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personasintro · 10 months ago

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Mutual Help | 59

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 18.5k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

Sometimes you decide on things by feelings or whatever seems right at that moment.

You might've suggested something that has bit you in the ass right back. It didn't feel as satisfactory as it perhaps should have when you hinted on meeting new people. Although, it's a great opportunity for both of you to move on, even though just the thought alone leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

Not even the alcohol on it tastes as bitter.

Regardless of what kind of opportunity it turned out to be, you had to do it. You're slowly losing it and being in Jungkook's presence alone is not helping.

A jealous kind of person is not what you would describe yourself. When the word jealous comes to one's mind, they think of someone being possessive jealous in the worst kind of way. You might've been possessive about people around you, but in a healthy way.

Sure, the thing with Ester is not the greatest example of it, but that was something different.

There's something building up, something you haven't experienced with Jungkook before. You were jealous in the friendliest possible way. You don't want to dwell on it more than necessary, but with Ester, you were scared of her becoming Jungkook's close friend. It sounds terrible this way, perhaps a little toxic too – it's hard to describe and put it into the right words so one could understand it clearly. There are parts where even you don't understand it.

You're confident about what you and he have. From the moment you met to the point where your friendship is at. Even that is a bit debatable, but you don't want to go there. Not right now. And possibly not in the near future. There are certain things you don't want to think about.

Ones you're scared of.

Still. Seeing Jungkook having another friend who he genuinely gets along with, in a meaningful way caused you to act on the void you felt.

But jealousy is a human emotion nevertheless. And you totally hate it at the moment.

Because there's no Ester or any possible special friendships to be made. This is different.

Why the fuck you hate staring at Jungkook and Nara. That's what she's named and introduced herself as when she happily sat behind Jungkook, holding his waist as he drove them through the small waves on a jet ski.

Clearly, sharing a meaningful connection called friendship is not on top of her list. She's smiling the entire time they talk about whatever, even though it's the most casual topic. She's not the typical giggling type that smiles to whatever that's being said just to flirt. She seems genuinely interested in Jungkook. Maybe a little bit too much.

Okay, definitely.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You tap your fingers on the table, sun setting down as you watch Jungkook and Nara taking a fucking walk along the beach. You hate that after three drinks, you still have your stomach crumbled and twisted around.

There's no reason for you to be mad at Jungkook. You told him to meet people. You freaking hinted about him trying to get it on with other people. Okay, maybe you're irritated he took it seriously and clearly goes for it a little too soon. You also told him you'll be fine here while they go on a walk alone.

“So it's just you two here?” Gabriel asks next to you, catching your attention for the hundredth time in the past three hours. Yes, that's how long you've been spending your time with them.

They're fun and friendly. Nothing bad about them. Clearly young people who want to have fun. They're relaxed, fun and outgoing.

So why the hell would you rather have Min Yoongi here than having to witness all of this?

Mentally shaking your head at your ridiculous thoughts, you turn to Gabriel and tear your eyes off those two. You give him a stare that tells him enough about your suspicion by that sudden question.

“Relax, I'm just asking.”

“And I should believe you because?” you question him. You might've appeared slightly cold toward him. You're not sure if his friendliness wants to aim somewhere else and to something more, or he's just that outgoing.

Clearly, he doesn't want to back away because he's been very persistent. You give him that.

There's a slight spark between the tug and pull game. But it's not the one you're looking for.

“Because I'm telling the truth.”

There's chatter and laughter going from the other people you've been introduced to. You don't remember all of their names though. You hope you won't have to see them after this. God, that sounded so harsh. They're nice, you swear! But!

They don't give you any attention which makes your conversation slightly more comfortable.

“You're still a stranger. How do I know you're telling me the truth?”

“So just believe me–”

“That literally goes against–”

He laughs. He's handsome. Has a sharp jawline and a cute smile. “You're a piece of work.”

“I know. I'm amazing.”

He can't seem to drop his eyes off you. You've experienced those before. Which is why you're not sure if he's honest about that or if it's the trick of flirting with you. It seems like men always have some kind of ulterior motive behind their behavior.

You don't hate men. Even if it looks like it. You just don't trust them.

Unless they are Jungkook, Jimin or Taehyung.

Surprisingly, at least Gabriel doesn't annoy you in the Min Yoongi type of way. He's nice, not pushy and annoying which you appreciate.

You glance at him fully, both of you chuckling at your ridiculous conversation.

There's a deeper meaning behind his question. For the first time, he showed more of his prying persona. You can't blame him. It was bound for people to question it. You've grown used to it.

“Yes, it's just me and Jungkook.”

He nods, already knowing this but traces his glass. He had one beer an hour ago and after that one, he switched to lemonades. Somehow, you find that a little attractive.

“Our friends were supposed to go with us, but it didn't work for them unfortunately.”

He already knows you're staying at one of the beach houses, which to their expressions, they were a bit surprised to hear that. It's a more expensive side of the beach and while they're staying nearby, it might sound suggestive that you two alone are where families and lovers mostly stay.

“Didn't work how? What if it's their way to get you together alone?”

His question has a light tone full of teasing and suggestion, knowing exactly where this is going. He's trying to figure out your relationship with Jungkook, probably not believing two best friends that are on a vacation are only that. Friends. Well, that's quite debatable in all ways but you're not exactly going to share a full depth of anything related to your actual relationship to Jungkook.

Gabriel doesn't give you any vibes of being a snitch, but he's still a stranger. A handsome one but not even his pretty face could make you spill the tea. Anyway, he's definitely not asking because he's skeptical but mostly asking for himself.

You would've had to be blind and dumb not to notice his undeniable attention and interest aimed toward you. It's flattering and a compliment, really. More than anything else.

“Well, one of them ended up in a hospital with broken toes, so I would like to think he didn't do it on purpose.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly,” you deadpan, sipping more of your drink.

He grins. He has a cocky twist to his smile. There's no denying he's a catch wherever he travels.

“Even though, you never know with him.” you say, watching Gabriel's confused look before you shrug and chuckle under your breath.

Taehyung loves himself too much to hurt himself. No matter how much he would love you and Jungkook messing around more.

Speaking of him, you glance back at the couple walking down the beach. There's nothing special or weird about it. They're just walking beside each other, there's even some distance between them now. Is Jungkook listening to your previous words and just trying to – you don't even know how to name it.

Is he trying to get to know someone else in hopes of getting more?

Is he planning to hook up with anyone from this group?

Because he totally could and there would be nothing you would do about it. But why should you in the first place? It should not bother you. You should be in the front row hyping him up to do it. You should smack his shoulder and tell him to go for it, like all the guys do.

So why can't you?

You believe it's because you've never experienced anything similar to what you have with Jungkook. Obviously, he's more than the sex God you've portrayed him as in your head. He's definitely more than that. But speaking just about that alone, the thought of him going for someone else and showing that side of him to some stranger he just met, honestly bothers you. It's too soon. And you know if you weren't too thoughtful, you wouldn't be in this position because you would've kept hooking up.

You wouldn't have to worry about him suddenly having sex with someone else. He would never do that when he's intimate with you.

Fuck. Why are you even thinking of all of this?

You did what was best for you and him. At the end of the day, it's just a matter of time before something like this happens. And you know it will and you're going to be okay with it. You will move on.

But perhaps you rushed into it. You've panicked and indirectly told him to just have fun. Without you. In that exact sense you're thinking of.

He's smart. Of course he caught onto the meaning right away and something tells you he's doing exactly that. You can't even be mad at him because you told him. You were the one who encouraged and pushed him to move on.

“I didn't mean to pry,” Gabriel speaks up, reminding you of his presence and your cheeks heat up even more under the sun that's barely up there.

You try to cover up your staring by looking at the sea before finally looking at him. He couldn't see the exact direction of your vision, but he could've guessed because they're right there.

“I just find it interesting.”

“Interesting?” You frown in confusion.

“You two.”

“What's so interesting about two best friends? Because one is a female and the other male?”

His brows shoot up, catching up onto your slightly offended tone. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it then?”

He hesitates, but your lifted brow that demands a response causes him to lick his lips as he sighs. “You've been checking him a few times now.”

You grit your teeth together. Not because you're offended that he indeed noticed, but you're embarrassed that he did.

“I've been checking on my best friend.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, trying to play it off as he puts his hands up in surrender. “I wasn't really trying to suggest something else. I just noticed that your friendship seems… special.”

“And it is.”

He nods, wrapping his hand around the drink as he picks up on the small droplets. “Nara won't bite his head off. She's cool.”

“I wasn't suggesting anything else.” You throw his words back at him. He notices, the left corner of his lips twisting in a smirk but he doesn't say anything about it.

“Would your friend bite my head off though?”

You arch your brow at him, “And why would he do that?”

“I don't know, maybe for trying to get to know you?”

“You're getting to know me.” you point out, knowing what he's hinting at but you're playing it off. An amusement dances in your eyes and he sees it, his smirk only getting bigger but the determination of getting straight with you is even bigger.

“I am.” he hums.

“Well, I can't promise anything. Jungkook is protective.”

“Surely he would understand I don't have any vile intentions. I mean, you're single, right?”

You gulp, stopping for a moment. You could possibly make some kind of situation. You're single but you weren't exactly free and down to meeting someone else. For multiple reasons. You could tell him you just got out of… relationship that had nothing to do with dating. Simply said, you could tell him you had a fuck buddy and now you're just focusing on yourself.

But considering your previous topic, he could easily catch on and for some reason, you don't want to risk it. You don't want any strangers knowing about you and Jungkook. It seems awfully personal and intimate.

“I am.” you mutter.

“So? He can't chase all men away from you.”

And he probably won't.

“I don't know… he did punch a guy for me.”

“What?” he deadpans.

You chuckle, “He was my ex. Said some nasty stuff. Kook didn't like it.”

“So he… punched him?”

“Mhm,” You take another sip. “He did deserve it though.”

“I would never say nasty stuff about you. Or any woman.”

What are you supposed to do with that information?

“Never say never.” you shrug.

“No, I mean it. I wasn't raised like that.”

“I don't think he was either. But sometimes we don't know ourselves. And sometimes we can surprise ourselves too.”

“I get that, but if your friend had to punch him for it, he obviously wasn't good.”

You look at your drink that's slowly disappearing. You should slow down. “He's not a bad guy.”

“Doesn't sound like it.”

You roll your eyes, “You've got an answer for everything, don't you?”

“You seem to be just the same way.” he points out.

“You've known me for a few hours, Gabriel. I could be a total bitch or a completely different person than you've made up in your head.”

“And that's why I would like to know you more.”

You stare at him.

Having to be in similar situations a few times, this time feels slightly different. Even though he's determined, he's not annoyingly pushy. He's good looking and has something in him that makes you flattered that he's not backing down. Showing a clear interest in you is not something you would gag at or roll your eyes like you usually would have.

“So if I wanted to invite you for dinner, lunch… whatever you want it to be, would you go?”

“Are you asking me on a date, stranger?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I'm asking to hang with you and get to know you.”

“Umm, isn't that the definition of a date?”

“Could be,” he shrugs, “But I'm from Italy and you live on the opposite side of the world.”

“Exactly.” you point out.

“Oh come on, just say no if you don't want to.”

“Are you looking for a hook-up, Gabriel?” you question him, not wanting to beat around the bush. Somehow, you know he's honest but you have a hard time believing he's just interested in getting to know you.

Why?

Like he said. You live in different countries and both of you don't look like the type to have a long-distance relationship.

He starts coughing, taken back by your sudden straight-forwardness before he laughs, finding some amusement in it. “If you want to.”

“Is that why you want to get to know me?”

“No.”

You look at him skeptically, “I'm sorry, I just find it hard to believe.”

“Then I'm disappointed by the man you've encountered.”

“Hey, I have amazing men around me.”

Two of them probably broke more hearts than any of these people in this group, but they're amazing men regardless of it. It's the fact they never did it intentionally. And Jungkook is the definition of a perfect guy. Perfect in terms of loving and thoughtful person who would give everything to his loved ones.

“Never said you don't. You love your friends very much, don't you?”

That goes without a question. He sees the look on your face and it causes him to smile. For some reason, he seems smitten by you. Of course he does, look at you. You're amazing.

“You could say they're my second family.”

Perhaps if they were actually here, things would've been a lot different. That goes without debate.

Taking in the silence that follows, you can't help but glance in the direction where Jungkook and Gabriel's friend are walking down the beach. However, they no longer are and instead you find him taking pictures of her. She makes poses, showing off her toned and tanned body. And then she walks up to him, clinging to his side as he shows her the results. She seems to be impressed, as far as you know, it's hard to see it clearly from this distance.

And it's for the better, honestly.

“Listen, it doesn't have to mean anything more. Just us hanging out over a good dinner… or a lunch.”

Gluing your eyes back to Gabriel, which seems to be the safer choice, your eyes run over his features as you take a breath – realizing your stiffened posture before you relax.

“I don't have any sick intentions.”

“You know… you constantly making sure I know that kinda makes it harder to believe you.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he smiles at his drink. Your teasing brings some peacefulness into this conversation again. “Just let me know your decision. Take your time.”

You give him a smirk, knowing you're kind of running out of time. Both of you know it and that's why you both grin at each other. Before any of you can say something, the approaching chatter interrupts you. Jungkook and Nara join you, she says something which makes Jungkook smile and that's when he looks up. Your eyes meet and you straighten yourself, ignoring the way your heart squeezes.

“What's up,” Gabriel says next to you, looking at Nara who seems to joyfully sit down and take a few sips of her drink.

“Got some nice shots. Jungkook here is pure talent. I'ma show you later.” she says, smiling at Jungkook at the compliments she's giving him.

The corner of his lips turn slowly up before he glances back at you. Looking away, you poke the back of your front teeth with your tongue.

“What's your plans for tomorrow? We were thinking of visiting the water park here. It's brand new and apparently very fun. You wanna join us?” Nara asks, reaching for a bowl of fruit that Gabriel has ordered. “Anyone?” she points at the bowl.

Everyone shakes their heads before her previous question still sits in the air. She glances between you and Jungkook, awaiting your answer.

Once again, you look at each other without saying anything.

“They probably have different plans, Nara.” Gabriel notes, shrugging.

Not wanting to let them know about the lingering tension that somehow remains between you two, you take matters into your hands and give Gabriel a smile. “We don't yet, not definite but we'll think of something.”

They seem to be settled with that before the conversation moves to something else. Somehow it seems unfinished and by the time you and Jungkook are alone, walking back to your beach house, the feeling intensifies.

“So what about tomorrow?”

Jungkook is the first one to speak up once you get inside, a few minutes spent in silence after both of you are finished with your shower. You cut strawberries for yourself you got at the market earlier this morning.

“I don't know. We don't have any clear plans, do we?” you hum.

“We could look around the Island. See what's up there and decide then.”

“Sounds good.”

Jungkook stands behind you, in a safe distance but you can feel his eyes burning your back. However, he doesn't make a sound before a silent sigh leaves his mouth.

“Then what?”

“What then?” you frown, focusing on your cutting as he walks up to you. He leans against the counter with his lower back, crossing his arms over his chest. Luckily, he has put a t-shirt on. One second staring at him topless and you would be done for.

He's staring at you. You know he is, yet your eyes stay glued to the cutboard while you're taking your time with cutting the strawberries more precisely than it's necessary. “The water park. You wanna go?”

You halt, pursing your lips slightly. “Do you?”

He sighs again, “I think it would be a nice plan if we feel like it after we're done with the sightseeing.”

You stay silent before he taunts;

“Don't you?”

Your jaw clenches, “I think you should go if you wanna go so badly.”

He laughs sarcastically, “What?”

Fuck. You and your mouth. Composing yourself, you shrug before you put down the knife. “Didn't they want to go during the day?”

“Nara told me they will probably go in the afternoon. The heat is supposed to be crazy tomorrow, it's better to go later in the day.”

Of course, she did. Anything so she could go with Jungkook.

While that little comment sounds bitter in your mind, you do know Nara wants him to go. And you should not feel angry or annoyed at it. Maybe that's not why you're annoyed at it at all. It's simple knowing that Jungkook wants to go.

So forcing yourself to smile, you get the courage to stare him in the eyes. “You go if you wanna. I've got plans in the afternoon.”

Silence. For a split second.

“What?”

Another follows and you wet your lips as you shrug. “I'm going out with Gabriel.”

Well, he doesn't know it yet. He's waiting but you're guessing he will be more than glad to skip the water park. If he doesn't, that's going to be incredibly embarrassing for you and your ego.

Jungkook tongues his cheek, looking away as he scoffs silently. But the overbearing silence makes it ten times louder. “I see.”

“Jungkook–”

“Is this how it's gonna be?”

You gulp, “What do you mean?”

“We came here to spend time together but we spend it separately? Is that how desperately you want me gone?”

“Jungkook!”

He lifts his hand up, the point finger up as he motions for you to be quiet. “I'm going for a walk.”

“You don't have to–”

You don't get to finish it, he brushes past you and is gone before you can take another breath.

One of the worst habits you possess is the need to spill out anything that bothers you to someone. That someone is in most cases Jungkook, purely because he gives the best advice and comfort to anyone who needs it. He never judges and he just… gets it. He's that person you come to and can tell him anything, somehow the words he says or his mere presence is helpful enough.

For clear reasons he's not available – nor would he be suitable since he's the main reason why you're bothered in the first place. You're the one who messed up. For a moment you wondered whether you should go after him, to talk it out like any healthy person would do. But once you got out of the door, he was nowhere and to be walking alone around the Island with no one by your side is not something you wish to risk. Even though it seems to be safe here, you know he wouldn't be happy if he came back and you weren't here.

Or maybe he wouldn't care.

You would like to think he would. It's still Jungkook. No matter how many times you fight or there's tension, it's still him. But it feels wrong to count on this all the time, even though it's basic knowledge.

Sure, you've got other friends.

