncrossed his legs and let her manoeuvre herself onto his thigh, curling up comfortably. Without much thought, his arms winded around her waist, holding her close. Even though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, a small part of him sobered up enough to appreciate the buzz of openly holding her.

“Cole, truth or dare?” she watched Cole perk up, his eyes absent like he’d just woken up.

“Show us a pic from your ‘my eyes only’ on Snap.”

“Favourite porn category?”

“Who was the better kisser, Jess or Sarah?”

“Okay Quinner,” Brady’s turn circled back, rubbing his, nonexistent, beard as he spoke, “Who do you currently have a crush on?”

Quinn’s stomach dropped. If he didn’t like Brady so much, he would’ve taken the question as a betrayal. When he told Brady about his and y/n’s bedtime kiss, it was out of confidence, with his full chest, at his most vulnerable. Never did he expect him to reference it in public, in front of her and his brother’s friends. He then realised that Matthew also, most likely, knew.

“Gone shy?” the youngest Tkachuk smirked, the other boys suddenly sparking back to life and leaning in.

“No, just never thought you’d be into gossip,” he mumbled, giving the blond a cold glare. If his situation couldn’t have gotten any worse, y/n shifted dangerously close to his crotch and all he could do was keep her encased into him and pray his shorts wouldn’t betray him like his best friend had.

“If you’re into gossip now, what about you? Tell us which girl at your school has your eye, describe her, what’s she like?” y/n blurted. It was like she read Quinn’s mind. Or the stress in his face.

Cole, Trevor and Jack’s heads whipped between the three bicker, smiles dopey and rubbing their hands together.

“Deflecting? Didn’t think you’d get so defensive-”

“-Not getting defensive, I have nothing to defend, but if Quinn doesn’t wanna answer, he doesn’t have to.”

It was a relief that it was just bickering and not a deep argument, God help them all if y/n and Brady ever fell out properly, his ability to chirp and her intelligent stubbornness would not be a tornado to interrupt. But her protectiveness squeezed his heart, making the situation he was always in dreadful.

“Oh really?” Brady laughed, “What about you since you have nothing to defend? Who juices your lemons? Or is Quinner gonna grow a pair and admi-”

What an uncomfortable phrase to start with, and if she took too long to answer he’d just taunt her more. She wanted him to drop the subject overall, it didn’t matter, but humbling him would, at least, cheer Quinn up slightly, even if what she was about to say required a conversation afterwards.

“-Matthew Tkachuk.” The name shot out like a bullet through Brady. His jaw dropped and a smirk wiped off his face. He knew his brother was popular, but never had he met someone his age admit it to his face. He sat back, speechless. Her heart thundered, Quinn could feel it, see the panic in her eyes while Brady saw a threat. Jack, Trevor and Cole sat like deers in headlights in the silence which engulfed the room. Quinn’s grip around her waist tightened, his brows creasing but Brady watched the light in his eyes sink and his hold on her become desperate like she would slip away if he let go.

The thick atmosphere collapsed when Jack shot up and bolted for the bathroom, Cole hot on his tail, “I think I’m gonna puke.”

Quinn’s limbs sank deep into the sofa cushions, but his eyes stared at the plant next to the TV. Jack’s stomach giving up surprisingly saved their friendships and shortly they’d decided it was time to call it a day, himself, y/n and Trevor taking the sofa, Jack crashing closest to the bathroom and Brady and Cole sprawled out on the floor. Even after the drunken result of a stupid truth game, y/n’s back was still pressed against his chest. Not Matthew’s. His arm was around her middle, his face was in her hair, and he was the one cuddling her. No one else, but the thoughts still spiralled. If she did like Matthew and not him, could he be that angry? Matthew was older, taller, better looking (Brady had mentioned how Tkachuk’s had ‘dashing good looks’ so what could he expect) and far more experience. Had she even met Matthew? When? Was she seeing him secretly? What if she was trying all these new experiences with him just to impress Matthew, getting in practice so, when she was to kiss him she wouldn’t embarrass herself, cuddling him so she knew what to do? The possibility that she was as affectionate with a guy other than himself made him sick to his stomach, it was like Leo all over again but worse. They were older now, progressed more and feelings devoured instead of nibbled, whirlpools instead of ripples. There were plenty of other boys besides himself, and maybe having a guy best friend became convenient for her.

With a tear slithering down his cheek, he buried his face into her shoulder and planted a sweet, but sad, chaste kiss on her jaw, fighting off the urge to sob until he fell asleep.

Seventeen was a big age for prime-time adolescents, not quite an adult but not a little kid anymore. Risk and rebellion went hand in hand and doing everything you were told not to do was in fashion, so when you went to college you didn’t look like a complete bore. It also meant relationships started getting serious, people considering college and the survival rate of long distance, who had broken up and who was still together.

After last summer, Quinn and y/n breathed Toronto air and they fell back into place, as if the Vodka Incident, as they called it, had never happened. Quinn had all her attention again and spent the autumn and winter doing his best to keep it that way. It didn’t take a lot, she loved everything they did together, her new favourite memory being when Quinn took her to her first Maple Leafs game once he’d passed his driver’s license. He also kissed her in the car afterwards, slow with his hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing the denim on her jeans. When they got back to her house, he had her pushed down into her bed, lips smothering her neck in timid, wet kisses while her cold hands snuck under his shirt, sending chills up his spine in the most pleasurable sense. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing, but his secure grip on her hips had her writhing beneath him when he’d found her sweet spot on her neck, experimenting with a nip to the flesh and almost cumming his boxers at the mewl that slipped past her lips. Their hips rolled and ground into each other with hands tugging on shirts, exposed collarbones and sloppy kisses to sensitive spots. They hadn’t even properly made out yet and there they were, exploring each other like territory and right before any clothes could be removed, Ellen rang him. It was an evening neither would forget.

“I’m tellin’ you, dude, they are not ‘just friends’, look at ‘em.” Trevor gestured in front of him, raising his voice over the music.

“Trev, I’ve known them my whole life, they’ve always been like this.” Jack groaned, taking a sip from his Coke.

Under the strings of fairy lights hung over the audience and the weather warm and clear, Quinn twirled y/n, hugging her from behind as they sang the lyrics to the country song coming from the stage. When Luke saw the ad in the supermarket one afternoon, he practically begged his parents to take them all, and being unable to say ‘no’ to their youngest child, they agreed.

Luke and Cole had a blast, trying every food stall they saw, rocking the cowboy hats and singing their hearts out. It was safe to say that Luke still had a lot of personality, and Cole revealed his love for karaoke. Y/n hadn’t been to many concerts before, the overwhelming crowds caging and the fear that she’d get split up was astronomical. As they’d made their way around, wrangling up Luke and Cole, hurling Trevor and Jack away from groups of girls way older than them, she had her arm looped around Quinn’s. Ellen ran around as their paparazzi, no doubt planning to print all the photos off and stick them in an album.

“Are you hearing yourself, Jizzy?” Trevor deadpanned, as much as the god-awful nickname amused him, Jack’s slow-functioning brain at the moment matched the stupidity of it.

Quinn’s arms around her waist, chin resting on her head and they swayed to the tune of the song, bright smiles and oblivion to the world around them. It was just them, imagining the lyrics were for and about them, speaking to each other so they didn’t have to muster up the courage themselves.

“Yeah. Look, man, think whatever you want, the Tkachuks get here next week, and if I remember correctly, Matthew was a pretty hot topic last summer.” Jack couldn’t lie, he didn’t remember a lot from the Vodka Incident. He only remembered Brady’s brutal truths, y/n admitting Matthew was hot and waking up with a sore head with the taste of vomit and vodka in his mouth. He also remembered watching the tears fall on his brother’s cheek.

She didn’t want to believe that she was the person looking back at her in the mirror. She pulled at the straps and readjusted the ties and bikini bottoms, to see if they would flatter her better in a new position. She spun slightly, viewing the back and chewed her cheek. Did her ass look good? The top wasn’t too slutty…was it? Too much cleavage? Not enough? Why was trying to feel hot such hard work? She threw her head back and sighed, circling her thoughts back to last summer.

I think you’re beautiful just as you are.

Shaking her shoulders, she slipped her tank top and shorts on, grabbed her towel and left out the porch doors.

Beads of sweat rolled down the back of Quinn’s neck. He didn’t need to look behind him to know Jack had invited neighbouring girls onto the boat, he could hear them giggling. He zoned out, staring at next door’s deck deaf to the world around him. Was shaving the right choice that morning? What if y/n liked his growing, patchy beard? But what if she preferred clean-shaven? He watched the girls in the windshield’s reflection squeeze the boy’s biceps, complimenting their abs. They adored Luke’s cute face and charming smile. It sucked being thirteen and enchanted. Quinn kept his shirt on, he wasn’t built like the others, and his confidence surely didn’t need dismantling. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, lips pursing until he caught y/n running out the corner of his eyes, his lips perking into a smile as she sat in her seat next to him.

“Who are they?” she whispered, leaning over, his New York Yankees hat perched on her head. He only shrugged, starting the engine and pulling away from the docks. “Well, I guess it means we get peace, at least.”

So much for peace.

Mila, the brunette in the pink bikini, saw exactly what y/n saw. The way Quinn’s hand held the wheel, casually yet so controlled, imagining them grabbing and moulding her like putty. The veins that popped on his arms, perhaps even his thighs, but y/n refused to believe that anyone else was looking at his thighs the way she did; unapologetically hungrily. She leaned against the back of his seat, pushing her breasts up as much as she could into the top of his shoulders, taking a longer strand of his hair and curling it around her finger.

“It’s so cool how you can drive this thing without an adult, when did you get your licence?” she asked. Quinn kept his eyes on the waters, lips falling into a deep frown.

“Fourteen, y/n also has one.”

“Oh,” she tilted her head, “cute. So, do you live here or is this a one-time thing?”

Y/n squinted. She knew she shouldn’t have let it get under her skin. She knew she couldn’t control everything but was seething would be an understatement. Some random chick, putting her tits up against Quinn, touching him the way she does. If she could just trip and accidentally knock her overboard she would.

“Live here in the summer.” His tone was flat, not anywhere near interested and his t-shirt clung to his back. A smile spread across Mila’s cheeks, she and her friends were only at the lake for the week and proudly admitted they were on the prowl for some fun. She arched her back, popping her ass out, hoping he could feel her skin on the back of his neck. Y/n huffed, letting her demons get the better of her and she tugged her tank top over her head and wiggled out the denim shorts. This summer the board shorts stayed at the house.

He choked when he saw. His first time seeing her in almost nothing. He was used to tank tops hugging her tits and little shorts, but seeing so much bare skin now changed a lot. The benchmark was removing her shirt, and now he got the full thing, in front of his face, within his reach and confidently like she wanted his attention and his only. She’d spent years worrying about what others thought about her, and with a little threat, the only thing she now cared about was making Quinn fumble over his words and remind him whom he pinned against her bed before summer.

“Mila, you look a little squished there,” y/n stood up, “take my seat, Jack doesn’t bite, promise.”

“But then where will you sit?”

Y/n stepped over to Quinn and gave him a wink. He leant back, heart exploding when she sat on his lap, bare skins touching for the first time and the pit of his stomach surging hot, the fireworks re-lighting and tingling over his skin and to his muscles, lips immediately spreading into a grin. He tucked his arm around her waist, settling his hand on her hip, fingers hooking the waistband in the leg hole of her bikini bottoms. Mila’s eyes scanned her, receiving her message clearly before plonking herself next to Jack, who happily gave her the attention she wanted. Y/n wrapped her arm around his neck.

“No shorts?” he murmured into her ear, voice low and rumbly.

“Remembered what you said a year ago, and I think you’re also beautiful just the way you are.” She toyed with the collar of his t-shirt.

“You should sit here more often.”

“Maybe I will, Captain Q.”

They giggled quietly, foreheads touching lightly and he kissed her hairline playfully while the backseat passengers caused havoc with the wakeboard, begging Quinn to let them show off their ‘skills’.

In four days the Tkachuks would arrive. That’s what kept Quinn up at night. He had four days to muster up his courage before she’d slip through his fingers to the better man.

They watched the ball fly far, Jim standing proud with his arms folded in a wide stance, as dads do. Trevor high-fived Cole, throwing up an ‘L’ shape with his fingers at Jack. The middle Hughes puffed his chest out, placed his ball on the tee and positioned himself, re-gripping the club. He drew back and swung, watching his golf ball fly out into the distance. Y/n watched from the side, recording their turns for them like they’d asked, a smile on her face. Jim took them to the driving range after Jack complained that video games were becoming boring, and neither Trevor nor Cole had been to one before, and when four boys were bursting with energy, how could Jim say turn down such an opportunity?

Y/n hadn’t played properly before either. Quinn had only taken her to crazy golf, and that was as far as her experience went. None of this correct positioning and firm swings. Though it was comforting watching Cole and Trevor not have a clue either, Trevor was a fast and eager learner, and Cole was just bad but there for a good time.

“I can show you how to do it if you want.” Quinn stood next to her, leaning down slightly with a low voice. When did he get so tall? She tilted her head up, the club in his hand sent her back to her childhood, the exact day she sat on the step with Quinn holding a hockey stick out to her. “It's your summer too.”

She nodded and Quinn hooked his little finger with hers, leading her to the grass and placed a ball on the tee. She copied Jack’s stance, letting Quinn stand behind her, chest to her back as his arms engulfed her, hands over hers on the club.

“Draw back like this,” his breath hot on her neck as he drove the club back, “and then you swing. Just like we do. Yeah?”

Her stomach fluttered, concentration droning in more on his voice vibrating through his chest. She nodded, licking her lips and the caged animal inside her chewing at its bars.

“Good girl.” He stepped back, letting her go. With his eyes glued to her figure, he watched her body take a breath, drawing back and taking a decent swing. For a first go, it wasn't a bad swing, not perfect but good enough that Trevor groaned about how unfair it was (he missed the ball the first time).

“This is literally the first day we met all over again,” Luke said to his dad, who raised his eyebrows, more shocked that he remembered that day since he couldn't even remember his birthday half the year.

The group next to them left, but the gap was soon replaced by a new one, a louder one consisting of late teens. One of them didn't stop walking, the blond one with curls and a mullet, and pretty eyes on par with Jack's.

“Quinner! Jim! Fancy seeing you here.” Matthew Tkachuk, Brady's suave, crazy older brother and his posse who stood just as awkward as the Hughes and co.

Y/n shuffled to stand with Quinn, pressing into his side ever so gently. He placed his hand on the small of her back, smile fading into a frown while his dad chatted and brothers and friends continued their practice.

“Is that Matthew?” Quinn couldn't begin to describe the electricity that flowed through his veins upon hearing that she didn’t know who he was. However while part of him jumped with joy, the other part spiralled further and pressure added to his shoulders. There was absolutely nothing to stop Matthew, or his cooler, older friends from snatching her, and him, weak, little Quinn, trying to keep her in his rip was laughable. If it wasn’t Matthew (unknowingly) getting daggers, it was his friend in the back. The athletic one eyeing y/n shamelessly, nudging the blond in a cap next to him.

“Anyway, nice bumping into you. See you fellas, Quinner,” He shot her a wink, “y/n.”

Her face flushed warm, and she gave him a flirty wave before they disappeared into the office. Jim ushered his boys and friends out, Quinn remaining silent when he drove himself and y/n to the house, not even her hand on his thigh could cut through the thick atmosphere.

The rest of that afternoon Quinn shut himself in his room, undisturbed. His family huddled around the campfire, making s'mores and the boys sharing their day with Ellen. Y/n prodded at the fire, adding more wood and sat back in her chair, glancing up at Quinn’s bedroom window. The light was out, blind and curtains drawn, fiddling with the drawstrings of her shorts. She didn't feel like eating any more s’mores, she lost her appetite with the empty seat next to her and overbearing twisting in her gut. The Tkachuk’s voices echoed from houses away, and she never thought she’d dread hearing their laughter until then.

She didn't knock on Quinn’s door. She just let herself in, joining him in the sheets and laying on her back. His breathing was heavy, he opened his eyes and rolled onto his back.

“What’s up? You haven't said anything since we left the driving range.” She mumbled.

“Nothing.” Her head turned to look at him, unimpressed. Feeling the shift, he peered over his shoulder before rolling his eyes, “Didn't like how he looked at you.”

He faced her, scowl softening, noses painfully close. His eyes fell to her lips, hand cupping her jaw and glazing his thumb over her soft skin. The twisting in her gut dissolved into heat pooling in her stomach, desire rising with every stroke of his thumb.

“And how did he look at me, Q?” She rolled onto her side, rubbing her foot along his leg.

His breath shuddered, and his voice dropped to a rasp, “Like he wanted to devour you.”

Shimmying closer, her hand pushed against his shoulder to lay flat on his back again. His hand never left her jaw, their lips closed in, ghosting each other as she propped herself up on her elbow. Getting jealous over a look, the way Quinn himself looked at her when she pranced around in her bikinis, hooded eyes and a lazy smile.

“So, the way you look at me, Quinn?” Her thumb brushed over his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” His voice above a whisper, laced with nothing but provocation for someone to do something, for he couldn't take the aching in his cock forever. “I won't do anything you don't want me to…what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to devour me.” She whispered into his mouth, his lips hitting hers with force, pulling her body on top of his and another hand, slipping up her shirt and exploring the curve of her spine. A low moan emitted from her throat, his tongue running along her bottom lip and impatiently tasting the sweet melted marshmallows from the s'mores when she granted him access. It was embarrassing how lost she was; taking a backseat wasn’t in her system, but something about Quinn's tongue dominating and lapping at hers just made her seams burst and soak her panties then and there. It didn't matter how he knew what to do, or if he was just going with his instincts, the way his hands kneaded her flesh like dough drew whimpers from her throat and with a carnal desire racking her bones, she rolled her hips into his, paying extra attention to his cock stiffening in his shorts as it bumped her cunt.

“Don't stop,” he groaned, hands gripping the globes of her ass, “feels s'good.”

He kissed her again, bucking his hips up into her. Her hands slid to the hem of his shirt, tugging the bottom up. Quinn hesitated but sat up, keeping her settled on his lap but hastily pulling the clothing over his head. It was like all the insecurity of not being hot enough washed away with the way she was dry humping, aching for his dick, finally alone for them to misbehave.

She smoothed her hands over his chest, solid and defined, her fingers tracing over his collarbones and stomach as if he were a sculpture in a museum. Sure she'd seen him shirtless on the boat, but this was different. This was for her eyes only, she was allowed to touch and feel his skin and muscles contract and relax as she savoured every last drop of him.

“Wow…” She muttered, the pad of her fingers joining his moles with an invisible line like a constellation.

“Don't say that, I'm not like Jack…or Trevor.” His gaze couldn’t meet hers. He didn't have a six-pack, a tiny waist or any sort of boyish charm to him. “Nothin’ special.”

She gripped his cheeks between her fingers, forcing him to stare into her eyes, “And yet here you are, in bed, with a girl who wants you to do disgusting things to her. You're special to me, shouldn't that be all that matters?”

Y/n let his face go, pulling her shirt over her head and discarding it somewhere across the room. She ran her hands down her chest, his eyes following as they travelled over her curves and to his hands. Taking them, she cupped his palms over her breasts.

“Take it off, Q,” She batted her eyelashes at him, his cheeks flushing, “I want you to touch me. What do you want?”

He slid his hands to her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra and watching with an intense and desperate stare as the underwear fell from her arms, tits bare and in his face and the clothing launched into the dark. They felt so soft in his palms, squishy and so soft. He rolled her nipples with his thumbs, watching her eyes shut and mouth part through his eyelashes. He couldn't wait to feel them against his chest finally.

“I wanna be the first guy to know how you feel around his cock, how you taste. I wanna be the guy you see when you're all alone, fucking yourself. I wanna hear you scream my name.” He pulled her in again, kissing her rough and messy, his hands leaving no place on her skin untouched and groping at her tits until he had her whimpering for more. With a groan rumbling from his throat, he flipped them over, hovering over her face of lust. Her pussy throbbed, and when his fingers pulled the bow on her shorts loose, she swore she would have cum right there.

“Can I?

“Yes, please.”

“Please what? I need words, pretty girl.” A flash of confidence washed over him, and he wasn't sure where it came from but his best guess was his core.

“Please fuck me, Quinn,” She gasped, rubbing her thighs together, “Please be the first to fuck me. I need you.”

Diving into the column of her neck, he trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down her collarbones and the valley of her breasts, taking one into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the nub. His other hand groped and squeezed, pinching between his fingers while she mewled like a song to his ears.

Releasing her with a ‘pop’, his kisses graced her hot flesh down her stomach and finished just above the waistband of her shorts. He gazed through his lashes, and sat on his heels, wiggling the shorts down and off her legs. He couldn't help but stare, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” his voice airy and in awe, tugging his shorts off and tossing them aside. “All mine.

“All yours,” she repeated, propping herself up on her elbows. “Have you ever fingered a girl?”

He shook his head, hooking his fingers around her panties and pulling them off, taking in the privilege of being the only one to see such a pretty sight before him.

“Only seen it in porn, the basics.” He positioned his fingers, middle and ring, just to prove it. She smiled, taking his wrist and guiding him to her folds, gliding his fingers between them until he got the hang of it.

“That's it, now rub my clit, firm but gentle.” He followed, taking her advice and circling her clit, peering up at her for reassurance. He got it, he knew he was doing it right when she collapsed back into his mattress, whimpering. Moving to hover over her, fingers gliding through her slick to the correct hole (he only knew from various conversations about the anatomy of a vagina she'd given, so he wouldn't look all that bad) and sliding one finger into her.

“You're so fucking wet,” He smirked. A quick learner, indeed and much too indulged in her spongy walls as he pumped his finger, “Princess, do I do this to you?”

“Yeah,” She moaned. His fingers felt so much better, more filling. “More, please.”

He added a second finger, drawing them in and out, curling, and he knew he was doing it right; she was writhing and whimpering beneath him, one hand fisting his sheets and the other locked on his bicep. His thumb nudged her clit on accident, but the way she arched and moaned had him circling it. She couldn't formulate a coherent sentence with the way he thrust his fingers into her, moving faster as she’d cried. Quinn still couldn't believe the position he was in. His naked best friend, underneath his almost naked body, with his fingers inside her pussy, hoping to make her cum and lose his virginity. All while his family sat outside without a clue.

“Shit, like that-” she bucked her hips to match his pace, “So good, just like I dreamt, Quinn.”

“Oh yeah? You dream about…me?” He grumbled, his voice low.

“Yes!”

The knot inside her stomach tightened, her cunt clenching and swallowing his fingers like they were made for him. It had her wondering what else Quinn could do to her, how else he could make her cum, because the way his fingers curled as if he was summoning her climax was dizzying. Who knew that out of everyone, it would be Quinn making her squirm, Quinn's name slipping from her lips as his fingers stroked her walls and had her begging for more, Quinn causing her eyes to become half-lidded with a lazy and coquettish smile, plaguing her thoughts with dirty desires on how many other ways she could clench around him.

“Gonna cum, Quinn,” She panted, squeezing her eyes closed.

“Anything you want, princess. Anything.” He pumped faster, her core relaxing and his fingers blessed with warmth leaking from her. He pulled his fingers out slowly, eyes locking with hers as he placed them on his tongue, tasting her flavour.

“You taste amazing,” He licked his fingers clean, a small spark of hope for the future inside him. “How was it? You okay?”

“I’m great,” She giggled, catching her breath, “With more practice, you’ll be a pro.”

He kissed her, y/n's tasting herself on his tongue, her hands in his hair, tugging at the curls on the nape of his neck. Something inside him screamed to stop before he became addicted, he needed her. He needed her in high dosages all the time, to feel her, to taste her, to have his tongue lap and suck hers and let their saliva intertwine like their bodies. He wanted to mark her up and call her a work of art.

He pulled his boxers off and left kisses over her collarbones.

“Do you have a condom?” He did, actually. Only two that Brady had slipped him the day he told him about the first time they kissed. Quinn leant over and rummaged around his nightstand, y/n running her hands over his body, specifically grasping at his hips. Something about men's hips was so…sexy. She couldn't explain it and didn't need to because Quinn kneeled over her, erect cock on display and y/n, without thinking, gently took it into her palm. His hands trembled when she gave him a couple of strokes, in awe at what she was seeing.

“You're so pretty, Q,” She kissed his tip, “all mine.”

“Yeah,” He rolled the condom on, “all yours, baby.”

Hand latching on the back of his neck, she pulled him on top of her, giving him time to line himself up cautiously before pushing himself in. Her jaw dropped wide, a gasp leaving her body and his head snapped to her.

“Shit, I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No, it's just…new, keep going.”

He slid in until bottoming out completely, her head tilting back as her walls adjusted to his size. She had no judgment, but he felt good and maybe, just maybe he'd grow to feel amazing. There was only one way to find out.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven.” He fell to his elbows, face hiding in her shoulder.

“Move, Q, please move,” She whimpered, “feels good!”

Quinn rocked his hips in a languid motion, back and forth, back and forth, his lovesick euphoria fuelling his stamina. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and whined in his ear, all he wanted to do was keep driving into her just to hear her ecstasy flourish. To feel her pulling him into an embrace of wet dopamine walls. Hooked on the feeling, he thrusted faster, groaning at the way she whimpered every time he pushed back in and his body surged with heat when her tits bounced against his chest. That was it. Just their bodies together. Together doing what nobody they knew had done before. Fucked their best friend, their person. Her Quinn and his y/n. In his bed, at the lake house, his cock plunging into her cunt with a luscious desperation serving the two teens a paradise of stimulation.

“Fuck!” He groaned, planting kisses on her jaw and her lips, “Say my name, pretty girl.”

“Quinn,” if she could scream his name she would have, but hearing the low moan in his ear was enough for his hips to pound faster, “gonna cum, Quinn.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, cock reaching deeper and the shockwaves of the angle feeding into his excitement. She was latching onto him like he was her lifeline, moans and grunts blending like a chorus the harder and more his hips rutted into her pussy with crude greed. No, it wasn't perfect, it was sloppy and beginner, as expected. But for the first time, y/n's cunt swallowed every inch of Quinn possible. Skins slapping and his cock hitting her cervix as she'd dreamed of, his voice in her ears, eyes steady on hers with a primal yet loving gaze as they worked through it together, tits bouncing with every rut and smiles bright with adoration at the reality.