You wouldn't want to include Maya here. Purely out of knowing what her response might be – you've got to be a little selfish here because you know that's not something you want to hear right now. Anyway, she's probably planning her wedding or spending time with Namjoon. It feels rather awkward to be reaching out just because you find yourself in trouble. By your own responsibility.

But right after Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung came.

Jimin is someone who gives you the hard truth, sometimes even scolds you but with the greatest intention. That's not something you need right now either way.

And Taehyung?

He makes everything look easy with the way he sees the world and particular problems. There is barely any problem in his world. He says fuck it on most things with his optimistic persona. He simply just doesn't care.

Therefore, he's the safer choice than Jimin.

Luckily, once you call him and he's alone, you briefly mention the issue here. You kept it safe for your own sake or selfishness. However, you didn't have to mention anything because he questioned Jungkook's absence right after he complained about Jimin and the fact he brings his girlfriend almost everywhere.

When even Taehyung is silent, you're glad you've chosen a phone call instead of a video one.

“So, let me get this straight… you go to Hawaii together but you're about to spend it separately?”

“Well–just tomorrow afternoon. I didn't think it's such a big deal.”

“But you purposely encouraged him to–I don't even know how to call it–go and find fun somewhere else?”

You gulp, regretting now that Taehyung's words bite you in the ass. He's right though. “We met this group of girls and–I didn't want him to focus on me only. I want him to have fun.”

Okay, that's half of the truth but it works. You did more for yourself than for Jungkook, naively believing that it will be better for him. But that backfired and it seems he doesn't feel like it's better for him.

“And didn't it get through your pretty head that maybe, just maybe, he wants to have fun with you?”

“Tae–” you sigh.

“Not that kind,” You can tell he has rolled his eyes. “He just wanted you two to have fun in there. I'm pretty sure he didn't think with his dick when he wanted you to go.”

“I didn't say that.”

“I know, I'm just saying.” he hums, “Maybe he feels rejected?”

“What? You think so?”

“I think Jungkook has had a lot planned for the two of you and he imagined he would spend it with you. Not with both of you having fun with someone else, instead with each other.”

“I thought it's better this way.” you mumble.

Silence follows and you're not sure whether Taehyung heard or not, but you hear his soft sigh on the other end. “You do your thing tomorrow and he will do his. Or just spend the afternoon the way you wanted, just with each other.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is.”

“Tae, we were invited. I was asked for lunch–or dinner–whatever.”

“So? Fuck anyone else,” There it is. “Anyway, is the girl hot?”

“What.”

Taehyung laughs, “The girl that so seemingly goes after our Jungkookie.”

“I never said she's going after him.”

“You didn't have to, babe. It's clearer than Jimin's questionable choice of a girlfriend.”

“You're being rude, leave Jimin and his girlfriend alone.”

He snorts, laughing as you join. “I would ask you to send me pictures of the girls, but I kinda don't want to. I would regret not being there.”

“Can you not think with your dick when your friend here is in crisis?” you mutter.

“You got yourself there, hun.”

“You're not helping.” you grit through your teeth, hearing him laugh.

“Look, just talk to him. You guys communicate well. Well–it's bumpy these days but you got it.”

“How's your leg?” you ask instead, listening to Taehyung's complaints while your mind is elsewhere.

When Jungkook doesn't come within an hour, you're seriously starting to get worried. He has left in a hurry, therefore has forgotten his phone that mockingly sits on one of the small tables. Even though he's a man, you're worried for his safety no matter how safe this Island seems to be.

Just as you're about to grab your things and go search for him, the door clicks open and there he is.

Head low and almost looking like a kicked puppy, you debate whether to jump on him to hug him or slap him for making you so worried. If the roles were reversed, there's no doubt that he would search the entire Island for you. And that's not exaggerating at all.

Yet, you stand there – waiting for him to look up and be stopped by the glare you're giving him across the room.

“Where the hell have you been?”

You're angry. More at yourself than anyone else, but him scaring the shit out of you comes handy at the moment.

You know that defeated look. You both hate fighting. It's crazy you've never been through such hard times in terms of fighting than you have in the past year. Sure, looking at it optimistically, you've learned to communicate better. Sometimes.

Not particularly now. And you know some of it is mostly your fault now.

Being honest means much more than just that.

However that once mentioned defeated look is long gone. As soon as that tone and words leave your mouth, he glares at you with those intense dark eyes.

It doesn't matter that you sound like a mother scolding his son for coming home late.

“I went for a walk.” he says calmly, but there's something on the tip of his tongue. And his face says it all. I told you that.

You scoff. Before anything else can be said, he simply walks past you and you watch at the spot he just stood at in complete disbelief.

“That's it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” he offers, giving you I don't give a fuck attitude as he plops on the couch and stretches his legs on top of the table.

He grabs his phone and scrolls down through his notifications. He must know he forgot it here. There's no way he doesn't know now. But there's no sight of realization or anything. He simply seems like he doesn't care.

Not about that and certainly not about you stomping to the room.

“Are you serious now?”

He looks up from his phone, moving only with his eyes and you're stunned for a second. He's waiting.

“If I stormed out like that, you would give me hell for it!” you scold him.

“I told you I went for a walk. We both needed to cool off.”

You fumble over your words and try to make sense of them.

His eyes say it all. It looks like you haven't.

“Yeah, without your phone and you were gone for an hour!”

You watch him stare at you for a moment, sighing as he tosses his phone on the couch. “I'm sorry.”

The surprise on your face is evident.

“I forgot it. Didn't realize I was gone for so long.”

Well, an hour isn't so long but yeah, it felt like it. Especially the way he left.

You relax, a soft puff of breath leaving your lips before you nibble onto them with your teeth. You come closer, your knee resting against the armrest.

“I will cancel on Gabriel.”

He frowns, almost confused why would you do that. For a split second you feel embarrassed.

“So we can spend more time together.” you elaborate further.

“You don't have to do that out of pity or whatever.” he points out.

This is stupid. You're stupid.

“I'm not doing it out of–”

“Besides, I have a few plans throughout our stay here. Starting from tomorrow.”

“What,” you deadpan, hating the weird pressure and intuition that rises every second until he proves it right.

“I arranged it with Nara.”

It's dead silence for a moment. You're letting the information sink in until you breathe out in even bigger disbelief.

“What,” It's quiet, almost painful before you glance at his phone. “Your phone stayed here.”

“Met her during my walk.”

Oh, and she so accidentally appeared right where you were, huh?

He's not looking at you, staring at nothing in particular with a distant gaze.

“So let me get this straight–” You hold yourself together so you don't burst in anger. “You make a scene for not spending this vacation together and now you just make plans throughout it without me?”

You realize it's mostly said from your point of view and you fucked up, but him accepting it is even more defeating than anything else about this.

“As far as I know, you made plans too. Isn't this a good way of meeting new people?”

He's throwing it back at you. Clenching your jaw, you painfully swallow as you nod. “I see,” you mock his words, “You're right.”

And you walk out of the room – not knowing whether you should strangle him or yourself first. Only time can tell.

It's safe to say that sometimes your intention escalates and creates a new wave of something that can hardly be described positively. A part of you blames yourself for opening your mouth, even though your own intention behind it was not wrong. It wasn't supposed to cause any of this.

Already embarrassing as it is, having to lay next to Jungkook throughout the entire night has been another level. You've been tossing around, wondering if he's doing the same whenever you fall asleep for a few minutes until you're awake again. Seems like he's not particularly doing bad, but once again, there's an argument between you that has been maybe talked about, but definitely not solved.

You stick to your plans that have been planned out for most of the day. You've gone sightseeing, fed rescued animals and even visited local museums. Basically, done activities where other people mostly talked and you both listened – you were just there. Standing next to each other, walking beside each other but if it wasn't for these facts, some might think you were strangers.

And that thought that randomly crossed your mind hurt.

But you're just as stubborn.

This is for the better. Sure, you should probably make a mend, it would definitely make things easier and better. But you will try to focus on other people as well. Being with Jungkook alone on this vacation – well, it's not like you have many opportunities to focus on anything else.

But that could change. And it can change.

It's for the best. You both got distracted. Preferably with each other.

So when the time comes, you both end up at the beach nearby the beach house you're staying at. However, this time it's for you to get separated and each go your own way. Gabriel's friends are already there, wearing their swimsuits and covering it with thin layers of clothing. And then there's Gabriel as well.

You texted him, agreeing to the dinner but proposed to meet sooner. The truth is, you couldn't be alone at the house knowing where Jungkook is. It would eat you alive to be alone with your thoughts of blame and regret.

You have no idea where you will be going, perhaps more sight-seeing but you hope Gabriel has something planned out at the last minute. Sight-seeing reminds you of Jungkook as well, since you've spent your entire morning until midday.

You have not spoken ever since you came back. You both showered and changed clothes, here you are. Perhaps you've spent more time on your make-up. Your skin is glowing, covering everything that is laying beneath much deeper.

Summer dress with slightly low cut cleavage felt like the right choice. It's perfect for day time, could be great for night time as well and most importantly, you're not trying to look overly hot. This dress is practical.

And you have no idea what's up with men and summer dresses because you feel like you attract men's eyes as soon as they can make out your figure. Gabriel is speechless, though he's grinning and doesn't fail to give you a compliment.

Before you know it, Jungkook and Gabriel's friends bid you two a goodbye. Well – mostly Gabriel's friends because Jungkook is awfully quiet and doesn't even spare you a glance as he chats with Nara.

Jaw clenched, you turn around and smile widely at Gabriel. “So what's the plan?”

“Mm, don't kill me but I thought we could get a snack or something, wait–have you eaten?”

“I have,”

During lunch time with Jungkook. No matter how intense it seems to be between you, he still made sure you've eaten something. It's hard to be mad at him. But one memory of what happened just seconds ago is enough to make your features harden, just like your heart does.

“Have you?”

“I have,” he answers, “Cool, we can go to that dinner I promised you.”

You give him a slight chuckle, both of you walking nowhere specific.

“But maybe we could go to the water park as well?”

“What,” you stop, chuckling nervously. The whole point of going out was not to be in Jungkook's presence. “The others just left.” You point behind you, pretty sure they are no longer there.

“I kinda hoped we would go there alone.”

You give him a look, causing him to grin as he shakes his head. “Nothing creepy, I swear. Is it bad that I want you all for myself?”

“You will give me creeps if you continue to speak to me like that.”

He grabs his chest, pretending it hurts there. “Ouch. Is it always so hard to charm you?”

You look away, shrugging. “Not always.”

At least you didn't lie.

Best way to distract yourself is to do something. Anything that can't help you from thinking, or even overthinking. You give Gabriel that. Even though he has no idea he indirectly helped you and made your day better, attractions are a good way to just enjoy the presence. You allow yourself and your mind to be present with him.

You laugh and nicely enough, Gabriel is sweet and keeps his hands to each other. He doesn't give you creepy vibes – you're not sure if you wanted him to. He's polite, gentleman and funny. Everything anyone would like to see in a guy you're spending time with.

You talk, filling almost every second and moment with words. And yet, still somewhere rooted inside you, you keep looking around, hoping you won't meet Jungkook. Possibly see something you don't want to. You want him to have fun.

But deep inside you feel like you've pushed him to do this. It's stupid. You proposed something. You never forced him to do anything. But just because it hasn't been done directly, doesn't mean the outcome is not the same.

And you do it again. So you go to the first attraction you see, the water ride. You take Gabriel's hand, pulling him towards it until you're seated and drenched in water. After you're done, you both laugh at each other's appearance.

“I wonder if they sell towels here.” Gabriel says, praising himself for wearing slippers instead of actual shoes. His shirt is drenched, showing some of his abs. But you're respectful, you're not looking.

“It's hot, we'll be dry in thirty minutes.” you laugh, squeezing more water from the rim of your dress. It falls down your legs.

“True–how about–”

“Gab? What are you guys doing here?”

Coming from the side, you both glance at the way where one of the girls walks with the entire group of Gabriel's friends behind her. Great.

All you hear is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. He must be around here but you don't dare to let your eyes travel further.

“We wanted to try some of the attractions too.” Gabriel answers as if it's not a big deal.

Although he's met with some confused looks from his friends, they're not overly judgy and you get them. None of you mentioned going here before.

“You could've gone with us. Oh god, did you guys just go on this ride? We went there first, you should've seen us! Actually–Nara and Jungkook just went there like ten minutes ago and–” She starts looking behind her, pointing in that direction but she doesn't have to.

Your eyes naturally find him there. Walking, unbuttoned shirt that is drenched similarly to your dress. The difference is that you can see his skin, a few droplets here and there as the sun shines on his tanned skin.

“We did–I wanted Y/N for myself, is that so bad?”

And that's when Jungkook looks up, undoubtedly catching Gabriel's words and your stare as well. Seconds pass by and someone keeps talking, but you don't pay attention. Jungkook's eyes travel down your figure before a slight frown settles on his face.

Looking down, and you hate that you do, you follow his line of vision. The outline of your breasts is visible, nowhere near explicit to the point where anything is visibly clear, but even the slightest perks of your hardened nipples can be noticeable if one truly looks there. This dress doesn't require a bra, the material around that area is thick enough.

When you were picking this dress, you weren't counting on getting it wet by any means.

Crossing your arms over your chest, Jungkook stares directly at you this time. Something about his gaze is so intense that you're not sure whether you're naturally nervous or aroused. Fuck.

“We were just about to get frozen yogurt, you guys wanna join? We'll leave you alone, I promise.” Matt, one of their friends jokes, causing all of them to chuckle just to tease Gabriel.

Gabriel is not a shy person. He rolls his eyes playfully at them, ignoring them right after before he looks down at you. He's taller than you, not as tall as the man who stands across you and you feel his eyes on you. It burns.

“What do you say? Frozen yogurt?”

Frozen yogurt is the least of your worries right now. The right thing would be to refuse and come up with some kind of excuse, maybe trying the good old I wanna try more attractions. Just so you could finally escape the burning gaze that is ten times hotter than the sun above your heads.

But the annoyance that slowly simmers inside you, followed by Jungkook's unpleasant face, changes your mind. Lips stretching into a wide smile, making sure Jungkook sees it and hears you loud and clear.

“Sure, frozen yogurt sounds great.” Delightful, you want to say.

The others cheer, clearly happy to have Gabriel join them. You see Matt throwing his arm around Gabriel's shoulders, teasing him, undeniably about you as Gabriel shakes his head and with laughter pushes him away.

“You havin' fun?”

Jungkook walks next to you, looking ahead and not giving you one last glance. His jaw is clenched and you smile, amused and pleased even.

“Are you?”

“Wonderful,” he mutters.

“Good.”

Scoffing, you open your mouth but before any remark can make it out of your mouth, a woosh of coldness and pressure causes you to stop in your tracks. Most of it is blocked by Jungkook whom you manage to see turning his back, facing you while he shields you from the impact before your eyes are forced to shut.

The nearby attraction has splashed you, a few more people being a victim of it as they either laugh, curse or freeze in shock. Even your newfound friends who have managed to avoid the splash, gasp in surprise as they stare at the two of you.

You're fully drenched, every inch of you covered in water as you can feel it drip down your dress. So much for being dressed nicely.

“Oh my god, are you guys okay?” Gabriel asks, walking over to you.

Though you look up at Jungkook, who stares at you before his eyes drop down to your chest. You know his stare is not an act of lust, more of acknowledgment you should make. You don't have to look. You feel it.

Your arms cover your breasts, turning to Gabriel to respond to him. However before you're able to utter a single word, you feel a soft touch of hand over your lower back.

“We have to change clothes.”

“I saw a stand with some clothes where the kids' attractions are.” Nara tries to help, pointing in the left.

Jungkook ushers you to move before you can get drenched any more than you already are. Stupidly, you let him and you hate how you enjoy his hand on you. Maybe it has something to do with Nara watching.

There are no words said as soon as you distance yourselves from the rest of the group, leaving them up to their activities while there's a suffocating air surrounding you. The burning weather has nothing to do with it this time.

You watch Jungkook pick random shirts and shorts once you get to the stand. The older man who sells it tells you that this happens pretty much often, that's why there are a lot of towels and clothes for sale. Of course, it always has a Hawaiian theme or a water park one. You let Jungkook interact with the seller while you linger behind him, offering him a soft smile in return because that's all you can do.

“There is a changing room with a restroom around the corner. It's more to the side, so it's not much crowded, in case the lady needs more privacy.” he advises nicely.

Smiling one last time, Jungkook briefly nods as he follows the man's directions and leads you to the mentioned changing room.

He forgot to mention it's a single room. You can still hear screams and laugh from the side, but it's more isolated right now. You get inside, scanning the room. It's spacious. There are hangers on the wall, a basic bin and a sink. A huge mirror is spread across the one wall, the lighting is shitty though. The light bulb weirdly glitches but there is no weird smell in here. You hate public bathrooms, especially at water parks.

Surprisingly, there's not much water on the floor. The man was right. There are not many people who use this changing room. You've seen a couple of them when you were walking with Gabriel, but you haven't thought much about it. It sort of makes sense now.

The door clicks behind you, causing you to look across your shoulder. “Umm, where are you going?”

Jungkook looks up, brows frowning as he grows slightly offended by the question. “To change?”

His own question holds an attitude and you just stare in bewilderment for a moment. But when he doesn't move an inch, stubbornly standing his ground, you frown as well.

“Can't you wait?”

You scoff, almost laughing how childish this situation is. When Jungkook is mad, he can get slightly childish or let you feel all the nice things he does for people, until he stops it just to get petty. Not that you can't complain. You do the same things.

However, you use your mouth much more than he does. He's more subtle with it.

“I was here first.”

It's childish, you know it, yet you still point out when you're not sure how to react in the first place. Jungkook laughs under his breath.

“I wanna get out of these clothes as much as you do. Let's turn around and not look at each other.” he proposes, thinking that's the problem.