“Cum with me,” he took her lips into his, tongues finding their rhythm as his thrusts lost theirs. “Taking me so well, princess.”

The pool of heat in her core was scorching, her seams of lust on the brink of bursting, Quinn's last few drags of his cock hitting the sweet spot right and a carnal, airy moan rang through his ears, her legs almost shaking. He took her through her orgasm, sticky cum filling the condom, his energy depleting, his hair sticking to his forehead but a fire still burning through his body. He wished he could have seen the display, seen the way she coated his cock creamy.

He collapsed onto her, not pulling out just yet, he'd do that when his energy regenerated. For now, he lay chest to chest with his head tucked in the crook of her neck, her fingers running over his back muscles delicately as they caught their breaths. She could have stayed like that forever, his voice chanting shameless grunts and sweet nothings like a mantra replaying through her head, refusing to forget the image of him over her body in the most despicable way. What else could they do now? What more? She couldn't resist the temptation of thinking about his kinks, what got him going? What did she do that riled him up? Did he know that his arms were delectable? That she loved when his shirts got tight around his chest?

“Did I hurt you?” His voice broke the silence.

“It hurt at first slightly but it's okay. You didn’t hurt me.” She smiled, one hand moving to stroke the back of his hair. “Are you good?”

She felt his grin against her neck, “I feel fucking amazing. You feel fucking incredible. You look so pretty, y/n. Always.”

He was babbling, the comedown still holding onto him. While she did believe every word he said, was it in the moment or forever? She couldn't tell. She wouldn't know. But what she did know was that she didn't regret a single second, and wouldn't change it for the world. And that having him nestled inside her was comfortable, in the most filthy way.

Quinn pushed himself onto his elbows, giving her a chaste kiss on her lips, “As much as I love this, I gotta clean us up and put clothes on before someone ruins it.”

No one did ruin it. No one even questioned why they were in the same room, y/n waking up to his lips on her neck, leaving butterfly kisses until she'd grab him by the cheeks and kiss his face all over. That was the perk of sneaking into bedrooms for so long, people expected to see her emerge with Quinn, frothy toothbrushes hanging out of mouths and wearing a t-shirt that definitely wasn't hers (and he loved that). Back when they were fifteen, Jim had scolded Quinn for falling asleep with her, even if they did nothing. He received the uncomfortable teen pregnancy lecture that ruined the moment. It was the moment he realised that he would give anything to wake up next to her all the time, her face to be the first thing he saw and to start his day tangled up with her. Ellen wasn't as harsh on him, she knew her eldest wasn't irresponsible like that. Y/n hadn’t received a lecture at all. Her mother asked brutal questions on what they were up to, but her father just said ‘As long as you're not preggers’. He knew his daughter wasn't a fan of children so why would she be irresponsible? But now at seventeen, they’d really done it. And no one would know about it. And the sacrifices they'd make just to wake up next to each other every day. She'd love to see him in his disoriented, brooding state when she woke up, and if you asked Quinn or his family, she'd be the only one brave enough.

With a dopey grin, Quinn's arms caged y/n into the kitchen counter, pressing himself into her, lips attached to her neck. Since that night, the urge for action became unbearable. The next week was pure sneaking around, making out in empty rooms, subtle touches under tables, hands travelling up clothes indecently far and bedtime shenanigans kept at a low volume. Like now, in the empty kitchen, rolling hips into each other and lips connecting and reconnecting with needy tongues tasting whatever their last drink was. What originally started as grabbing plates and fruit for the neighbourhood barbecue quickly melded into hips being shoved into the counter and being kissed breathless.

“We can't do this here.” She lightly pushed him off her mouth, hands placing themselves on his pectorals, flat and copping a feel. His hands fell to the small of her back, eyes shifting to the blue bikini top he knew she'd worn just for him.

“Then let's go somewhere we can, pretty girl.” He said playfully, pulling her back to him.

“Q, the barbecue. The Tkachuks will be here soon and Jim wants you to grill, he won't let Trevor near it again.” She slipped from his hold, taking the bowl of fruits off the counter and leaving through the porch doors, swaying her hips. He clicked his tongue. Matthew and Co would be there soon, but at least she hadn’t swept him under the rug.

When the Tkachuks did arrive, it was more like the Tkachuks and friends as Matthew’s posse also turned up. Not that anyone made a fuss, the Hughes were all for parties, especially ones that brought their kids together.

One of the girls from Matthew's group, Layla, joined y/n at the garden table, which was arranged beautifully with snacks and plates. Y/n had barely heard the girl approach her until she saw her hand move the bowl of pretzels out of the way for the fruit bowl, and when she looked up she just blinked. Layla was gorgeous, with large, cat-like eyes lined with mascara and pin-straight blonde hair thrown into a bun.

“Must be rough being in a house of guys all summer, eh?” She smiled softly.

“Sometimes, s'not always bad. We have fun but the snoring is awful.” Y/n returned the smile, fiddling with her fingers.

Layla held her arm out, “Come, have some girl time today. Boys are exhausting.”

She wasn't sure if it was because she agreed with Layla, or if it was because an older and much cooler girl was inviting her willingly to hang out with her, but she looped her arm with Layla’s and was led to Matthew’s group. They were spread out on the outdoor sofa, drinks perched on the table and in their hands, laughing obnoxiously at assumably an inside joke. Y/n skin crawled a little, only a small smile across her lips as the nerves swarmed like a storm. Layla led her to the sofa, and she sat between her and the athletic guy from the driving range. He now wore a backwards cap and plain t-shirt. Nothing special but his name was Colton, going by the name tag that stuck out the collar of his shirt. Although in new territory, the other two girls wearing bikini tops and shorts brought a small dose of solidarity and comfort. At least she didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

“Y/n! Glad you could join us!” Matthew's proud voice called from the other end of the L-shaped sofa. Her smile widened. Brady was right, Tkachuks did have dashing good looks but up close, Matthew was pretty. Very pretty, too pretty. “Colt, Zack, Ashley, this is y/n, y/n, Colt, Zack and Ashley.” He pointed to each of them.

Matthew was Matthew, pack leader and had a determined glint in his eye. Zack seemed too laid back for his own good, his blond hair still hidden under his cap, Ashley just waved quietly, knees tucked to her chest and Colton? Colton had the same brooding look as Quinn, but his eyes wandered a lot. And his facial hair was patchy.

“Yo, you’re Quinn's girl, right? From the range?” Colton’s grin wasn't as charming as he thought it was, but his voice was. Gravelly, nice on the ears, not too loud but not mumbled.

“I mean, kinda but we’re not together-” y/n began, nails scratching her collarbone.

“-nice, thought I recognised you.”

“You guys will love y/n, Brady talks about her all the time. Did you know they almost fought?” Matthew mused like an excited puppy, even though the fight he was referencing was barely a fight at all. His friends raised their eyebrows, surprised that someone other than Matthew had raised their voice at a Tkachuk.

“Matt, it was over vodka, it was barely a fight. He’s such a dramatic ass.” Not entirely true, again but rather that than the truth of what it was really about and how it ended.

Matthew raised his hands in defeat, and Zack laughed. “Surprised Quinn even joined in. Usually, he’s the one huffing off.”

She rolled her eyes, “He’s alright, fuck off. And it wasn't his first time either, he handled it a lot better than Brady.”

Quinn and Brady stood at the grill, flipping the burgers; Brady in his usual playful manner but Quinn with aggravation, like he wanted to hurt the burgers, charcoal them. They stood in silence, watching y/n with the older Tkachuk and his friends treat y/n like royalty across the garden. Quinn's grip on the tongs so tight his knuckles turned white, his glare sharp as she giggled. Her laugh echoed out through the garden, her real laugh that came from her stomach, the laugh he only heard when it was just the two of them. He flipped the burgers, his brows knitted and lips in a stone-cold frown. How she got so comfortable so soon was beyond his brain, but then again, perhaps the presence of other girls made it better, did she find being cooped up with guys awkward?

“Quinner, you're staring. It's creepy.” Brady said.

“Am not staring, looking out for her.” He flipped the sausages.

Brady glanced over at his brother, with an almost worried look on his face. Y/n seemed…happy. She was chatting with the girls, poking fun at the boys but she was fitting into their summer nicely. Quinn looked over once again, his skin becoming hot and jaw clenching.

“I know what you're thinking. Matthew wouldn’t do something stupid like that. He may be an asshole sometimes but he's got morals. Besides, he's got the NHL, he wouldn't do something that could ruin that for him.”

“Sorry…I just,” Quinn sighed, “I'm not used to not having her attention. We've spent almost all of our time together, and it's just…weird. Wanted our little group to hang out and shit. I dunno what's wrong with me dude. I hate when she looks at them like they're the best thing ever. I hate when someone else's name comes out of her mouth, I can't stand the thought of seeing her with someone else.”

“Then why not ask her out already? ‘Cause that sounds a lot like jealousy to me, Quinner.”

“Why would I be jealous of them? It's complicated.” Quinn grumbled. Truth be told, he didn’t know how she felt. If he got rejected, he'd have to see her every day and act like nothing ever happened. He wouldn't kiss her again, touch her again, hug her again or wake up with her again. He'd be on his own, pining over the girl who didn't want him.

“Whatever, bro. You miss all the shots you don't take. But don't worry about Matt, believe me.” Brady shrugged, and they both watched the group from afar.

“It's not Matthew I'm worried about anymore.” Quinn gritted his teeth and made a mental note that he wasn’t the violent sibling and that punching people wasn't the solution anymore. He watched Colton throw his arm around the back of the sofa behind y/n, leaning in close. And when he thought his worst fears couldn't get worse, they definitely did.

Y/n retracted her shoulders like a frightened tortoise. She really was stuck between Layla and Colton, getting up and suddenly scuttling away just caused a scene. There was only so much fake laughter she could take before it became a chore, Colton had zero humour to his looks, but boy could he sweet talk. Throwing his arm behind her, thumb rubbing over her shoulder while compliments spilt from his mouth and into her ego. Quinn called her pretty all the time, but having a boy other than him call her flowery names released a new batch of butterflies.

Colton's lips in her ear, mumbling with his husky tone, “Blue's your colour, y/n, anyone ever tell you that?”

She shook her head. Such a liar, she was such a shameless liar.

“I hardly believe that, like how I don’t believe you when you say you've only had one boyfriend. Pretty girls don't just have one.” His eyes relaxed and became half-lidded, but her tummy flipped and hands clasped together in her lap. He was right. Pretty girls don't have just one boyfriend. They have a guy who calls her pretty girl but she doesn't know if she's just the token female or something meaningful.

“Only the one. Not a lot of guys think I'm pretty, Colton, not any relevant ones at least.” Her eyes darted to the girls, but they were too caught up in conversation, not even Matthew or Zack could catch her message.

“I think you're pretty.” Colton's finger hooked around the strap of her bikini top, running it up and down the string, “Am I relevant?”

The attention ignited fires along her skin, jolts of electricity throughout her nerves. An older guy thought she was attractive, that was new. And exciting. But also wrong. And felt like a betrayal, cheating, even if she and Quinn weren't together. But the attention and thrill, guys her age never begged for her, never looked at her the way he did. Even Zack agreed with Colton, proven at the driving range. For the first time in her life, she felt desired, hot. If she could get Colton, who else could she get?

Before she could make her move, Brady's voice bellowed, informing her that food was ready. Better luck next time.

It's called late-night shenanigans for a reason. And this time as soon as the adults had retreated to bed, Matthew and friends plus Hughes and friends had red solo cups lined in a triangular formation on the garden table, music softly playing in the background while the porchlight gave them enough visibility. Their favourite game, beer pong. With cups full to the brim with cheap beer. The teams split as anyone would have expected them to, and no one made a fuss.

Team 1: Matthew, Quinn, Brady, Zack, Trevor, Cole Team 2: Colton, Layla, y/n, Ashley, Jack, Luke

Forty-five minutes into the game Team Two (Colton's Canines) were leading. Team One (Matthew’s Hotshots) weren't far behind but Cole and Brady had a terrible aim for hockey players. Y/n's aim was almost too good, but her best-kept secret was that it wasn't her first beer pong game. This was why she was one of the least drunk people standing (Jack and Trevor barely able to stand, Jack doing his best to keep the beer down) aside from Luke, who was only allowed one cup given he was thirteen.

Brady stumbled to the table, ping pong ball loosely held in his fingers as he lined up his shot, his stance wide to stabilise himself as the world pulsed around him. He would've been alright if the cups contained just beer, but he was the first to discover that it was beer in some cups and vodka orange in others. How it went unnoticed was a mystery, but you're only young once. Brady made his shot, the ball bouncing once skimming the rim of the cup, and missing. Colton's Canines cheered, y/n laughed manically at him, throwing up her middle finger jokingly. Layla retrieved the ball, lining up her shot, releasing but also missing, the other team cheering in return.

Jack and Trevor's turn rolled around. Colton's Canines with four cups left and Matthew's Hotshots with two. Trevor poked his tongue through his lips, eyes trying to concentrate on the cups in front of him. He hadn’t been this drunk since The Vodka Incident.

He winked at the girls in front, “Watch this ladies, a kiss if I get it.” He threw too long and missed.

“Nice one, Trev. That first kiss isn't coming any time soon.” Y/n jested, shaking her head. The other girls giggled.

“Hey, I’ve kissed girls!”

“Mhm, first time I’m hearing about this, what about you Jack?”

Jack nodded, “Sure, sure. Anyway, my turn!”

Jack cracked his knuckles, positioned himself and took the shot, the ball bouncing once and landing directly into the cup. The Canines cheered, y/n and Jack throwing their arms around each other and jumping in a circle. Layla and Ashley gave the middle Hughes pecks on his cheeks as he watched Trevor down the cup of beer. One cup to four cups.

Y/n stood opposite Quinn, a bright smile on her face and his lips couldn't resist returning it. They couldn't help it. He didn't think, nor did he hype himself up. If there was one thing Quinn had learnt, it was that Brady was right. You miss every shot you don't take. And so he threw the ball and watched it bounce into a cup with a smug grin, the Tkachuk brothers hooting and hollering. Yet, his eyes remained on hers, gently. She chugged the drink and wiped the remnants from her lips with the back of her hand.

“When did you get so good at beer pong?” She laughed.

“I had a great teacher.” He shrugged, y/n acted shocked even though they'd been beer pong buddies at every party. When they were split this time, it pained them a little. Being pitted against each other was frankly like the end of the world, never in their lives did they enjoy being out of sync.

Y/n held the ball between her fingers, closed one eye and lined her shot. Large hands inviting themselves on her hips, Colton's voice in her ears and his breath unpleasant on her neck. If she weren't the centre of attention she would have jolted away, but the win was so close and Quinn’s arms were not so far. The ball bounced into the Hotshots final cup, Matthew and Brady both throwing themselves dramatically into Quinn, Cole and Trevor falling to their knees in despair. But Quinn's eyes pricked tears as he stood still and a rock. The Canines jumped for joy in each other's arms, hugging and laughing. Except y/n. She never got the chance. Before she had any time to even step away from the table, Colton's mouth latched onto hers, her hands moving to his chest. Quinn wiggled his way out of the Tkachuks, mumbling something about breaking the seal.

The bathroom door swung open and slammed behind Quinn. His hands gripped the basin as he did his best to choke back his tears. Why did it hurt? Y/n was supposed to run into his arms like she always did and they’d hug longer than friends would, until eternity. But no one would question that because they were long-time friends. They were friends. So why did it tear his heart to shreds when the lips he devoured earlier that day melted into the lips of another? What was so fucking great about Matthew? Or Colton? And why was he such a coward?

Y/n pushed Colton off her, startled and heart-yearning for comfort. But he was gone.

“Quite a shot you have,” Colton smirked, “C'mon, princess, I can give you my address and we can see what other party tricks you got.”

“Pass.” Gross. Only Quinn got to call her that, but he was nowhere to be seen after she knew he'd disappeared, like he always did when upset.

“Sure? Because it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, think about it. You could be losing your virginity to someone who knows what they're doing-” he never finished his speech. Zack called him over, letting him know that they were heading out for the clubs and with that Colton was gone. As if y/n never existed. Little did he know, though, that his offer was pointless. Little did he know.

Even after agreeing that The Vodka Incident would not happen again, the usual suspects (even Quinn had returned, but with a face of thunder), mostly drunk, sat around the fire pit, with cups of leftover beer and vodka orange. Luke joined in this time, though Jack wouldn't let him drink any alcohol. A small sense of deja vu washed over, memories of the last fire pit night bringing a small smile to her lips as she sloshed the beer in her cup around.

“I'm gonna be really real here, and you guys should too,” Brady pointed around the circle with his cup in hand, “I had my first kiss last year. Horrible.”

“Oh yeah? Explain.” Cole asked, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip of his drink.

“Neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing and we'd both just eaten tacos so yeah. Didn't taste nor feel great at all.”

“Nasty. Bro, at least pop a mint beforehand. I kissed two girls a couple of years ago, it was okay. Nothin’ special, but we did crash teeth for one of them. That was awkward.” Jack chuckled, almost cringing at the memory.

“Poor girl, the kiss probably meant something special to her, Rowdy.” Y/n absently pitched in, feeling Quinn's eyes on her, as if to say ‘What happens in my room, stays in my room.’ Was he ashamed of it? What was so bad about the kiss? Or kisses?

“Of course, you'd say that,” Jack rolled his eyes, adjusting the backward hat on his head.

“What about you Trev? I know we joke about it but have you actually kissed anyone?” She sipped her drink.

“Doesn't matter. What about you, huh? Bet you haven't. Anyway, Cole hasn't either, or Luke. So I'm not the only loser.” Defensive Trevor was an amusing Trevor, he huffed his cheeks and flushed red.

“I have. Fifteen. It was good, actually. One of the most memorable.” She crossed her leg over the other and leaned back in her chair, ignoring the shit-eating grin on Brady's face. Quinn said nothing, and nor did he want to say anything. He just sank further into his seat and finished his vodka orange, stuffing the cup into the chair's cup holder. “Brady, you ever made out with someone? You said that no one could resist a Tkachuk.”

“Ah, well- almost okay? Her dad turned up and we had to stop. Can't believe the guy, honestly.” The group laughed at his stammering, except Quinn, who'd probably heard the story a thousand times. “You think it's funny, y/n? What about you, huh?”

She leant forwards, hands gripping the armrests and the same shit-eating grin smeared on her lips, “Yeah, and it was hot. Would do it all over again.”

“Brady, you're forgetting Colton literally shoved his tongue in her mouth over an hour ago,” Trevor exclaimed, the musketeers giggling over the crackling of the flames.

Quinn's glare thickened, and Brady caught sight of it. Luke did too as he watched his brother abruptly stand up and head for the kitchen, his feet heavy on the porch steps. Her eyes softened and followed him, watching him slide the doors open with an aggravation alien for him.

“I'll be right back.” She spoke over Jack.

Jogging in her flip flops up the stairs and into the kitchen, closing the door gently. Cautiously, she followed Quinn to the fridge, watching him yank a Fanta from the shelf and close the door harshly.

“Hey Q, are you okay?” She asked with a small voice, picking the skin on her thumb.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” He pulled the can's tab, the fizz echoing through the empty room. It was always ‘I'm good’, never ‘I'm fine’. She'd known him long enough to know something like that, like how he always removed himself when he was in a bad mood, scared to hurt someone's feelings. “Shouldn't you be with your new boyfriends?”

He grumbled, barely looking her in the eye as he moved to leave out the porch doors, but she blocked his path, standing almost chest to chest with him, looking up. She hated that she found it attractive when he was mad, his voice always dropped. “No. We haven't talked properly all day.”

“So now you wanna talk?” He spun on his heel, slamming the can into the marble counter and pacing in the kitchen with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair. It wasn't the time for the conversation, but a monster inside him taunted him with the idea that they may never have another opportunity.

“Yes. So, what? And who are you-” She folded her arms, but he interrupted.

“-Oh don't play this game! I saw the way you were looking at Matthew, everyone saw. And Colton? You let him have a field day. How'd he taste? Like cheap beer and cigarettes? Or an adolescence of putting you before himself?” He snapped, staring as if waiting for an answer. She'd never seen or heard him yell like that. Fuck, Quinn had never properly yelled at her. Jack and Luke had relayed stories about what Quinn did to his teammates when they humiliated her, or what a pissed-off Quinn sounded like. But they were his brothers, he was supposed to get annoyed at them, he wasn't supposed to get annoyed with his best friend. He hadn’t even yelled at Trevor like that, and that was saying something.

Putting you before himself. Her stomach emptied, just a pit of guilt spiralling yet her heartstrings yanked and toyed with. She couldn't bear to see him like that, his jealousy manipulated him in ways he had no idea could happen. She learned he was possessive, and she thought it was sweet. She liked it. But she wasn't his so why should she like it so much? There. She wasn't his. Not officially. Their attraction was obvious, lustful. But did he feel the same as her? Did his heart slow when tangled in each other's arms? Did he find her utterly intoxicating, wanting to kiss and fuck with love not just because they can and because it's easy to? Maybe her hints were too subtle, maybe she was too nice to Mila that one time. Maybe her glares in the hallways weren't threatening enough. Words left unsaid, they were convenient for each other, just like the kids at school said. Friends with benefits. Yeah, that's what they were. And it used to keep the peace.

She never answered his question, but it did eat at her. “Quinn, what the fuck? Look, I'm sorry I upset you, I really am, you know I am. You know I never want to hurt you but can you blame a girl for wanting to hang out with other girls? I had no idea where Layla was leading me, and I don't know what came over me. Just, having guys call you pretty does things, emotional things and it's different when you do it because we're friends. And I know you're pissed about beer pong, if I could have been with you I would have 'cause I did not ask nor want to be kissed like that,” She pleaded, watching his eyes gloss over as he sniffed. The last thing she wanted to do was make him cry. Then she remembered that all of whatever was going on between them was nothing but fun, and Quinn was the one who showed her that. “But why do you care so much about a fucking kiss? We're not even together.”

He turned away and sighed, face buried in his hands. He didn’t mean to shout. He didn't want to cry but the tears welled and rolled down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with his palms, heart pulsing in his ears and with the little energy he had left, he turned again to face her.

“I care because I thought we were something, y/n. I thought this,” he gestured between them, voice trembling, “meant something real. Friends don't do the shit we do. I hated the way he touched you, you're supposed to be mine.”

Her eyes watered, bottom lip quivering, hearing confession so raw. The confession of a confused and broken young man. They were only seventeen but the level of emotion in their argument made them sound like they were going through a horrendous break-up after a long-term relationship. “Am I? That didn't matter when you were shoving your tongue down Chloe's throat. I thought we were something too, Quinn.”

The night she needed him the most, the night Leo dumped her, she found him in cahoots with some girl in their cohort. That was the moment she realised that perhaps she was just a placeholder.

Quinn groaned in frustration, not at y/n, but at himself but there was no excuse left for him to make as he spat venom at her, “Like you, she took me by surprise. We were drunk. But didn't think you'd hold onto that since Matthew is soooo dreamy and tall and pretty, probably hoped it was him trying to rip your clothes off, hoped Colton would make him jealous. That's why you've been using me as practice, for someone better, huh?”

“Fuck you, Quintin!” she screamed, “the fuck are you talking about? Using you? Is that how little you think of me?”

He pointed at her, firmly, “You and I both know it wasn't supposed to go this far!”

The silence that fell on them was thick and uncomfortable. Their gazes locked into each other as chests panted. Tears streamed from red, sore eyes as arms fell to their sides. Neither party felt victorious, deep down they really wished they hadn't said a word at all but the lake house makes emotions surge and disturb the serenity. It always had, with and without y/n, Cole and Trevor. He just wished he’d said something sooner, then he wouldn't have lost her like that. Once again, he was a coward and let her slip through his fingers.

Y/n exhaled deeply, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “Maybe. But part of me was glad it did,” her voice calmest as she stepped backwards and started heading out the patio doors, “Oh, and for what it's worth, I shoved him off. He didn't taste like hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. I’d choose that over anything.”

And she left for the boys. Quinn's heart dropped and shattered, the tears falling like waterfalls and he didn't even want the drink anymore. He left it on the counter and shuffled upstairs. Hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. Their hockey game combo they share, just the two of them and they had been doing that since they'd met at ten years old.

Y/n didn't sleep in Quinn's room after that. She didn't speak to him for the next passing week, occupying herself with Luke or Cole. She played video games with Luke, baked cookies with him, took him and Cole out on the boat (just to spite Quinn), and played pool in the basement. Quinn watched, unable to exit the proximity of them. He wasn't seething. He was deflated. Like a sad, wet, cat. Most of all, he was lonely. And he hated sleeping alone.

Jack placed his plate next to the sink, watching Quinn's shoulders slump at yet another dish to clean. Sunday's were his day to clean dinner dishes, and usually, y/n helped him dry and put them away, but since he'd bitten her head off a week ago, he struggled alone. Jack hated seeing his brother dejected, it was the same hollow eyes that a lost hockey game caused. One where you tried so hard just to fuck it up. He grabbed the tea towel off the oven’s handle and started drying the dripping dishes from the draining board.

The middle Hughes. Rowdy with ambition in his blood, but also a brother. Jack took a plate, “Sooo, y/n's been spoiling Luke a lot this week. Why'd you get demoted?”

Quinn glared from the corner of his eye. He knew Jack just wanted to lighten the mood, but he also knew he wasn't tuned in with comfort at his age. “I fucked up. Said something I shouldn't have said, an in-the-moment thing.”

“Like?” Jack placed a plate down, taking another like a system in a machine, Quinn washed, he dried, plate added to the pile.

“I- It's-,” Quinn stammered, remembering that no one had a clue what they were up to, “We just had a misunderstanding and instead of being mature about it, I said some stupid things.”

Jack thought hard, barely looking at him and set his gaze out the window into the garden, watching his dad put the covering over the boat. “You're my big brother, and if you think for a second that I'm gonna take that as an answer, you're wrong. At least tell me the root cause of it.”

Quinn paused, his tone coming across as more irritated than intended, “I was jealous, Jack...sorry. And I walked off instead of apologising and here we are.”