Little does he know you could care less if he sees you naked or whatever. You hate the way the water drips down his body, the ends of his hair picking up all the water until it slowly drops and it does the same thing seconds later. You hate how his tan body peeks through the opened button-up.

He's here. Yet it seems like he's never been further since you came to Hawaii.

All of this is stupid. You've been through much worse back home and you were able to make up.

But there's a lot of stubbornness and until you get there, you'll have to get through this somehow.

“You think that's the problem?” you question, seeing him giving you a confused look as he starts taking off his button-up.

He turns around to the sink, squeezing any water access he can from it. You don't move. You just shamelessly stare as he completely unbothered continues to do what he came here to do.

How dare he? Your self-consciousness mocks you.

“And what's the problem here exactly?”

He doesn't even spare you a glance, continuing to squeeze his completely scrunched up shirt.

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“I asked, didn't I?”

You scoff, ready to pounce on him. Not the good kind.

“There's a thing that's called space.”

The double meaning sits in the air, yet he doesn't look perplexed by it. For all you know, he doesn't even notice it as he bluntly continues his task. It pisses you off.

“There's enough space between us.” he simply says.

Your chest squeezes, causing you to purse your lips for a second as you breathe out. “You can't be serious right now.”

“I'm not even looking at you,” he scoffs, “I'll just change my clothes and I'm out of here. If you wanna just stand there and wait, you're free to do that.”

The audacity of this man is beyond the words. Is this how payback feels like?

“Oh, got it. You're eager to get out of here.” So you can get back to Nara, you want to add but decide not to. You would sound like a jealous bitch.

Somehow, Jungkook seems to get the hidden meaning behind it, almost as if he could hear your thoughts from out here. He chuckles, it's just the amused look he gives you that barely lasts a second, but it leaves you breathless and all exposed.

The dress clings to your skin, you want nothing more than to take it off. You don't dare to move though.

“May I remind you it's you who wanted me so eagerly to be out there?”

It's like you speak in riddles, yet you both know the exact meaning of them. You both don't dare to say it out loud.

Getting tired of it, but mostly letting out the anger that you mainly hold for yourself, but for the man in front of you as well, you take an angry inhale of breath.

“What exactly is it that you want, Y/N?” His voice rings loudly in your head, even though there's nothing loud about his tone.

Shakingly breathing out, you quietly point out; “You can't be fucking your best friend, Jungkook.”

The emphasis on your relationship is clear, though all Jungkook does is chuckle under his breath, scoffing. He throws his shirt into the sink, walking up to you. Your breath catches, though you can't almost anticipate once he's close to you. He stops, just centimeters from touching you. You can smell his faded cologne sticking to his skin and you almost crumble.

“What if I wanted to?”

“Jungkook–”

“You always make a decision without talking to me. It is yours, I respect it,” He stops for a brief moment. He stares your face up and down. “What exactly are you so scared of?”

And the fear comes rushing to you, mainly located in your chest as your hands flinch to squeeze it. You remain standing there, not being able to look him in the eyes. His eyes are on you, you feel every inch of them, the proximity they shine.

“This is ridiculous.” You try to move past him but he stops you.

“It is,” he agrees, “Is this about sex?”

“It's not just about that!” you argue, voice hushed and almost scandalized that you're having this conversation in public. You only hope there's no one standing outside, able to hear you.

You heard Jungkook locking the door, but still – there might be people waiting.

“I know you,” he says silently but clearly. “I know there's something going on inside that pretty head of yours that you're not telling me.”

“Stop.”

“Are you in love with me?”

You gasp, “What? No!” you push him, palms against his chest but he holds you by your wrist, amused by your sudden outburst.

“So why are you so adamant on pushing me away? All of a sudden, may I add?”

He's asking all the right questions and you despise it at the moment.

“You can't be fucking me forever, Jungkook. It must've ended at some point.”

“Oh–and you just decided on it without talking to me?” he scoffs, “You just randomly pushed me onto some random chick.”

“If I remember, you're willingly spending your free time with this random chick.”

He grins, though there's nothing genuine about it. It's fueled with cockiness.

You might realize there's more to Jungkook's reaction. You suddenly start to understand why he's maybe hurt by your sudden twist of emotions. While you never came out of the wrong place, at least your intentions never did, you might understand what his problem is.

He expected you to communicate with him about it. He might be right about that, but you also had your own reasons and yes, maybe you fucked up and it didn't go as planned, but you won't take the blame for all of it.

It's hard to focus on it though, especially when there's unspoken annoyance and anger dancing around you two.

“It was your suggestion.” he states matter-of-factly.

One, you regret.

He lets go of your wrists, but not before rubbing it softly with his thumbs. It's a minor detail, one you almost don't notice but it would be a total shame if you would.

“With a good intention.”

“And what's the intention?” he asks right away, tone slightly more defensive. “Huh?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out of it.

Exactly – Jungkook's face says it all.

“To push me away? Because you're too scared to communicate?”

Jungkook's annoyance comes mostly out of this. You've used to communicate and talk about everything. And that brings you to the point. Things have changed. There are minor details, perhaps even more minor than Jungkook's faint touch of affection he gave to your wrists just now. But in these kinds of situations you can perfectly see them.

Does he not see it?

“Fine,” you spit out, “You want me to communicate? I will.”

“About time!” he exclaims.

“I want you to meet new people. Be open to meeting new people.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he grimaces.

“You can't be open to meeting someone when you're fucking me the entire time!” you exclaim back, chest heaving as he looks taken back.

That's all gone as his brows furrow. “That's not your decision to make. When I'm ready to meet someone, I will.”

“That's not what I meant–”

“Really? Because that's all I could gather. If I wanted to be single for years, I easily could and that has nothing to do with you.”

Ouch.

“I know–”

“Do you?” he asks. “Because to me it seems like you don't get it. If you didn't wanna have sex with me so badly, you could've just easily called it off. For the hundredth time anyway.” he mocks the last part.

That's where you gasp and come up to him, invading his space. He doesn't seem to mind.

“But you wanted it, didn't you?”

He taunts you, even though you're in his face, looking angry as ever – he remains calm and has all the control.

“A part of you still wants it. That's why you can't see me with Nara–”

“That's not about her.”

“Is it not?”

“No. I told you to meet people. That's all I wanted, don't you remember?”

He scans you for a moment. “So we're at this point where we can fuck whoever we want?”

Fuck. You did not expect him to ask this. Nor did you expect to get to this point. You led him to it. You are the reason why he's asking this. You don't blame yourself for this, it's a simple fact. It will happen sooner or later.

So why the fuck there's an answer caught in your throat?

“Do you want that?” he continues. “I promised you we would go here as friends. No sex. Anything.”

Your throat feels dry, painfully dry that it even hurts to swallow. There's nowhere to escape. There's an imaginary spotlight set on you, Jungkook's determined gaze making up for it.

“We agreed to come here as friends.”

“That's not what I'm asking.” His response comes quickly.

He stares at you, searching your face for something unknown and you shift under his gaze, causing your own eyes to trail somewhere else. You can't hold eye contact. He waits. But when he doesn't get anything in return, he simply scoffs or chuckles under his breath – you can't tell – and takes a few steps away from you.

His shorts go next, he takes them off and tries to squeeze any excess water.

“I just wanted you to–I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet someone new. It wasn't supposed to come out as pushy or anything.” you murmur gently under your breath.

He stops for a brief moment, not moving. “How about talking to me next time, yeah?”

You nod, though you're not sure if he sees it. He's not even looking at you. Brows pinched in together, you watch him continue with his task.

“Noted.” You drop your head low.

“If you want to fuck someone else so badly, just tell me.”

“That's not–” Your reaction comes fast. Eyes wide and mouth open, you shake your head. “You think–”

“Don't you?” he almost accuses you.

“You think I–” You make air quotes with your fingers, “pushed Nara on you because I wanna fuck someone else?”

“I no longer know what I think.”

“If I wanted to do that, I would.” You assure him, comically using the same words he has used not that long ago. It's the truth.

“Good to know.”

“Good,” you exclaim. “I guess we can both agree that we're capable of doing what we want.”

“Are we?”

Your mouth slightly opens. “Huh?”

“Are we capable of doing what we want?”

The shorts join his scrunched up shirt in the sink, knowing Jungkook will wash the hell out of it once he gets back. He loves to do his laundry. But that's besides the point.

What matters is how Jungkook inches closer to you, his eyes eating you up and noticing you haven't shredded a single piece of clothing. You catch a glimpse of your face in the mirror. Your pupils wide, an expectation screaming out of them while your skin remains wet. Trails of water trailing down between your breasts.

He follows it before his eyes slowly go up until they meet yours.

“Perhaps it's a curse or talent, but one look at you and I can already tell where your mind's at.”

He doesn't make you feel pathetic. He simply comments but finds some sort of enjoyment in it. The male's ego is never truly gone and you wish you could crash it, verbally using your mouth as you're good at it. It doesn't matter that his implication is true – it doesn't matter you both know it. You would fight and argue, just to compete his ego with your own.

It seems like you're not able to this time.

“Yeah? And where's your mind at?” you try to sound unbothered, but the way your chest slowly starts to heave up completely betrays you.

“At the same exact place where yours is. Unlike you, I'm not ashamed to say it out loud.”

He backs you to the counter, nowhere near touching you – yet he does it with a single stare and has you exactly where he wants you. The tip of your toes almost touch, his figure hovering over yours.

Gulping, you try to play it cool. “Go on then. Tell me.”

He chuckles, it's soft but holds amused darkness that's wrapped around his cords. “If you insist.”

You don't. But you play into this fake illusion of not knowing what he's talking about. Just a pure excuse to try and prove him otherwise. To be honest, you might be curious about what he has to say. Jungkook has a good judgment for a character – when it comes to you. That obviously does not apply to his exes.

“I'm supposed to be somewhere else, physically and mentally, but here I am thinking of different ways of having you.”

You stop yourself just in time not to gasp out loud, showing him a vocal reaction other than your heart picking up its pace just at the single thought of it. Let alone having to hear him confess that.

Clearing your throat, you try to straighten your posture but end up brushing against his chest. You do your best at ignoring it, staring him straight in the eyes. “And that's what I want?”

Don't lie to yourself, the little devil of your consciousness ironically laughs. Of course you know all of this, you just have this urge to prove him otherwise and crush that confidence he has within himself.

“Please, you're already salivating just from the thought of it.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you argue: “No, I am not.”

“Tell me,” he cocks his head to the side. “Would you rather bend over the counter or sit on it?”

He sounds nothing but curious, not even feeding to your delusions of him being out of touch with reality. Only he is not.

“You're an idiot.” you breathe out, trying everything to sound scandalized or offended. You would be able to fool if it was anyone else. But not him.

“For speaking the truth?”

“You're saying it as if I would want that. Listen to what I'm saying.”

He chuckles, shaking his head lightly. “Words are irrelevant when your eyes practically beg me to touch you.”

You know he chose a lighter version of what he would initially say. He wants to be way more explicit, but you're both dancing on the edge.

“You think you know everything when it comes to me.” It sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth. He doesn't appear to be offended because you both know how much he truly knows you.

To bring this conversation to a different topic, he chooses to ignore it and simply smiles.

“So if I were to do this–” He lightly touches the side of your neck, wrapping his hand carefully around it. You inhale shakily, not being able to control it. “Would you tell me to stop?”

He gently massages your pulse that moves under his thumb, watching goosebumps appear on your soft skin. His hand is gone before you can blink, but is soon replaced by his fingertips tracing down your neck, past your collarbone until they stop at top of your breasts.

“Hm?”

You're not able to react. Your chest heaves, a glare fixated on him but no sound comes out of your mouth. He has you. Wrapped around his fingers, proving his point. Because of his ego and confidence, you know he's proving it to you rather than to anyone else. He can be that annoying.

Close to leaning toward his touch, the tip of his fingers play with the hem of your dress, occasionally and very faintly touch your skin. His other hand goes down, playing at the fabric of where your dress ends. It goes up, fabric gathering over his wrist. You shudder, mentally begging him to do more.

As if he could read your mind, his eyes look up without having to move his head, dark sinister spark in them. When he doesn't see you protesting, merely making sure of your current state, he does not waste a second and pulls the top hem of your dress. Revealing your breasts, he sucks in breath at the perked nipples. His hold on the dress tightens and within seconds, his mouth is wrapped around your nipple.

“Fuck.” you moan, throwing your head back as you arch into him.

He's like a starving man, perhaps he is from the stupid condition you've made up, but so are you. The other hand grasps the back of your thigh, molding his fingers into your skin as if he wants to leave as many imprints as he can.

Teeth grazing your teeth, he wraps his hand around your neck once more and makes you look at him. You just stare at each other, not an ounce of shame written on your faces. Your noses touch, your mouth already opened as small gasps similar to moans escape. You beg him to kiss you.

He doesn't.

Instead, he drops down to his knees and before you know it, his hands disappear underneath your dress and shamelessly pull down your only piece of underwear. Once that's done, he hoists up your leg over his shoulder and dives in right away. You can barely grab the edge of the sink counter and balance yourself on it, before his mouth is on you.

“Jungkook–”

You swear you hear him chuckle, but you're too distracted by the shots of pleasure he's attacking you with. He shows no mercy. Fingers wrapped in his hair, you tug onto his roots as he moans against you.

Nobody does it like you.

While that thought normally scares you, now you're fucking grateful he's the one that's between your legs.

You come embarrassingly fast, trying to keep yourself silent from moaning and embarrassingly so, you have no idea whether you've succeeded or not. Jungkook fucks you through it with his mouth, stopping just at the right time as he pulls away.

Lips swollen and red, eyes drinking you up, he effortlessly stands up. “Was this anything relatively close to where your mind was?”

It was far dirtier but there's nothing to be disappointed about. When it comes to orgasm and Jungkook, he never disappoints.

“I can't complain.” you breathe out, watching how he pulls up your dress and covers your breasts to give you at least some kind of modesty.

It's a single detail, one he never had to do and you never fully noticed – but no matter what, Jungkook always looks out for you. A blunt apology wants to come out, for numerous reasons of the misunderstanding of your own fears and good intentions, but Jungkook takes a few steps back.

“Change your clothes, I will wait outside.” he says, quickly changing his own before leaving you up to it.

You turn around, not being able to let go of the counter as you grip it harder and stare at your face. He didn't even go all the way and you look like you've had the time of your life.

Once again, you and Jungkook have succumbed to your desires and broken the only condition you've had for this vacation. It should leave you disappointed and perhaps you are little, but you're definitely satisfied for the time being.

At least until you have to walk out of the door and face the storm in the form of your best friend.

Your knees and hands have stopped buckling by the time you've changed into dry clothes. Nothing screams more than a tourist wearing an oversized shirt with a huge label saying “I love Hawaii”, an image of a red heart replacing the word love. It's something you would've worn to bed to sleep in – or at the beach to cover up the least – not parading yourself in it in public.

The sense of fashion is the last of your worries or things on your mind though.

Jungkook has waited outside of the door, guarding it safely. After his sudden leave, you did not lock the door which could be a terrible mistake if Jungkook wasn't there to make sure no one walks in. Somehow, you knew he was right behind that door.

The walk toward the rest of the group is spent in silence. As if his mouth wasn't all over your private areas. The memory of it makes an excitement bubble in your stomach, even though it should probably be at least a hint of some kind of regret.

You do not regret the act itself. Mostly, it's just you being so weak to prevent it.

Maya would surely get the baggage off your shoulders, supporting this wild decision. But she just doesn't get it.

Simple walk to find your newfound friends – or whatever you would call them – makes you miss your real friends. You wonder how things would go if they were here.

Maybe it's just your stupid naivety of believing that it would be different. No matter what, it seems you and Jungkook always find your way to each other – intimately speaking.

One thing's for sure.

Jungkook has confronted you. There's truth to both sides.

Of course the man can have anyone he points his finger at. It was your foolishness to think this vacation was the perfect chance at it. Selfishly, you might've done it more for yourself than for him.

And what if you would meet someone as well?

It would certainly make things easier. The decision would be way easier too.

Gabriel is handsome. Hot and charming. Practically the perfect package for a vacation hook-up. And as much as would be leant toward maybe kissing him at least, you can't do that when Jungkook is right there.

Once you find them, the mood is sour between you and you're not even trying to hide it. Maybe it's the lack of smile and a big portion of silence that makes them notice it. No one comments on it. In fact, you don't think it's worth being commented on.

Their positivity and good mood continues to be unaffected.

“We dodged the whole frozen yogurt, heard there are these best waffles somewhere around here with fresh fruit. Wanna go there instead?” Gabriel is the first one to ask, eyes finding your figure as soon as you approach them.

In this heat, sweet food or a snack is the least of your cravings.

“I'm actually not hungry at all,” you respond, feeling guilty for not being up for this idea.

Gabriel looks confused for a moment, certainly remembering you were all up for frozen yogurt just a few minutes ago. Like the gentleman he is, he doesn't question you but you can see the questions running inside his head.

Maybe he doesn't want to do it in front of his friends.

“The heat is killing me.” you add, trying to save it.

He nods, glancing toward the man next to you who hasn't made a move to… move. “Jungkook?”

“I already had a dessert.” he comments, shamelessly staring at the side of your face.

Eyes almost bulging out, you keep your calm and try to not react. Even though Jungkook has not worded it out weirdly to give anyone a big suspicion, it's you and your guilt that makes it think it's so obvious. You wish you could glare at him, but you know there are eyes on you.

“We stopped by the fruit stand, so we had that on our way here.” you lie, straight through your teeth and even though you could be defined as the worst liar ever, this lie comes out sweet and believable. But it's Gabriel's eyes that continue to stare and watch you like you're the biggest open book.

Fuck.

“Yeah, the fruit here tastes nice.” Jungkook continues and you do everything in your power not to smack him across that bratty mouth. Mouth you wish you could have kissed.

You give him a look, but he just cocks his brow at you. “Yeah, Jungkook came up with this idea–”

“Did I?”

You glare at him, “Anyway–sorry, I know we wanted to go there together.”

“It's fine,” Gabriel laughs, “We're still gonna get it. You guys are still going with us, right?”

“Yeah, sure!” you force yourself to smile, joining Gabriel as you feel Jungkook's burning gaze on your back.

That's until you hear Nara's voice behind you, making a casual conversation between them and diverting his attention elsewhere.

Once the sun is slowly setting down, you part ways and go back to the beach house in silence. No difference happens once you're inside, just the two of you.

The past two hours spent with people you've met here felt like a torture. That's what you at least thought until you and Jungkook continued to pass by each other as you two are getting ready. Comically enough, not to go somewhere together but with different people.

He kept his word and accepted Nara's offer to go out tonight. Whether he's doing this to piss you off or because he wants to is unknown to you. Perhaps there was a slight hope that you two would just come to an agreement to cancel and go somewhere together. Even staying inside would be enough.

Once Nara asked Jungkook if their plan is still on and Jungkook so shamelessly confirmed, all the hope left as soon as it came. Gabriel has done the same with you and there was nothing other for you to do, then to agree.

It's a pure comedy. If there was a third person just watching the two of you, they would have the time of their life. Somehow you can imagine Taehyung here, sitting on the couch as he judges you two but stays entertained throughout the entire time.

After taking a shower, you end up doing your make-up in the living room with the smallest mirror you've brought on this vacation. Your previous plan of doing it in the bathroom where there is a massive mirror has failed as soon as Jungkook uttered his need to use the shower as well.

You're not sure if he's done it on purpose, but he sure as hell took his time there. You're putting on the lipstick when he finally decides to get out of there.

Both of you stop.

He's wearing an all white – button-up with shorts that reach just above his knees. Shorts you didn't even know he owns. He looks elegant, yet casual just for the hot weather even though there's a slight darkness outside. His slicked back hair definitely helps.

Jungkook's eyes fall down on your figure. You're wearing a simple short black dress but the gold necklace and red lipstick adds a pinch of sexiness to it. None of you are overdressed or could win the outfit of the year, yet you can't keep eyes off each other.

You're the first one to break it, standing up and tidying up your make-up stuff that's all over the table, but not before raising a provocative brow at him. He scoffs as he walks past you without any word, his cologne the only thing left and lingering. Out of his sight, you close your eyes and breathe out the gathered breath in your lungs.

The two of you leave at the same time, in different directions to different people.

The restaurant where Gabriel has taken you is nice and they have a variety of food on their menu. You have a nice view of the beach and sea which adds points in your imaginary review of this place. You've got to be honest – Gabriel definitely went out his way to invite you here.

He doesn't mention his friend – Nara – not even once and while you're not sure if you want to hear the reminder of her hanging out with Jungkook at the moment, you hope you won't bump into each other. You feel bad.

You listen and talk to him, but your mind is all over the place. You should've known you won't be able to enjoy tonight if there's someone you've fought with. And with Jungkook out of all people.

At least the food is nice.

After two hours of good dinner and dessert, and a few glasses of wine, Gabriel decides to walk you back to the beach house. You're not stupid to decline it, especially at night. Before that you decide to take a quick walk down the beach.

“So, what are you saying? Was the dinner that bad?”

You give him a look, chuckling. “Did it meet your expectations of getting to know me?”

Now he's the one who laughs. “Yeah,” he nods. “Kinda makes it hard for me to go back to Italy.”

You raise your brow, smirking. “So you're saying you're not going where I go?”

He laughs at your joke, “I'm thinking of it.”

“Yeah, sure.” you laugh, “One dinner is all it took?”

“You're special.”

And you're more likely looking for a hook-up, you think. You both know there's no future to this.

“I am special?” you snicker, “Is that what you say to all the girls?”

“Is it working?” he teases.

“Nah, it takes more effort when it comes to me.”

He stops in his tracks which causes you to do the same. He stares, eyes dropping down your lips and red lights flare in your mind. Knowing what it most likely means, you quickly turn away.

“Come on, I'm so full I could fall asleep.”

Cringing at yourself, Gabriel follows and doesn't seem to be shaken up from it. He continues to talk and the mood is pretty much loosen up, which has been from the beginning. You had a good time and it went better than you expected it to.

Gabriel doesn't try to kiss you and you bid goodbye with a casual hug, both of you understanding that nothing will come out of this.

The lights are on as you open the unlocked door, meaning that Jungkook is already back. It seems like he just came as he came out of the bathroom, surprised to see you there.

“How was your date?” he asks, looking away from you in a second.

“It wasn't a date.” you clarify which makes him snicker. “What? It wasn't.”

“An Italian guy wants to make plans with you, alone. You might be right, it's not about a date at all.”

You give him an offensive look, “Are you insinuating that all I'm good for is a hook-up?”

“No, don't twist up my words.” He immediately stops your mind to go somewhere his mind doesn't even get close to. “I'm insinuating that a guy from freaking Italy suddenly shows his interest in you, when you live across the world.”

You frown, watching him reach for a glass of whiskey you haven't noticed before. He's not drunk but what he is, is confidently smirking in your face as if he knows everything. Well, he's not too far off. Gabriel wants to have fun and while he seems to be a decent human being, he's not about to move to a country to be with you. You wouldn't expect him to anyway.

“But you're right,” He purses his lips, the rim of the glass almost touching it as he lets out the tiniest chuckle that's supposed to be hidden. “He's probably wanting to marry you.”

He's provocating you. The plans have not turned out the way you both wanted to – but it is what it is. Your curiosity almost kills you and your impatient-self wants to ask him about this date, or whatever it was. This is a game, you realize.

And you won't let him have that satisfaction of you asking.

“He wanted to kiss me tonight.” you inform him.

You watch him take a sip, pursing his lips right after as you slowly watch him swallow down the hard liquor. “I'm sure he wanted to do much more.”

Is that a jealousy you hear?

No one has quite peaked your interest regarding this matter. Judging by Jungkook's confidence, he knows that.

“Next time I will let him kiss me. Maybe then he will want to marry me eventually.” You give him a false smile, stopping right beside him as he wants you with a clenched jaw.

Not giving him a chance to respond, you walk away with confident steps into the bedroom. The door closes and your back meets the wood. You can feel your heart in your neck, all the facade of confidence and peace leaves and you softly bang your head against it.

What you said was completely stupid. You don't want to kiss Gabriel. In fact, the thought of it is nowhere near as exciting as one would expect it to be. Both of you know that the second part was only said to piss him off and prove a point.

The questions are…

Will you let him kiss you next time?

Did or will Jungkook kiss someone else in here?

The ongoing battle that you're in the middle of has not ended.

Both sleeping at the very both ends, as far away from each other as possible, has been a good way to start the day. It's not like you expected to cuddle during the night.

That's not what friends do, your mind wants to say. But you've crossed that line too many times. You're not the typical friends either, that ship has sailed a long time ago.

You shouldn't have pushed him away. It's too late to take it back. For a moment you think of coming to Jungkook, apologize and somehow talk yourself out of this impossible battle you're in. You're willing to take all the blame for it.

However, that's all gone as soon as you hear Jungkook calling with who you assume is Nara, his tone sweet and sounding exciting as they make plans for today. You stand there, making yourself a coffee as you try not to listen to their ridiculous conversation. How can you not?

Jungkook sits right behind you, even if you didn't want to listen – it's impossible for you not to. He knows that. He knows you're listening. You're the one who has come in the middle of their conversation.

The call ends after a minute, your coffee ready but your mind isn't when you turn around and face the devil. You've seen him from the corner of your eyes when you entered the kitchen area, but nothing prepares you for the shirtless Jungkook. His hair isn't messy, he seems to be well put and from the looks of it, he came out of the shower not that long ago.

He cocks his brow at you, questioning your stare making your features harden. “Having a date today?”

You painfully watch the way the corner of his mouth slowly lifts up as he chuckles. “Careful, you start to sound jealous.”

“Me? Don't be ridiculous,” you scoff, “Where is she from again? Doesn't she live across the world?”

Jungkook features lighten up with pure amusement as you use his words against him. “At least I can admit this is a date.”

“I simply hung out with a guy. We never stated it's a date.” you point out, knowing it sounds silly but Gabriel just wanted to get to know you. You never officially called it a date.

Jungkook stands up, grabbing his empty plate as he gives you another one of his snickers. “Be in denial all you want.”

“You know what?” He raises his brow in question, too close to you as he reaches to put the plate into the sink. “I'm not gonna spend this morning arguing with you. If I wanted it to be a date, I would make it perfectly clear to him.”

He smiles, but there's nothing sweet about it. “A date or a chance for a hook-up. I don't see the difference.”

He does. Jungkook has always been the dating type rather than the hook-up one. Your two friends have taken that label since forever. But obviously, he's not talking about himself.

Suddenly, the air becomes thick and you stare right into his dark eyes. He's hovering over you, his scent luring you in as his eyes dance across your face. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

He pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe again as you quickly recover. “Yeah? And what would that be?”

Jungkook grabs his phone and looks at you across his shoulder. “You should meet new people.”

Your mouth opens and you stare for a moment before you scoff, “If I wanted to date, I would already have like hundreds of boyfriends. The same goes if I was looking for a hook-up.”

“Good for you.” he calls out bitterly, leaving you in the kitchen with a fuming gaze and burning heart.

But you realize one thing. How selfish you've just sounded. Jungkook has told you the same thing.

If any of you wanted that, you could've easily done so. Yet your reason for saying it to him and what ultimately started this argument, is completely different.

Jungkook is a dick.

He has left for his date or whatever the fuck it is, and has left you alone in the house even without asking whether you have plans or not. You know your relationship right now is not at its best stage, but little consideration could not hurt. Especially since he's always been caring and considerate no matter how much your relationship has taken a different turn.

It's one of the reasons why you desperately wanted to move on. Throw your past away and come back to the friendship you've known since the beginning. It leaves you agreeing that your original intention has come from a good place.

Luckily, Gabriel seems to show interest in you, still, after the little rejection you've given him after his attempt to kiss you. He comes to you a little after you come to the beach to just lay there. He's been there with his friends since this morning – at their usual spot. Nara is nowhere in sight and much to your distaste, you know who's she with.

So once Gabriel invites you to hang out with them, you agree and would rather spend your alone time in a company of many people, than to dwell all alone about your decisions in life. He keeps you entertained and busy, away from your haunting thoughts. Until…

“Nara is with your friend. You know where they went?”

You sit at a bar, drinking lemonade in this burning weather and you're thankful for the sunglasses you're wearing, so he's not about to see the tiniest roll of your eyes. “No idea. He forgot to mention.”

In the morning which is the last time you've seen him. He just left you to be with another woman, in a foreign country. You know you can call him anytime. Even now – no matter what your relationship looks like, he would be here in a second if you called and needed him. But still – you're mad he just left without saying anything. Deep down you know that's not the only thing that irritates you.

“Nara fancies him a lot.”

So? You want to say. What are you supposed to do with this information?

“Really?” You're trying to sound surprised. But even Gabriel– who had so little time to get to know you – catches onto the tone and laughs. “It's pretty obvious.” You try to save it by simply stating.

“She did ask him to go out again today. From what I know, she was never the one who asked someone out.”

“Where does she live again?” you ask, taking a sip off a lemonade trying to quench the fire inside you.

“Spain.”

“It's not like there's any future to it.”

Gabriel stays silent and just stares, while you continuously take innocent sips. “Actually, Nara has applied for some modeling jobs in Korea.”

He's definitely not talking about North Korea, unfortunately that's unrealistic.

“Oh,”

Well, fuck. This just gave a completely different turn of event.

Considering your luck, she probably applied to your modeling agency as well. Many foreigners do. You just hope no one will mention it. Not to be a bitch, but you can imagine someone asking you to help her to get in. That's beyond your competency. But you could always mention her to Junho.

Oh my god. Jungkook has worked there too. He probably has saved your boss' number. While you think Jungkook wouldn't cross that invisible line you've set, he's always trying to help and save the day.

“Listen, how about I take you out for dinner tonight?”

That's… shocking.

After the last time you ended things, you thought he gave up. But you should've known better. It seems guys like him barely give up.

“What's else for us to do?” he chuckles, not really waiting for an answer but it still comes.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you, reaching for his drink as his shoulders relax. “Our friends are meeting with each other almost every day.”

The taste of your non-alcoholic drinks becomes bitter on the tip of your tongue, just as much as your mood does. “As far as I know, you've got other friends here.”

“But none of them are you.”

Smooth. The little smirk you give him tells him everything. He's aware of his smooth delivery of compliments. You've got to give it to him – he knows his way around girls.

It's not like you have anything else to do. Jungkook seems to be busy and does not care what you do here anymore. And Gabriel's company is nice. If it's true what he said about Nara coming to Korea, there's a bigger chance of them making future plans together. And as much as this thought leaves the most bitter taste on your tongue, you'll leave that move for Jungkook to make.

After all, that's what you wanted for him and who are you to stand in his way.

Purposely not verbally reacting to Gabriel's flirting, you shrug and lean in your seat. “Dinner sounds perfect.”

Legs resting on top of the coffee table, Gossip Girl plays in the background as you mindlessly pop grapes in your mouth. Maybe you're silently imagining it's Jungkook whom you're crushing between your teeth.

After spending almost the full day with Gabriel and then the rest of his friends, you've come to the beach house finding it completely empty. It looks exactly where it's left off and you're embarrassed to admit that you've checked Jungkook's things to see if they've moved. And perhaps he was here. They haven't, which only meant one thing – Jungkook hasn't come here yet.

Sooner than later, the door opens and there he is.

He does not seem surprised to see you there – almost as if he knew you wouldn't be anywhere else. You give him that much satisfaction of looking at him once he arrives, acknowledging his late arrival. You hate what you do but it has its own purpose. And that is the single glare you give him.

You feel like a mother, silently scolding her child for coming home late.

He goes for a shower right away and you battle with thoughts of him, erasing the traces of possible sex on his skin. He comes back after a few minutes, wearing just his boxers with wet hair. You want to scold him for walking around like that, but that would be slightly selfish for numerous reasons. Is he torturing you on purpose?

He joins you on the couch, not questioning your choice of TV show as he knows you've previously seen it. As he sits down, you can't hold it back and just come straight to the point.

“Will you help her?”

Your gaze is focused on the TV screen, but you feel his own burning the side of your face. “Huh?”

“Nara.”

He just stares which causes you to look at him and roll your eyes at him. “She applied for modeling agencies in Korea.”

“Korea is huge,” he says after a moment. “And how do you even know that?”

“Gabriel told me.” You try to not sound too proud.

“When?” he asks confusingly. “She told me just today.”

He's questioning if you've known this information sooner but never told him.

This time you inform him with a smug face. “He told me today as well.”

The revelation that you haven't spent your day here alone is out. He is unreadable. He just watches you, almost as if he wants to make sure you're not making this up. Too bad for him. You're not making anything up and this time you're not too shy to show how proud you are for it.

“What? You thought I was here all alone while you went on a date?”

It's a purposeful jab, one that leads to nothing but disaster but you don't care. You're mad and annoyed. And now he knows why. Yet he doesn't make any effort to make an excuse for himself.

“You brought him here?”

First of all – you're not sure what would be so bad about it, even if you brought him here. But then it clicks. Jungkook has his own assumptions and bringing a guy here, while you're all alone could mean different things. Your skin is moisturized and you smell like your shower gel, which means you've left the shower not that long ago.

Perhaps it could be considered as disrespectful if you indeed brought him into a house, Jungkook rented and is a space for you two. You could understand that.

If the roles were reversed and you found out he brought Nara here – well… the thought of it doesn't sit well with you. But what does, when it comes to her?

“No, he asked me out after you so kindly left me here to go on your stupid date.” you huff out, standing up and forgetting about your TV show. The controller is tossed on the couch as you leave without looking at him.

Your steps lead to the bathroom where there's a slight trace of foggy mirror left after Jungkook's shower. Mentally groaning at the scent of him dominating in the room, you reach toward the sink faucet in a desperate need to freshen up your burning face.

You don't get to turn the water on as Jungkook is in your tracks, a burning gaze aimed at you. “You seemed to have solved it pretty quickly.”

Realizing he meant your accusation of leaving you to go on a date, you scoff.

“I wasn't about to sit here and sulk, waiting like a dog for you. If that's what you were planning for me to do.”

“I wasn't planning that,” he states, even though he wants to be just as mad for some reason. “I wasn't planning on being out until now.”

“Well, you were!” you exclaim.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? Is that all you've got to say?”

He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “What am I supposed to say?”

“You know what? Nothing. Say nothing.” you fume, forgetting your dumb purpose in the bathroom anyway as you rush to get past him. But as soon as you get close, his hand around your wrist stops you.

The touch is electrifying, sadly not in an awful way and you hate how your body reacts to him naturally. “Did you at least have fun?” you scoff.

“Would you be mad if I said I did?”

You almost cry, like a child but the anger inside you is bigger than anything else and you shake his hold on you. “And did you have fun?”

“Lots of it.” you spit the words at him.

You both stare into each other's eyes, the anger screaming out of them and yet the question you want to ask is unspoken.

“Good.”

“Goodnight Jungkook.” you murmur, walking away and quickening up the pace before you can do something you really want to, but would regret later.

One would think that after yesterday's exchange of pitiful words, you two would have solved it or at least tried to voice the problem here. It seems there is not enough pity and when the two of you want to, you could be the biggest pity bitches.

“Milk?”

Side-eyed look toward Jungkook, having two bowls of cereal ready and awaiting your answer. “I can make myself breakfast.”

“Milk?” he asks through his teeth, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back as you sit down.

“Yes.”

Whether this is his way of saying sorry for yesterday or not is unknown and you're not about to investigate it. You mutter a silent thank you once the bowl is set in front of you and you two dig into your breakfast without any other sort of conversation.