“You're a real idiot, you know that, right?”

Sunday night, a whole week of sleepless nights due to Trevor. And even Cole had started getting irritated. How could one guy snore so badly? And he was only sixteen. She lay wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Had she been too harsh on Quinn? Was silent treatment really necessary? She wouldn't have been surprised if Quinn was miserable too, they had been each other's pillars for years.

Her trance of thoughts was broken by a ‘thud’ from the bed. She shot up, only to see Cole's pillow over Trevor's face, a disgruntled Cole still gripping it.

“Smothering crosses my mind.” He deadpanned.

Trevor sat up with urgency, letting the pillow fall into his lap, tank top crumpled to his stomach, “What the fuck? Why are you two awake? You should sleep.”

“Dude, your snoring is so bad, you gotta do something about it,” Cole said, taking back his pillow.

“I literally have to move rooms because of it.” She added, laying back down.

“Then why are you here?” Trevor lay back down, pulling the duvet to his chest. “Actually, why haven't you been with Quinn this week?”

She hesitated, “Q and I had an argument. We're not on speaking terms. And honestly, I don't think he wants to see me.”

All three of them lay facing the ceiling, listening to the whirr of the fan fill the void. The boys knew something was wrong, Quinn and y/n's separation wasn't hard to miss but keeping normality was best. Nobody wanted a ruined summer.

“I think all he wants is to see you. You're his world and he just mopes without you. What was it about?” Cole's voice was soft and quiet so Jim or Ellen wouldn't come barging in again. That happened once when they were younger, all three had the giggles and Jim had to threaten to separate them.

“Just a stupid misunderstanding. He said shit, I said shit and we both just hurt each other in the end…” she sighed, “I don't know what to do, guys.”

They didn't pry, they weren't sure if they wanted to know what was said. After so many years of watching Quinn and y/n hopelessly pine over each other, an argument couldn't ruin that.

“Well, as a start you could apologise. Make up, make out, whatever you two do. And for fucks sake, just talk. Like, really talk about whatever's going on.” Trevor replied, not really knowing what he was saying but he tried to be helpful when he could.

She kicked the sheets off and opened the guest room door and whispered, ‘Thanks’ before slipping out. He didn’t mean right then and there but he shrugged, letting Cole fall asleep first before his snoring continued.

Like a creep, she stood with her back against his door, mustering up the courage to talk and pushing her pride aside. She sighed and tiptoed over to his bed, and lay on her back next to him. His sheets were warm and cosy but heat radiated off his body. Neither said anything, but he felt her presence and it took everything he had to not engulf her in a hug and spill his apologies, he was still an insecure young man deep down. But hearing her breathing, he was also weak.

“Hi,” she greeted into the silence, voice above a whisper. Quinn slowly turned over, threw his arm over her torso and buried his face into her neck. She didn't respond for a few seconds, but when she wrapped her arms around him, his chest fell weightless. “I'm so sorry, Q.” She mumbled into his shoulder, fingers finding themselves in his hair.

“No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come at you like that or said any of those things,” he pushed himself onto to elbows, eyes glassy but red, “I was jealous and I took it out on you. I'm so, so sorry.”

“I shouldn't have brought things up either, seeing you with a girl just…yeah, makes me jealous too, especially because neither of us communicated well. I take back everything I said, except the last bit.” She smiled slightly, her palm on his cheek.

“I missed you,” his lips fell into a sad smile, his head falling onto her chest.

“I missed you too.” She held him tight, “Why did you think I was using you?”

“Some kid at school brought the idea of just being convenient. And then when Brady came over with the vodka, you said Matthew was attractive. And I stupidly put the two together. Regretted it when you mentioned hot chocolate. I should've helped you, but instead, I got jealous and ran away.” His voice was hoarse, hand slipping under her shirt and thumb rubbing the skin on her stomach.

“It's okay. I should've helped you at the party instead of crying like a bitch. Guess we're both stupid.” She chuckled.

Minutes passed and neither dozed off, but neither spoke. His thumb caressed her skin, while her fingers played with his hair, their breathing pattern slowly falling into a synchronised rhythm. Once again, they lay in his bed, tangled in each other's limbs and once again they both rendered the same question. If they hadn't been afraid of all the possible answers, they could be happily skipping through meadows or sleeping alone again.

She took a deep breath, and he felt her chest rise and fall. With enough courage, she muttered, “Q? What are we?”

He didn't answer immediately, but he pulled his hand from her shirt and hovered over her body, his eyes following hers: lips to eyes, lips to eyes.

“More than friends.” He licked his lips, but he couldn't read her expression, “I don't wanna be friends with benefits, and I don't wanna just be your best friend anymore.”

“Quinn…”

He clambered off her and sat against the headboard on his side of the bed. Giving her no chance to react, he pulled her onto his lap, her thighs straddling his. Quinn's hands cupped the globes of her ass, and the soft flesh reminded him of how much he missed kneading and pawing at them.

“Please, let me get this off my chest, I've been a coward.” He started, the fire inside him igniting when her palms slid down his chest and sat comfortably on his pectorals. Where they belonged, if you asked him. Quinn wasn't good with words, or feelings, it was something all the brothers had in common, and y/n eyebrow raised at how choked up he suddenly became when admitting to trying to not be a coward. “Shit, this is harder than I thought. Fuck- Uh, okay. When I said I spent my adolescence putting you before myself, I meant it. Valentine's Day, when we were fifteen, I meant to give you those chocolates after the second period, but my friends roped me into helping someone ask this girl out. That evening when you came to see if I was okay, and we fell asleep for the first time, my heart went crazy, I was sweating so much ‘cause I wanted you to be comfortable and I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

She took his face into her hands, feeling the heat rise in his skin and spill his mind. He pulled her closer to him, her stomach tingling at the way he massaged the flesh like his personal stress toy.

“Remember the concert? You clung onto me like I was your lifeline, I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And the Maple Leafs game, God after the Maple Leafs game. I'll never forget the way you looked at me like I was fucking treasure. Like I was your everything.” He stopped his babbling, hands giving her ass a rest and holding onto her hips, a small part of him kicking himself for sitting her too close to his crotch.

“I never wanna hear you say that you're not good with words again.” Y/n felt her heart pound in her throat, stars in her eyes at every word of his laced with a sweet desire for redemption. “Every second I've ever shared with you was the highlight of my life. Since the day we met, you've been everything. I just wanted to be your everything too.”

“I feel like the luckiest man alive. Every day, all the time.” A glint of carnal passion glazed over his eyes as they steadied on hers. Her thumbs rubbed his cheekbones, his hands holding onto her for dear life. She couldn't stop her lip from quivering, the emotions that swirled had to be released. The butterflies had to be set free, the fluttering raging and heat in her core inappropriately bubbling. Quinn's room was silent, just the hum of his fan filling the crumbs of awkwardness as they refrained from pouncing on each other. He took a deep breath, puffed his chest out and took a risk bigger than any he'd taken in hockey, a risk with worse consequences. He could get over hockey but he couldn't get over her smile, or laugh, or existence. “Y/n, I have been in love with you since we were fifteen. You're the only person who makes me feel this way.”

“Q,” She breathed, pushing herself into him, closing the painful gap between them and connecting their lips into a long kiss, “Can we be real? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend real?”

He nodded, planting kisses over her face and down her neck, “Yes. Yes, please. You're mine and I wanna be yours. God, you have no idea how happy I was when you told me you didn't kiss Leo, you were still all mine.”

She giggled, his breath on her neck tickling her skin and the arousal pooling in her stomach dripping into her underwear, “Come here, I wanna kiss my boyfriend. Maybe show him how much he means to me.”

She kissed him softly, hands sliding from his cheeks to the back of his neck, where her fingers tangled between the curls on the nape of his neck, tugging gently to tease a grunt or groan from him. His grip on her hips loosened, and his hands ran along her thighs until they groped at her ass again, encouraging her to roll her hips into his. They'd kissed before, but this time it was meaningful. It was something clear, not a bundle of questions of ‘what ifs’. When her teeth gently bit his lower lip, to refuse would have made him a criminal. The bliss that cradled him when their tongues met once again was different too, it was just his to taste. No one else's, he could lap at hers until they dribbled down their chins, delirium rushing to their heads when they moaned and whimpered when someone pulled away to breathe.

The best part was the peace of mind. She didn't have to think about anyone touching him the way she did as she slipped their shirts over their heads again, hands roaming each other's curves and dips like it was their first time all over again. Before Quinn knew it, his hand was rummaging through his nightstand again, her clothes would be on his bedroom floor, his skin would be pressed against hers, and they would be under his sheets, rasping and whining as quietly as possible as his cock hit new angles, or as her throat took more than either had thought. The difference this time was that having sex came with a meaning, a feeling other than lust. It wasn’t a fun game, it was intimate and exclusive. It was with the red thread of fate, tied around their pinkie fingers, and it had finally led them into a sublime vicinity.

The usual suspects sat where the best times of their lives began. The night was young, the sun only just falling into slumber as the crickets chirped. Wrapped up in hoodies and lounging in lawn chairs, summer evenings nearly ended the same every day. Brady, y/n and Quinn with a box of beer between them, Trevor, Jack, Cole and Luke with non-alcoholic equivalents y/n had found, even though she’d seen them grab a real bottle when they thought they were slick, around the fire pit at the lake house.

The harrowing thing about good times is that they fly too fast, and you're left wondering why you didn't have enough time. There are two kinds of people. People like Quinn who prepared to open a new chapter in his story, a new door in his life. And people like y/n who clawed at the door to keep it open, screaming for more time. Not more time with Quinn, they both got into the University of Michigan and after a year of dating, they still had many in their journey. But Brady was off to Boston University, and Jack, Cole, Trevor and Luke still had high school and their lives together would carry on.

Brady broke the silence first, “Do you guys have any regrets?”

He didn't expect Luke to answer, given his life had only just begun.

“I regret not talking more to new people,” Cole replied, listening to the crackling of the burning wood. “Feel like I would have friends like Jack and Trevor, be remembered as me not known as ‘Jack and Trevor's friend’, yunno?“

“Dude, no! People know you as Cole! You're not just a third wheel!” Jack protested, hurt in his tone.

“Cole, you're not our third wheel! We love you, buddy!” Trevor added, his guilt creeping up on him.

“I don't have any, yet. Aside from being born so far apart from you losers.” Luke smirked, all smug like fourteen-year-olds were. Y/n grinned and shook her head at him. If there was one person who had a soft spot in her heart, it would always be Luke.

“And it better stay that way,” she laughed, “Luke, I just wanna put you in my pocket and take you everywhere.”

“Ahem, what about us?” Jack gasped dramatically, pointing at himself and his two musketeers.

“Ew, you're annoying and Trevor’s snoring can only get fucking worse. Cole and I actually considered smothering him once!” y/n joked, looking around the group to see smiles.

The laughter died down, and they went back to sipping drinks and watching the fire, minds wandering in separate directions.

“You guys will come visit, right?” Trevor asked, his voice the quietest it had ever been.

“Of course. We'll be back during the summer, and we can hang out again.” y/n's voice was the softest it could have been with Trevor, usually she nagged as if she were his older sister.

All good things must come to an end, and carefree days slowly dissipated for Quinn, y/n and Brady. The three stood out the front of the Hughes lake house, waiting for Matthew to pick Brady up on his way through. Not one of them dared to say much. They'd had their sappy talks earlier and if they started again late at night, tears were guaranteed. Especially since both boys were due in the upcoming NHL draft, that was one of the scariest parts.

But she did say something. She wasn't sure if she'd ever see Brady again, and while she hadn’t known him long, she kept him close.

She held her fist out to the middle Tkachuk with soft eyes, “Good luck, Brady. At Boston and in the draft.”

Brady breathed and pulled her by her wrist into a sudden bear hug, “Thanks, y/n. Good luck at Michigan. And if Quinner ever hurts you, you tell me, okay?”

She giggled as they pulled away, “Got it. Hear that Q?”

Quinn playfully rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. God, as if I'd want to do that…or have Brady rock up at my door ready to hit me.”

“I've done it before and I'll do it again!”

Shortly after, Matthew's truck pulled up. The three bid their final goodbyes of the summer before Quinn and y/n watched the Tkachuks disappear down the road.

“He'll go far, Q. So fucking far.” She uttered, her eyes wide with a childlike admiration.

Quinn snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side, “Too far for his own good.”

“And I expect to see you both on TV, okay? Don't hit each other though, leave Brady and Matthew to brawl.”

“I'll do my best.” He paused, his smile fading, “What happens if I get drafted? What happens next?”

“You'll get drafted, and you'll either jump straight in or play at UMich for a bit. I'll finish university and who knows? We'll call and text, we'll figure it out and we'll see each other in the summer. Right here. I'll go wherever you go.”

“But what do you want to do? Like after you graduate? I don't wanna hold you back.”

She cupped his cheek, “I don’t know. I don't know yet. I'll probably do something media or hockey-based, you know that.”

He nodded, giving her a slow and warm kiss on her lips, as if he were to never kiss them again, savouring the flowers that bloomed inside, all the fireworks exploding at once and the reassurance that in the end, he got his girl. The future was scary, and no one could know what would come next. But y/n finally stopped clawing at the closing door that she desperately tried to keep open, and hand in hand followed Quinn into the next chapter of their story.

“I love you, Q.”

“I love you too, y/n.”

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #this has been circling my mind for too long #hockey smut #≡qh43 #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Note

Slides in with a bucky request!

Can you do a possoves bucky? Like someone flirts with her and that leads to an argument that leads to to feelings coming out with marking dirty talk and rough sex? Pretty please

Always Watching // Bucky x Fem!Reader

Requested by: hey bestie, thanks for the request!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, possessive behaviour, obsession, jealousy, threats of violence, enemies to lovers, pining, unwanted attention, flirting, sexual harassment, arguing, rough kissing, biting, marking, scratching, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, light dom/sub, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), size kink

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The word used to describe your relationship with Bucky Barnes was ‘strained’. Strained because you’d prefer it if it were at least adequate, and no one could fault you for the attempts made at becoming his friend and helping him with the transition from the Winter Soldier to a member of the Avengers. In truth, you’d tried more than most to help him, especially as he was still at risk of being compromised and shifting back to the assassin’s mindset. You prided yourself on your compassion and empathy, always providing physical and mental support to Bucky, asking how he was, helping him move into the Avengers tower and adjust to going on missions.

Except, somewhere along the way, it had become evident that from at least Bucky’s perspective, you were a person to keep at arm’s length. Your questions would be ignored, and your attempts to help in medical situations would be pushed away. The only responses you’d receive were belittling comments or fierce glares that would have you backing away from the man and shutting your mouth. Even when you kept to yourself, his eyes always seemed to follow you around the room, eyes burning with what you assumed to be hatred, like he was plotting all the ways to eradicate you.

For some unknown reason, Bucky Barnes seemed to hate you, and you had no idea what you’d done to offend him. The other Avengers and agents you called your friends had all implored that he didn’t hate you, but when you stated the experience you’d received from the long-haired man, there was no response but an awkward close-lipped smile and shrug of the shoulders.

This treatment had been going on for months now, avoidance, glare and comments under his breath, and you were slowly getting to the end of your rope. Even earlier in the day, he somehow managed to get under your skin with only one sentence.

“Are you really going out in that dress?”

At first, you’d been embarrassed and somewhat mortified by his comment, wishing to cover up the beautiful dress that Natasha had helped you to pick that emphasised your body shape and the perfect colour to compliment your skin tone. Soon, the embarrassment changed to anger, finding the comment rude and unnecessary. Who was he to say what it was that you wore? Especially tonight, everyone had returned from a difficult mission and decided it was about time the team let their hair down and went to a nightclub for drinks.

Other than the comment, the rest of your night was amazing. You were feeling a light buzz from the alcohol and danced so much that your calves were beginning to burn from standing in the heels borrowed from Natasha. Even as you became lost in the music and masses of people squeezed into the club, you were still hyper-aware of the man watching you from where he was leaning against the wall.

“Does he even blink?” you shouted, attempting to be over the pounding bass to the red-haired woman you were dancing with.

Natasha tipped her head back and laughed, glancing over her shoulder a second later to assess the man who seemed to be staring at you constantly. Bucky didn’t even have the gall to look away in embarrassment, having been caught staring and that only made Nat’s smile widen as she turned back to you with a twinkle now in her eyes.

“You know why he’s staring”, she says matter of factly, swaying her hips as she talks into your ear.

Your eyes roll so hard that you have a momentary headache. “He does not have a crush on me. Can you please stop saying that? The man clearly hates me! I feel like my skin is burning from his stare, like he wishes me to combust spontaneously.”

After the tight-lipped smiles from your friends, they would often tease that maybe he was being so mean and hateful because he had a crush on you. You’d laughed initially, and some small part of you was hopeful that this was the case, but the more he belittled, embarrassed and ignored you, the more evident that was not the case.

“Maybe he’s just admiring the dress that I know he loves”, Natasha shouts confidently, grabbing your hand and twirling you around in an attempt to show off your outfit.

Despite her ridiculous statement, you laughed, “Well, he has an interesting way of admiring it! I’m going to go and get another drink. Do you need one?”

Natasha shook her head and held up her beer bottle, which was still over half full. Giving her one last smile, you made your way through the sweaty, head bobbing with the music until you finally found a free area at the bar, which was busy enough that you knew it would be a while before being served.

Someone pressed against your arm as a new person also had similar ideas to you, leaning on the bar and trying to get the staff’s attention with a click of his fingers. You took a deep breath to try and refrain from rolling your eyes at the arrogance of the man next to you, who was leaning on his forearm on the bar side.

“What are you having?” he shouted confidently with a grin, and it took you a good minute to realise he was talking to you.

“Oh, no, it’s ok. I’m getting my own drink; I’m sure it won’t take long”, you politely decline, turning your body away from him for a moment, hoping to catch the eye of the bar staff so you didn’t have to stay there any more with the guy next to you.

“Nonsense, pretty girl like you shouldn’t be buying your own drink. Come on, let me buy you a drink. I’m Chad, by the way”, he responds whilst sticking his hand out for you to shake. You stare at the hand before shaking it with a limp wrist, wanting to show that you aren’t enthusiastic about the conversation.

“Nice to meet you, Chad. I appreciate the offer, but I’m really fine buying my drink”. You pull your hand out of his grasp and try to take a step away, but there are so many people at the bar that there’s nowhere to go. Chad only moved closer, ignoring your discomfort as he leaned his face towards yours.

“Don’t be like that, Baby, it’s just a drink. Your dress is beautiful, by the way, it really makes your…eyes pop” As he spoke, he was not looking at your eyes as you crossed your arms to cover your chest. “Are you here alone? Maybe we can grab a drink and go somewhere beautiful; I’d love to get to know you on a more personal level”, Chad asked, lifting his fingers to stroke the apples of your cheeks.

“She’s not alone, and get your fucking hands off of her”, came an aggressive voice from behind as a warm chest brushed against your back.

Bucky pushed against Chad’s shoulder, giving him enough space to stand between the two of you, so now you’re staring at his back as he protectively became a shield for you.

“Hey man, what the fuck’s your problem! Who do you think you are, touching me like that?!” Chad shouted loudly enough that others began to turn and stare at the scene.

You could feel the thickness of the atmosphere, and there was nothing more you wanted to do than de-escalate the situation, not wanting Bucky to get into any further trouble as he was already being watched like a hawk by Shield.

“Bucky, please stop; everyone's staring!” you tried to pull on his arm, but he stayed completely still, ignoring you as he stared daggers at Chad.

The man looked between you and Bucky before settling on you and pointing at Bucky, “Is this guy bothering you? Listen, asshole, she clearly doesn’t want to be with you; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been out here buying her own drink, now would she? Why don’t you get lost so the pretty girl and I can get back to getting to know each other?” Chad smirked cockily.

This only made Bucky tense further, his posture straightening as he took a threatening step forward, and Chad flinched. Bucky’s gloved hands clenched at his side as you quickly did a visual check to see if he had any weapons, but you couldn’t see any in the suit jacket and jeans; you were sure he probably had them hidden up his sleeve.

Bucky took another step forward, nostrils flaring as anger radiated off of him in waves of heat, and genuine fear pooled in your stomach with how the situation escalated as you tried to push him away from Chad.

“If you ever touch her again, I promise you, I will fucking ruin your life. No, you know what, scratch that. If you so much as look at what’s mine again, there’s nowhere on this planet that you can hide; I will find you and end anything you find precious, including your life. Do you understand me?” Bucky asked, his tone surprisingly calm for promising such life-ending threats.

“What's going on here?” another voice joined the conversation as Steve and Tony appeared at your side, pushing the growing crowds back to give everyone space. You would have been thankful for their arrival had you not been staring open-mouthed up at Bucky. Not only was he threatening to kill someone for you, but you didn’t miss the possessiveness in his words and actions, and the biggest question screaming in your mind right now was what he meant by saying ‘what’s his’. Surely he didn’t mean you? Everything was becoming far more complicated than you’d anticipated.

“Is he compromised?” Tony asked in a hushed tone to you as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, prepared to pull you away from the scene if needed.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to the hand on your arm, the glare moving to Tony’s face as the billionaire changed his stance to one like he was preparing for a fight. Your heart nearly stopped, everything becoming too overwhelming and escalating to a level that no one would be coming down from if it wasn’t stopped soon.

“No! Tony, he’s not compromised; he’s fine. There was just a misunderstanding-”

“A misunderstanding? Is that really what you are calling this situation?” Bucky demands, staring down at you whilst moving out of reach of Steve’s outreached hand.

“Bucky-” you try to reason with him, but you notice that his eyes have gone in the direction Chad seemed to disappear from. He was moving before you could even stop him, following wherever the guy had escaped. Quickly looking up at the confused Tony and Steve, you tried to reassure them whilst beginning to follow after Bucky. “Everything is fine! I’m just going to make sure he’s ok”.

You mostly needed answers than anything, feeling completely and utterly sober now and not wishing to return to the dance floor. As well as making sure that Bucky wasn’t going through with any of his threats.

You were going from being within a stuffy nightclub full of alcohol and dancing people with not enough room to move and music so loud that your voice had to strain to be able to be heard by others. To now, you’re rushing out of the entrance, out into the open air that was considerably colder, added to the fact that the heavens had opened and the rain was pouring enough that it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of you.

Any sane person would have turned right back around and reentered the club just to have some cover, but your adrenaline was pumping, and after a few seconds outside, you were already drenched, so there was no point trying to find the jacket you’d left in the cloakroom.

You follow in the direction Bucky had stormed off, trying to weave through the people running through the rain and past the busy New York traffic. “Bucky!” You called out for him while wrapping your arms around your chest, trying to keep some of the warmth you’d found in the club, but the more you were out in the open, the more the rain wholly soaked your body, drawing the freezing temperatures into your bones.

You stare at his back as he continues to walk with a purpose; you aren’t even sure if he’s following Chad anymore or just needs some air. You try your hardest to keep up, even with the struggle of the slippy wet floor and your ridiculous choice of heels burning your calves enough that you contemplated risking the sanity of the bottom of your feet by taking them off.

“Please, just wait, Bucky!” you shout to the man in front, who, of course, doesn’t slow down. You were at your wit's end, cold and drenched from the rain, confused by Bucky’s reaction in the club, not just from Chad but also the look from Tony grabbing your arm. There was clearly something more going on, and him running away, potentially on the warpath, was only making your anxiety increase to the point of wanting to scream.

Distracted with your rolling emotions, you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer following anyone as the street in front of you only had the occasional couple walking past with umbrellas over their heads.

You’d somehow lost Bucky.

“Shit!” you curse to the sky, letting the rain pour down over your face, unsure of what to do. You could return to the club, but you were now much closer to the tower than you were to the club and at least back at the tower, you could use Jarvis to assist with trying to track and find Bucky.

Before you could follow through with your decision, a gloved hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you quickly into an alleyway that had some shelter above your head, protecting you from the rain. Just as your mouth opened to scream and combat training reflexes moved to punch whoever had grabbed you, the movements were halted as you became face-to-face with a very pissed-off Bucky Barnes.

All air rushed from your lungs as you were forcefully pushed up against a wall as Bucky leaned his metal arm beside your head, leaning over you. Even though his blue eyes were burning with more intensity than you’d ever seen before, you still sighed in relief that he hadn’t rushed off somewhere, but now you just had to deal with the confrontation you were hoping for.

“Go back to the party”, he demands in a voice so low that you almost coward from him. Still, instead, you held your ground, pushing off the wall, expecting him to move back in a show of confidence, but he remained hovering close enough that it only meant that there were a few inches between your faces.

In the shadows of the alleyway, he looked threatening, especially with his bulky silhouette, but for some reason, he looked somewhat like a fallen angel. The fierceness in his swirling ocean blue eyes that devoured you completely, the height and strength that was trained through every single inch of muscle throughout his body, even his shoulder-length hair left unbound and dripping from the rain, gave him a mysterious look. It was nearly enough to distract you from the events that had taken place. Nearly.

“What? No! I’m not going back to the party. What even happened back there?”, you demanded, trying to remain as confident as you’d felt when leaving the club and not letting the adrenaline altogether go from your system.

Bucky looks away, towards the end of the alleyway in thought before finally muttering, “It was nothing”.

You scoff, “It wasn’t nothing! You threatened to kill the guy in there, Bucky! And what was all that with Tony? I saw the look you gave him! Oh, and what did you mean by touching what was his?”

To your shock, Bucky smirked, but his gaze was so vibrant when he turned back to look at you that, on instinct, you took the step back again to press against the wall. “I told you not to wear that stupid dress,” he says under his breath, like he is telling you a well-kept secret but is forcing himself to say the words.

You frown, your chest restricting, making it difficult to breathe. “The dress? Why do you hate this dress so much, I can wear whatever the fuck I want, Bucky! Stop trying to change the subject! Everything you do is so confusing. For months, you've acted like me even breathing in the same room as you is an inconvenience and then you’re threatening some asshole guy at the bar and protecting me? What’s that about?”

“Because I knew I’d have to be fighting off dickheads like him all night! That’s why I have an issue with the dress. When men like him take one look at you and assume that they have any right to even talk to you, let alone any of the other fucked up shit he was hoping to get from you”.