The rest of the morning goes like this. One word communication which seems almost like a challenge. Phones are your best friend but both of you are stubborn to talk. You swim in the pool for the first time since you're here, enjoying the sun warming your skin as Jungkook goes for his morning jog and comes back an hour later.

You're playing quiet house, so it seems.

As the day goes, it's more than clear that both of you have plans tonight. Separate plans.

Jungkook's phone goes off and he goes inside to take the call, after joining you in the pool. Trying to keep your nerves to yourself, you've had to endure his presence (lack of clothed presence). You went to rest on a beach chair while he swam. PAIN.

It's close to dinner time and you both get ready. Unlike Jungkook, you spend more time in the bathroom to do your hair and make-up, which he so “kindly” reminds you every time he wants to take a shower or goes to grab something there.

The air is thick and it has nothing to do with the scent of hairspray and your fragrance.

None of you ask what's your plan for tonight. But both of you can tell. No details though.

“You done here?”

You stop in the middle of putting your lipstick on as you give him a look, “Does it look like it?”

Ignoring the attitude in your tone, Jungkook comes up to the mirror and by doing that, he moves you to the side. He almost causes the lipstick to meet your cheek and you can tell, you almost see a smirk curling his lips.

“Don't look at me like that. You've been here for a long time.” he says without sparing you a glance.

While you watch from the side with an open mouth and disbelief written on your face, he easily grabs his hair gel and starts doing his own hair. You fume, snatching your make-up bag and stomping away to finish what you haven't had the chance to – thanks to Jungkook.

By the time you're done, Jungkook has left without saying another word. You haven't even heard him leaving and you feel pathetic as you search him around the house, all while trying to look for something. Turns out there's no one here and he has left. First and again.

Luckily, Gabriel texts you not that long after and proposes a short walk. He doesn't want to reveal the restaurant location but he had to make a reservation, which already sounds fancy as it is. You're hungry and considering you're not in your best state, still fuming, you decide not to complain. First of all, it's not polite at all.

Gabriel is trying and just because you're in a mood to be a bitch, doesn't mean he's the one who deserves it. At least there's some sort of self-reflection happening.

And two, maybe it's a good idea to walk around a bit to come to different thoughts. Plus, you will eat more by the time you arrive at the restaurant.

He has cleaned up nicely, catching female eyes as you walk around for a few minutes. The walk has been short, just enough to make a casual conversation until you arrive.

The restaurant is located on a pier, waiters all wearing fancy white shirts and slacks – a difference from all the shirts with Hawaiian motifs and skin showing.

As you're led to your table, you notice there's not a single table free and tonight it's fully packed.

“What is this place?” you ask as soon as the waiter hands you menus and leaves after.

“It's the most famous restaurant on this island.”

Your mouth opens and then it closes again. “Are you insane?”

He laughs, staring at you fondly as if you haven't been too bold with your words. “This is what I like about you.”

“What,”

“Your honesty,” he hums, “It's refreshing. You don't try to woo me.”

“Why would I woo you?” you ask, genuinely curious but again, it comes out a little bluntly which causes him to laugh again.

“Ouch,” he jokes, holding his chest as you stare at him across the table. “You're in this world to punish men for their overly huge egos.”

You purse your lips, “I'm not in this world for men, first of all.”

“Technically, you are thanks to one.”

Your nose scrunches up which causes him to laugh again. “That's besides the point.”

“So is there anyone who's been trying to woo you instead?”

“Besides you, no. Not at the moment.”

He cracks another laughter, “Touché. I deserved that.”

Giggling, you shake your head at your conversation.

“So tell me–” His words drift away because in the midst of your laughter, you spot someone entering your line of vision.

The world could not be any more cruel at the moment. There they are.

Jungkook and Nara enter the pier as they're seated by the waiter, just like you were minutes ago. Jungkook, the gentleman he is, pulls out the chair for her as she giggles with a bright smile. Clearly wooed herself by the sweet gesture.

“You've got to be kidding me.” you mutter so silently, that you're sure Gabriel can't make the words out but it's enough to silence him as he follows your gaze.

He turns around and lets out a surprised, but light sound.

“Oh, I guess me and your friend think alike.”

You try hard not to make a sour expression as you clear your throat. “Let's not interrupt them. What were you saying?”

“Is there someone waiting for you? Back in Seoul?”

“I told you, I'm single.” you chuckle.

“I know, but that doesn't mean there's not someone who's ready to fight for you.”

Your fingers stop clicking and you gulp.

“So you're telling me there's no one in your life? Not even recently?”

It's like he can see there's something on your mind. You decide to come up with half of the truth. It's not like you'll see him again.

“There–It wasn't a relationship, more like a relationship of convenience–”

“So, a hook-up partner, right?”

Lips in a straight line, you hum in confirmation. “Yeah, whatever. We ended it, so it felt like a good decision to come here and just relax. Come to different thoughts.”

Cominically enough, you came here with a person you're currently talking about. The one who's sitting just a few tables from you two.

God, you sound so stupid. Of course, you're not telling Gabriel the whole truth. The purpose of coming here with Jungkook was to enjoy it, strengthen your friendship – the previous one you've had. You had an agreement.

Somehow, you end up arguing thanks to you and it gets all twisted.

“Well, I know you were supposed to come here with your friends. So I understand why you would do that.”

“It's not just because of that. We were planning this for months. It was supposed to be a friends' vacation.”

He hums in understanding and doesn't get the opportunity to speak, as the waiter comes back and asks for your order. After you've ordered your meal, Gabriel leans back and studies you for a short moment. Just before you're about to ask about his lingering gaze and its purpose behind it, he speaks.

“You're not really looking for a relationship, are you?”

Your brows shoot up at the unexpected question. For a while, you're not sure how to answer and your face says it all. In the end, you shrug and voice your confusion. “What's with the sudden question?”

“I apologize,” he smiles, “I had to voice my curiosity and I wonder if I was right.”

You lean back, fingers clicking against the table. “I'm not against it. If it comes, I welcome it.”

“Hm,” he hums. “So no hard break-up?”

“Why do you think so?”

“I don't know, there's just something about you that I can't seem to crack.”

“Sometimes some things aren't meant to be cracked.” you tell him, making him smile at the possible truth.

“Sometimes,” he agrees. “I'm sorry if I seem to be nosy.”

“No, it's okay. Trust me, I win when it comes to curiosity.” you admit with a silent laugh.

“I travel a lot, so I don't really have enough time to properly date. No woman wants a man who's ten months out of the country out of the year.”

“What do you do again?”

“Content creator.”

“Oh, so you're an influencer?”

He laughs, “Not really. I do write for a traveling blog.”

“Maybe you'll find someone you can date and travel with.”

“Unfortunately, you don't seem that kind of person.”

You laugh, “I do enjoy Seoul. It's home by now.”

It doesn't take a genius to realize that the only contact he gets through women is mostly by hooking-up. Though, by the look of it it seems that maybe he's longing for something more stable and serious.

“You know, this time I'm here for a good vacation. No work. No writing.”

“That's great. I'm assuming all that traveling is tiring.”

“It is. I enjoy it and I love my job. But I came here to maybe come to new thoughts.” he explains.

The waiter brings you your food shortly after. There's no awkward silence during eating, you keep a slightly lighter conversation as Gabriel remains nothing but a gentleman. You would lie if you said you're purposely focusing your gaze on the plate, rather than on Gabriel fearing your eyes would wander somewhere they should not.

You don't care. Maybe they noticed you and clearly decided not to interrupt you as well. Or maybe there's still that awkward awaiting of them noticing. Sipping on a drink, in a hope it will bring you to different thoughts and help you relax a little bit more.

The reason for your slight discomfort doesn't need to be named.

“You assumed, I've been through a break-up. Why?” you ask, curious as he seems taken back.

“I asked more than assumed,” he corrects. You don't seem to be buying that statement but remain silent. “At first I thought you're not interested in me, particularly. But I get a feeling you're just not interested in general.”

“Why's that?”

Yes. He might be right. You're not necessarily trying to search for someone. But you don't get a feeling as if you were against it.

“Let me be bold here.”

“Please.” you encourage him.

“There are men who can't keep their eyes off you. And I simply noticed by spending time with you.”

You give him a doubtful look which he quickly disregards by shaking his head.

“Men are men.” you simply tell him.

He makes a disapproving sound. “There are hundreds of women at the beach, but the majority of them stare at you.”

“Okay, now you're just giving me a compliment.”

“I am not,” he laughs gently, “I could but I guess it is a compliment when there are men thirsting over you.”

“Like I said. Men are men. They're thirsting over anything that wears a bikini.”

“That–can be true. But my point still stands.”

You clear your throat, “Okay. Maybe I'm not completely in a place where I'm searching for a relationship. I never hid that.”

“Of course. But that's why I just tried to prove my point why I think you're not interested.”

You stay silent for a second. He's technically a stranger but it seems as if you were having this conversation with a friend. You don't feel uncomfortable and there's no need for you to get defensive over this topic. He's wondering and that's fine.

“It wasn't a relationship. Just a hooking-up type of one and we ended it. So I just need to get things back how they were.”

And comically enough, the person who's a part of this is sitting just right over there. Even though Gabriel seems to notice quite a few things, Jungkook and your history with him seems to be oblivious to him.

Why do you care?

You've been trying to keep it a secret as long as possible until it got out. So what if he knows the truth? It's not like you'll see him again – most likely. You don't need anyone to judge you two or look at you differently. You definitely don't need any more insights into this matter than your friends have delivered.

Your own mind is a mess.

And on top of it, Jungkook and you are on edge.

The mention of him causes you to look up. And fuck. What a mistake you make.

You meet Jungkook's gaze, the intense color in them burning even from this distance as he's already looking at you. Your breath hitches in the most subtle way. While you stare shocked that he has noticed you, his brows are pinched together.

He's not exactly pleased to find you here.

Nara sits on the opposite side of the table, so all you can see is her back but she seems to be saying something to him. Jungkook reaches for the glass of wine and takes a few sips, eyes not leaving yours.

Then he's the first one to look away. That tiny detail affects you more than you're able to admit and you almost fume when the frown disappears from his face. You watch it all. His features relax as he talks to her back, obviously listening to her even though his eyes were elsewhere. Even that is kind of annoying.

Nara gently throws her head back and giggles almost so loudly, that you hear some of it. With the most burning eyes you watch Jungkook smile and let out the prettiest gentle laugh.

“Are you okay?”

You quickly avert your gaze to Gabriel. “Yeah.”

“Thought I already bore you.”

You push out a laugh, wishing Jungkook is looking. But once your eyes stupidly wander back to him – he actually is looking.

You make sure Jungkook sees the tiny provoking movement upwards of your lips. And he does. His eyes narrow, addressing the glare to you and only you.

“No, I'm starting to have a lot of fun.”

Gabriel's and yours glasses clink together comically in a synchronized way. But the only ones who seem to be on the same wavelength and having an idea – are you and Jungkook.

a/n: F-I–N-A-L-L-Y! believe it or not, nobody wanted to get this chapter out more than me! if you've been around and reading some of the asks, you probably know life got crazy and busy! as always, I'm super grateful to everyone who's been patient for me and cheering on me whether it was online or offline ♡ to every person who's been harassing me on the internet over an update, this one's not for you. I see you and I'm not interested. I've said this in one of my asks – you never know what someone goes through offline and what could possibly be the reason of their lack of activity.

on another note, this chapter should've had more scenes and so much more was supposed to happen, but from obvious reasons I've decided to post it in the end because I still think it's a good chapter. anyway, I hope you'll like it just as much as I liked it when I was writing it (no matter how much time it took me 🥴) all the love goes to you guys!

If you’ve enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ Teaser for chapter 60 will be posted there!

goal: 9k notes 🌙

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts au #mutual help #personasintro

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gf2bellamy · 3 months ago

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overheard — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: a girl flirts with spencer, leading him to tell her that he has a girlfriend, not realizing that garcia is right behind him. content warnings: secret relationship , they're at a bar , girl hitting on spencer a/n: hiii !! can u tell i love the secret relationship trope by now ? bc i do also theres a small tiny pride and prejudice reference if anyone catches it :')

“Do you want anything to drink?” Spencer asked, his voice gentle as his hand rested on your thigh beneath the table. His fingers squeezed slightly.

The two of you were sitting in a dimly lit booth at the bar, a casual night out with the team. You turned your head slightly, considering. “I’ll take a soda,” you said with a soft smile.

Spencer nodded, his thumb brushing over your thigh absentmindedly before he reluctantly pulled away, pushing himself up from the booth. You could see it, the slight hesitation.The urge to press a kiss to your temple before he left was almost unbearable. It would be so easy, too easy, to forget where you were, who was around. But he caught himself just in time, swallowing down the impulse with a tight-lipped sme instead.

Your eyes met his knowingly, before turning back to JJ and Garcia.

Spencer made his way to the bar, his hands flexing open and closed at his sides as if chasing the phantom sensation of your warmth. He exhaled slowly.

The bar was busy, and it took a moment to catch a bartender’s attention. As he waited, his gaze flickered to the side, and that’s when he noticed her, a woman nursing an almost-empty glass, her eyes fixed on him. Spencer tensed, his fingers tapping against the counter.He quickly averted his gaze, directing it back toward the bar, subtly shifting his weight in discomfort.

Finally, a bartender stepped in front of him. “What can I get you?”

Spencer blinked, clearing his throat. “Uh—two sodas, please.”

The bartender nodded. As Spencer waited, his eyes drifted back to you. You were giggling at something JJ had said, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and the sight sent a warmth through his chest. He smiled softly to himself before turning his attention back to the bartender, who was now deeply engaged in a conversation with another customer.

Spencer exhaled slowly, realizing he might be stuck here for a while. His fingers tapped lightly against the counter.

That’s when someone suddenly slid into the empty barstool beside him. He turned his head slightly, only to see the woman from earlier, the one he had accidentally made eye contact with.

“Hi,” she greeted, flashing him a wide smile.

“Hi?” Spencer responded, his tone more questioning than anything else.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” she remarked, taking a slow sip from her drink, her gaze lingering on him through long lashes.

Spencer hesitated, his brain momentarily scrambling for a polite but distant response. “Uh… yeah, I don’t come here often,” he finally said, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced at the bartender again, who was now fully engrossed in his conversation and seemingly in no rush to get him the sodas.

“You should,” the woman said, her smile widening.

Spencer swallowed, his shoulders tensing. Social cues weren’t exactly his strong suit, but even he could pick up on this one. The way she leaned in slightly, the way her eyes remained locked on him, it was clear she wasn’t just making small talk.

His fingers flexed at his side, an unconscious reaction to the absence of your touch. He didn’t like this. Because the only person he wanted to be sitting next to right now was still at the booth, completely unaware of this interaction.

Her hand drifted closer to his on the counter, fingers brushing just barely against his own. Spencer immediately pulled his hand back, hoping she’d take the hint. But she was too drunk to register it as rejection, if anything, she barely seemed to notice.

He exhaled through his nose, his patience thinning. His eyes flicked back toward you, hoping, praying, you’d look over so he could silently plead for an out. But you were still deep in conversation, completely unaware of his growing discomfort.

“What's your name?” the woman asked, her voice slightly slurred, her smile lazy as she leaned in a little closer.

Spencer hesitated, tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently. “I, uh—I’m Spencer,” he mumbled, keeping his voice polite but distant. He didn’t return the question.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to extract himself from the conversation without causing a scene. Direct confrontation wasn’t really his style, he much preferred logical exits. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much logic in dealing with an overly persistent drunk woman at a bar.

Thankfully, just then, the bartender finally stopped talking and turned toward him. Spencer wasted no time making himself known.

“Hi, excuse me,” he said. His urgency must have been apparent because the bartender immediately nodded.

“Right, sorry about that,” he said, quickly grabbing two sodas and setting them on the counter.

“Thanks,” Spencer muttered, relieved. He grabbed the drinks, ready to make a quick escape, but just as he turned, he felt it, her hand wrapping lightly around his own. His entire body tensed. His eyes shot down to where her fingers clung to his, and then slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

“You’re cute,” she giggled, her grip lingering.

Spencer’s breath hitched in his throat, an overwhelming discomfort settling in his chest, as he removed his hand from her grip. He had officially had enough. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think twice.

“Look, I’m just here to grab two sodas for me and my girlfriend,” he blurted, shifting the drinks slightly to emphasize his point.

Spencer always felt a warmth in his chest when he said that word girlfriend. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe it. But right now, that feeling didn’t even have a chance to settle, because the moment the words left his mouth, a loud, dramatic gasp sounded from behind him.

His stomach dropped.

No… No, no, no…

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if that would somehow reverse time or make what just happened disappear. But deep down, he already knew. He turned around hesitantly, almost like he was afraid of what he’d see. And there she was.

Penelope Garcia.

Mouth open, eyes impossibly wide, practically vibrating with the weight of this newfound information.

“Garcia, wait—no—” Spencer started, panic rising in his voice.

But it was too late. She gasped again, spun on her heel, and bolted toward the table. Spencer stood frozen, still clutching the two sodas, staring after her in absolute horror. He didn’t even care that the woman at the bar had pouted and walked away, his attention was solely on the impending disaster.

At the booth, you were mid-conversation when you suddenly heard someone shout your name. Startled, you turned, only to find Garcia standing in front of you, hands on her hips, eyes ablaze with betrayal.

“How dare you?” she demanded.

You blinked, glancing at JJ, who looked just as confused as you. “What—?” But you didn’t even get to finish the sentence.

“How could you not tell me you are dating our boy genius?” she exclaimed, her voice full of dramatics, as if you had just personally wounded her.

“What?” JJ blurted, her straw slipping from her lips and falling into her drink.

“Sweetheart, repeat what you just said,” Derek said, grinning so wide, clearly enjoying every second of this. Rossi, sitting beside him, raised an intrigued eyebrow.