His outburst shocked you to the core, leaving you stunned and fumbling to think of any words. “I…I don’t understand where this is all coming from. Wait, aside from Chad, no one is allowed to talk to me? Who do you think you are to decide something like this? Maybe I want a cute guy to buy me a drink!”

“You’re naive if you think guys will only want to buy you a drink and nothing more”.

Your face heats uncontrollably at his words, hating the condescension lacing his words. “Don’t talk to me like that! Maybe that’s just what I want anyway. Someone nice to buy me a drink and treat me with kindness that clearly you won’t give me! So how dare you try to dictate my life by saying what I wear means you’ll have to be my knight in shining armour! You don’t have to do anything for me, these past few months have clearly shown you don’t give a shit about me so why care so much what people do to me?”

“You don’t understand”, he seeths through gritted teeth.

You want to scream in frustration from the lack of answers, letting all the energy form in your arms and hands as you pushed on his chest, needing some space between both of your bodies, but he was built of stone as he didn’t move at all.

“Then explain!” you shout in frustration, the heat and adrenaline returning to your veins. “Because I’m losing my fucking mind right now! Why do you act like you hate me one minute and save me another whilst acting like you have any sort of say as to what I wear and who touches or looks at me?”

“Because he touched what’s mine!” Bucky bellows, his face dropping close to yours as a vein bulges on his temple. “Call it jealousy, call is possessive, I don’t fucking care. Do you know how hard it is to see you in the line of fire at work and then come out to places like this and watch every guy and woman in this place have their eyes all over your body, wishing that they could have you? And then watching that asshole Chad come and talk to you, giving you those compliments and then having the nerve to touch you? He was a dead man walking”.

Your mouth opens and closes, feeling like you are having an out-of-body experience. “But… but you hate me”, you say, sounding as defeated as you felt.

Bucky scoffs again with less anger this time, the tone of his voice calming slightly as he leans closer, crowding you in his warmth. “I don’t have you, sweetheart, but I’m so fucked up in here”, he points to his head, “I can’t risk being near you”.

“Bucky-”

“Just go back to the party. I’ll call you a cab; just don’t follow me.”.

A lump forms in your throat. There’s no way you’re leaving him to go back to the club, and just as you’re about to tell him that, he’s suddenly dipping his head and cheek against yours so that he can whisper into your ear. “Just know that even though I’m not there, I’ll know if someone is looking at you. Your body is for my eyes only, so if anyone approaches, they’re dead”.

The breath hitches in your throat as your fingers clench, and you remember that they’re still resting on Bucky’s chest as you grip his shirt tightly. The warmth against your face retreats as he attempts to move back, and it is out of instinct that you glance towards his lips. You’ve never experienced anyone becoming possessive over you before. It should have had you running in the opposite direction, but your feet remained planted in that same spot, leaning towards the protective force in front of you.

Bucky then surprises you as you watch his frowning lips shift into a knowing smirk, laughing under his breath which causes a pulse of attraction through your cunt. “Oh Doll, you’re going to need to stop looking at me like that; otherwise, you won’t be returning to that party”.

A surge of confidence rocks through your core as your gaze burns into his intricate, beautiful eyes, “What if I don’t want to go back to the party?”.

You try not to jump away from the gloved hand, now cupping your jaw, tilting your face up towards the covering, shading you both from the continuing thrashing rain. The warmth of his breath skips over your exposed throat as he runs his nose along your skin, causing a shiver to rush down your spine. “You don’t mean that?” his tone had deepened and sounded increasingly strained, as if he was somehow holding himself back.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening and how everything had changed to such a degree. All you were 100% certain about was that there was no way you would be going back to any party without Bucky.

“I mean it more than you could ever know”, you say with a rush of breath, finding it difficult to hold back the restraint to continue looking up entirely at his mercy simply.

Bucky contemplates your words as his nose drifts lower, and your heartbeat thumps hard in your chest. You are sure that you’ve felt the delicate kiss of his lips against the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “I think you like it when I show you who you belong to”, Bucky states with arrogance and sultry need that equally has your knees weakening.

The pure desire pooling in your underwear was becoming impossible to ignore, like a flame had been lit within your body and was slowly devouring your rational thoughts. A weak moan escapes your lips as your eyes drift close.

“Bucky…” you trail off, beginning to tremble, not from the low temperatures or being soaked through from the rain, but because your arousal had hit you so deeply that he consumed all thoughts.

“Yes?” Bucky asks as he laughs throatily at how you were so easy to succumb to his advances.

“Just fucking kiss me already!”

The pleasure and pain that enveloped your body was something that you’d crave and dream about for months to come. Pain because his lips pushing into yours with such force that your body was pushed back against the brick wall, but the overwhelming pleasure from finally feeling his mouth on yours, the hand gripping your jaw moving to the back of your head to cradle it with gentleness that you were surprised he as even capable of. The urgency didn’t end there, even as you finally received what you both had truly wanted for all of this time. You needed more of him, all of him, every single inch of his body you wanted to feel without the barrier of his clothes.

Bucky’s nose pushed into your cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, both of your mouths opening to allow your tongues to dance and caress one another. You moaned, tasting the mint on his tongue and something that was so uniquely him your mind momentarily lost any coherent thought.

His massive body was pressed against yours so that you were consumed by him completely. Which also meant that you could feel the hardness of his arousal rutting into your stomach as he gently rolled his hips to try and relieve some pent-up frustration.

You were ready to give him everything, right there, in a random alleyway in rainy New York, where anyone could stumble upon the two of you. Thankfully, Bucky still could hold onto some restraint as he put some distance between you.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you in front of everyone, I have the sneaky suspicion that Fury would not be pleased if a member of the Avengers were caught having a quickie out in public”.

In any other situation, you probably would have laughed at the absurdity and realisation as to just how far gone you��d become to actually be ready to lift your dress and let him fuck you. However, you were so caught up in the fact that this was happening and hearing the beautiful man in front of you say that he wanted to fuck you in a public setting only added to the deep desire from his possessive tendency to increase.

Bucky pressed a chastising kiss to your temple as he began to shrug his jacket from his shoulders to then wrap it around yours, and you could have moaned at the warmth and mouthwatering scent of his cologne surrounding you. The man you thought hated you didn’t give you any time to lose your senses as he grabbed your hand and tugged you out of the alleyway and back into the startling freezing rain.

As the Avengers tower was only a couple blocks away, it was easier for the two of you to run in the rain, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, using his big build to shield you somehow from the wetness, but you were already soaked.

Finally, once in the safety of the private elevator that was only used for residents of the tower, you both were once more consumed with each other. His jacket was pushed to the floor so he could run his gloved hands over your shoulders and back to cradle your face.

Your back was against the elevator wall as he crowded around you, trying to taste every possible area of your mouth. Your leg lifted, hooking around his hips and causing your dress to hitch further up your thigh until it rested around your waist, pulling him closer.

In this position, he was able to thrust his tented jeans against your panties, the rough material catching your clit and causing an obscene moan to echo around the small space. His lips left yours but only so that he could kiss down the side of your neck, causing more mewls and pathetic squeaks to leave your parted mouth.

“I want the whole world to know you’re mine”, he declares as his teeth scrap against the area where your shoulder and neck meet. The same part of you that was throbbing for his possessive tendencies needed him to do whatever he was alluding to. To persuade him to continue, you ran your fingers up his firm chest, scratching up his throat and to the nape of his neck so that you were able to grab a handful of his hair and tug him even closer.

However, arriving at the Avengers’ living quarters interrupted the two of you. Without missing a beat, Bucky's hands lowered to your thighs, picking you up so that your legs were now wrapped around his waist as he supported your weight with his hands on your arse.

Your fingers remained in his hair, pulling his face back to your neck as he began to suck on different areas, marking your skin with darkening, wet patches. The tiny reasoning voice at the back of your mind was warning you that you’d regret those marks tomorrow, but with the want and need to have his lips and teeth all over your body, you couldn’t care less if he was marking you.

Everything about his touch was seering in heat, even though those leather gloves still covered his hands. It was as if you could feel the temperature of his burning skin through the material, and it only made you more desperate to claw at his clothes. Equally, Bucky needed to feel more of your soft skin and learn every inch of your body.

You were only half aware that you’d entered his bedroom because the low lighting had naturally turned on by the building's sensors. It was minimalistic, and for a second, your focus zoned into the sheets and pillow led out on the floor and not on the bed, which was just a bare mattress that he all but dropped you into the centre of.

His lips were on yours again, and you were thoroughly distracted from the makeshift bed on the floor. The sharp sting of his teeth grazing your bottom lift caused you to mewl and pull on his hair, exposing his thick neck that gave you the opening to begin your exploration, licking and teasing until he was shivering and sitting back on his knees.

You admired him momentarily as he seemed to do the same for you. His handsome face was flushed with arousal, the pupils in his eyes so vast that it was almost as if the clear blue didn’t exist anymore. His chest was heaving with steading breaths as he began to pull on each of the fingers of his gloves.

“How expensive is the dress?” he asked, eyeing the cleavage that had been his downfall all night.

“It’s Natasha’s”, you answered breathlessly.

“I’ll buy her a new one”, Bucky mumbles, gripping the edges of the dress and tearing the material into two. You gave a startled scream as you were suddenly left in your underwear, but the shock at being exposed was swiftly distracted by him ripping his shirt directly down the centre so all the buttons popped off, and the material shrugged off his broad shoulders.

Even though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him without a shirt on, your breath caught in your breath at his beautifully sculptured chest and abs, mouth already watering with the need to lick every inch of him.

“Be a good girl for me, Doll and spread your legs”, he demands with surprising gentleness, still sitting back on his knees and stroking a soft caress against your outer thighs.

A pathetic whimper bursts from your chest at the praise, pussy clenching with need that you didn’t waste a second before opening your legs. Even though you still had your panties on, Bucky's gaze became hungry, as if he was a man on the brink of starving to death as he licked his lip and began to lower his body.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to do this”, he admits, gripping the edge of your underwear and beginning to drag the material down your legs.

You smile to yourself, straightening yourself in the centre of the bed and getting comfortable as your legs naturally lay across his shoulders as he led stomach first on the bed.

“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you”, you tease, but all the smug arrogance is drowned out by the pornographic scream from feeling his tongue taking a long, exaggerated lick from your perineum to your clit. You weren’t sure who was louder between the two of you with the moans as Bucky finally was able to taste the girl he’d been wanting for months and you for having someone actually wanting to give you some form of pleasure.

Every time you made a noise of pure joy or increased in volume, Bucky repeated the action, learning what you loved. Your thighs were nearly suffocating him with how hard they were squeezing around his face, and you knew that he would happily die right there between your legs if that’s what you truly wanted. Then there was the hair you were clenching, probably having ripped out two handfuls as you pulled on his long hair, hoping to have him as close as possible between your legs.

“Fuck Bucky! Who taught you how to do that- AH! I’m so close!” your back was arched, eyes clenched tightly closed as the pleasure was tightening within your core. His tongue lapped with quick flicks, firming the tip to add more pleasure as he pushed it into your dripping pussy. His moans added extra stimulation as you happily came all over his face, trembling and twitching cunt around his lips and tongue.

Just as Bucky was about to add two fingers into your still pulsing hole, you shouldn’t take the wait anymore and begged, “Please just fuck me already, Barnes!”

The Avengers grinned down at you as he began to crawl up your body, nipping each of your breasts with his teeth through your bra as he moved. Your cheeks warmed, seeing the shine over his stubble from your juices that he’d been happily drinking. Your thoughts didn’t remain on this fact for long though as he was kissing you feverishly once more, meaning you could now taste yourself on his lips.

With his mouth thoroughly distracting, you’d not noticed that he’d been unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans and boxers down his toned thighs. Without waiting until they were entirely removed from his body, he swiped his cock between your folds, coating his length in your liquids.

Your mouth gaped open as the tip of his cock nudged into your entrance, stretching it to a level that you’d not been used to. “Shh, it’s ok, Doll, you can take me”, he promised, with one hand holding your hip steadily and the other against your cheek so he could hold your face still.

He was so deep, impossibly deep. You could feel him everywhere, widening your cunt until you were fluttering around his cock, and he hadn’t even begun fucking you properly yet.

“Nearly there, try and relax for me”, Bucky praises into your ear as your eyes widen, realising that it wasn’t even the entire length of him inside of you yet. Only as he was pushing into your cervix did your head fall back, and you sighed out. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well. Put your arms around my back; you’re going to need to hold onto something”, he boasts as you try and take a deep breath, your fingers reaching around his back, nails digging into the skin to give yourself something to hold onto.

Spreading his knees further apart on the bed, Bucky readjusts his position to gain more momentum. The man fucked good. More than good. You were pretty much pleading incoherently to whatever gods were above or below. There wasn’t anything you were begging for, just whatever it was that Bucky seemed to be doing, that it never stopped.

Each stroke caressed that sweet spot within, and with the way his hips rolled, he was able to nudge your clit with his body. Added to the mouth on your neck, biting and licking the sore spots to ease the ache, his hands pinning you down to the bed only added to the raw possessiveness dictating Bucky’s movements.

Harder and faster, his hips moved. The thick cock pounding into your cunt until you were seeing stars and cumming again, squeezing him so hard he had to still his hips to stop his own orgasm from spiralling.

But then, he's pulling out and turning you onto your front, spreading your legs once more and demanding, “Arch your back for me, Sweetheart”. Doing as he instructed, your still-covered breasts pressed into the mattress as your hips angled up. With one hand holding onto your shoulder and the other on your hip, he began to fuck you with just as much enthusiasm.

In this position, he somehow felt even more deeper, and all you could do was cry out and moan with how good he felt.

“Tell me you’re mine, I need to hear you say it”, Bucky grunts as you came for the third time, becoming overstimulated and disorientated with how good you felt.

Your cunt was still squeezing with the effects of the orgasm as you repeatedly told him, “I’m yours, only yours, Bucky”.

Bucky’s head tilted back so that he could release an almighty grunt, the hands on your body tightening enough that the skin became tender, but you didn’t care at all, not with how good you were feeling. You could feel his cock throbbing and the wetness that followed, dripping from your hole and onto the mattress beneath.

It was a long few minutes before he eased out and collapsed onto the mattress beside you, the two of you breathing heavily as his metal fingers stroked slowly down your spine and his lips followed.

“You should have told me earlier”, you whisper over your shoulder to him.

“Hmm?” he asks, moving up to your shoulder, where he carefully kissed the skin that was tender from his grip moments before.

“You should have told me how you felt”, you explain, thinking about how much time was wasted.

“Maybe. But then, I wouldn’t have had so much fun threatening everybody for looking at you”, he answers with a grin, kissing your cheek once before climbing off the bed and returning with the sheets from the floor.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes one shot #jealous bucky #bucky barnes x reader #marvel one shot #bucky #mine*

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augustinewrites · 10 months ago

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when your boyfriend is the duke of the fortress of meropide, there's nothing harder than finding time to run errands together on his rare days off.

“wriothesley!” you scold as he crowds you up against the wall with a smirk. you keep your gaze locked onto his face, doing your best to ignore the fact that he was clad in nothing but his boxers.

your attempt at being strict is quickly waylaid when he leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “can you focus, please?”

“can’t help it when you’re so close to me…not to mention we’re finally all alone–”

“how is it going in there?” chirori calls from the other side of the curtain.

you tense and your boyfriend groans, head hitting the wall of the stall with a dull thud.

“it’s going good!” you call back, unlatching his hands from your hips and walking him back as far as the stall will allow. “now try the pants on,” you order.

“why do i have to get all dressed up for some party?” he grumbles, complying anyway and stuffing the tree trunks he calls legs into the expensive material and buttoning them up.

“it’s not just some party. it’s being hosted by the chief justice.”

“ah, right. neuvi is throwing a rager to celebrate his hostile takeover.”

you help him into the dress shirt next, admiring the way his muscles strain against the fabric as he turns to the mirror to button it up. “he’s hosting a ball to announce his becoming the interim leader of fontaine. smooth over the transition of power and all.”

“and you’re dressing me up to show me off?”

“of course,” you grin, staring at the two ties you’d picked out and wondering which would match your dress the best. “can’t have you go in there looking anything less than a million mora.”

he turns around to face you, shirt still undone. “mind helping me out here then?”

“i knew it,” you mutter, trying and failing to close the buttons of his shirt yourself.

“knew that my impressive physique would be hard to contain?” he asked cheerily, proudly puffing his chest like a bubbler seahorse.

you toss a different shirt at him with a roll of your eyes. “just try the bigger one on, please, if you go in like that they might mistake you for late night entertainment...”

he slips the shirt off, shooting you a wink and popping his pecs. “only for you.”

once he’s dressed, you pull him out of the change room to stand in front of three-way mirror. you step back to admire him, greatly appreciating the way his slacks hug his rear…

“shoulders look good…” chiori notes. “how do we feel about the lapels?”

“i like them,” you hum. “could we get him some gloves as well?” the stylist nods, heading off. you take the chance to step up to where your boyfriend has already slipped off his jacket and is rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“wow,” clorinde - who’d been shopping around with navia - says, impressed. “never thought i’d see you with a fully buttoned shirt.”

“hey, sometimes i can dress like a duke.”

“when properly motivated, yes he can,” you agree with a proud smile.

“so gloves, huh?” he smirks, running his hands over the curves of your hips. “sounds like you’re planning on us sneaking away to have some real fun…”

“oh no,” you warn. “we’re going to be on our best behaviour tonight. important people from all over teyvat are going to be there.”

“best behaviour? you know i'm a convicted criminal, right?”

you roll your eyes as he laughs, pulling you into his chest to wrap you in a loose hug as chiori returns with gloves and a garment bag.

“here you go. and for you, your dress for tonight.”

wriothesley pulls the gloves on, peeking over your shoulder as your friend unzips the bag.

he’s already imagining it on you. the way the fabric would sit against your body, the way it would sway as you moved…

“yeah, screw best behaviour,” he scoffs, flexing his fingers in his gloves. “if anyone even looks at you too long, i'm breaking their kneecaps.”

“doctor, call off your guard dog,” clorinde says, clearly amused.

you only sigh, pressing a kiss to wriothesley’s lips in an attempt to smooth the scowl they’re set in. “his leash is only so long.”

#wriothesely x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin x you #genshin fluff

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lovverletters · 1 year ago

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👉👈 yandere serial killer...??? Maybe?? Like just this big scary dude with a mask and a big fuck all weapon like a butcher's knife or something and hes so big and scary but he sees his darling as he's just head over heels in love and obssessed and stalks them and makes sure they are safe.

Maybe leaves gifts as a way to try and court his darling even (trial and error style)

So like he leaves maybe a dead animal like a fucking cat cause he's this kinda survival guy and he's trying to provide food but darling is freaked out, so he tries again with something else maybe bones. Doesn't work. Tries to figure out what they like and tries again with their favorite flower or something.

Like he's out of touch with society cause again big serial killer who likely lives out in the woods, kills people who get to close to his home etc so he's really trying to win over his darling who lives closer to the town/city or something.

Just.... I just love big scary man who is so scary and mean but is ONLY nice and soft to his darling and tries to be so gentle, especially if his darling is much smaller than him.

No pressure if you dont wanna do this! Just!!! Giving out some ideas!

♡♡♡

♡Bunny

Yandere! Serial Killer

A/N : thank you for requesting! I changed a few things if you don't mind💖 this is like an intro for him? I'll write more if people like this dude

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, murder, mentions of dead animal.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"─yet another body has been discovered near a park at Heartfelt Avenue this morning. The police were alerted to the scene after a man who was walking his dog stumbled upon the deceased body covered with deep cuts that were shaped into a heart. This marks the twelfth victim of the serial killer, 'Lovelorn' that has left communities in fear──"

The news forecaster were cutted off as [Name] switch the television off. Their stomach churned with uneasiness at the reports of the new killing. With the serial killer still on the loose, god knows who'll be next?

It could be them.

It's a terrifying thought but a probable possibility. All of the bodies were found near their place of living, meaning that the killer is not far from their area. Moving away is not a choice for them, they could barely make enough money to stay afloat.

[Name] will have to put up with the murderous maniac's antics until they were caught and placed behind bars.

"Shit── I forgot I have to cover for Stacey today!" They cursed out, hurriedly changing into their horrendous work uniform.

Working a late shift at a cafe wasn't exactly their choice. [Name] usually worked the day shift── stressful but far better than being all alone at night when there's a lunatic who's going around stabbing people. Their coworker Stacey had an emergency today and had practically begged [Name] to cover for her shift as no one would take up on it.

[Name] don't blame them, no one in their right mind would voluntarily throw themselves in a situation where they would ended up in a news headline.

However, adulting is hard and it drains your sanity slowly and [Name] already lost theirs a long time ago. Plus, they really need more money otherwise they'll have to live off cup noodles.

What ever could go wrong? The killer had just slain a person today, they couldn't possibly attempt to do it again could they?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Everything went wrong.

It had been mind numbingly boring shift, the cafe were deserted at night with only a few people coming in and getting out as soon as they got their drinks.

[Name] were tempted to just sleep through their shift in the break room. Their boss won't care──probably.

"Can't something interesting happens right now? I'm bored out of my mind──" On cue, the lights suddenly begun flickering before shutting off.

Fuck. They're not bored anymore.

[Name] jolted in their place when the main door slammed to a close and their heart stopping momentarily as they saw a figure running towards the backdoor entrance.

They raced towards the exit──there's no way they're going to investigate it! They value their life more than this store they worked at──and try to pry the door open but discovered to their horror that it has been jammed!

Before they could attempt to break the glass door with a steel chair, they heard a noise from their former place behind the counter. [Name] eyes widened in fear at the sight of the figure they'd seen running earlier.

The man was muscular and had a red horned mask on, in his hand was a large butcher knife that serial killers loves wielding. Had their life not being in danger, [Name] would've laughed at how cliché this situation they're in.

"H─hey buddy, that's a nice looking knife you got there" [Name] says as they held onto the steel chair tighter, ready to wield it as a weapon if needed to.

The killer only stalked further in silence, ignoring [Name]'s remarks. He only stopped once they reached a good distance from each other and [Name] were confused, is he fucking with them?

Their confusion only furthers when the killer drops a fucking dead rabbit in front of them. Horrified beyond belief, [Name] looked at the horned masked man who stared at them as if he's waiting for a praise.

"Wh──wha..?" They could only croaked out timidly.

"It's for you" The killer spoke in his deep voice, elaborating no further.

Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he dropped a human heart next to the dead rabbit. [Name] felt their knees weakened as they fell on the ground, disturbed at the sight before them.

Mustering whatever courage they have left within them, they asked the killer that's towering over them.

"Wha──what are these f──for?" Stumbling over their words from how terrified they were.

The killer, holding a flower in his hand──they looked freshly cut from the stem──lowered to their level of ground and spoke in his gravely voice that's strangely laced with a certain gentleness and love.

"M' courting you cause' I love you"

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#tw: yandere #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere headcanons

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willowed-wisp · 14 days ago

Text

the wedding of simon riley [ ghost ]

WARNINGs: mentions of abusive injuries, abusive domestic behaviour

Being in the SAS was a lonely practice, well, that’s how Simon Riley saw it. Though, his existence was one of violence and he didn’t want his family being dragged into another volatile situation or any other innocent soul.

That’s why he was alone, that’s why he didn’t date anyone and that wasn’t going to change. Until it did…

A shout, “He’s got my bag!” And he started running after the vandal, catching him quickly and with precision. Face mask up as was his hood. Racing steps behind him… and there you were, your hands scraped and tights ripped at the knees. “Thank you so much…” Your eyes sparkled almost at him, curious what your saviour’s face looked like.

He simply handed you the bag- you noticed gloves… not paying much attention, “It’s nothin’…” Gruff and unbending, you could tell then that he was a hard ass as he turned his back to you.

“Lemme get you a coffee or something?” The stranger’s head shook, walking away. His eyes a stark contrast when your hand wrapped his tattooed wrist. Almost as if it were a trigger point and you removed it as soon as you had touched him. “You didn’t have to get the bag… please let me get you a coffee, a tea… a vodka?” A teeny tiny smile beneath the mask.

That’s how you ended up in a tea shop, in completed silence. Was he trying to scare you off? Maybe but you happened to be very persuasive and chatty. His worst nightmare.

Finding out his name was Simon, and he was in the military. And he didn’t do well in social situations, or at least with you. Speaking enough to realise he didn’t have many acquaintances let alone friends. Probably of his own doing…

Taken aback when he asked to walk you home- to avoid anymore attempted muggings. Not normal for you to let someone do that but he didn’t have to return the bag. “This is me…” Pointing to the house, “Thank you for all your help, Si-,” Then your red door opened, revealing the familiar figure.

“You were gone longer than you said…” The tone was wasn’t one of worry or concern, Simon knew that feeling in his gut. But it was your life, and he was probably wrong. So he waved it off. “Who’s this, babe? He bothering you?” That instinct in Simon flaring more. Especially the crazed look in his eyes.

Until he looked to you; bubbly and extroverted while on your own, now a husk. Silent and woven inwards. That sparkle dimmed. “I got mugged… he got my purse back for me…” You couldn’t even reach Simon’s eye line. While fists clenched at your partner’s sides.

“She’s helpless, mate. I always clear up her messes, thanks,” Simon had never despised being patted on the shoulder as much as he did in that moment. But what had him more on edge was how he never noticed bruises on your wrists, and how forcibly your boyfriend held you around the shoulders and was leading you up the stone walkway to the normal house.

Hearing a shout and then a slap when that door closed. Simon had a choice… leave and pretend like you never existed… or what he did next.

Not bothering to knock, finding you on the floor- tears streaking down the face you held. Before gunning for your partner, a perfectly taken frame photo crashing to the wooden boards as his large frame smashed your partner into the wall. “I’ve met men like you before… you are going to pack a bag and leave Y/N alone…” That was until a small hand held Simon’s shoulder, his eyes softened.

“Dave, just leave… go to Chris’… just go…” You didn’t know if you’d had the strength to do that, but having a military man beside you made it easy as he held your partner against a wall. Then Simon dropped him, shattered glass at his palms. “I will call the police, David… I’ll deliver your shit to your mums.” Time slowed for you while moving too fast and David was gone. His car unblocked your driveway with music blaring down the street.