And then, from behind Garcia, Spencer slowly came into view. He stopped a few feet away, standing awkwardly with the sodas still in his hands, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

He was red. His ears, his cheeks, blushing terribly, looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“Oh. My. God,” Garcia whisper-yelled, her hands flying up to her mouth as realization fully settled in. “It’s true! Oh, my God! How long?”

Derek was cackling. JJ still looked like she was buffering. Rossi sipped his drink, clearly entertained.

Spencer let out a long, slow sigh.

“Well,” he muttered, avoiding everyone’s eyes, “so much for keeping it a secret.”

Spencer carefully maneuvered around Garcia, who was still watching him like a hawk, her arms crossed as if she were about to interrogate him. He set the sodas down on the table before cautiously sliding into the booth next to you, his movements stiff with embarrassment.

“What on earth did you say?” you hissed under your breath, leaning in slightly as the entire team erupted into overlapping chatter around you.

“Nothing!” Spencer insisted, though his voice cracked slightly. He swallowed, shifting awkwardly. “I just… a girl was flirting with me, and I told her I already had a girlfriend. And, uh… Garcia overheard.” His voice got quieter toward the end.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh, though the situation was anything but funny to Spencer.

“I cannot believe this,” JJ muttered, shaking her head in amused disbelief. She swirled her drink in her hand, blinking between the two of you as if processing new information she should have known long ago.

You shifted in your seat, feeling increasingly self-conscious under all their stares. Garcia was practically vibrating with energy as she whispered to Derek, who was grinning ear to ear, clearly loving every second of this. Rossi, meanwhile, simply stared blankly, his expression unreadable, and JJ, well, she was definitely staring, her slightly tipsy gaze moving between you and Spencer as if still coming to terms with reality.

You turned to Spencer, who was fixated on the glass in front of him, his fingers toying with the condensation as he tried to pretend he wasn’t still very red. Sighing, you nudged him gently with your knee under the table. “You know… it’s fine,” you murmured. Spencer looked up at you, eyes cautious.

“Not having to hide anymore,” you clarified, your lips twitching slightly. “It sounds nice.”

Spencer blinked at you for a second before something in his shoulders loosened. His lips parted slightly, then curved into a small, shy smile.

“It does,” he admitted, nodding slightly, his curls bouncing with the motion.

Without really thinking, you reached out and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair, the soft curls slipping between them. “Now I can touch you,” you teased.

Spencer’s smile widened, his blush deepening, but this time, there was something more relaxed about it. He wasn’t panicked anymore. The moment was sweet.

And then: “Oh my god, they're touching!”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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luvbabydoll · 4 months ago

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— under their noses — chapter one

a series by © luvbabydoll — inspired by @goatgoesmbe

you never intended to start an only fans.

but between nursing school, grueling shifts, and bills that refused to pay themselves, you had to get creative. and what started as a desperate attempt to make ends meet quickly turned into a steady income.

the men on their seemed to like you. they liked your voice, the softness in your tone, the way you spoke like you meant it. you never showed your full face, but that only added to the mystery. you played into it—the sweet, teasing persona, the gentle praise, the intimacy that kept men coming back for more.

and, completely unknowingly, the entirety of Task Force 141 had fallen for you.

—

it had all started months ago.

one of their missions had gone sideways—bad intel, long hours, more bodies than they were expecting. and by the time they got back to base, exhausted and strung out, all they wanted was food, alcohol, and sleep.

but mostly alcohol.

soap was the first to bring it up.

slumped against a crate, half a bottle of whiskey deep, he let out a groan and muttered, “boys, i think i’m in love.”

gaz snorted, kicking his boots up on the table. “oh, yeah? you have some girl we don’t know about?”

“angel.”

ghost, who had been silently nursing his drink, stiffened.

gaz raised an eyebrow, “angel…?”

soap pulled out his phone and waved it lazily. “she’s some onlyfans girl, mate. best thing that i ever stumbled upon. swear to god, she cares about me.”

gaz laughed. “you are down horrendous, johnny boy.”

“oi, don’t judge me ‘til you’ve heard her. this girl is unreal. always saying the nicest things.” soap sighed dramatically.

gaz rolled his eyes. “yeah, mate. ‘cause she’s getting paid to do that.”

“so? it still counts for me.”

gaz held out a hand. “alright alright, lemme see.”

soap hesitated for a moment. “...fine. but don’t be weird about it.”

gaz took the phone, tapped through a few of the videos, and went silent.

after a moment, he muttered, “okay, shit. you might be onto something.”

soap smirked miraculously. “told you.”

ghost, who had been quietly brooding, finally spoke. “you idiots just now finding out about her?”

they both turned to look at him shocked.

gaz blinked. “w-wait, what?”

ghost took a sip of his whiskey, deadpan. “i’ve been subscribed for months.”

soap choked on his drink. “YOU WHAT?”

ghost shrugged carelessly. “found her first.”

gaz’s jaw dropped. “y-you mean to tell me you—simon ‘i hate everyone’ riley—has been secretly been subscribed to an onlyfans girl this whole time?”

ghost didn’t answer. he just took another sip of his whiskey.

soap stared at him, with a look of betrayal that you see in movies. “and you didn’t tell us?”

ghost gave him a flat look. “why the fuck would i tell you?”

soap pointed aggressively. “you gatekeeping bastard.”

gaz shook his head in amusement. “price is gonna lose his shit when he finds out.”

“Finds out what?”

the three of them turned to see price walking in, looking mildly suspicious.

for a moment, nobody spoke.

and then, without missing a beat, gaz held out the phone. “cap. you gotta see this.”

and that’s how, in the span of one drunken night, every single one of them became your most loyal subscribers.

—

and then you arrived.

your first day on base was nothing special—standard introductions, paperwork, getting settled.

well for you, at least.

but for them? it was a nightmare.

soap noticed it at first.

your voice—was way too familiar. too exact. the way you spoke, the soft warmth in your tone. it sent a shiver down his spine.

gaz eventually picked up on the way you moved—the tilt of your head, the way your fingers ghosted over their skin during check-ups.

ghost, who was normally unreadable, was tense.

and price? price just sighed a lot.

none of them said anything. they couldn’t.

because if they were wrong—if this was just some wild coincidence—then they’d look like absolute idiots.

but if they were right?

then their sweet, soft-spoken angel had just walked into their lives, completely unaware that every single one of them had been on their knees for her voice alone.

and fuck, they were not prepared for that.

#luvbabydoll ‧₊˚ ⋅#cod smut #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x you #john price x reader #john price smut #john price x you #john price x y/n #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader

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autism-corner · 1 year ago

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goddamn

#ok rambling for a bit bc people are rudee imo #sillyposting #ok im a server in a bar+restaurant whatever. fun.#saturday we had a new girl who'd run some tables with me. all the training shit and stuff. genuinely her first day.#she was quite and all and there is a LOT all getting thrown at her so im trying to pay attention and make sure shes all good etc.#at some point we dont really have anything to do so im telling her how to grab a drink for herself.#she mentions she wants water. ok! our watertap is the same style as a beer tap and im not sure if she knows how to work it bc. this is her #FIRST DAY AT ANY.ANY. JOB. so i ask “do you know how the tap works?”. which seems like a totally fair question to me.#and my other two coworkers also behind the bar fucking burst out laughing.#and sure. i know its a silly question. obvs WE all know how the tap works and its not that hard to figure out.#but this girl is 16. first day at her first job surrounded by new people and bombarded with loads of information in a short time.#my coworkers werent laughing at her. they were laughing at me. for making sure the person im training isnt left in the dark about anything.#idk ofc im laughing it off at the moment but now looking back? sits a bit wrong (did at the time aswell)#i just dont get why you would LAUGH at someone trying to explain everything the best they can.#the girl even responded no! (maybe nerves etc but :P) so i still think it was a totally fair question to ask!!#and i was being ridiculed for it! why.#anyway =3=#stupid..#normies are so fucking aweful.

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namahome2 · 2 months ago

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Elevate your living space with the Tap Drink Table by Nama Home. This sleek and minimalist side table features a unique tap-inspired design, perfect for modern interiors. Crafted from premium materials, it offers both functionality and style, serving as a chic spot for your drinks or decor. Ideal for living rooms, bedrooms, or any space needing a touch of luxury. Available now at Nama Home, where luxury meets simplicity. https://namahome.in/products/tap-drink-table

#Tap Drink Table

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whosashan · 5 months ago

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SILENT TREATMENT

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader

SYNOPSIS: How would they react when given the silent treatment by you.

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

Xavier is a patient man—truly, he is. He’s long grown accustomed to your peculiar ways, your little oddities. At times, he struggles to make sense of your antics, yet somehow, that only makes you all the more endearing to him.

The two of you sat across from each other on the couch in your apartment, the dim glow of the television flickering across your faces. The faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air from a candle burning on the coffee table, mixing with the remnants of popcorn and the intoxicating scent of your lover. A movie played—a familiar pastime for the both of you whenever time allowed with your busy schedules. You stole a glance at him, watching the way he sipped on the drink you had made earlier, fingers loosely curled around the mug, his gaze fixed on the screen. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the ceramic told you he was completely absorbed.

It was only when he finally noticed your unwavering stare that he turned to meet your gaze. And for a brief moment, he could have sworn that if looks could kill, he’d already be dead.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. Concern laced his voice, reflected in the blue of his eyes. Ironically, the sight of his worry only seemed to frustrate you further.

Since the moment he arrived, he had barely paid you any attention, too caught up in the film to acknowledge you properly. It was frustrating—how could he? He should be paying attention to you, not some cliché movie about time travel. The urge to turn it off crossed your mind, but you decided not to do that. You didn’t want him to notice how irritated you were.

Instead of answering, you merely turned your gaze back to the screen, feigning indifference. Even then, you could feel his eyes lingering on you, his confusion palpable.

The couch dipped slightly as he shifted closer, his warmth seeping into your skin. The space between you shrank, yet you remained still, stubborn in your silence.

"Baby..." His voice was soft, coaxing, and it took every ounce of restraint not to let your resolve crumble right then and there. His touch, his tone—it all made your heart ache in the most infuriating way. But pride held you firm, so you continued to ignore him.

And then, without warning, you felt him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, breathing you in as if he could commit your scent to memory. A shiver ran through you, your body tensing for a split second before surrendering to his warmth. He placed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your jaw.

"Talk to me." His voice had taken on a firmer edge now, more insistent, though still laced with quiet desperation.

When silence was his only answer, he did something unexpected. A sharp sting bloomed against your neck. He had bitten you.

"Xavier!" you gasped, jolting in surprise.

"So you do hear me," he murmured, exhaling softly, almost as if in relief.

You turned to face him at last, pouting. He was smiling—just barely—but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his expression. He had won. He always did, you could never truly say no to him.

"Will you finally tell me what's on your mind, princess?" The pet name sent butterflies straight to your stomach, quickening your heartbeat.

A beat of silence passed before you relented, arms crossing in defiance. "You're not paying any attention to me. You’ve been glued to that movie this whole time—what's so fascinating about it, anyway?"

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek before pulling you into his embrace, his arms winding securely around you.

"Then I suppose I’ll just have to make it up to you," he murmured. "Starting now."

Zayne

"Darling."

Zayne's voice drifted through the quiet apartment, low and slightly hoarse—a telltale sign that he hadn’t been awake for long. It was a rare morning where neither of you had to rush off to work, a quiet reprieve from the usual chaos.

And yet, you remained silent.

Utter disbelief rooted you in place. The audacity. The betrayal. The pastries you had been looking forward to all night, the ones you had carefully chosen to enjoy with your morning coffee, were gone—devoured by none other than your sweet-toothed lover.

Under normal circumstances, it might have been a minor grievance, something to brush off with a sigh and a shake of your head. But after the past few days of relentless stress at work, this was simply the final straw.

You wouldn’t take it out on him, of course. He hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault.

So instead, you ignored him. Well, at least until you calmed your nerves down.

Rather than making coffee, you opted for tea, hoping it might ease your irritation. You moved through the kitchen quietly, the warm mug cradled in your hands, its steam curling up toward your face.

And then—familiar hands.

Zayne’s arms wrapped around your waist, his touch effortlessly grounding, the press of his lips against the top of your head unbearably tender. He always had a way of melting through your defenses before you even realized it was happening.

His voice, smooth and deliberate, broke the silence. "Is something troubling you?" He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

Still, you said nothing.

He shifted slightly, gently turning you to face him. His dark hair was still tousled from sleep, and his eyes, half-lidded and heavy with lingering drowsiness, studied you with quiet curiosity. And for a moment, you faltered. He looked devastatingly good like this—soft and unguarded in the early morning light.

But then, the memory of your missing pastries resurfaced.

"Did I do something to upset you?" His tone remained even, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven beneath his usual stoicism. He reached for your free hand, the one not cradling your tea, and brought it to his cheek. His lips brushed over your wrist, something he has done countless times before, his touch effortlessly affectionate, yet it made your heart flutter, gaze softening.

You sighed. This man was going to be the death of you.

"You ate my pastries." Your voice was flat, your brows pulling together in a small frown.

A beat of silence. Then, understanding dawned in his expression.

"Ah," he murmured. "I see."

His grip on your hand didn’t loosen as he met your gaze, unshaken as ever. "I sincerely apologize, love. Allow me to make it up to you—come out with me, and I’ll buy you as many pastries as your heart desires."

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "Are you attempting to bribe me, Dr. Zayne?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corner of his lips, the closest thing to amusement you would get from him this early in the morning.

"Is it working?"

Rafayel

It was the third time this month that Rafayel had summoned you to his studio under the guise of an "emergency."

And, just like the last two times, there was no real emergency—just another one of his elaborate attempts to steal your attention.

Normally, his antics would have made you smile, maybe even laugh. You’d always found his dramatic nature endearing, his endless need for your presence almost charming. But work had been relentless lately, stretching you thin. The days blurred together in a mess of exhaustion, your mind too preoccupied with tasks and responsibilities to indulge him as easily as before.

The first time, you found it amusing. The second, you let it slide. After all, how could you deny your lover a bit of attention? But now, standing in the middle of his paint-streaked studio, his so-called "emergency" nothing more than an empty excuse, you could feel frustration simmering beneath your skin.

"Y/N!" Rafayel’s voice carried through the room, laced with exaggerated despair as he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around your wrist before you could step out the door.

You paused but said nothing.

His grip tightened just slightly, his expression shifting into something almost comically wounded. "Are you actually mad at me?" He blinked at you, as if the very idea was beyond comprehension. It was clear he hadn't considered that disrupting your work might genuinely frustrate you.

You turned to face him, your expression firm. The moment his gaze met yours, he pouted—a soft, almost theatrical downturn of his lips that tugged at your heart despite your irritation.

Damn him.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away and attempting to leave again, but Rafayel wasn’t having it. His hold on your wrist remained firm, his grip gentle but insistent.

"Wait—I'm sorry!" His voice pitched slightly in alarm, his usual playful demeanor faltering as he scrambled to fix the situation. "I didn’t mean to make you mad. I just…" He hesitated, shoulders slumping slightly. "I just wanted to see you."

There was something so utterly boyish about the way he said it—so completely unguarded. You could hear the pout in his voice even without looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, some of your frustration ebbing away.

"Rafayel…" you murmured, your voice softer now. Turning back to him, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands. He leaned into your touch instinctively, his paint-smudged fingers ghosting over your own.

"I'm not mad that you want to spend time with me," you reassured him gently. "But you can’t keep making up emergencies when you know I’m working. It’s not fair, love."

His brows knit together, guilt flickering across his features.

You huffed out a small laugh. "I’ll take a day off soon, and when I do, I’ll be all yours. No interruptions, I promise."

The transformation was instant. His entire face lit up, joy replacing every trace of guilt as he all but tackled you into his embrace, arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

"You swear it?" His voice was muffled against your shoulder.

"I swear."

Rafayel pulled back just enough to grin at you, that familiar spark of mischief returning to his gaze. "Good. Because I already have about ten different date ideas, and I expect full participation."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Of course you do."

And just like that, your frustration melted away.

Sylus

You sat in Sylus' kitchen, at the grand kitchen island, indulging in whatever you felt like having at that moment, though the food did little to ease the frustration simmering beneath your skin.

Mephisto had been following you again.

The mechanical crow had a way of appearing when you least expected it, its glowing eyes tracking your every move like an ever-present specter. It unsettled you, always lingering just at the edge of your vision, a silent observer in the shadows. You even found him in your apartament once, still wondering how he got there.

You had spoken to Sylus about it more times than you could count, but the man seemed utterly unbothered, amused even, by your grievances.

“Are you planning to ignore me all day, sweet girl?” His deep, velvety voice broke through the silence, laced with the usual undertones of amusement. “I’ve already told you—Mephisto has simply taken an extreme liking to you.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, and instead busied yourself with your meal. When that wasn’t enough of a distraction, you reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through the screen in an attempt to block out his presence.

But Sylus was nothing if not persistent.

You could feel his gaze on you—heavy, assessing, waiting. The subtle heat of his presence grew nearer, the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice and expensive leather—curling around you.

Then, effortlessly, he plucked the phone from your hands.

Your head snapped up, a scowl already settling on your face as you turned to glare at him. He, of course, remained entirely unruffled. A slow smirk curled his lips, and before you could snatch your device back, he tucked it into his pocket.

“You’ll get it back once you decide to talk to me.” He settled onto the stool beside you, elbow resting against the marble, his posture entirely relaxed as he watched your reaction with open amusement.

You huffed, turning away without a word. If he thought this was going to be enough to pull a response from you, he was sorely mistaken.

But you had underestimated Sylus.

The moment you stepped away, you felt his hand catch your waist, firm yet effortless, and in one fluid motion, he pulled you back against him. Your breath hitched as you collided with his chest, the warmth of his body pressing into yours, the scent of him dizzying.

He sighed against your ear, low and indulgent. “You’re being difficult.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“I do not wish to be followed and monitored by your mechanical crow. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much.”