Managing to lock the door- letting out a sigh… Feeling drained, “Thank you…” Is all you mustered, before collapsing into a flood of tears. Trying to splutter out an apology, but this relative stranger just stroked your hair letting you lean against him. Thoughts racing, never finding a moments peace in four years of being with him. But able to find a speck of hope in a man you had only met about four hours ago… “You can go, you’ve done more than enough good deeds for the day…”

Standing up from the sofa, heading through to the kitchen. The kettle clicked, Simon was impressed you didn’t pick yourself on the vodka you’d offered him earlier in the day. Instead he found you, elbows finding balance on the countertop.

You asked him to the stay in the house- maybe trauma clouded your judgement. You slept in the guest bedroom, not capable of blocking out the atrocities that occurred in your own. With a stranger downstairs.

When you woke up, the glass had been clean up and the smell of breakfast wafted. Mask still covering his nose and lips. “I thought you’d have left. You didn’t have to cook, bless your heart…”

Something knocked Simon from his daydream. The only face he wanted to see on the daily right in front of him. Forgetting where he was for a split second, his hands holding your tiny ones in comparison. “Simon Riley, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Part of him focused that his Captain was officiating his wedding, while all of him focused on you. The woman he hadn’t left, the person who had remained loyal to him when he came home bloodied and dirty.

Every second of each mission, he wished he could have you in his arms. Even when you weren’t his to hold. Fearing that you’d have forgotten about him in two months, only for you to turn up at his apartment with some chocolate and a ‘welcome home’ card.

Each and every time he returned back in British soil.

You didn’t complain about the terrors he shouted at in his nightmares- holding him when the muttering started and pulling him awake. Never judging him for the pills he swallowed to balance him out again. Simon looked down on himself while you only ever looked up to him.

No attempt to lift the mask until he did it himself. You’d been friends after that first incident for two years until you made the move. And six months after you were stood at the alter in front of not even ten people.

The people he felt comfortable with: his squad members, his mum, his brother and sister in law… whatever family you were close with enough to know what laid under that mask; a cheeky grin whenever he taunted you or… did other things to you…

There would be no announcement in the local newsletter on marriages and funeral directories, no posts on social media. But you knew that when met him… nothing high-key.

With all that in mind, you looking angelic… just wanting to kiss you… “I do.” And before Price could speak, his lips were on yours. Cheering from your nearest and dearest. His hands held your growing stomach, holding his future.

“I love you,” Foreheads together, smiling while you knew Johnny was taking cheeky snaps of you two. “Mrs Riley…”

————

masterlist

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beforetimes · 26 days ago

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planning a modern/fame timebomb au in my head where jinx is a celebrity recovering from addiction after a public meltdown who's lost contact with most of the people she knew when pre-breakdown/pre-fame. and in completing her recovery program she reaches out to ekko to offer a direct apology for anything she might have said/might have happened in the depths of her addiction, but doesn't hear back from him.

following this she decides to go out and sign up for a program to help at-risk kids like herself—after reflecting in therapy and realizing that a lot of the issues that lead to her being in such a volatile state of mind was because of the lack of support she had in childhood when dealing with losing her family [haven't planned what would work as a stand-in for the powder factory explosion so lets skirt past that for now] she decides that she wants to be that support for other people that she didn't have herself, after spending about a year trying to get better.

basically, she signs up as a volunteer to this big brother/sister-esque outreach program after a few months of anonymously donating to see if she can help someone in person rather than continuing to isolate herself. which is where she meets isha, who immediately imprints on jinx and insists on following her around. and jinx, who is unused to being at the centre of someone's attention without larger expectations that come with her status as a celebrity attached as caveat, starts relaxing by the very nature of her interactions with isha not being as loaded as others. like, this is just a kid! she doesn't know about jinx's issues or how she freaked out and lost it on stage/on a set/made headlines before disappearing from the public eye and ending up here. all isha sees is someone with cool blue hair and nails she wants to try her hand at painting.

after a few months of building a rapport with isha through this community mentor program, jinx accidentally bumps into the last person she really expected to see here—ekko.

ekko is also very surprised to see her here, because the last time he saw her, she was freaking out on him because he wouldn't enable her self-destructive behaviour, their final and most explosive fight resulting in their subsequent falling out where jinx threw a lot of shit back in his face and he did the same and they decided not to contact each other. well, besides jinx's attempt at an apology, but he didn't reply to that.

he sees her here and they both freeze because, like? what do you even do in this situation? they haven't seen each other in a few years at this point, maybe two or three at the most. enough time that it feels so entirely awkward to even try to act like nothing happened while also knowing that it would be equally nerve-grating to try and acknowledge the history between them.

of course, this stand-off is interrupted by isha, who sees jinx frozen in the hall and immediately stomps over to drag her away because they had been working on a painting together that she's been waiting to finish all week.

and jinx eventually relaxes because ekko doesn't say anything and neither does she, even though she wants to know what he's doing here in the first place. but the day ends without any further interactions between the two.

eventually, after asking around, jinx learns that ekko was the one who set the program up a few years prior, a tentative friend in the program telling her that the community didn't really have a lot of resources on hand and that a lot of the program was personally financed by ekko and he did a lot of work to try and uplift the people and community without demanding financial support in return, like most state-funded programs tend to do.

jinx is just, like, in awe of the fact that this childhood friend grew up to do something so great before being overwhelmed with guilt over the fact that she had been so wrapped up in her own world that she hadn't even noticed.

of course, this doesn't really change things because they're still not talking to each other, but weeks pass and jinx feels like they've gotten into a steady pattern of avoiding each other.

what she doesn't know is that ekko has been subtly watching in on her and isha's little hang-out sessions and is just in awe that this girl who had only a few years ago been so unsure of herself and in so much pain had managed to heal to the point of being able to help someone else and make a good positive impact on isha's life in a program he created.

so, after a while, jinx gets a reply on that email she had sent him nearly a year ago where ekko just asks if she wants to meet for lunch. which she replies to, after a lot of back-and-forth, by saying yes absolutely.

and then the romance unfolds further from there, yadda yadda yadda. haven't decided how this will ultimately end or where vi will play a part or anyone else but i thought that the bare bones concept i had in mind was worth posting here.

in my head maybe ekko's second, scar would be a friend who had seen the majority of the fallout and would be warning him away in the background while ekko was sort of caught up in being both happy that jinx seemed to be doing better while also conflicted on whether or not he wanted to forgive her because their last fight was like, super nasty. awful stuff said

maybe if anyone has ideas for how vi / cait / anyone else could be worked in, you can leave that below?? none of this is super set in stone! just rambling. ^_^

#arcane #arcane fanfiction #arcane fic #arcane headcanon #arcane au #modern au #famous au #jinx #jinx arcane #ekko #ekko arcane #isha #isha arcane #jinx headcanon #ekko headcanon #timebomb #ekko x jinx #milez writing #timebomb au

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evie-sturns · 9 months ago

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Friends - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris are friends with benefits until you notice a change in his behaviour, he starts to get angry about how clingy you are.

contains: fwb!chris, arguing, angst, yelling, crying, making out.

--------------------└── •✧• ──┘---------------—-

chris and i have known each other since we were barely able to speak, i've known him my whole life and we've always just. been. friends. until around 8 months ago. i don't even remember how it happened but suddenly his hands were roaming over me, and we fucked.

we both decided after that experience that would be friends with benifets, how could we not after getting a feel for eachother? it was so convinent because i'm always over at their house with nick and matt, they're also my closest friends.

7:39pm

i lay on the sturniolos couch in my small shorts and a tank top, nicks laying beside me as we talk about absolute bullshit.

"nick, you're seriously yapping now" i laugh, "no but tell me thats not the best wednesday video ever, i'm getting matt." he declares, heaving himself up and running out the room, he comes back with matt.

"i will happily cook salmon tomorrow for the wednesday video." matt says with a deadpan face, he speaks like he's being held at gunpoint.

nick claps, "let's go get the shit now" he says with a know it all smile on his face, "dickhead." i scoff to nick, he shrugs with a wide grin.

"you wanna come get the stuff from the grocery store with us?" matt asks, i shake my head "i'm not dressed for the occasion" i joke.

he laughs before grabbing the keys which are attached to his jeans loop, he walks with nick outside, shutting the front door behind him.

i put my phone down on the pillow beside me before standing up, aimlessly walking upstairs.

i open the door to chris's room, "chriss" i say with a smile before entering the room.

"why aren't you with nick and matt." he says, sitting up against his headboard. "hello to you too." i say sarcastically, jumping into bed beside him.

i lay my leg over chris's thigh, my hand reaching out and tracing random shapes on his arm, he pushes me off casually, an awkward silence filling the room.

“can i not touch you now or something.” i say jokingly, chris snaps.

“can you fuck off for once?” he raises his voice, i sit up in bed as my heart thumps. “what?” i say, slightly shaken up.

“all you do is touch me and be around me,” he starts, my mouth falls open slightly.

“we are FRIENDS with benefits, i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together?” he says, emphasising the ‘friends’.

“so for fucks sake, act like it, act like we are normal friends because the only thing different about us is we fuck, nothing. else.” chris finishes before standing up off his bed, walking out of his room and slamming the door behind him.

tears pool in my eyes, first of all he knows i can’t take being yelled at, he also knows that i’ve always been insecure about how clingy i can get.

i didn’t have any friends other than the triplets when i was growing up, they were all i really needed. so i’ve stuck to them majorly,

i always ask nick if i’m coming over too much, and if they want me to stay at my apartment i can, but nicks always shut down that, telling me that he will literally lock all doors so i can’t leave.

but that was just nick, nick wanted me to stay, did chris like me round?

i sit alone on chris’s bed, replaying each word than came out of his mouth over and over in my head.

“i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together”

“can you fuck off for once?”

i let out a small sob, tears starting to paint my cheeks. i bring my knees up to my chest as i bury my face in his pillows

i let out shaky breathes, having a poor attempt to calm myself down.

7:46am

i don’t know when i fell asleep, all i know is that i’m slowly starting to wake up in chris’s bed.

his arms are wrapped around me, spooning me as he snores lightly into the back of my neck, i stir as i look down.

i sit up in bed, chris’s arms still on me as he lets out a tired groan. all events of what happened last night start coming back to me. i instantly try to get out of bed but chris has a firm grip around my waist,

“chris, let me go.” i whisper yell, he shakes his head.

i place two hands on his wrists and try to pry them off of me. chris is slowly waking up, i feel tears start to form again, knowing that he most likely had to sleep next to me cause i fell asleep in his bed.

i let in trembling breathes, chris sits up. “sh shh.” he says, pulling me down onto his lap as he sits up against his headboard.

“can i please talk to you.” chris says, his voice hoarse.

“chris.” i say, small droplets of tears rolling down my cheeks as i fight his grip.

“i’m going home now.” i say again, “no you’re not.” chris starts.

“i am so sorry.” chris says, grabbing my face and making me look at him.

“i am so sorry.” he repeats, rubbing my arm with his free hand lightly

“i am so sorry for opening my mouth last night , i am so sorry for making you cry, i am so sorry for walking out of the room, i am so sorry for yelling.”

“i love you so much, more than you understand and there is actually no excuse for what i said, i don’t know why i said it. i have never felt truly loved by someone other than my family so it’s really throwing me off that you want to touch me, you want to be near me.”

“i think i’m so scared of getting to attached to you and then you leaving, because i can’t handle that, i don’t want you to leave, ever.”

he finishes, my tears came to a halt as soon as the words ‘i love you’ left his mouth.

“do you mean it..?” i ask, looking up at chris.

he grabs my jaw staring at my lips,

“chris, i have morning breath.” i laugh slightly

“i do not care at all.” he says, slamming his lips onto mine,

his arms holding me tighter than ever, he doesn’t let me go for the rest of the morning no matter how much i protest.

—————-

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo edit #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut

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7s3ven · 2 months ago

Text

Hear me out guys… retired soldiers now bodyguards! task force 141 x spoiled heiress! reader

( just an idea )

You’re like, a nutcase. Your father adores you but sometimes you can go out of control. Like for instance, the time you jumped off a cliff into the ocean below to impress a boy.

Yeah, your father wasn’t very impressed with your behaviour.

On top of your recklessness, your father has enemies who always seem to target you. You’re his obvious weakness and he can’t spend another moment of anxiously wondering if you’re okay while he’s working.

So, he hires the best bodyguards he can find. And they turn out to be retired soldiers from an elite unit known as Task Force 141. Perfect.

You don’t take kindly to being continuously followed by four large men who don’t even try to be subtle. It’s not like taking care of you is easy either. You’re a troublemaker, you always have been since your mother left you for another family (your reckless tendencies tend to stem from the fact that you’re causing trouble to get her to notice you again).

Task Force 141 has had enough when you attempt to sneak out of the house to a party on a Friday night. But it seems apart from shopping and acting like a brat, you aren’t good at anything else.

They hear a crash and someone swearing loudly before you roll off the roof, landing in the bushes right outside the window where the four men have a perfect view of you. They were watching a football came until you interrupted.

Jonny bursts into laughter, slapping Gaz out of amusement, while Price fetches you and forces you back inside.

“You know, your house has a back door for a reason.” Simon utters as he cleans your scratches but there’s a mocking indication to his tone.

“Yeah but like, going out the window felt more cool.” You argue back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Was it cool when you face planted into the ground?”

You can only pout in annoyance.

From then on, they don’t leave you alone, especially not on Friday nights. You have to deal with being squished between Price and Simon as they watch a boring documentary on… fish? Jonny definitely chose that one.

But hey, you aren’t exactly complaining. Being stuck between the two men means being able to feel their muscles and smell their strong cologne. You tolerate the four men more after they cleaned your scratches from landing in a bush and carried you to your bed.

And so what if you catch feelings? Anybody else in your position would have done the same.

“We can’t date ya, lovie. We’re too old and we work for your dad.”

Do you care? Not really.

“My dad literally hired you because I was a troublemaker. Ya think I give a shit? ‘Sides, the older the better.”

Jonny jabs a thumb in Price’s direction, “Even the captain? You should’ve seen ‘im in his prime. Way better looking.” He hands you a picture that he just happens to have of Price.

You glance at it then lift your head to look at Price. Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “Yeah, you’re right. What happened, Captain?” You joke.

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR THE LAUGHS:

Kidnapper, negotiating with TF 141: We have the annoying heiress. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed

Y/N: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars. MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Price: Y/N, STOP

Simon: Can I be frank with you guys?

Jonny: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Gaz: Can I still be Gaz?

Y/N: Shh, let Frank speak.

Gaz: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Simon: *turning to Y/N* How tall are you?

Price: Where's Simon, Gaz, and Y/N?

Jonny: They're playing hide and seek.

Price: Where?

Jonny: I don't think you get how this game works.

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Simon: Several traffic violations.

Gaz: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Jonny: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

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ladyoftheblades · 5 months ago

Text

comfort

aegontargaryen x aemondswife!reader

synopsis: the war had caused a shift in aemond, brothel visits, questionable behaviour toward his family most of all his brother, and now news of his lover. his wife had had enough, turning her attention to a lover of her own,none other than the king

a/n: i really hate this but wanted to get it out of the way to focus on new things 😙i finished this drunk off of cosmopolitans and crying my eyes out about my fate, so maybe aegons breakdown is a little ooc.hope you enjoy anyway. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE and im dyslexic.

warnings: smut, p in v, dacryphilia, mutual cheating, descriptions of wounds and scars(not too much tho)

it was a young and uneasy night, sunrays still gracing the sky, dousing kings landing in twilight. the princess sat at the library, the book in her hands long cast aside in favour of staring out of the window. it was a useless thing anyhow, having done little to ease her worries. today was the day she was excpecting news of her husband, aemond targaryen, to arrive from harrenhall.

she knew the rumors surrounding the castle, it was a cursed place, full of mysteries and withcraft. it was especially dangerous for targaryens, since the time of the conquest when aegon burned it down.

aemond had gone to claim it in his brothers name. but the hour ran late yet the messenger had not come. she sat and stared, all of the worst scenarios playing in her head, turning and swirling her thoughts, sending waves of nausea to her stomach.

truth be told, her husband had displayed some very unusual behaviour of late. since the murder of luke by aemonds own hand, he had taken to visiting a brothel in the city. her immediate reaction was one of anger but once her confidants informed her he was visiting the same madam, a woman named silvy, the one who lay with him for the fist time when he was but a child of three and ten, she understood. his actions were not born of lust but of trauma. he had always treated her with respect and love, so in spite of her initial anger she found it in her heart to forgive him, to overlook his slight.

but his strange behaviour had not ended there. the war was taking a toll on him, she could tell. he always had a violent streak, yet he held great mastery over it, always calm and collected, only rarely losing control. the war brought out those tendansies, warping him into a beast of unquenched anger. after the battle of rooks rest, due to his brothers injuries he had been named prince regent which only expedited the change in him.

the battle of rooks rest was the oddest of the ocuurances. princess rhaenys had passed, killed by the joined efforts of aemond and aegon, the king and his dragon sustained grave injuries, incapacitating them fully, yet aemond and vaghar came out of it almost completely unscathed. the lady attempted to coax her husband into talking about the battle, yet every mention of it caused him to break out in a fit of anger or storm out of the room immedietly.

not one soul but aemond could give a complete account of the events, for the king refused to speak with anyone, stating he needed rest. but the account aemond gave was....lackluster. something was off, piesces loose on the tapestry he had paited of the events. if one could poke at it it was sure to come undone, yet the regent allowed none of it. the small council could raise little question, he was -for all intents and purposes- their soveirgn after all.

time went on, the sun hiding behind the western sea, taking all semblances of light with it, the sky now completely black. quite an unpleasant sight. a knock sounded at the door, the princesses heart began to race with unparalleled anxiety "enter, please" she shouted.

she had excpected an envoy from harenhall, one appointed by her, yet none came, in stepped the master of whisperers, lord larys strong. "my lady" he greeted, giving his best bow. "lord larys. i excpected an envoy from harenhall, have you come in his stead ?"

"yes, my lady" he walked further into the room, slowly reaching her spot by the window, taking a seat with great effort. "i must inform you, the nature of the information...is quite sensitive" her anxiety shot through the roof, chest thumping at a hundred kilometers an hour.

"has something happened to my husband ?" she said urgently. "do not fret my lady, the regent is in good health" the air shifted, her anxiety had calmed but something else, something more unsettling took over. what could possibly be of such sensitive nature ?

"go on" she said. "my informats have made me aware of the princes recent behaviours, since taking control of the caste, maybe even pre-"

"oh quit your theatrics and spit it out" her tone was now damn near yelling. the man infrotny of her was stalling, but games of court had no place in the concerns of a wife at alarm. larys took a deap breath "your husband has taken a lover, her name is alys rivers. i am told she works as a milkmaid in the castle, though rumors have it she is a witch"

her heart almost stopped. a lover ? she could excuse silvy, they shared a certain history. a lover ? a paramour ? one that was unpaid, and there to whisper in his ears the gods only know what ? too far. she stood up suddently and began to pace back and forth infron of the window. she continued that way quite a while, not uttering a single word, only flailing her hands in erratic movements, trying to wrap her head around the information, attempting to make sense of the storm of information now revealed to her. larys remained calm. his composure was almost...unnerving.

eventually he attempted to pull her out of her trance "i understand this must come as quite a shock, shall i call for a maester my lady ?" she halted her movements immedietly, regaining contact with reality, yet ever in internal disarray. "no, that is quite alright my lord. who else knows of this ?"

"no one, of yet. i came to inform you first, though i doubt it will remain private for much longer" she looked to larys, a knowing look in his mischievous eyes. information was his trade, and he had provided elite services, a reward was in order. "i thank you for your service lord larys, you may take your leave, your loyalty will not be forgotten, i assure you" with that he was satisfied, giving a final bow, he exited.

with the bang of the door agains its frame announcing larys exit, the emotions hit her all the same. what was she to do ? this was not her husband. war changed the souls of men, bringing forth the worst of their humanity. the brothels she could forgive, the anger excuse, hells she could even overlook the lover, but all three combined ? an insult. a hurtfull, heartbreaking insult, one that could not go unaccouted for.

she had yet to bear aemond any children, if this whore were to come with child, if she was to have a son, it would put her position in danger. semblances of solutions to mend the problem, to find her an explaination at the lest, flew around in her mind, yet she was far too disturbed to give any of them proper consideration. still in that strange trance of betrayal, she began to walk.

her feet acted on their own, unattatche dand seemingly unaffected by the storm that was her mind. they took her out of the library, tracing a path around the red keep. she walked and walked and the more she walked the more she thought and the more she thought the clearer her head became.

power was getting to aemonds head but he was not the ultimate authority, the king was. the root of her husbands behaviour was the death, or rather the murder, of lucerys but rooks rest was the turning point. if he would not provide an explaination, his brother would.

she had shared few words with her brother in law, far and inbetween, aemond always coming inbetween them to root out whatever semblance of a relationship they began to create before it could sprout. but he was pleasant, a little inappropriate in his jests and brash to a fault. he spoke his mind, did as he pleased, with no mind for consequences. the only thing that kept him alive quite frankly, was his position as the fist son, now king. all those qualities, once considered faults, now sounded refreshing. a stark contrast to the lies and masked intentions of others.

the king had locked himself away from the world following the battle of rooks rest. she had heard the whispers of his state, his appearance made up to be groutesque and unnerving. "unlike anything come of our realm" she had overheard one maidservant say.

she traced a path to the kings chambers. security was never strong in the keep anyway and she had memorised the schedule of the changing guard. she reached the hallway of his chambers just as the guards were tuning the other end.

she hadnt much time, begining to advance when suddently three maids exited the chambers in coplete dissaray, clothes soaked and the king audibly yelling from inside the rooms. they began to run in the opposite direction, their voices somewhere between whispers and shrieks, full of terror. something was amiss with the king, even mose so than usual. no matter, she could use the opportunity.

slowly she walked to the rooms, quietly slipping through the door.

"I SAID LEAVE" shouted aegon imedietly upon sensing her presance. the sight infront of her was truly something... the king lay in his tub, his back to her, watter spilled all around, no doubt by whatever had transipired beforehand. his body had been badly burned, maelys managed to damage his body so much, armour melted into his skin. even with his back to her, tub obscuring his visage, the damage to his shoulder and neck was visible.

she took a step forth "im sorry to disturb your grace though i believe you never asked me to exit". upon hearing her voice aegon made an attempt to crane his neck and look at her, the tension to his burns making him wince in pain, immedietly turning back around.

"please, your grace, do not exert yourself" she said, tentatively approaching. she soon reached him, finally able to look at him whole. the water obscured his visage from the waist down but the sight of his face and chest made her heart swell with hurt. the burns consumed the entire left side of his chest, expanding to his neck, fully engulfing the side of his face, even parts of his nose.

thought what struck her most was not his gruesome burns, he was far from such. in spite of the burns his face held a certain beauty, even on the scarred side.

he moved, ignoring the pain, turning away from her quizical gaze. "please, leave, just leave..." none of the previous anger was present, voice laced with only sadness and embarassment. he was voulnerable, oh so voulnerable, exposed, completely at the mercy of the world and his surroundings. she took the kings aversion as a challenge. "oh your grace, please, allow me"

she fell to her knees, the fabric of her dress becoming wet at contact with the floor. "i have no need of your pity" he muttered, face still turned. "i do not pity you, your grace, the scars of war are to be worn as a badge of honor, as proof of your bravery"

she could not see his face still but something told her he did not share that same oppinion. his burns had healed in their majority, forming an angry red scar. some areas remained sensitive, mostly underneath his arm, must be the parts where metal melted into him, she thought. she looked to the desk behind her, an assortment of ointments placed atop.

she looked to the labels on them, spotting one which wrote "after bath". she took it and oppened the top, the smell surprisingly pleasant. "did the maesters instruct a certain ammount be used ?" aegon shook his head no. he was still somewhat uneasy, yet did not deny the assistance.

she put some on her hands and began to apply it to his torso. it must have worked instantaniously for the king eased, becoming accostumed to her presance, and moved his head to finally look at her. she did not return his gaze however, only continuing her movements.

he studied her hands with searing intensity, periodicaly giving satisfied hums. they kept like that a while, the king growing more and more comfortable as time went on. untill she reached his face.

by now it was near impossible not to look at him, yet she resisted. she completed his cheek, and moved to the area around his eye. before she could contunue though, he raised his good hand from the water and grabed hers. his fingers wrapped around her wrist threatening to leave a bruise. she paused, ever so cautious. "y-your grace, i cannot continue if-"

"Look at me." he comanded. she complied, finally looking in his eyes. they were absolutely beautifull, grayish blue hues morroring those of the sea on a moody day, color only accentuated by the candelight. they hid something, something intense yet he dared not reveal it to her, as if her learning of it would embarass him.

"what do you see when you look at me ?" he asked. she was somewhat taken aback by such a question, still she made no attempt to back away, in too deep already. whatever the king wanted she had to comply with. she took a moment to think, knowing the wrong answer might cost her her life. " a boy"

"is that how you see your king truly ? as a boy ?"

"my king is a fierce and brave warrior forged by fire and blood, the one infront of me named aegon targaryen is a boy"

his face began to change, the walls built around his soul slowly coming down, eyes verging on betraying their secret. he removed his hand from her wrist, allowing her to contunie apllying the ointment. she brought her hand forth to his eye, the king leaving a sigh of relief, tilting his head back. she turned around to place the jar to its place, by the time she turned to aegon once again he was looking right at her, head tilted back, eyes dark and playfull. if she looked closely she could even see a smile playing at his lips.

"comfortable, your grace ?" she said, attempting to match his playfulness. he gave a chuckle "very. you my lady ?"

"very" she mirrored his reply. she closed the distance between them, now putting her hand on the good side of his chest, begining to rub soothing circles on his alabaster skin. he enjoyed the contact, she could tell, the smile on his lips turning from one of mischief to one of satisfaction. she knew she could not keep it up for long, her visit was now devoid of purpose, she would have to come up with soemthing quick-

"i never did ask, why are you here ?" he broke her train of thought. she stopped the movement of her hand, moving it instead to play with his hair.

"i have been discarded by my husband im afraid and ... i understood you to be in a similar position. i thought... i thought maybe we could be alone together" she looked straight to his eyes as she uttered that, finalising her last word with an afectionate tuck of his hair beneath his ear. she waited, frozen, afraid of having said the wrong thing, the one that would set him off. yet as time passed, tortourously, kicking her gut harder and harder as it went on, his demeanor went unchanged.

"at first you think me a boy, and now discarded. i ought to have your tongue for that" he moved his hand, the scarred one, to cradle her chin as he delivered his words. yet his toutch was neither threatening, nor malicious. no, he was playing, he wanted a game but more than that.... he was looking for something in her. comfort she had provided already, trust, perhaps ?

she made no attempt to remove her face from his hand, the contact sending shocks through her body... it had been a while since her and her husband had been intimate... the sole attention of the king was something else entirely. "are you not, then ? discarded ? are you not lonely ?"

the game was on. he seized her up, looking to find what he wanted, she spoke again "if you have no need of company, should i take my leave ?" immedietly his fingers dug into her skin "i said no such thing" she gave a smile of satisfaction.

"you admit it then, you are lonely, just as i" her voice was laced with nothing but warmth, coaxing out of aegon his true nature, breaking down any remainants of walls around his heart. "just as you" he spoke, voice but a whisper, a glint of recognition in his eyes.

"we are one in the same. i see you as you are" her words rang true, they were one in the same, cast aside, stripped of their agency, starved of affection, all due to aemond. a wave of boldness washed over her. she moved closer to aegon, head resting on his shoulder, cautious not to disturb any parts not yet healed.

"why did you so rudely dismiss your maids ?" he took in a sharp breath "they thought of me as a beast. i saw it in their eyes, the disgust. besides, they knew not what they were doing, before they even began i could smell the incompetence. i could not allow they stay"

"then why allow me ?" she said, craning her head, looking now to his eyes. "i can trust you. as you said... you see me." she gave a small smile. he drank up the encouragement like a man starved.

"we may help eachother then. i see something troubles you, tell me my king, how may i be of assistance ?"

"my troubles are no secret, these scars trouble me, my face, my... my incapacitation." "oh aegon" she uttered quickly, moving from her spot on the floor, still on her knees, standing behind her king now, hands snaking around his shoulders unashamedly. her head went to his good side, chin toutching shoulder. "aemond may be regent but you... you remain king. ofcourse you are capable, you may rule from your own bed if you wish, council be damned."

a sob rattled his body. she pressed her arms further into him, attempting to stiffle his sadness for every tear of his shook her to her core. something about this man, with all the power of the realm at his fingertips being so voulnerable, putting his heart in her hands and trusting her to protect it, something aemond had not once done, it made her wish to hold onto him and never let go.

he began to weep openly, hiding his face in the crook of her arms. everyone looked at him and saw only what they wanted, be it a king, a rake, an incompetent fool... no one saw him for him, not even his own mother could recognise the pain festering in his body, the unfairness of the situation she put him in. he was given all the power in the realm with no say of his own fate. destined to live a life soely for the sake of others, faithfully serving the realm, his family, his mother, his counsil, never making a choice for his own. and then he was punished for it, punished for all he had no input in, by none other than his own brother, his own blood. ofcourse she knew naught of it, but the way she held him, so tight, so firm, as if she would take away all his pain and pour the love of the world on his skin the same way she had done that ointment, it only made him want to cry more, overwhelmed by the emotion.

she held him close and did not let go, not when the tears ran a salty stream on his face, not when the snot began to fill his nose,making his sobs sound all the more pathetic, not when his hands left bruising marks on her arms, possesively keeping them close, afraid they would be taken from him. she only endured, giving small tuts and shushes as well as little praises here and there.

eventually his sobs ceased, leving him sensitive, puffy faced and shuddering. she tennatively pulled her arms away, much to aegons disapointment, moving to the table once again,bringing a clean piece of cloth to his face. he took it greatfully and began to clean it somewhat.

"your grace ?"

"i just try so hard, all i do i do to please but-" tears threatened once again to spill from his pretty eyes, the princess would do anything to prevent such a thing.

"your grace, aegon, you neednt please anyone, you are far from perfect but you deserve to be treated well, to have your sacrifices recognised"

"they do not respect me"

"fuck them then. you are king, you may impose your authority over the council, you have a mind and a heart, and you can make as strategic a descision as any of them. i will be the fist to support you" his gaze fell to hers, blue eyes further acentuated by the redness brought about by his tears, mouth slightly open, heavy breaths escaping with great difficulty, his eyes from hers to her lips, to her eyes again. she moved her face forward, minimising the distance between them.

she thought of the correct words to say to comfort him, any plan of coaxing truth out of him long forgotten. she had come in with a plan, but his behaviour, his trust in her washed all of that away. she thought yet no words came to he

"aemond is a fool to hurt you"

"aemond is a fool to undermine you" his body reacted on its own, as if possesed by the emotions rooted in his chest so deep and so intense no logic could reach them, and so he kissed her.

his lips were so soft, having been spared, they moved on hers, full of raw intensity. practice attempted to prevail, aegons many conquests having taught him all he needed, yet could not, overrun by emotion. he had no control of his movements, kissing her now like a knight sworn to celibacy, unacustomed to the woea of women, wishing only to express his courtly love.

she pressed onto him harder, taking control of the kiss, hands falling to his face, one on his good side immedietly gripping his jaw, giving back the same desperation he had shown. immedietly upon the contact he oppened his mouth, leaving a whine and allowing her tongue acess. her other hand, ever so carefull not to hurt him, gently rested on his jaw, affraid of horting him.

he broke the kiss, speaking in between pants " my face is-is healed, do not hesitate just toutch me-" and so she did, ever so eager to please her king. the kiss deepened, all the sloppier, all the more desperate, all the more emotional, untill it was not enough to express their devotion.

"are-uh- are other... areas..healed, of yet ?" his face franticaly moving up and down, "yes, all the areas-" he chuckled, a hearty chuckle, such a lovely sound "all the areas of interest are healed, please "

she understood. she rose to her feet and began undoing her gown. aegon watched from his seat, staring patiently, adoration filling his beautifull ocean eyes. it took her a bit to undo the back laces of the dress, she hastily tore it from her body, heavy fabric immedietly falling to the floor, leaving her in only her small clothes, a sheer gown, off white in color, devoid of embelishments, but softly draping over her form.

her body was a painting, brought before aegon to feast his eyes upon. his patience was wearing thin. he moved his hand to toutch her, blocked by her stepping back "please, my king, allow me" he gave a small pout, obeying none the less.

she spared no time in giving him what he wanted, fulfilling finally their shared wish. one leg at a time, she entered the still-somehwat-warm water but faltered, hesitating to put her weight on him,ever so afraid of causing aegon pain.

he sensed her hesitation "its ok, just toutch me, please" desperation filled his body, threatening to chocke him, laced in every word from his lips.

she brought their faces together again, his mouth spilling desperation into hers with every kiss. her hands became unafraid, egged on by aegons words, resting on his chest, one of them reaching further and further down, tracing featherlike lines with her fingers, untill they reached where she wanted. she took aegons cock in one hand, halfhard already, leading him to release a pleading whimper. "good boy" she uttered.

caution thrown to the wind, the praise getting to his head, aegon moaned oppenly. as she began to stroke him, his moans got more and more desperate, each movement of her wrist sending waves of pleasure to his body. much like her he had been starved of affection, all sort of affection, he was desperate to take whatever she was willing to give. "oh gods-"

she shushed him by graciously placing her lips on his, resuming their previous kisses. but it was nowhere near enough for aegon. his hands found purchase on her gown, bunching up the fabric, tugging desperatly. he wanted, nay needed more. he began to tug the gown upwards, a pleading movement, asking of her to be as voulnerable as himself. she was oh so ready to provide.

she took his hands into hers, guiding them to take the gown off, finally it went up, revealng her stomach and breasts to him. immedietly he moved, taking her form into his arms, placing kisses on her colarbone, wasting no time to go lower and lower, reaching her breasts. he took a nipple in his mouth suching in tandem with her thrusts. the princess threw her head back, moaning with her full chest, uncaring of the world around them.

her hand never faltered, his cock began to twitch with his impending release. he detatched from her body, panting like a dog on a dry day, each inhale sending waves of equal parts oxygen and lust in his brain, making his vision hazy. he was not ready to give her up yet.

"p-please, please, im close"

she halted her movements. aegons disapointment traced a path from his abdomen all the way to his throat, releasing a pained whine. his hands moved on her back, clutching her sides for support, the pleasure so rudely torn from him and the previous exhaustion, leaving him stranded in the storm that is the haze in his mind.

"why my darling ? did, did i do something ?" it came out almost more as a cry than a question. "no, aegon, ofcourse not, youre perfect"

his chest fell in relief, lips immedietly finding hers, a kiss of graditude. a kiss of praise. "but im not done with you quite yet. i only wish to please my king after all"

her hand moved to his cock again, she pulled her hips down simultaniously, guiding it to her entrance. his tip barely teased her entrance and he was already a goner. he thrust his hips upwards, chasing the contact he craved so much. "patience, your grace"

she moved his tip forth, coming into contact with her pearl, sending jolts of pleasure to both of them. aegon was on the verge of becoming undone, barely clinging onto his sanity. she gave him a tutt, looking down onto her voulnerable king, his eyes already on hers, looking through his lashes, void of inhibitions and filled with unimaginable lust.

"please" he whispered, begging, such a man brought down by one woman, broken down onto the barest pesces of his soul by the world, pu to gether again by her toutch. "yes, your grace"

finally, finally, she brought her hips down. his cock entered inch by excruciating inch, untill finally she settled, having taken him whole. she resisted moving though, taking strands of silver hair on the nape of his neck, tugging his head to her chest, burrying it between her breasts. his desperatuon had reached a tipping point, this simple act sending him over the edge, sobs wreacking his body once again.

"ooh, my boy, did i pain you ?"

"it just, it feels good. youre so good to me" he muttered, head still buried in her chest and burrowing further, leaving sloppy kisses on her flesh and sucking marks surely with the intent to leave a reminder of him. "aww my darling, do not fret, i will take care of you, just you wait"

she gave his head little reassuring scratches, attempting to ground him somewhat, preparing the boy under her for what was to come. cautiously she began to move her hips. the sobs wrecking her own body just as much as his, only giving her more courage.

the water of the tub began to sway, more and more and more, she picked up her pace, moving her hands through his back, tracing the rough parts of his scars, the sensitivity of those areas adding to his pleasure. her pace picked up further, frantic hip movements rocking the entirety of the tub, the furniture begining to scratch against the floor.

aegon could take it no longer, amidst sobs and moans he began to move is own hips, matching the pace of the princess. his movements executed with no semblance of grace nor purpose, only focused on his own pleasure, seeking retribution for his lost orgasm.

the tub rocked, water splashing all around, aegons sobs turned to little whimpers, salty tears mixing with his spit on his ongoing assault to her chest. her movements began to falter, close to finishing, the white-hot pleasure in her abdomen threatening to burst. her body began to tremble lightly, yet she kept her composure, still in servitude of her king. he was in no better state, cock begining to twitch once again.

he was so so close, and not about to stand for this one to be taken away from him aswell. she took notice of the familiar signs he displayed "im close, aegon, so close"

he took this as a sign to let go, holding her body down with all the strength he could muster, forcefully, halting her movements, selfish for once, taking what he wanted. her orgasm hit her with that final forcefull push on his cock, pleasure exploding from her abdomen, rocking her body while from toes to fingers, face twisting in an expression of absolute extasy, brows knitted together and mouth slightly agape. aegon peeked from her chest, looking up to her face, illuminated by the candles, light softly cradling her features, exposing to his hungry eyes her beautifull expression, the mutters from his mouth a prayer to her beauty.

his own orgasm took over his body, sending a final sob through his mouth, a final wave of tears to his eyes, hot seed spilling inside of her.

they stayed that way a while, her hands cradling his head, his own softening on her hips, softly massaging them, attoning for the shelfish way he had taken his pleasure.

she craned her head down, giving a final kiss to his lips, soft and innocent, unlike any previously shared. he looked so utterly mesmerised by her, though he would not say it, she knew, the same as he did, she kew this meant so much to him. they remained that way, sitting in their understanding, she would do anything for her king and he anything for his lover.

she had come in search of answers to her husbands behaviour yet was left with something different, better. she had gained an ally, more than, she had gained her first genuine friend, her very own lover.

#hotd #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd s2 #team green

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elikajinnie · 26 days ago

Text

The Frequency Of A Killer - S.J

P: Killer!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suspense, Teasing, Murder, Attempted Murder, Stalking, Mind Games, Obsessive Behaviour kinda?

Wordcount: + 20k words

Synopsis: After moving to a small town as a horror talk show host, you uncover a deadly cover-up tied to a masked killer. As the bodies pile up, the killer becomes fixated on you. Can you unravel the truth?

a/n: her we go! another killer au but this time its not Heeseung or Ni-ki! We got Jake :) so this is inspired by my fave horror game; killer frequency - 1000% recommend.

---

You were used to the rush, the buzz, and the endless opportunities of the big city. The noise didn’t bother you. Networking came naturally, jobs were abundant, and you’d found your niche in the chaos: hosting a podcast about horror and true crime in a way that set your listeners on edge while keeping them hooked. Your show had skyrocketed to fame, and you’d connected with an entire community of enthusiasts who lived for the thrill, just like you. Life was good. Stable. Yours.

Until your company decided you weren’t “it” anymore.

The justification was laughable—“gender diversity,” they’d said. They wanted to swap you out for some guy, as if trading a seasoned, beloved host for an inexperienced one would make everything magically better. You weren’t buying it, but their minds were made up. No amount of protest or proof of your success could change their decision. And so, you left, refusing to stick around and watch them hand your hard work over to someone who didn’t earn it.

That’s how you found yourself in this small, sleepy town, working for a much smaller company that was trying its hand at podcasts. They hired you on the spot, practically drooling over your experience, and offered you a spot as the host of their horror and true crime segment. It was meant to be a temporary gig, a placeholder until—surely—your old company would come crawling back, begging for you to return.

But a month had passed. One whole, quiet month, and they hadn’t reached out. Not even a courtesy email.

At least this place wasn’t half bad. You had your own little booth, tucked away in the back of the building, with soundproof walls and just enough space to feel like your own world. The show was entirely yours to run—aside from the occasional ad spot they made you slip in—and you had free rein to do what you did best. Even the people weren’t bad.

Especially Beomgyu.

Beomgyu was technically your producer, though most of his job seemed to involve screening calls and chatting with you during breaks. He sat in the booth just across from yours, separated by a thin pane of glass, and had this habit of pulling faces at you whenever you got too serious. At first, you thought he was annoying—this twenty-something with a mop of messy hair and a perpetual smirk—but over time, he’d grown on you.

Tonight was no different. You leaned back in your chair, headphones snug over your ears as you wrapped up the last caller. A woman with a trembling voice had called in to share a local ghost story about the old mill at the edge of town, and you’d expertly guided her through the tale, adding just the right amount of suspense and curiosity to keep your listeners hooked.

When the call ended, you glanced over at Beomgyu through the glass. He was grinning, spinning lazily in his chair, and holding up a piece of paper with “9/10” scrawled on it in bold, black ink.

You rolled your eyes and flicked him off with a smirk. He just laughed, pointing to the mic to remind you you were still live.

“Alright,” you said smoothly, turning back to the soundboard. “That’s all the time we have for tonight. Thanks for tuning in, and as always—lock your doors, check under your bed, and don’t trust the shadows.”

The outro music played, and you switched off your mic with a satisfied sigh.

“Not bad,” Beomgyu teased as you stood up, stretching your arms. “But you totally rushed the ending on that last one. Where was the suspense?”

“Where was the suspense?” you echoed mockingly, grabbing a cup of coffee off the table and taking a sip. “How about I’m the professional, and you’re just the guy who answers phones?”

Beomgyu snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. One day, I’m gonna take over your job and show you how it’s really done.”

“Please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’d last five minutes before you started talking about aliens or some weird conspiracy theory.”

He grinned. “You know me so well.”

The night started off normal enough. You sat at the small desk in the break area, sipping on a lukewarm coffee Beomgyu had somehow convinced you to grab for him before realizing you needed one for yourself too. He lounged across from you, feet propped up on the edge of the table like he owned the place, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“So,” he started casually, tilting his head with that usual lopsided grin of his, “what’s it like being a big-shot city person stuck in our little backwater town?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “First of all, you act like I came here voluntarily. Second, backwater’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it. You’ve been here a month and you still can’t hide the ‘get me out of here’ look on your face.”

“Maybe because I’m waiting for my old company to realize they made the worst mistake of their lives.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And when they don’t? What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “There’s no Plan B, because Plan A is going to work. They’ll come crawling back. Trust me.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a doubtful look. “Sure, sure. But admit it—this place isn’t so bad. It’s quiet, no traffic, and the rent is dirt cheap. I bet your apartment here is, like, three times bigger than whatever shoebox you had back in the city.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “The cost of living here is nice. And I don’t hate the peace and quiet. But the thing about big cities? There’s always something happening. People, events, opportunities. It’s like… the energy keeps you alive, you know?”

Beomgyu chuckled, twirling the pen like he was in some kind of drumline. “Sounds exhausting. You city people thrive on chaos. Meanwhile, out here, we’ve got… cows. And maybe a parade if you’re lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that bad here. I just… I’m not used to it yet.”

“Give it time,” he said, leaning forward like he was about to share a secret. “Pretty soon, you’ll be one of us. Walking slow, waving at strangers, knowing everyone’s business…”

You grimaced. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his coffee. He was still grinning when he asked, “So what was it like, though? Your old job, I mean. The fancy podcast thing.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You could still remember it clearly—the studio, the buzz of the city outside, the adrenaline rush of knowing your audience was hanging on to your every word.

“It was…” you began, searching for the right word. “It was everything I wanted, for a while. I worked my way up, you know? Started small, built an audience, found my voice. It was a grind, but it was worth it.”

Beomgyu nodded, his expression more serious now. “So what went wrong?”

You sighed, tracing your finger along the rim of your cup. “They wanted to ‘freshen things up.’ Change the direction of the show. Apparently, a guy hosting would bring in a ‘different perspective.’”

“That’s bullshit,” Beomgyu said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, well, tell that to them.” You shrugged, masking the sting with a bitter smile. “They thought it was a good idea. I didn’t.”

“Idiots,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this than some random guy.”

“Thanks,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I’ll remind them of that when they come groveling.”

Then the clock on the wall chimed, reminding you it was time to start the show.

“Alright, back to work,” you said, standing up and stretching. “Don’t let me catch you slacking, Beomgyu.”

“Me? Slack? Never,” he replied, mock-offended as he followed you toward the booth.

The show started as usual—smooth, easy, familiar. The first few callers were locals sharing urban legends, strange encounters, and the occasional eerie coincidence. Beomgyu stayed in his booth across from you, laughing silently at your quips and holding up cards with goofy doodles to make you break character mid-recording.

But then, midway through the second hour, a call came through that made your stomach drop.

Beomgyu patched it through with his usual nonchalance, giving you a thumbs-up from the other side of the glass. “Line three,” he mouthed.

“Hello,” you said into the mic, your voice steady despite the sudden shift in the air. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

There was a long pause. Too long. Static crackled faintly on the other end.

Then, a voice you didn’t recognize—low, and far too calm—spoke.

“Do you ever wonder if someone’s watching you right now?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You forced a laugh, playing it off for your listeners. “Well, I guess I should hope so—otherwise, what’s the point of doing a live show?”

The voice didn’t laugh. “No,” it said. “I mean really watching you. Right now.”

Goosebumps rose on your arms. You glanced toward Beomgyu, who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure where this was going.

“I think that’s a little too vague to count as a story,” you said, keeping your tone light. “Care to elaborate?”

The line went silent for a moment, then the voice spoke again, quieter this time.

“Check your window.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned instinctively to the window beside your booth. It was dark outside, the glass reflecting nothing but the dim glow of your equipment.

Nothing was there.

But the voice on the other end of the line chuckled softly, sending a chill down your spine.

“Gotcha,” it said, before the call abruptly disconnected.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones, pulling you out of the eerie fog left by the last caller.

“That was… weird,” he said, leaning closer to his mic in the booth across from you. You could see his reflection in the glass, brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, what window? We’re on the second floor. Unless there’s some really tall guy with a ladder out there, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

A nervous laugh escaped you as you reached for your cup of water, trying to shake off the chill creeping up your spine. “Right? Probably some wannabe prank caller. People love to act spooky when they know they’re live.”

“Yeah, but that voice?” Beomgyu leaned back, tapping his fingers against his desk. “It didn’t sound like someone joking. It sounded… I don’t know. Off.”

“Let’s not overthink it,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the unease settling in your chest. “Weird calls are part of the job, right? It’s probably nothing.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, but his usual playful grin didn’t return. His eyes flickered to the window behind you, then back to his desk as if trying to distract himself.

Before either of you could dwell on it further, the phone lit up again. Another call.

“Line two,” Beomgyu said, pressing the button to patch it through.

You straightened in your seat, slipping your headphones back on. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

This time, the voice on the other end was hurried, shaky, and unmistakably real.

“This is Officer Park from the Greenfield Police Department,” a woman said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I—God, I don’t even know who else to call right now. I just got back to the station—was out getting donuts for the night shift—and when I walked in, I found…”

She stopped, her voice catching on a sob. Your stomach twisted.

“You found what?” you asked gently, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Beomgyu through the glass.

“Two of the officers—two of my coworkers,” the woman stammered. “They’ve been stabbed. One of them… one of them’s already gone. The other one is still alive, barely. I called for backup, but closest units are at least five hours away, and I don’t know what to do.”

Beomgyu’s jaw dropped as he mouthed, Is this for real?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your desk. “Okay, Officer Park, take a deep breath,” you said, your tone steady even though your heart was racing. “Are you somewhere safe right now?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I locked myself in the back office. But whoever did this—they could still be here. I didn’t see anyone when I came in, but… Oh, God, what if they’re still inside?”

You leaned closer to your mic, your voice low but firm. “Okay, listen to me. First, you did the right thing by calling for backup. Stay where you are, keep the door locked, and don’t make any noise. Do you have your weapon on you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

“Good,” you said. “And the officer who’s still alive—do you know if they’re in immediate danger? Can you hear or see them from where you are?”

“They’re out in the main lobby,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I can hear them—barely. They’re trying to say something, but I can’t make it out. I think they’re losing consciousness.”

Your pulse quickened as you considered the situation. This wasn’t just some urban legend or creepy caller—this was real, and someone’s life was on the line.

“Okay, Officer Park, here’s what we’re going to do,” you said, keeping your tone as calm as possible. “Do you have anything with you—first aid supplies, even a jacket—anything you can use to stabilize them if you go out there?”

“There’s a med kit in the office,” she said.

“Good. Grab it. But listen—only go out there if you’re sure it’s safe. Move quickly, quietly, and keep your weapon ready. Check the corners, and don’t let your guard down. If you hear or see anything suspicious, you come right back to the office and lock the door. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause. Then she whispered, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Stay on the line with us,” you said, glancing at Beomgyu, who was already typing furiously on his laptop, probably trying to look up news reports or police scanner updates. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You could hear her moving, her breathing shaky but determined as she whispered, “I’m opening the door.”

Your own breath hitched as you listened to the faint creak of a door opening on her end.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said softly. “I’m stepping out now.”

The seconds dragged on like hours as you listened to her footsteps, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the background.

“I see him,” she whispered. “He’s—oh, God, he’s bleeding so much. I’m going to try to stop it.”

You could hear her fumbling with the med kit, her voice barely audible as she muttered, “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. Help is on the way.”

Your pulse pounded as Officer Park’s frantic movements came through the line. You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, trying to calm both her and yourself.

"Officer Park," you said firmly, leaning closer to the mic. "Listen to me. You need to arm yourself before doing anything else. Do you have access to any weapons right now?"

She hesitated for a moment, her breathing quick. "There’s a weapons locker in the office, but the keys are… they’re on one of the officers."

“Okay. You need to get those keys from the officer who…” You paused, forcing yourself to stay calm. “The officer who’s gone. You’ll need them if you’re going to get out of there alive. And when backup arrives, they’ll need you armed.”

“I already told you,” she whispered sharply. “Backup isn’t coming anytime soon. This is a small town. The nearest station is in the next county over—at least five hours away.”

The weight of her words settled like a stone in your chest. “Then you need to leave now,” you said. “You’ll have to meet them halfway, but you can’t just stay there. Take the surviving officer and get out of the station. Use the police cruiser. Are the keys to the car with the officers too?”

“Probably,” she said, voice shaking.

“Then get them,” you urged. “Check the pockets of the officer who…” You hesitated again, but there wasn’t time for gentleness. “Who’s already gone.”

There was a long pause, followed by a shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear her moving again, her footsteps echoing faintly. Then, muffled rustling as she moved the officer’s body.

“I’ve got them,” she said after a moment, her voice tight. “The car keys. And…” She paused, the sound of a locker creaking open coming through the line. “Weapons. I’ve got pepper spray, a taser, and a baton. Which one should I take?”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who shrugged helplessly. “The taser,” you said decisively. “It’s your best option for close combat if the killer comes back. You’ll still have the element of surprise.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m taking the taser. And the med kit. I’m going to try to move Officer Kim to the car.”

“Be careful,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “Check your surroundings constantly. Keep the taser in your hand. And whatever you do, stay quiet.”

You listened in tense silence as she dragged the injured officer toward the car, her breaths labored but determined. The sound of a car door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint groans of the wounded officer being carefully placed in the back seat.

“I’ve got him in the car,” Officer Park said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m about to start it.”

“Good,” you said. “Start it quietly and get out of there as fast as you can.”

But just as the engine sputtered to life, a haunting whistle cut through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. It was distant but unmistakable—low and drawn out, carrying an almost mocking tone.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, panic creeping back into her voice. “They’re here. The killer’s here.”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “Stay calm,” you said. “Lock the doors. Don’t move until you know it’s safe. If they come close, use the taser.”

Through the line, you heard faint footsteps and the sound of shouts—angry, guttural, and close. Then a scuffle broke out.