Sylus hummed, his fingers still resting against your waist as he turned you to face him. His expression remained unreadable, though there was something in his dark gaze—something knowing, something teasing.

“I know you are,” he said smoothly. “Alright, I’ll tell him to tone it down.”

Your brows furrowed, your skepticism evident, but you knew this was the best concession you would get from him.

“You’re terrible,” you muttered, though there was no real venom behind it.

He chuckled, his arms slipping around you fully, pulling you against him in a slow, deliberate embrace.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Caleb

The apartment was warm, bathed in the soft glow of dimmed lights, the scent of home-cooked food still lingering in the air. Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes, a quiet backdrop to the clinking of dishes as Calebmoved around the kitchen, tidying up after dinner.

You sat at the dinner table, absently poking at the meal he had made you, though your appetite had long faded. Something gnawed at you, a strange ache settling in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake.

Caleb, of course, noticed immediately.

"You’re looking at that food like it personally offended you," he quipped, glancing over his shoulder. "What’s wrong, pipsqueak?"

You didn’t answer.

Your frown deepened as you idly pushed your fork against the plate, the silence between you stretching just a little too long.

The sound of running water cut off. Moments later, he was at your side, kneeling beside your chair, bringing himself to your eye level. His presence was steady, familiar—the scent of his cologne mixed with something undeniably Caleb.

Then—poke.

His finger prodded your cheek, once, twice, thrice, in an attempt to get a reaction out of you. Anything. He hated seeing you like this, all quiet and brooding.

"Guess you’re not that talkative now, huh?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes—warm and intent—searched your face for answers. The boyish grin he wore, the same one that had always made your heart falter just a little, did nothing to ease your mood.

You sighed, your gaze drifting—away from him, away from his teasing expression—to his neck. Bare.

The necklace. His necklace. Your necklace. The one you had given him, the one he always wore.

It wasn’t there.

He caught the flicker of emotion that crossed your face, and just like that, he understood. Of course, he did. He had known you for too long, had memorized every little shift in your expression, every mannerism that gave you away.

“I took it off while I was at work,” he admitted, watching you carefully. “Left it in my uniform and forgot to bring it with me.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line.

"But it’s safe," he reassured, reaching up to tousle your hair with a careless grin. “I’ll make sure to bring it next time, okay? Don’t pout on me now.”

You winced. “Caleb! I just washed my hair!”

And just like that, the tension was gone, washed away as you swatted at him in protest. His grin widened as he swiftly dodged your hands, the shift in your mood exactly what he had been aiming for.

The next thing you knew, you were chasing him through the apartment, the air filled with your laughter as he weaved through the furniture, just out of reach.

"Alright, alright, truce!" He lifted his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his lips told you he had no intention of actually stopping.

For now, the necklace was forgotten. For now, there was only this—the warmth, the laughter, the easy way he pulled you back in, just like he always did.

#love and deepspace #caleb x mc #lads xavier #love and deepspace x reader #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne x #lads zayne #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace headcanons

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lokissweater · 9 months ago

Text

little mouse

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: toge inumaki, the barista at your local campus coffee shop, is the cutest man to ever cross your life— the both of you clicking fast and becoming the best of friends as the years flew by together… but you were in love. uncertain of crossing that line between friendship and lovers as you focused mainly on trying to see if he even liked you back. but as for toge? he was focused on trying not to burden you for the rest of your life because of his inability to speak, wanting you and only you, but juggling and tormented over his labored silent existence, hurting you in the process.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, college!au, FLUUUFFFF SO MUCH, pet names, TOGE LOVES YOU BROOO, angst!!! but with comfort!!, happy ending, SMUTTTT, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, doggy hehe, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sorority party, toge is a barista ouuu, cursing, best friends to lovers trope, reader and toge argue, all characters are aged up.

word count: 15.2k

authors note: YEEEOOOOWWWWW this fic was originally NOOTTTT supposed to be 15k but i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again I CAN NEVA STOP YAPPING MY GOD??? i hope you guys love this one as much as i do though it is SOOOOOO CUTEEE man :(( thank you SO SO MUCH for your love and support as ALWAYS, AND I LOVE YOUUUU AHHH MWAH MWAH HAVE A GOOD DAY OKAY <333

anyone that was a regular at the shop knew toge inumaki didn’t really ever speak.

and it was something you found out on your first day of college, running to the nearest coffee shop at eight-thirty in the fucking morning looking for something to snack on and wake you up before lecture, choosing to go to the one just around the corner from campus through a recommendation of a friend— but not knowing at all that you were about to run into the cutest man to ever plague your god damn existence, as well as your bestest friend in the entire world.

toge was the main barista and cashier at the shop, his mixology skill incomparable as no one else on the floor could replicate it successfully without errors the way he did— ringing customers up while simultaneously throwing coffee bases and syrups in a blender, topping each corresponding one with whipped cream on various orders before sliding it over to the pick up counter, all without even breaking a sweat through the times that you’ve shamefully watched him work from your little table before or after classes.

the first time you met him, you thought he was just having a bad day… and that he also hated you.

you had politely told him your order while at the same time ogling his handsome face— a small and simple sweet vanilla cold brew drink with a little blueberry scone on the side— when toge didn’t even spare you a glance and just tapped in your order on the screen, turning the tablet over to showcase the total before moving to the back to get started on your drink, not a single word leaving his scarf covered mouth as you silently paid and got a table.

it’s not like you were expecting anything out of it, but you hoped you would at least catch the color of his eyes before you had to leave.

and it went on like that for a total of four days— you saying the exact same order but just switching up the little pastry depending on your mood (it only consisting of your usual three— blueberry scone, cake pop, and cheese danish), toge’s eyes never leaving the register or drinks he made as you waited, and him sliding over your order in record time as he got started on attending the next customer.

on the fifth day, toge finally looked up.

the way he took your order didn’t change, but when it came to placing it over the pick up counter where you stood, your eyes widened when you noticed he was already looking at you, a grin on his face as he personally handed you your drink instead of sliding it over.

his eyes were purple.

and you just about fucking screamed, your days of hopelessly coming in to try and ridiculously take longer peeks at his face whenever you could finally paying off in that moment— and not expecting whatsoever to see the sides of his mouth marked with tattooed snake eyes either.

that day was also the day you noticed toge knew sign language.

most of the time toge took orders quickly without a word and punched in requests, but from time to time when a customer had a question about a menu item or what the passcode to the bathroom was, he always had a little whiteboard next to him with a black marker to scribble out what he needed to say— regulars already knowing how he communicated and not batting a single strange eye.

but on that day, a new customer came in that you didn’t recognize to be a regular, signing to one of the confused employees at the cash register until the employee turned around and tapped toge on the shoulder, pointing and saying words you couldn’t really hear before he quickly nodded and put down the blender he was holding, going over to sign.

you were mesmerized by it, the way his hands and fingers came together and away from each other to form different words and sentences completely unknown to those who didn’t understand the language, something that was beautiful to you and made you want to actually learn so you could potentially have the liberty to talk to him some time in the future if you could.

the next time you came into the shop early in the morning, toge was at the register. and upon seeing you walk in, he smoothly looked down and started typing away already on the screen, seemingly not listening and leaving you standing there confused.

“um—” you stammered. “can i…”

you trailed off as you watched him pick up his whiteboard and uncap the marker, scribbling.

‘i remembered your order.’

you froze, your heart doing enormous leaps considering this was the first time toge actually spoke to you apart from getting your order down and smiling at you.

“oh! really?” you laughed nervously. “…do i come in here too often then?”

he gave you a friendly grin and shook his head, erasing what he had before writing again.

‘do you want a blueberry scone, cake pop, or cheese danish?’

your eyes bulged. “you know that too?!”

he laughed, the sound making your hands clammy as you giggled along with him shyly.

“i’ll do a cake pop today!” you smiled. “i’m running a little late and that’s— easy to eat.. you know—”

he gave you a thumbs up and nodded, signaling with his head for you to wait by the pick up counter as he scribbled another few words, turning the whiteboard around.

‘i’ll see you tomorrow :)’

your cheeks flushed pink.

“y—yeah!” you spoke gingerly. “i’ll see you toge.”

the next few times after that toge would absolutely beam whenever you came into the shop, having already scribbled down your three choices of your usual pastries before having it ready for you at the pick up counter once you chose, even every now and then asking you a simple thing or two about your classes and major from the register as you sat by your table, him propping his little whiteboard up for you to see.

and ever since you saw that toge knew sign language, you wanted to know too, your desire to communicate with him more efficiently a silly priority on your mind as you signed up for entry level sign language courses at your college, trying to learn as much as you possibly could so it’d be easier for him not always having to step back and write.

“wait wait!” you put your hands out one slow morning upon arriving at the shop, toge stopping mid tap on the screen just as he was about to input your order, eyeing you.

your fingers shook a little as you slowly signed your order and choice of pastry for the day, trying to remember and grasp what you practiced repeatedly the night before, hoping your efforts would successfully come across and that you didn’t look like a fucking idiot.

but his focused eyes followed your movements, carefully watching you sign with pinched brows until you eventually finished— a slow pearly white smile spreading across is face as his gaze flickered to yours before writing on his whiteboard, turning it.

‘you know sign language?’

“barely!” you sputtered. “i um.. i started taking classes a couple of months ago but i’m not very good… did you— get it though? what i said?”

he quickly nodded.

‘it was a little choppy but good! good job y/n :)’

you breathed out a sigh of relief, a hand over your hammering chest as you swallowed.

“oh thank god.” you breathed. “i was worried i looked stupid or was accidentally telling you something weird.”

he laughed and waved you off, a slight tint to his cheeks as he wrote.

‘how’s learning it overall?’

“hard as fuck.” you mumbled, but peering up at him with a smile. “i’m trying though! i really love the language and i love learning it… it’s just hard because my professor kind of sucks and teaches it too fast.”

he hummed, moving around in the back while preparing your order before coming around through the little swinging door and over to your usual table, you standing dumbfounded at the register still as he stood there with your pastry and his whiteboard.

toge pointed to your seat.

“oh!” you gasped, walking over and taking a seat, smiling gratefully once he placed your coffee and cheese danish down for you, but stiffening once he scooched the chair out across from you and sat, your cheeks ablaze again.

“you wanna—” you looked at him with furrowed brows. “you wanna sit with me?”

he laughed a little and nodded.

“but the…” you pointed to the cash register.

he uncapped his marker and wrote, turning the board over.

‘it’s a slow day. if someone comes in i’ll just go.’

“oh— okay!” you breathed out nervously, wringing your fingers together as you kept them on your lap.

your thoughts were speeding across every corner of your mind, not knowing exactly why toge chose to sit with you right now but hanging on to the moment anyways, you anxiously trying to come up with things to say to get to know him a little better.

“i like your um..” you pointed to the corners of your mouth. “—your tattoos. did they hurt?”

he smiled and wrote.

‘thanks :) and not really, my throat hurts more than the tattooing itself hehe.’

your eyes snapped up to his.

“your throat?” you asked softly. “is it okay?”

‘oh it’s fine!’ he wrote. ‘well no but it just hurts a lot when i talk so i just don’t.’

you hummed in understanding, the missing puzzle as to why exactly toge never spoke out loud to anyone in the first place finally clicking into place.

“i’m sorry toge…” you expressed sweetly. “have you tried— well i assume you have but… like getting it checked out? or maybe honey with lemon or—”

he turned his board around.

‘yeah :P nothing really works. L for me.’

you giggled, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in a smile.

‘can you show me what else you know in sign language?’

“ohhh this is it.” you swallowed. “you’re about to laugh in my face and think i’m stupid.”

he laughed and gave you a look.

‘you’re silly. just show me.’

you huffed before timidly showing him very basic simple phrases that you managed to pick up from class out of the millions that were shown— short choppy kiddy words that didn’t even serve to get by in a quick conversation, but enough for simple one worded responses.

“oh! and i like this one the most!—” you put the bases of your palms together and rubbed a little.

toge let out a squeaky cute laugh as he watched you before quickly picking up his marker and writing.

‘cheese? your favorite thing to sign is cheese?’

“yeah!—” you giggled shyly. “it’s funnn! and i never fuck it up.”

he nodded with a gleam in his eye.

‘i could teach you sign language if you want.’

you froze, eyes wide as you looked at him.

“seriously?” you quickly leaned forward. “are— are you sure? you definitely don’t have to at all toge… i don’t want to burden you or anything.”

his eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.

‘not burden at all.’ he wrote. ‘i’m a lazy fart i don’t do much besides this so it’s fine.’

you giggled and nodded excitedly, a hopeful shine in your eyes as you looked at him.

“o—okay!” you agreed. “i’d like that a lot… thank you toge!”

he was so nice.

and just as he was about to write something else, a customer came through the doors and up to the cash register, toge quickly scribbling something down before standing and showing you, walking backwards.

‘i’ll talk to you later little mouse :)’

you laughed loudly, a hand flying over your mouth as you did.

that nickname stuck.

“bye toge!” you responded kindly, gathering your things before heading out for the day with your coffee and pastry.

unfortunately for you, midterm season came and knocked the absolute shit out of you for a week, you unable to go back to the coffee shop to see toge until it was all fucking over, your heart heavy over the fact that you literally failed your sign language test, but giddy and excited nonetheless to finally see him after a while and go back to your usual happy routine.

and as for toge, he was left utterly confused.

was he too forward? did you think it was weird when he called you little mouse? did you think he was weird?

was it something he did? why had you stopped coming into the shop after going in continuously for like weeks at this point?

and he had just gotten the courage to look you in the eye too.

toge literally had your order ready every single day with your three pastries warmed up and toasted if need be, your sweet vanilla cold brew drink ready to go the moment you walked through those doors at any given point and time… but you just didn’t come. him leaning on the register counter bored out of his mind and dejected over the disappearance of the pretty nice girl that always came in and talked to him at his work, ending up always drinking the coffee he made for you silently and munching on the three pastries you chose between when it was time to close.

but when you finally came in, early in the morning like you always did and looking forward to seeing him again— toge was hunched over the counter with his chin propped up on his hand like he had been for the past week, you unknowing of that as you walked over with a smile.

“hi toge!”

he shot up, eyes wide with his palms flat on the counter.

“y/n!—”

he spoke.

toge spoke and he immediately cowered over in a fit of painful sounding coughs that racked through his body, his mouth shoved into his elbow as he quickly pushed through the doors and walked to the back, leaving you there wide eyed and completely fucking shocked.

he said your name.

“toge..?” you called softly, timidly as you leaned over the counter to try and catch a look at him from inside the employee break room, still hearing faint coughing. “hey— are you okay?”

he returned to the floor chugging back a bottle of cough syrup like nothing before tossing it into the nearest bin and swallowing, snatching his marker to write on the mini whiteboard, holding it up.

‘where the fuck have you been?’

you looked at him with an apologetic little face, your eyes soft.

“i’m sorryyy!” you whined. “i’m so sorry it was midterm week for me and i was grinding so hard and i just didn’t have time to come in… it was torture.”

you guiltily bit your lip. “…are you mad at me?”

he shook his head slowly, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the confirmation that it wasn’t anything he did that could’ve potentially put you off.

‘not at all mouse :P.’ he wrote before reaching to the side and sliding over your already made coffee and three pastries, lined up.

and surprise crossed your face.

“you had it ready?” you gasped. “toge! thank you!”

you quickly opened your book bag and he placed a hand over your arm, stopping you and shaking his head ‘no.’

“no?” you asked softly. “what do you mean? i’m just gonna pay.”

toge only shook his head again with a small smile, nudging his head over for you to sit at your usual table.

your shoulders slumped. “now what would you do if i just burst out crying right now.”

he laughed loudly and let go of your arm to write, leaving a burning fuzzy feeling on your skin in return.

‘cry? why?’

“because you’re so nice!” you whined. “please let me pay. i already feel bad not coming in for a week… especially after you offered to teach me sign language.”

‘go sit down mouse. i’ll sit with you in a little bit.’

you begrudgingly stood in place before nodding and taking your drink with your bag of pastries, walking over to the side and plopping down on a seat.

toge had a bit of a rush in and couldn’t join you for nearly an hour, him constantly shooting you apologetic looks and you frantically waving him off and reassuring him that it was okay, you astronomically thankful that you didn’t have class that day until later in the evening.

but when the rush was eventually over, toge dropped down on the seat across from yours with a big tired sigh and his whiteboard, head down.

you gently poked his arm then, and he looked up.

“is your throat okay?” you asked, face serious. “and you?”

he nodded, giving you a warm smile before grabbing his marker.

‘it happens sometimes, i just slipped up. L for me again.’

you smiled sadly and retracted your hand from across the table to settle back over your lap.

“i like your voice… if that makes you feel any better.” you spoke shyly, looking down at your fingers.

toge bit the inside of his cheek and smiled cheekily.

‘thanks mouse… but i know something that’ll make me feel even better hehe.’

“what?” you asked curiously.

he wrote.

‘give me your number before you disappear on me again you little rat.’

“hey!” you whined. “i thought i was a mouse..”

he chuckled cutely and nudged your foot gently from underneath the table, erasing and writing again.

‘i’m just kidding. we need to set up those sign language lessons soon though :D.’

and at the reminder of that you groaned, body slumping over the table as toge eyed you confusedly.

“you’re gonna laugh. or be mad. or disappointed. or all three..” you mumbled, voice slightly muffled.

he poked your head repeatedly and you lifted it, chin resting lazily on the table as he looked at you expectantly.

“i failed my sign language midterm.”

toge snorted but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, and you whined again before shoving your face back down as he quickly shook you by the shoulders, trying to get you to look up again.

“no no no i’m a disgrace i’m a failure i studied so fucking hard for nothing it’s over i’m not cut out—”

he kept shaking and delicately pinching you before you finally looked up again.

“what.” you mumbled, eyes dragging to his propped up whiteboard.