“They’re trying to break into the car!” Officer Park shouted, her voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Use the taser!” you yelled. “Now!”

There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a strangled scream.

“It worked!” she cried out, her voice bursting with relief. “The taser worked! They’re down!”

A second later, the engine roared to life, and the sound of the car speeding away filled the line.

“Are you okay?” you asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’re leaving. I’m heading to the next town over to meet the backup units. It’s about five hours from here—less if I push it.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling slowly. “Just stay safe and focus on the road.”

“One more thing,” she added, her tone suddenly serious. “The emergency police line—it’s been rerouted to you. I couldn’t risk leaving the station unattended, so if anyone in town calls for help, it’ll go to your line instead.”

You froze, glancing at Beomgyu, who stared back at you with wide eyes.

“Wait,” you said, your stomach sinking. “What are we supposed to do if the killer targets someone else?”

“You’re going to have to help them,” she said grimly. “Until we can get backup to the town, you’re the only ones who can.”

The line went dead, leaving you and Beomgyu sitting in stunned silence, the weight of her words settling over you like a storm cloud.

“Uh… what the hell just happened?” Beomgyu finally said, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t answer, your mind racing as you stared at the blinking lights on the phone.

Somewhere out there, the killer was still on the loose. And now, the entire town was counting on you.

After a while the familiar ring of the phone jolted you from your thoughts, the sudden sound piercing the tense silence that had settled in the booth. Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones.

“Line three,” he said.

You nodded to Beomgyu, signaling for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, adjusting your mic.

“I—oh, no, no, I think I called the wrong number,” a woman stammered, her voice trembling. “I was trying to call the police. There’s—there’s someone after me.”

Your heart sank as you exchanged a quick glance with Beomgyu through the glass. “You didn’t call the wrong number,” you explained quickly. “The emergency line is being rerouted to us temporarily. But you’re not alone—we’re here to help. Just tell us where you are and what’s happening.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, her breath audible over the line. “I just left the gym. I’m trying to get to my car, but there’s this… man. He’s following me. He has a knife, I’m sure of it.”

A faint whistle echoed in the background of the call, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The woman gasped, her voice rising in panic.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I should’ve stayed home. Why didn’t I stay home?”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. “Listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “Don’t stop. Keep moving toward your car. You can do this.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you’re doing great. Just keep going. Focus on your breathing and keep moving. We’re not going anywhere—we’ve got you.”

The sound of her hurried footsteps came through the line, along with her ragged breathing.

“I see my car,” she said, relief creeping into her voice. “I’m almost there.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Good. Get in and lock the doors immediately. Don’t worry about starting it until you’re inside and safe.”

A moment later, there was the faint sound of a car door opening and slamming shut.

“I made it,” she said, exhaling shakily. “I’m in.”

“Great job,” you said, feeling a small surge of relief. “Now start the car and drive somewhere safe—”

“Oh, no,” she interrupted, her voice rising in panic again. “No, no, no! I—I forgot my keys. They’re still in the gym!”

Your stomach dropped.

Beomgyu’s voice came through your headphones before you could respond. “Wait,” he said, leaning closer to his mic. “One guy—one who works here. I’ve seen him reading magazines about car maintenance in the breakroom. He might’ve had something about starting a car without keys.”

You blinked at him, hope flickering. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Beomgyu said. “I saw him reading one earlier this week.”

You muted the line to the woman briefly, turning back to Beomgyu. “Where did he leave it?”

“Probably in his office,” Beomgyu said with a shrug. “You’ll have to look for it.”

With a deep breath, you stood up. “Keep her talking. Keep her calm until I get back,” you said, pulling off your headphones.

Beomgyu gave you a thumbs up as you left the booth, closing the door behind you.

You made your way toward the offices, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. The darkened corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, but you finally reached the office. The door creaked as you pushed it open.

The room was cluttered, papers and other stuff scattered across the desks. You rifled through the mess, searching for the magazine Beomgyu had mentioned, but it was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, you were about to give up when a folded piece of paper caught your eye on the desk. Curious, you unfolded it.

Borrowed the car magazine for some light reading. Left it in the bathroom. -J

You frowned, squinting at the note. The bathroom? Of course.

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the men’s bathroom, the unease in your chest growing with each step. Standing outside the door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

The air inside was still, the lights flickering slightly. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on the floor of one of the stalls. Sure enough, there it was—a magazine, its glossy cover faintly reflecting the dim light.

Bracing yourself, you stepped into the stall and grabbed it. Clutching the magazine, you made your way back to the booth as quickly as possible, the tension in your chest finally easing as the familiar glow of the studio came into view.

Sliding back into your seat, you slipped on your headphones. “Got it,” you said, flipping through the pages.

“About time,” Beomgyu muttered, relief in his voice. “She’s still in the car. Freaking out, but holding it together.”

“Alright,” you said, scanning the pages for anything useful. “Let’s get her out of there.”

You flipped quickly through the magazine, scanning each page for something useful. Beomgyu, still connected to the call, was murmuring reassurances to the woman, keeping her calm as best as he could. Finally, near the back of the magazine, you spotted a section titled: “How to Start a Car Without Keys—In Emergencies Only!”

Bingo.

You unmuted the call, speaking quickly. “Okay, I’ve got instructions here. It’s a little complicated, but we’re going to get you out of there. Are you ready to listen?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Please, just tell me what to do.”

“Alright. First, do you see the steering column? You’ll need to take off the plastic cover underneath it.”

“The plastic cover?” she repeated, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yes. There should be a seam where it comes apart. Can you find it?”

There was a rustling sound, followed by a faint click. “I—I see it. I think I can pry it open.”

“Good. Use anything sharp—a nail file, a keychain, anything to pop it off,” you instructed.

A few tense seconds passed, the sound of fumbling and grunting filling the line.

“Got it!” she said suddenly. “It’s off.”

“Perfect. Now, you should see some wires underneath,” you continued, flipping the magazine around to get a better look at the diagram. “There will be three sets: power, ignition, and ground. Look for the ones connected to the ignition—they’re usually red and yellow. Do you see them?”

“Wait… yes, yes, I see them!” she said, her breathing slightly more controlled now.

“Okay, here’s the tricky part,” you said carefully. “You need to strip the ends of the ignition wires—just the plastic coating—so the metal is exposed. Do you have anything sharp, like a knife or scissors?”

“Uh… I have a nail file,” she said after a moment.

“That works. Carefully scrape the plastic off, but don’t cut the wires. Just expose the metal underneath. Take your time.”

The sound of her scraping at the wires filled the silence, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Beomgyu, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ve got the wires stripped. What now?”

“Good. Now you’re going to twist the exposed ends of the ignition wires together. That should create a spark to start the car. But be ready—the second it starts, drive away. Don’t wait around.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m doing it now.”

There was a faint crackling sound, followed by a sputtering noise. Then, suddenly, the low rumble of an engine filled the line.

“It worked!” she cried, her voice breaking with relief. “It actually worked!”

“Great job!” you said, unable to stop the smile forming on your face. “Now get out of there. Drive somewhere safe—somewhere well-lit with other people around. Don’t stop until you’re absolutely sure you’re safe.”

You could hear the roar of the car accelerating, the relief in her voice evident as she spoke. “I’m driving now. Oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, your own voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “Just focus on the road. Call us back if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay. I will,” she said. “Thank you again. I—I think I might’ve been dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Just keep driving,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters now.”

The line clicked off, leaving you and Beomgyu alone in the booth. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, tossing the magazine onto the desk. “But if it hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about it.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “So… what do we do if someone else calls?”

You didn’t have an answer, your thoughts already spiraling with what-ifs. All you could do was hope the rest of the night stayed quiet.

The phone rang again, its shrill tone cutting through the uneasy silence that had settled in the booth. You adjusted your mic and nodded to Beomgyu. He patched it through with a flick of a switch, signaling with his finger for you to go ahead.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tension from the last call.

“Hey, yeah, uh, is this the emergency line?” a cheery voice on the other end asked.

“Yes, this is the emergency line. What’s your situation?” you asked, leaning forward, bracing yourself for whatever this might be.

“Well,” the man began, his tone casual, “I just wanted to let everyone know that Hanseung’s Pizza is open late tonight, and we’re offering a two-for-one deal on our large pepperoni pies!”

You froze, your hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Are you serious right now?”

“Totally serious! Best pizza in town!”

You groaned audibly and disconnected the call before the man could say another word. Leaning back in your chair, you rubbed your temples as Beomgyu snorted with laughter.

When you glanced at him through the glass, he made a circular gesture next to his temple, miming crazy.

“I swear,” you muttered, pulling your headphones off briefly, “this night is going to kill me.”

Beomgyu gave you a lopsided grin, but before he could say anything, the phone rang again.

“Here we go,” he said, flipping the switch to route the call to you.

You sighed, sliding your headphones back on. “You’re on the air,” you said cautiously.

“H-hello?” a man’s voice came through, low and shaky.

“This is the emergency line,” you said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I—I’m still at work,” the man said, his words trembling as he spoke. “I stayed late to finish up inventory, and I… I saw someone on the cameras. He’s outside. He’s wearing a white mask, and he’s holding a knife. He’s on the first floor now.”

Your heart sank as a chill ran down your spine. “Okay, stay calm,” you said quickly. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m on the second floor,” he said. “In the main office. But… but there’s nowhere to hide. The only room I can lock is the storage closet, and the lock is on the outside. What do I do?”

You frowned, running a hand through your hair as you exchanged a tense glance with Beomgyu. “Alright, listen to me. We’re going to figure this out. Let’s think through this carefully.”

“I don’t have much time,” the man whispered, panic rising in his voice. “He’s coming in. I can see him on the camera feed.”

You flipped through options in your mind, trying to think of anything that could give him a chance. The storage room could work, but locking it from the outside meant he’d be trapping himself unless…

“Wait,” you said suddenly. “Does your office phone system let you call internal lines? Like phones in other rooms?”

“Yes,” the man said quickly. “I can call any phone in the building from here.”

“Perfect,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to distract him. You’re going to call one of the phones on the first floor, and when it rings, he’ll go to investigate. Once he’s distracted, you’re going to quietly make your way down the back staircase and get out of the building. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, his breathing quick and shallow. “I can do that. I think.”

“You can do this,” you said firmly. “Now, do you know which phone to call?”

“Yes,” he said. “The one by the front desk. It’s closest to where he is.”

“Good. Call it now,” you instructed. “Once it starts ringing, wait a few seconds to make sure he’s moving toward it. Then make your way out. Go as quietly as you can. Don’t hang up until you’re outside and safe, alright?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

There was a pause as you heard him pressing buttons on the phone. A few seconds later, the faint sound of a phone ringing echoed faintly through his line.

“He’s moving,” the man whispered. “I can see him on the camera. He’s going to the front desk.”

“Perfect,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “Now’s your chance. Go.”

The sound of his shaky breathing filled the line as he moved. You held your breath, listening intently as he made his way down the stairs.

“He’s still at the desk,” the man whispered. “I’m almost at the back door.”

“Keep going,” you urged. “You’re doing great.”

A faint creak came through the line, followed by a quiet click.

“I’m outside,” the man said, his voice trembling with relief. “I’m out.”

You exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. “Good. Get as far away from the building as you can. Get somewhere safe with other people around.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you so much.”

“Just stay safe,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters.”

The line disconnected, leaving you staring at the phone for a moment, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s two lives saved tonight,” he said. “Not bad for a couple of radio hosts, huh?”

You gave him a shaky smile, but the thought lingering in your mind was anything but reassuring.

Whoever was out there wasn’t done yet.

The phone rang again. For a moment, you and Beomgyu exchanged wary glances through the glass between your booths. After everything tonight, you’d learned to expect the worst. With a deep breath, you answered.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Bravo,” a smooth, amused voice purred on the other end. “Really. I’m impressed.”

Your brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’ve been handling these calls tonight,” the man continued, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Guiding these poor, helpless souls to safety. It’s been a pleasure to listen to. You’re very clever, you know that?”

Something about his voice set you on edge—it wasn’t rushed or panicked like the others you’d spoken to tonight. It was calm. Too calm.

“Who is this?” you asked, your voice tightening.

“Let’s just say I’m… someone who’s been keeping an eye on things,” he replied, his tone playful. “And I have to admit, you’ve made my night much more entertaining than I anticipated.”

Your stomach twisted as realization hit you like a punch to the gut. “It’s you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle came through the line, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Yes, it’s me. The one you’ve been so desperately trying to outsmart all night. And I have to say, you’ve done quite well.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “Why are you calling?”

“To see you squirm,” he teased. “And to thank you, of course. You’ve made this little game so much more fun than I thought it would be. Honestly, you’re much more entertaining than the usual people around here. They’re so… predictable.”

You refused to let him get under your skin, even as his voice sent an unbidden flush to your cheeks. You hated the way his words made your pulse quicken, a reaction you absolutely didn’t want to have.

“Is that all this is to you? A game?” you snapped, trying to focus on your anger rather than the unsettling heat rising in your face.

“Of course it’s a game,” he said smoothly. “But don’t misunderstand me—I’m not underestimating you. In fact, I think you’re the most interesting piece on the board. I wonder… how long can you keep this up? How long before I catch you slipping?”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t let him distract you with his taunting, no matter how strangely… confident and alluring his voice sounded. You hadn’t thought about dating or men since moving to the town—your life had been far too busy. And now here you were, getting flustered by the very man terrorizing the town.

“Do you have anything better to do than terrorize people?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled again, low and lazy, like you’d just amused him. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, and you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, don’t get so defensive,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, it’s refreshing. I like a bit of fire in my conversations. The others? They just scream and cry. Boring. But not you. I like that.”

Your grip on the desk tightened further, your mind racing. You couldn’t let him get to you, but the way he spoke—like he was in complete control, like he knew exactly how to unnerve you—it was maddening.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“For now? Just to chat,” he said casually. “I thought you deserved some recognition for your efforts. And maybe a little warning…”

Your stomach churned. “A warning?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “You’re clever, but don’t think you’re untouchable. I’ve been generous so far, letting you play the hero. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m always watching, and if you’re not careful, this little game of ours might get a whole lot more personal.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to let your fear show. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s supposed to excite you.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you staring at the phone, your mind a chaotic mess of fear, anger, and, much to your dismay, something else you didn’t want to name.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headset. “Uh… what the hell just happened?”

You turned to look at him, your face still flushed. “I think the killer just… flirted with me?”

Beomgyu blinked, his mouth falling open slightly before he shook his head. “This town is actually so messed up.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

The phone rang again, piercing through the tense silence that had settled in the booth. You and Beomgyu exchanged a glance, both of you bracing yourselves for whatever might come next. You adjusted your headphones and gestured for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease crawling up your spine.

“H-he’s coming,” a woman’s voice stammered, her tone high-pitched and frantic. “Oh God, the dead—they’ve risen! The dead are rising!”

You froze, caught off guard by the sheer hysteria in her voice. “Ma’am, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s happening,” you said, keeping your tone calm and firm. “Who’s coming? What do you mean the dead are rising?”

“It’s karma,” she said, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “I’ve done bad things. So many bad things. And now he’s coming for me."

“Okay, I need you to slow down,” you urged, sitting forward in your chair. “Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I thought I was,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “But he’s here. He’s come back. They know what I’ve done. He knows—”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Ma’am?” you said quickly, checking the call screen. You tried dialing the number back, your heart pounding, but the line just rang and rang before going to voicemail.

Beomgyu leaned forward in his booth, frowning as he studied the call log. “That was Dr. Lee,” he said, his voice low.

“Dr. Lee?” you asked, your mind racing.

“She’s one of the town’s doctors,” Beomgyu explained, crossing his arms. “Well… was a doctor. She retired a couple of years ago, but she still gets called in sometimes when the clinic’s short-staffed. People around here have… mixed feelings about her. Some say she’s a great doctor, but others think she’s shady. There’ve been rumors, but nothing ever proven.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind swirling with questions. “She kept saying ‘karma.’ And something about the dead coming for her.”

Beomgyu shrugged, though his expression was uneasy. “She sounded genuinely freaked out.”

“She did,” you muttered, staring at the dead call screen on your monitor. “And she didn’t give me anything to go on. No location, no details… I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Think we should call the clinic? Maybe someone there knows what’s going on.”

You shook your head, though the idea was tempting. “If she wanted their help, she would’ve called them instead of us. I think… I think whatever’s happening, she doesn’t trust anyone in town. Or maybe she thought calling the emergency line was her only option.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Beomgyu asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “There’s not much we can do. She didn’t give us enough information to help. All we can do is wait and see if she calls back.”

Beomgyu nodded reluctantly, though his frown deepened. “Still, the whole ‘dead are rising’ thing? Sounds like someone’s cracking under pressure. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”

“Maybe,” you said, though her words kept echoing in your mind. The dead have risen. Karma is coming for me.

It sounded ridiculous, but the sheer terror in her voice had felt real. And in this town, you’d already learned to expect the unexpected.

You leaned back in your chair, staring as a heavy silence settled over the room. You hated this helpless feeling, this sense that something was happening just out of your reach. But until she called back—or someone else did—there was nothing you could do except wait.

And worry.

The phone rang again, and you didn’t hesitate to answer this time, though the tension from the earlier calls still lingered in the air like a bad omen.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to sound calm and professional, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

“H-hello?” a young voice stammered. “Is this… is this the emergency line?”

“Yes, it is,” you replied quickly. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hyein,” she answered, her voice trembling. “I—I need help. Someone’s after me and my friends.”

Your stomach dropped. “Where are you, Hyein? Are you somewhere safe?”

“We’re at… we’re at this old junkyard,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We were just hanging out, but now there’s this guy—he’s wearing a white mask, and—”

“Okay, Hyein, listen to me,” you interrupted, keeping your voice steady. “You need to find somewhere safe. Is there a place you can hide? A building, a car, anything?”

“Um, there’s a shed,” she said, her voice shaky. “But—”

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted through the line, making your heart lurch.

“Hyein? Hyein, what’s happening?”

There was a muffled commotion on the other end, followed by… laughter?

A new voice chimed in, a boy’s voice, cracking as he burst into fits of giggles. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face, Hyein!”

“What the hell, Jansoon?!” Hyein shouted, her fear quickly replaced by anger. “You scared the crap out of me!”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your shoulders relax slightly. “Hyein, what’s going on?”

“It’s just Jansoon,” she said, her voice still shaking but now tinged with irritation. “He’s being an idiot, running around with a fake knife and a stupid mask. I thought—”

But before she could finish, another scream cut through the air—this one high-pitched and blood-curdling.

“Jansoon? Jansoon, stop messing around!” Hyein shouted, her voice rising in panic.

Then came the sound of something wet and grotesque—a sickening squelch, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Oh my God,” Hyein whispered, her voice trembling again. “Run! Everyone, run inside!”

“Hyein! Hyein, what’s happening?” you demanded, gripping the edge of the desk.

“A man,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “A man in a white mask—he just—he just killed Jansoon. He killed him!”

Your stomach churned as Beomgyu’s eyes went wide in the booth across from you.

“Hyein, listen to me,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “You need to get somewhere safe. Stay with your friends and lock yourselves in. Keep the line open—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice shaky but determined. “We… we’re setting up a plan. We’ll distract him so we can get away. I’ll call you back soon.”

“Hyein, wait—”

The line went dead.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the monitor as your heart hammered in your chest. Slowly, you took off your headset and set it down on the desk, letting out a shaky breath.

“Did that really just happen?” Beomgyu asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “It did.”

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “This town is insane. First the doctor, now a group of kids in a junkyard? What’s next, a clown at a carnival?”

You couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

He sighed, leaning back in his booth and staring at the ceiling. “This is so stressful. I mean, we’re just two people in a radio station. We’re not trained for this.”

“No, we’re not,” you agreed, rubbing your temples. “But we’re all these people have right now.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his expression was grim. “I just hope that girl and her friends make it out. That killer… he’s not messing around.”

The phone rang again, and this time, your heart jumped in anticipation. You quickly signaled to Beomgyu, who patched the call through.

“Hyein?” you asked urgently.

“It’s me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steadier than before. “We—we’ve got a plan. We’re going to get out of here.”

You exhaled in relief but quickly focused. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“There are four of us left,” she explained. “Minji’s going to watch him, make sure we know where he is at all times. Jaemin is going to distract him—make noise and lead him away from the van. Doyeon’s going to act as bait, keeping his attention long enough for me to grab Jansoon’s keys and get the van started.”

You felt a mix of pride and fear for these kids. “That’s… brave, Hyein. Really brave. Are you sure you can pull this off?”

“We don’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice tightening. “We can’t just wait for him to find us all. We have to do something.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “Stick to the plan. Be quick, be careful, and don’t hesitate. You can do this.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll call you back once we’re out.”

The line disconnected, leaving you and Beomgyu in an anxious silence.

“They’re kids,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the monitor as if willing Hyein to call back with good news.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Finally, the phone rang again.

“Hyein?” you answered quickly.

“We did it,” she said, her voice breathless but triumphant. “We did the plan. Minji kept an eye on him while Jaemin distracted him with a bunch of noise. He fell for it—totally chased after Jaemin. Then Doyeon lured him even further away, and I grabbed the keys.”

“That’s incredible,” you said, genuine admiration in your voice. “You’re all so brave.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not over yet. We got the van started, but there’s a problem. The doors to the junkyard—they’re stuck. Someone has to hold them open so we can drive through.”

Your heart sank. “Who’s going to do it?”

“I volunteered,” she said quietly.

“Hyein—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead again, and you sat frozen, a deep dread settling over you.

Beomgyu leaned forward, his expression tight with worry. “They better not leave her behind.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the gnawing feeling in your gut.

When the phone rang again, you answered immediately.

“Hyein?”

“I’m still here,” she said, her voice shaking. “I got the doors open, but…”

You heard her inhale sharply, and your stomach dropped.

“But what?” you asked.

“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s right in front of me.”

Your grip tightened on the desk. “Hyein, listen to me. Don’t run. Don’t make any sudden moves. Just—just stay calm.”

She let out a choked sob. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you said firmly, though your own voice trembled. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’re doing great.”

There was a long silence on the other end, broken only by her quiet, panicked breaths.

“Hyein?”

“He’s…” Her voice was barely audible now. “He’s walking away.”

“What?” you asked, your mind reeling.

“He just… turned around and walked off. Into the forest.”

You blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “He left you? Just like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with confusion and fear. “Why? Why would he do that?”

You didn’t have an answer. None of this made sense.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “But you’re alive, Hyein. That’s what matters. Get to safety. Get back to your friends.”

“Okay,” she said softly, though her voice was still trembling. “Thank you.”

When the call ended, you sat back in your chair, your mind spinning.

“What the hell was that?” Beomgyu asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, staring at the empty screen. “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and the tension in the room hung like a heavy fog. It was 3:17 a.m. when the phone rang again, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence.

You leaned forward and answered, trying to keep the fatigue out of your voice. "You’re on the air."

For a moment, there was just static and the faint sound of someone breathing. Then a male voice, low and shaky, spoke.

"This is... this is so scary," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You straightened in your seat, your exhaustion replaced by unease. "What’s scary? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I’m at home," he said. "But I keep hearing things outside. Footsteps. Whistling. I’ve locked all the doors and windows, but it doesn’t feel like enough. This… this town isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be quiet. Safe."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "I understand. It’s been a rough night for everyone, but you’ve done the right thing by securing your home. Stay inside. Stay quiet. Do you have anyone you can call to stay with you?"

"No," he muttered. "I live alone."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and your chest tightened. "Okay. Listen to me. You’re not alone right now, all right? I’m here. If anything happens, you call me back immediately."

There was a long pause before he whispered, "Thanks."

Then the line went dead.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Beomgyu, who had been silently watching you from his booth, gave you a small nod of acknowledgment.

"You’re handling this like a pro," he said.

"I’m just trying to keep people calm," you replied, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

The hours crawled by, the silence in the studio broken only by the occasional hum of equipment and the distant sound of a car passing on the street. It was around 4:30 a.m. when the phone rang again.

Your heart leapt as you quickly picked it up. "You’re on the air."

"It’s me," a familiar voice said.

"Hyein?" you asked, relief flooding your voice.

"Yeah," she said, and you could hear the exhaustion in her tone. "We made it. We’re home. All of us, safe. Thanks to you."

A smile tugged at your lips, the first genuine one of the night. "That’s great to hear, Hyein. I’m so glad you’re all okay."

"You… you really helped us," she continued, her voice soft. "I don’t think we would’ve made it without you. I mean, we were so scared, but you kept us focused. Gave us hope."

"That was all you," you replied. "You and your friends were brave. You came up with a plan and stuck to it. You saved yourselves."

There was a pause, and then she said, "Still… thank you."

"Of course," you said, your voice warm. "Now, get some rest. You’ve earned it."

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight… and be careful, okay? I don’t think this is over."

"Goodnight, Hyein," you said softly before the line went dead.

You set the phone down and leaned back in your chair, exhaling slowly. Beomgyu looked over at you, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"At least there’s some good news," he said.

"Yeah," you murmured, though Hyein’s parting words echoed in your mind.

I don’t think this is over.

And deep down, you knew she was right.

The phone rang again, cutting through the brief calm. Unknown caller. You knew who it was even before you answered.

"Let me guess," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re calling to congratulate me on something, right?"

A soft, mocking chuckle came through the line, chilling and deliberate. "You’re starting to understand how this works," the killer said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But no congratulations this time. Just a little... advice."

You gripped the phone tighter. "And what kind of advice would that be?"

"Dr. Lee," he drawled, his tone teasing. "She seemed... stressed earlier, didn’t she? Want to know what really happened to her?"

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

He chuckled again. "Pick something up for me, and maybe I’ll give you a clue. Check the alleyway behind your building. I left you a little surprise."

Beomgyu immediately leaned toward his microphone, shaking his head vehemently as he heard the exchange. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed, his face pale.

But the killer wasn’t done. "Go on," he said, his tone turning low and taunting. "Be brave. Or stay in your booth and let the mystery eat away at you. Your choice."

And then the line went dead.

"Don’t even think about it," Beomgyu said, his voice cutting through the silence. "He’s baiting you. It’s a trap."

You turned to him, trying to muster some confidence. "If it’s a trap, then it’s a bad one. He wouldn’t tip his hand like this if he really wanted me dead."

"Or maybe that’s exactly what he wants you to think," Beomgyu countered. "Don’t go."

But you were already getting up. "I’ll be fine. Stay here and keep the phones running."

Beomgyu sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you’re insane.”

You left the booth, stepping into the hallway. The silence of the empty building was oppressive, and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above did little to calm your nerves. Descending the staircase, each step felt louder than the last, echoing in the quiet.

At the bottom, you approached the glass front doors. Outside was nothing but darkness, the alleyway barely illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp in the distance.

You tried the door. Locked.

Frowning, you turned back and made your way behind the reception desk, where the backdoor led to the alleyway. Pushing it open, the cool night air hit you immediately, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and garbage.

The alley was narrow and lined with dumpsters, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. You hesitated, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Then, you saw it.

An old, stained mattress lay discarded against the wall, and on top of it was something that made your stomach drop—a bloodied ID card.

Your hands trembled as you approached, the name and face on the card coming into focus. Dr. Lee.

You bent down, your breath hitching as you picked it up. The blood was dry but unmistakable, the edges of the card sticky.

You turned it over in your hands, a cold dread creeping up your spine. What did this mean? Was she—

A rustling sound.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, you looked up, scanning the alleyway. There was nothing.

But past the fence, just beyond the edge of the alley, you could feel it—someone was watching you.

The air seemed to thicken, your skin prickling with unease. You couldn’t see anyone, but the presence was unmistakable.

Swallowing hard, you clenched the ID card in your hand and straightened up, forcing your legs to move. You turned and walked back toward the door, refusing to look back, even as the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

You reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shaking the handle one more time as if sheer willpower could force it open. The sensation of being watched lingered, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

The sound of something faintly rustling outside sent a jolt of panic through you. You turned away from the door, scanning the dimly lit alley for another option. That’s when your eyes landed on the basement access door.

You cursed under your breath, knowing it was your only choice. "Great," you mumbled sarcastically, stepping toward it. Pushing the creaky door open, you descended the narrow staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the faint smell of mildew and rust wrapping around you like a damp blanket.

At the bottom, you reached a landing, the dim glow of an old overhead light flickering ominously. Shadows danced across the walls, making everything feel smaller and more claustrophobic.

Trying the first door, you found it locked. So was the next. You kept moving, your footsteps echoing faintly in the eerie silence. Finally, you reached a door that opened easily.

You stepped inside cautiously, your phone flashlight illuminating what could only be described as the janitor’s office—or, more accurately, a forgotten relic of one. The room was cramped and chaotic, filled with old supplies, broken equipment, and… mannequins?

You froze for a moment, your light catching the lifeless forms of several mannequins standing in one corner. Their chipped paint and blank expressions made your stomach twist. Who keeps mannequins in a basement office?

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this is officially creepy.”

Pushing past the eerie sight, your flashlight settled on the far wall, where a corkboard hung. You stepped closer, curiosity outweighing your unease.

The board was covered in newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes. Your pulse quickened as you scanned the array of items.

The photos were of people—townsfolk, by the looks of it. Some of the faces you recognized, including Dr. Lee. Others were strangers. Some pictures had red X’s drawn across them. Others were circled.

The clippings were just as unsettling. Headlines like “Local Man Disappears Without a Trace” and “Small-Town Tragedy: Young Man Found Dead” leapt out at you, along with handwritten notes like “Knew too much” and “Still watching.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, taking a step back.

You huffed, grabbing the corkboard from the wall and tucking it under your arm. Whatever this was, it wasn’t staying down here. You needed to get it upstairs, show Beomgyu, and figure out what the hell was going on.

The mannequins seemed closer than before as you turned to leave, but you tried to shake off the unease crawling up your spine.

"Don’t think about it," you muttered, stepping back out into the hallway.

With the corkboard in tow, you made your way back toward the stairs, trying not to think about how quiet everything felt.

Back in the booth, you placed the corkboard on the desk, your fingers trembling as you leaned over it. Beomgyu hovered behind you, peering at the chaotic arrangement of photos, clippings, and notes.

"Okay," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "This is a pattern. It has to be."

Your eyes scanned the board feverishly, focusing on the photos of the townsfolk. There were three with red X’s—you recognized two as victims you’d already heard about. The doctor’s photo, Dr. Lee, was circled in red but had no X, at least not yet.

The notes were cryptic but telling: "Knew too much." "Always works late."

Your heart skipped a beat as you landed on a photo of a man you vaguely recognized from a newspaper clipping you’d seen earlier—James Choi, the owner of the general store. His picture was circled too, with a note scribbled beside it: “Stays late, alone.”

You felt your stomach churn. “Beomgyu, who’s James Choi?”

Beomgyu squinted at the board. "James? Oh, he runs that little general store by the gas station. Nice guy, kind of quiet. Why?"

You jabbed your finger at his photo. “He’s next. Look at the notes. It’s all here—he works late, and the killer knows it. We need to call him now.”

Beomgyu grabbed the phone without hesitation, quickly dialing the number written on a post-it note you’d found pinned to the corner of the board. You paced nervously as the phone rang.

"Come on, pick up," Beomgyu muttered.

Finally, a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Choi?” Beomgyu asked, his voice tight. “This is from the late-night show—listen, we don’t have much time. Are you still at the store?”

James sounded confused. “Uh, yeah? Why? What’s this about?”

You leaned in, speaking quickly. “You’re in danger. You need to leave now. Grab your keys, get in your car, and just drive. Don’t ask questions, don’t wait—just go.”

There was a pause. “Danger? What are you talking about? This some kind of prank?”

“It’s not a prank,” you snapped, your voice rising in urgency. “There’s someone—”

The sound of something crashing interrupted James on the other end of the line, followed by a low, guttural noise that made your blood run cold.

“James?” Beomgyu called, his voice cracking. “James, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a moment, the faint sound of labored breathing coming through. And then—

“Well, well,” came a familiar, taunting voice.

Your stomach dropped as the killer’s smooth, mocking tone filled the line. “You tried,” he said, almost lazily, like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll give you credit for that. But you’re just not fast enough, are you?”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You son of a—”

“Ah-ah,” the killer interrupted, a smirk evident in his voice. “No need for name-calling. I’m just doing what I do best. And you? Well, you’re doing what you do best—sitting in that little booth, thinking you can save people. How’s that working out for you so far?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Why are you doing this?”

He laughed, the sound cold and detached. “You really think I’m going to explain myself? What kind of killer would I be if I gave away all my secrets? Let’s just say… I like keeping you on your toes. It’s fun watching you try so hard.”

Beomgyu’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the phone. “You’re sick,” he muttered under his breath.

The killer ignored him. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “The game’s far from over.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone, your heart pounding in your chest. Beomgyu looked at you, his face etched with fear.

“What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. “We keep going. We figure this out.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his hands were trembling. "And what if we can’t?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You sat hunched over the corkboard, piecing through the clues when Beomgyu cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "Hey, maybe you should go back to the janitor’s room. There might be something we missed."

You glanced up at him, skeptical. “Like what? I already grabbed the corkboard.”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. It just feels like… that place might have more to it. There’s no way someone went through all the effort of pinning up all this stuff and didn’t leave more behind.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, pushing back from the desk. “I’ll check again. Just… stay here and keep an ear on the phones.”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, relief evident on his face. “Be careful, okay?”

You didn’t bother replying as you headed back downstairs, retracing your steps. The basement was even creepier now, the flickering light above casting strange, shifting shadows along the walls. Pushing the janitor's office door open again, you stepped inside, the stale air immediately making your nose crinkle.

The mannequins were still there, standing motionless in the corner like silent sentinels. You forced yourself to ignore them, focusing instead on the cluttered room. You rummaged through drawers, boxes, and even under the dusty desk, finding nothing but old cleaning supplies and forgotten tools.

Just as you were about to give up, your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic under a pile of papers. You pulled it out—a key, small and rusted, with no label.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, standing up and looking around. “What do you open?”

You left the janitor’s office and started trying the key on every locked door in the hallway. It wasn’t until you reached the very last door—a heavy, steel one with a faded "Storage" sign on it—that the key finally turned.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit storage room filled with shelves of old files, boxes, and equipment. You stepped inside, the smell of dust and mildew filling your nose.

Grabbing your phone for light, you began rifling through the shelves. Most of it seemed mundane—inventory lists, outdated maintenance logs, and other boring documents. But then you found a box marked “Incident Reports.”

You opened it, pulling out a stack of files. One in particular caught your eye—a report on someone named Sim Jaeyun.

You skimmed the pages, your brow furrowing as you read. According to the report, Sim Jaeyun was a young man who had been found dead in the town’s river. The official cause of death was ruled as reckless behavior, with high levels of alcohol detected in his blood.

But something didn’t add up.

You found another document tucked in the back of the file—a copy of the autopsy report, signed by none other than Dr. Lee. The details in the report were vague, almost suspiciously so. It noted the alcohol levels but didn’t mention any other significant findings.

Flipping through more of the file, you found a handwritten note from a police officer who had initially investigated the scene: “Something doesn’t feel right. Jaeyun was a good swimmer.”

Your stomach churned as you read on. The note went on to mention that Jaeyun had been arguing with someone at a local bar the night he died. The name of the person he argued with was blacked out, but whoever it was, they were never questioned.

Your mind reeled. Something about this was definitely off. Why would Dr. Lee sign off on such a suspicious autopsy? And why had no one followed up on the blacked-out name?

You gathered the files, clutching them tightly as you made your way back upstairs. Your thoughts were racing, pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together.

Beomgyu looked up from his seat as you entered the booth, his eyes widening when he saw the stack of papers in your hands. “What did you find?”

You dropped the files on the desk, flipping them open. “A death report. Sim Jaeyun. Found in the river, officially ruled as reckless behavior and alcohol poisoning. But…”

“But what?” Beomgyu prompted, leaning closer.

You pointed to the autopsy report. “It doesn’t add up. Just alcohol levels that don’t make sense. And guess who signed the autopsy?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Dr. Lee?”

“Bingo,” you said grimly. “And there’s more—apparently, Jaeyun got into an argument with someone at a bar that night, but the name was blacked out in the report. Whoever it was, they were never questioned.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So, what are you saying? That Jaeyun didn’t just… fall into the river drunk?”

You nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Someone’s been covering this up. And I think it ties back to everything that’s happening now.”

Beomgyu stared at the files, his face pale. “This just keeps getting worse.”

You didn’t respond, your mind already racing with what to do next.

You tapped your pen against the desk anxiously, the silence between you and Beomgyu growing heavier by the second. Finally, you broke it. “We need to talk to someone who knew Jaeyun. Someone who can tell us more about what happened that night.”

Beomgyu nodded, already pulling up the town directory on his computer. “There were names listed in some of those files,” he muttered, scrolling through the screen. “Here—Kim Jihoon. He was one of Jaeyun’s friends.”

“Call him,” you said firmly, leaning forward.

Beomgyu hesitated for a second but then grabbed the phone, dialing the number. You both waited as the line rang, the sound stretching your nerves thin.

Finally, a groggy voice answered, “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hi, this is Beomgyu from the town’s late-night talk show,” Beomgyu began cautiously. “We’re trying to get some information about Sim Jaeyun. You were listed as one of his friends. Do you have a moment to talk?”

There was a pause on the other end before Jihoon spoke again, his voice laced with confusion. “Jaeyun? Why are you asking about him? He’s been gone for years.”

You leaned toward the mic, speaking gently but urgently. “We’re trying to piece together what really happened to him, Jihoon. There are some things about his death that don’t make sense. Can you tell us what you remember from that night?”

Another long pause. Then Jihoon let out a sigh. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but… sure. I’ll tell you what I can.”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who nodded for you to continue. “Okay,” you said. “Start from the beginning. What was that night like?”

“It was supposed to be a fun night,” Jihoon began, his voice tinged with sadness. “We were celebrating Jaeyun. He’d just gotten a big promotion at work, and we all went out to the bar to party. Everything was fine at first—laughing, drinking, just having a good time. But then…”

He trailed off, and you prompted him gently. “But then what?”

Jihoon sighed again. “Jaeyun got into an argument with someone. I didn’t see who it was—I was across the bar at the time, talking to someone else. But I heard voices getting louder, and when I looked over, Jaeyun was face-to-face with this guy. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it looked heated.”

Your grip on the pen tightened. “Did you see what the guy looked like at all? Anything about him?”

“No,” Jihoon admitted. “It was dark, and the bar was crowded. I only saw his back. But… I don’t know, there was something off about the guy. The way he was standing, the way he moved… it gave me a bad feeling.”

“What happened after that?” you asked.

“Jaeyun stormed out of the bar,” Jihoon said. “The guy followed him. I tried to go after them, but by the time I got outside, they were both gone. I looked around, called out for Jaeyun, but… nothing. It was like they’d disappeared.”

“And then?”

“The next day, I heard the news,” Jihoon said, his voice breaking slightly. “Jaeyun was found dead in the river. They said he’d been drinking and must’ve fallen in, but…”

“But you didn’t believe that,” you finished for him.

“No,” Jihoon said firmly. “Jaeyun wasn’t that kind of guy. He could hold his liquor, and he would’ve been careful. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind racing. Jaeyun had argued with someone—someone who followed him out of the bar. Someone who might have been responsible for his death.

Beomgyu’s voice cut through the static over the intercom, calm but clipped. “The other line’s ringing. I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded to yourself, still holding the phone to your ear. “Alright.”

Turning your attention back to Jihoon, you settled into your chair and tried to ground yourself.

“Jaeyun was just… he was the kind of guy everyone liked, you know? He always made time for people. Even when he was busy, he’d stop to check in. If you were upset about something, he’d notice—he always noticed.” Jihoon’s voice broke slightly, and you could hear him swallow hard.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “He sounds like a really good person. Someone who didn’t deserve what happened.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jihoon agreed softly. “He’d do these little things, you know? Like, one time, I forgot my wallet, and he just covered everything without even saying anything. He didn’t want people to feel bad, didn’t want anyone to feel like a burden. That was just Jaeyun.”

You found yourself smiling faintly, despite the grim topic. “He must’ve been an amazing friend to have.”

“He was,” Jihoon said, his voice thick with emotion. “Losing him… it wasn’t just hard. It was—” He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. “It was like losing the glue that held us all together. He was the one who brought us all into the same orbit.”

Your chest tightened as you listened, the weight of Jihoon’s words pressing down on you. Jaeyun had been more than just a name on a file or a tragic story in the town’s history. He’d been a real person, someone loved deeply by those around him.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” you said softly. “I wish I could’ve met him. He sounds like he left a mark on everyone he knew.”

“He did,” Jihoon whispered. “And that’s what makes it so hard to believe… what they said about him, that he was drunk and reckless. That’s not him. It never felt right to me, even back then.”

You nodded, the puzzle pieces in your mind continuing to shift and rearrange themselves. “I understand. And I think you’re right to trust your gut. There’s more to this story, and I’m trying to piece it together.”

Jihoon let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know why you care so much—"

The lights in the booth flickered and then abruptly went out, plunging you into darkness. You froze, the silence suddenly suffocating.

A second later, Beomgyu’s voice came over the intercom, slightly muffled but urgent. “Uh… the power just went out in the whole building. I think you’ll need to go down to the basement and reset the breaker. I’d do it, but I’m kinda stuck here monitoring the calls.”

You clicked your flashlight on, its narrow beam cutting through the pitch-black room. “Got it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stay up here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll keep an eye on everything,” Beomgyu promised, his voice a little shaky but resolute.

You stood up, your flashlight casting eerie shadows as you moved toward the booth door. The air felt colder now, heavier, as though the power outage had sucked the life out of the building.

Exiting the booth, you walked down the hall toward the staircase. Every creak of the floor beneath your feet made your stomach tighten.

The door to the basement was slightly ajar when you reached it, creaking as you pushed it open. You descended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the stillness.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and old cardboard. The beam of your flashlight bounced across the walls, revealing cluttered shelves, dusty equipment, and the same door to the janitor's room you’d searched earlier.

Something felt... wrong.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, your breath catching as the sensation of eyes on you. It was that prickling feeling, the kind that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

You swung the flashlight around again, the beam slicing through the shadows. Nothing. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath.

Moving cautiously, you made your way to the breaker panel in the corner of the room. The metal door was slightly ajar, as though someone had been there recently. You frowned and reached out, pulling it open.

The switches were all flipped off. You began resetting them, flipping each one back to its original position. As the last switch clicked into place, you heard a faint sound behind you—a scuffling, like a shoe sliding against the concrete floor.

You froze.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness.

No response.

Your flashlight beam darted across the room again, settling on nothing but dusty shelves and discarded junk. The sensation of being watched was stronger than ever, the weight of unseen eyes boring into your back.

Swallowing hard, you gripped the flashlight tighter and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s just your imagination,” you told yourself. “Just nerves.”

But as you climbed the stairs, the creak of a floorboard behind you made your blood run cold. You spun around, flashlight trembling in your hand, but there was no one there.

Heart pounding, you hurried up the remaining steps and shoved the door open, stepping back into the main hall. The lights flickered back on, flooding the building with their harsh fluorescent glow.

You walked back toward the booths, your thoughts still caught on Jihoon’s words, and your pulse quickened when you noticed something strange—the door to Beomgyu’s booth was open. Beomgyu never left it open when he was working.

Curiosity and concern flared in equal measure as you stepped inside. “Beomgyu?” you called softly, but the booth was empty.

The faint smell of his cologne lingered in the air, but there was no sign of him. You frowned, glancing around, trying to spot anything out of place. The silence felt oppressive, thick, like the air itself was watching you.

Turning back toward the hallway, you froze.

A figure was walking toward you, their movements deliberate and slow, as if savoring every step. They were dressed in black, a pale white mask covering their face, and in their hand gleamed a knife.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Thinking fast, you slammed the door shut and locked it just as the figure lunged. The door rattled violently as they crashed into it, and you stumbled back, gasping, your chest heaving.

The sound of the knife scraping against the door sent shivers down your spine.

You turned, instinctively seeking safety, only to feel your stomach drop.

Someone was standing in your booth.

On the other side of the glass separating Beomgyu’s booth from yours, the killer stood, their white mask tilted ever so slightly as if they were studying you.

You stared in disbelief, your pulse pounding in your ears as the killer leaned casually against the glass. Slowly, they raised their knife and tapped the blade against the glass, the metallic tink tink tink reverberating in the confined space.

"Hey there," their distorted voice drawled, smug and taunting. “Miss me?”

You didn’t answer, too frozen by the weight of the moment.

They chuckled, the sound muffled but chilling. “C’mon, let’s make this interesting. Open the door for me. I just want to play.”

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head, your voice trembling but firm. “Where’s Beomgyu?”

The killer tilted their head, tapping the knife against the glass again. “Oh, he’s around,” they said, their tone lilting, as if they were enjoying a private joke.

Panic clawed at your insides. “What did you do to him?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, the mask distorting their features into a sinister blur. “Why so worried? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself?”

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to hold their gaze despite the fear threatening to crush you. “What do you want?”

They leaned back slightly, tapping the glass once more, their knife dragging a slow, deliberate line down its surface. “For now? I just want to see how long you can last.”

The killer’s mask shifted slightly as he glanced toward your desk, his knife tapping idly against the glass again. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You glanced at the desk, realizing he was looking at the scattered clues you’d been piecing together: the newspaper clippings, the notes, the photo of Jaeyun.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your hands were trembling at your sides.

The killer tilted his head, almost amused. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been digging, haven’t you? Going through things you shouldn’t, asking questions. Connecting dots. You’re smarter than they gave you credit for.”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling up beneath your fear. “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharper now. “What’s the point of all this? Why terrorize the town? Why kill all these people?”

The killer let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound muffled behind his mask. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then explain it. Make me understand.”

The killer stood straighter, the playful tilt of his head replaced with something colder, darker. His voice dropped, the teasing edge gone. “This isn’t random. This isn’t chaos for the sake of chaos. This is revenge.”

You froze. “Revenge? For what?”

“For Jaeyun,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For what happened to him. For what they did to his life.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “You’re doing all of this… because of Jaeyun?”

The killer nodded slowly. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Alone. Cast aside. Written off as a reckless drunk when everyone knew that wasn’t who he was.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together in your mind. “You… you think someone in this town killed him. Don’t you?”

The killer laughed again, but this time it was bitter, full of venom. “Think? Oh, no. I don’t think. I know.”

Your pulse raced as you stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. “Then why target the town? Why not just go after the person responsible?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, his voice low and menacing. “Because they all played a part. They turned a blind eye. They lied. They covered it up. And now? They’re going to pay.”

You shook your head, panic and disbelief swirling in your chest. “This isn’t justice. This is—this is insanity!”

“Call it whatever you want,” the killer said, stepping back slightly, his knife still glinting in his hand. “But by the time I’m done, everyone will know the truth. And Jaeyun will finally get the justice he deserves.”

You stared at him through the glass, trying to piece everything together. “What connects you to Jaeyun?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “Why are you doing this in his name? What was he to you?”

The killer chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the air like a warning. “Oh, come on,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “You’ve been working so hard. And yet you haven’t figured it out?”

You frowned, frustration mounting. “Stop playing games and just tell me!”

Before you could say anything else, he suddenly stopped pacing, his hand reaching up to the edge of his mask. “You want answers?” he asked, his tone laced with something dangerous. “Then pay attention.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as his fingers gripped the mask. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the face underneath.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No,” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “That’s not possible…”

It was Jaeyun.

His face was unmistakable, though there was something different now—harsher. His features were gaunter, his eyes darker, filled with a cold fire that sent a chill down your spine.

“But—you’re dead,” you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. “They said you were dead. I saw the reports.”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Dead?” he echoed, his voice dripping with venom. “I was supposed to be. The man who killed me certainly thought I was.”

“Then how are you alive?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer to the glass, his expression hard. “Sheer will,” he said, his tone icy. “I wasn’t supposed to survive that night. But I did. Barely. They threw me in the river, thinking they’d silenced me for good. But they didn’t count on me crawling out, broken, bleeding, but alive.”

Your stomach churned as you processed his words. “Who did this to you?”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. “The man who killed me is now the town’s mayor,” he spat, his voice thick with hatred. “That promotion was supposed to be mine. I earned it. But he couldn’t stand the idea of me taking what he thought was his. So he decided to remove the competition—permanently.”

Your breath hitched. “They covered it up,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Of course they did,” Jaeyun sneered. “They spun a pretty little story. Made me out to be reckless, irresponsible. A drunk who couldn’t handle himself. And everyone believed it.”

“And no one knew you were alive?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his expression cold. “Not a soul. They all thought they were free of me. That their secret was safe.” He leaned closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “But I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now, I’m back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re doing all of this… to get revenge?”

Jaeyun smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Revenge? Justice? Call it whatever you want. But this town took everything from me. My life. My future. And now, I’m going to take everything from them.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t justice, Jaeyun. This is—this is murder.”

“They murdered me first,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “They thought they could bury me and move on. But they were wrong. And now, they’re going to pay.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. All you could do was stare at the man in front of you—the man who had risen from the dead, consumed by a need for vengeance.

Jaeyun’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his lips curving into a sly smile. He leaned against the glass, tapping his knife against it rhythmically, the sound unnerving in the silence. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone low and coaxing. “Open the door. Let’s talk properly. Face to face.”

Jaeyun’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as you stood your ground. He straightened, stepping closer to the glass, and his voice dropped into a darker, more threatening tone. “You think you're safe in there?” He tapped the knife against the glass again, this time with more force, his breath coming faster as his frustration grew. “You really think you can stop me by just hiding?”

When you didn’t respond, he slammed his fist against the glass with a deafening crack. The force rattled the walls, sending a shiver down your spine. He glared at you, his chest heaving, rage and amusement mixed in his expression. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Open the damn door.”

You stiffened, gripping the edge of the desk in front of you as if it could anchor you. “Why would I do that?” you asked, your voice sharper than you felt. “So you can kill me too? No thanks.”

His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes glinted with something almost playful. “Kill you?” he said, feigning offense. “Why would I do that? You’re the only one who’s actually listened to me. The only one who’s tried to understand.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly.

He tilted his head, the knife pausing mid-tap. “You’re scared,” he observed, his voice soft, almost gentle. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not your enemy.”

“Not my enemy?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been terrorizing this town for days. You killed people, Jaeyun.”

“They deserved it,” he said flatly, the warmth in his tone vanishing. “Every single one of them was complicit. They lied. They covered it up. They let him get away with it.”

“And Beomgyu?” you demanded, anger rising in your chest. “What did he ever do to you?”

Jaeyun hesitated, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Collateral damage,” he said eventually, his tone colder now. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re right,” you said, your voice firm despite the fear twisting in your gut. “I don’t. Because what you’re doing isn’t justice—it’s just more bloodshed.”

His expression darkened, but then he sighed, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped back from the glass slightly, sheathing the knife at his side. “You’re different,” he said after a moment, his tone soft again. “You’ve got a brain. You’ve been piecing this together all night. You know I’m not lying about what happened to me. So why not help me? Why not open the door and join me?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Join you?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You said it yourself—this isn’t justice. But maybe you could help me make it right. Maybe you could keep me… grounded.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Am I?” he countered, stepping closer to the glass again. “Or am I the only one who’s willing to do what it takes? Think about it—you’ve seen what this town is like. Corrupt, rotten to its core. You’ve been digging up its secrets all night. Do you really think anyone else is going to pay for what they’ve done?”

You hesitated, his words stirring something in you. The town was corrupt. The mayor had gotten away with murder. And Jaeyun… as twisted as his methods were, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Seeing your hesitation, his smile returned, wider now. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice almost soothing. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you? This town doesn’t deserve your loyalty. They’ll betray you the first chance they get. But I won’t. You and me, we could fix this. Together.”

Your grip on the desk tightened, your knuckles white. “No,” you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. “I’m not opening that door. I’m not like you.”

Jaeyun’s expression shifted, his smile fading. “Pity,” he murmured, his tone more disappointed than angry. “You would’ve made a good ally.”

He turned his back to you, walking toward the door to your booth. But before he left, he glanced over his shoulder, a dark smile curling his lips again. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said softly. “One way or another.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you trembling in the eerie silence of the room.

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