‘i’m sorry i laughed… but don’t worry you’ll pass the next one. you’ll be okay.’

“and how do you know.” you grumbled.

‘because now you have delicious me, duh :P’

you giggled softly and lifted yourself from the table, leaning back against your chair.

he gave you a warm knowing smile before writing again.

‘cheer up mouse… i promise i’ll help you.’

a slow cutesy grin spread across your face, one that made him swallow hard as you looked at him through your lashes.

“thank you toge… do you— do you work tomorrow?”

his gaze flickered up in thought before he shook his head, eyes landing back on yours.

“maybe we could start… tomorrow? if you’re free? and if— if it’s okay of course!” you stammered nervously, gnawing at your bottom lip as you waited for his response.

his cheeks fluttered pink a little before quickly nodding.

“okay!” you breathed excitedly. “great! we could do it here? or—”

he frantically shook his head no and uncapped his marker.

‘my dickhead manager will pull me to work if i’m here on my day off.’

you laughed and nodded. “okay not here then.. where? we can try my place but i already know my parents are gonna be annoying about bringing a guy over so..”

he smiled and looked down to write.

‘we can do my apartment mouse. i live alone.’

your eyes widened. “you have your own place? really?”

he slowly nodded.

“that’s so cool toge! oh my goodness i can’t wait to see it now!”

you bounced enthusiastically in your seat and he chuckled, perplexed as to why you would ever be excited to see something like that, but choosing not to question it.

‘it’s kind of small, and i mainly just sleep and be lazy if i’m not working or streaming.’

you tilted your head. “streaming..?”

he pursed his lips and looked down again to scribble, an embarrassed undertone to his face before propping the whiteboard up.

‘i play games and stream to earn extra money on the side like a little loser.’

you giggled, your eyebrows slightly furrowing before relaxing. “why would that make you a little loser toge? you’re making money while doing something you like… i think that’s really fun!”

an eager attractive grin ran across his face before quickly writing again.

‘i’m glad you think so :) but give me your number neow.’

“oh that’s right!” you beamed, taking his offered whiteboard and marker before quickly writing down your number with a heart in the corner, passing it back.

“just text me whenever and we can set a time for tomorrow okay?”

he nodded, his eyes trained to the heart you drew.

for the rest of his shift, toge spent it bouncing around between your table and back to the cash register to take orders and make drinks, seemingly finishing each beverage ten times fucking faster than usual just so he could come over and talk to you before you had to leave again for your evening class.

but you didn’t want to leave whatsoever, and you even juggled the possibility of skipping class to stay longer with toge, but the next class happened to be sign language, and you didn’t want to fail another fucking midterm by not showing up and missing material.

you threw your trash away before grabbing your book bag and slinging it over your shoulder once it was time, you slowly and timidly trying to get toge’s attention as you walked to the exit.

your shy raised hand caught his eye in between him blending and pouring drinks, toge quickly putting everything down and reaching for the whiteboard from the register, erasing whatever he had from a previous customer to write and flipping it over with a silly smile.

‘bye mouse!’ it read. ‘i’ll see you tomorrow! :P.’

and that was nearly two and a half years ago, the heart you drew in the corner of his whiteboard still there to this day as he answered questions, responded, or scribbled directions in any given situation with it no matter if it was in or outside of work— always wanting to have a little part of you with him wherever he went.

toge also kept his promise and taught you sign language, you trying so so fucking hard every waking day you spent with him at his cute little studio apartment— learning phrases and properly constructing it into sentences that actually made sense as you both sat sprawled on the floor for hours on end, him patient and kind as he watched you shakily sign and accept his gentle corrections with an open mind.

but although your sentences were continuously choppy and a little off at that point in time, they were definitely in way better condition than when you tried to study and learn it on your own… and toge was unsurprisingly a really good teacher— ten times more helpful than your literal freaking licensed professor whom you had started with, as toge would actually take the time to write and explain each concept in the best way he possibly could for you to understand.

now you were comfortable enough with it to respond in very simple sentences and phrases, but stronger at understanding it whenever toge signed to you, a plus when he clumsily forgot his whiteboard somewhere or when he just didn’t want to use it.

and ever since that first day you went over to his place to learn and study, you literally never went a day without going back again, your cute routine with him being going to his apartment every second of the day to hang out with him or do the things that you needed to do— some that could easily be done in your own space and home and room, but you refusing to for the sole purpose of wanting to be with toge all of the time, him feeling the exact same way and going as far as to giving you a copy of the key to his apartment.

(toge :D): MOUSE

your phone buzzed repeatedly just as you were walking up the steps to toge’s floor, you nearly dropping it over the uncontrollable buzz.

(toge :D): LITTLE MOUSE

(you): YES <3

(toge :D): ouuu a heart?? i didn’t know we were married :P

you let out a giggle and quickly typed a response, your face hot.

(you): mmm i don’t know my ring finger is quite literally bare right now :/ maybe next time!

(toge :D): YOOOOO

(toge :D): it’s because it’s gonna be under your pillow

(toge :D): like from the tooth fairy

(toge :D): a big shiny cock

(toge :D): I MEAN ROCK

(toge :D): ROCK I MEANT ROCK SORRY

you burst out laughing as you readjusted your book bag on your shoulder and turned the corner, nearing his apartment number.

(toge :D): …please still come over

(toge :D): oh wait that’s why i texted you! :P

(toge :D:) WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU

(toge :D): YOU’RE LATE MOUSE

(you): LMFAAOOO

(you): IM COMMINGGGG i’m literally down the hall sir

(you): but now that you yelled at me HMMMM i don’t feel like going today <//3

(toge :D): NO

(toge :D): i’m sorry i’m on my knees

(toge :D): i’m begging

(toge :D): i even brought you a blueberry scone from work

(toge :D): and i’ll buy you whatever you want

(toge :D): FUCK COME OVER NOOOWWWWW

(you): SAY PLEASE AND ADDRESS ME CORRECTLY

(toge :D): PLEEEAASSEEE MOUUSEE

you bit your lip in attempts at suppressing your giddy smile, it not really fucking working as you arrived at his door, pulling your keys out from your bag and shuffling through them to find his— one that had a tiny onigiri design on it.

(you): coming!! <33

(toge :D): so you’re saying we’re married again :P

the door clicked open upon you twisting the key in, stepping inside before closing it behind you while juggling your textbooks and locking it, toge seated on his little gaming chair when he swiveled around and waved at you with a big smile, standing.

“toge!” you gasped exhaustedly, stepping over to him. “you have got to help me please my god—”

he grabbed the textbooks from your arms and walked over to his desk, setting them down before turning back around and giving you a curious look.

‘what’s wrong?’ he signed.

“everything! everything is wrong sign language two is not for the weak oh my goodness gracious—”

you flopped down with your back flat on his bed, eyes shut in agony as he watched you amusedly.

“my professor’s teaching us grammar now and it just gets harder! i don’t know where to properly put anything or— or sign anything.”

he giggled softly and you peeked an eye open, looking at him.

‘i’ll help you mouse.’ he signed, stretching a hand out and you taking it, letting him pull you up to sit as you lazily did so.

“but i ask you too much.” you pouted. “and i feel bad every time i do, especially when you’re playing.”

he snorted, going over to his little dining table and pulling out a chair, lifting it over to his desk gaming set up area and placing it down before ushering you over with his hand.

“nuh uh.” you shook your head.

toge gave you a half lidded look and sat on the dining chair, him always saving his big comfy gaming chair for you whenever you sat with him at his desk since the first time you came over— his eyes expectant.

you deeply sighed and stood, trudging over to his gaming chair before plopping yourself down.

“you don’t have to toge… it’s okay.” you spoke gently. “you’ve been teaching me for like— two years already. my new year’s resolution was to stop bothering you about it and let you live.”

he slid his little whiteboard over and erased what he previously had, uncapping his marker and writing.

he showed you.

‘i’ll always help you and you know that :( and it doesn’t bother me you rat, i do it because i want to.’

or because he’s in love with you. either or.

you giggled and lifted your hand, your index finger erasing over the word ‘rat.’ “—it’s mouusee toge. it’s like you get off on abusing and hurting your bestest mestest friend.”

he laughed boyishly and put down his whiteboard, sliding over one of your textbooks from across the table to him and flipping through several pages, reading to try and see exactly where you were at by the sticky notes you left behind in the margins.

“don’t you have to stream today though?” you asked timidly. “like right now?”

he simply shrugged, turning a page as he reached over to write again on his board.

‘i can stream later tonight—’

he quickly turned it around again to add something just as you had finished reading, him flipping it back over.

‘—with you asleep on my bed. because you’re sleeping over. and that’s FINAL.’

you laughed loudly while leaning forward, your cheeks brewing up a little flush at the request even though you’ve slept over at his place plenty of times before— the thought of him actively wanting you to making your heart bounce around erratically in your chest.

“fuck i don’t know…” you feigned concern. “i’m not sure if i can toge i’m sorry.”

he slumped, eyes so sad that it made you almost sick to your stomach as you struggled to commit to the small bit.

‘why not?’ he signed.

“because i’m missing something.” you pouted.

‘missing?’ he signed again. ‘missing what?’

you snickered.

“my ring!” you extended your hand to him and wiggled your little fingers, you poking the tip of your tongue out to the side cutely. “the one you promised me over text.”

toge breathed out a laugh and nearly dropped dead at your cute expression, him mimicking you and sticking his tattooed tongue out before picking up his whiteboard from his lap to write.

‘i told you the tooth fairy has it :D you have to be patient little mouse.’

you giggled and put your arm down, giving him a stern silly look.

“kayyy thennn!” you dragged, sitting up in your chair and looking over your textbook. “i’ll be expecting my big shiny rock under my pillow in the morning sir.”

he saluted you and you grinned, the rest of the time being spent with toge trying to teach you as best as he could with you hopelessly following along, feeling like the dumbest bitch alive and embarrassed whenever you got something wrong.

but toge never minded, not one single bit— even when you made the same grammar mistake literally three times in a row and him correcting you each freaking time the same exact way, no sign of annoyance or frustration on his face as he worked with you.

and that’s one of the biggest reasons as to why you loved toge so much. since the moment you met him all he wanted to do was just help you, regardless of the fact if you were a stranger or not as he generously always put the things he needed to do aside for you— making sure you were always okay and getting the things you needed no matter how many times you told him he didn’t need to worry, you feeling special and appreciated whenever you were with him no matter what.

you hoped to god he felt the same… and you hoped you weren’t being straight delusional when you noticed the way he looked at you a little longer than he should have at times, or when you read too much into the casual little pecks on your head from him, or when you had told him how much you loved just studying on the floor beside him while he streamed but made a joke that sometimes you couldn’t see because it was so dark in his apartment, toge literally the next day buying you a little flower lily lamp to set and prop up right next to you so you could comfortably study, him laughing and wiping your tears when you ridiculously cried over his consideration.

so did that mean he loved you too?

“toge…” you murmured in the midst of him fixing a signage error of the word ‘before’ with his fingers.

he pointed to your hands so you could take note of the alteration he made, waiting for you to carry on then.

you smiled softly in gratitude before continuing.

“have you ever—” you pursed your lips. “have you ever um… well— actually nevermind—”

he blinked before slowly lifting his hands.

‘have i ever what?’ toge signed, and you quickly shook your head.

“nevermind! it’s okay.”

he gently nudged your foot with his, beckoning you to tell him as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

fuck.

okay if he kisses your head right now then you’ll tell him.

“i forgot toge.” you lied. “that’s why i said nevermind… oopsie!”

he laughed and leaned forward, pecking your forehead before reaching a hand up to ruffle up your hair.

fuck!

no you take it back you can’t do it you can’t—

‘silly.’ he signed, turning his attention back to your textbook and flipping a page.

he wondered what it was, but figured it would come back to you eventually and you’d tell him soon after.

by the end of the day, it was like there was an actual fucking light at the end of the tunnel for you and your sign language two class— you going from being over a thousand percent sure that you were about to pathetically fail the entire course, to having a shiny little sliver of hope because of toge’s ability to get anything through your big head and make you understand, feeling eternally grateful for him in many ways than one.

and you wanted him, so fucking bad, ever since you saw him at the coffee shop, that you thought in that moment while toge set up his bed for you to sleep in while you sat on his desk chair, dressed in his big white t-shirt and pajama pants, that if you just— maayybee tested the waters and crossed the line a little bit without it being too drastic, that you’d get your answer.

but did you want to know? what if he didn’t love you back? what the fuck were you supposed to do then?

cry and wither away, that’s what. you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone as much as you loved toge.

you hear the familiar squeaks of his black marker streaking against his little whiteboard, the sound pulling you from your thoughts and you looked up.

‘you’re so spacey today pretty. are you still worried about your class? :(‘

pretty.

“oh!” you stood. “no toge i feel a lot better about it actually because of you… thank you.”

he grinned, nodding before walking and leaning over his pc to set up his streaming session, mouse clicking away.

“toge—”

he looked over at you with his gorgeous purple eyes and you froze, cheeks heating up as your wobbly lips struggled to come together and fucking speak.

“nevermind nevermind—”

his eyes narrowed, snatching his whiteboard and quickly writing.

‘you did this earlier today too. tell me what’s wrong.’

“no.”

‘no?’ he signed. ‘tell me y/n.’

“no! not my name!” you dived dramatically on his comfy blanket filled bed and groaned. “you only call me by my name when you’re mad and i don’t like it.”

he sat next to you on the edge of the bed and pulled on your shoulder slightly, you fully turning around on your back and looking at him anxiously.

toge wished he could continuously beg you and ask you what was wrong so you’d just tell him— him at times sick of constantly having to pause and make you wait so he could get his point across, a painful fact that never left his mind and made him feel like the biggest burden in your life.

that’s why he never wanted to cross that line you both always seemed to lean over without meaning to. the line that’s kept you both on this limbo of half best friends and half more as he sometimes hugged you a lot longer or snuck in a couple of self indulgent cheek and hand kisses to your skin… but that’s as far as he’d really let himself get. toge didn’t want to permanently have you drag him along in your life no matter how much he wanted to be in it as something way more.

you deserved noise, you deserved loud love, you deserved someone who could actually speak to you— things he mourned over that he could never give you.

and he knew this. he’s known from the moment you walked into the coffee shop the very first time even though you swore up and down that he noticed you later, you unaware that he actually saw you right off the fucking bat on the first day and couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye— knowing you were going to be the biggest heartbreak of his life and ruin him if he so managed as to let you in when you kept coming back.

but toge was selfish, and he couldn’t help himself.

so he tried to compromise.

there’s nothing wrong with being just friends… right? a casual conversation between two people while he was at work? to then bid goodbye and say hello to every now and then?

except a quick conversation with you turned into ones that lasted almost his entire shift sometimes, and then casual meet ups turned into sleepovers at his apartment when he offered to teach you sign language, and then little hugs of farewell and hello’s turned into him kissing you practically fucking everywhere that wasn’t your mouth with the tightest embraces, him completely going against what he swore he wasn’t going to do and damning himself for life.

and even more so when you had joked about wanting a ring that one day, him actually going out the next day and buying you matching ones even though he didn’t even know if he was strong enough to actually give yours to you.

but toge was still freaking selfish.

because as you looked at him now, your gorgeous face anxious and thought-filled about things he wished you would tell him without worry, the outline and shape of your plush soft lips burning his pupils in such a way that it felt like a privilege, your body in his clothes—

made him want to speak the three worded phrase he was only allowed to say in his sleepy dreams if he was lucky.

“what toge?” you spoke softly, reaching a hand up to delicately card through the front pieces of his pale blonde hair, soft and silky as the outline of his tattooed snake eyes made you a little fuzzy.

he slowly shook his head, a far off look in his eye as he leaned over you, his face close and strained that your eyebrows pinched a little at his expression.

your hand proceeded to gently smooth down from his hair to the side of his cheek, cupping it and caressing over it with your thumb so lovingly that he nearly broke his oath.

if you said that you loved him… he wondered if he would crack. if you confessed and told him that you felt the same way, he juggled the possibility of ruining his own life by giving in and letting you take on the burden of his existence just to have you like he’s always wanted—

“i love you.” you told him.

toge’s big wide afraid eyes stared back at you as you smiled sheepishly, his breath caught in his throat.

“i—” you hesitated, playing with the hem of his shirt. “i really love you. like in the way where i want you to like— kiss me and stuff in your free time…”

he huffed a shocked breath, his face still just alarmed and strained and you started to believe that maybe you actually were delusional and misinterpreted things, his lack of anything making you second guess.

“i’m sorry.” you blurted. “i’m sorry i thought—”

and toge was still selfish as he let his lips fall down and crash against yours, moving so feverishly and hungrily that you couldn’t keep up as he dug his arms underneath you and around before pulling you up flush against his body, wanting you as close to him as humanely fucking possible incase he never got to do this again with you, the possibility horrifyingly still there.

“does this mean—” you spoke in between kisses, breathless. “does this mean you love me too—”

toge broke apart momentarily and quickly nodded, eyes ditzy and clouded as he panted against your lips, drunkenly lowering his head and linking his wet lips with yours again as he sloppily kissed you, laying you back down while you wrung your arms around his neck, you giddy and absolutely fucking enamored with him and that he was finally yours.

except he technically wasn’t… yet…

even when three full weeks had passed.

you still visited toge at work in the coffee shop in the mornings or the afternoon like you always did, ordering the same thing and going in to chat as he wrote his responses on his whiteboard— except now whenever rush hour would conclude, toge would greedily sneak in kisses with you at your table or hold the back of your hand to his cheek as you talked about your classes and your plans for the weekend, his conflicted mind putting his oath on the back burner for now as he tried to relish in the love he’s been wanting for so long.

and you were a little confused as to why toge hadn’t taken the initiative that night and asked you to be his girlfriend, but you didn’t complain, you too caught up in the moment when he would make out with you at his apartment in between study or streaming breaks with his hands literally all over you like a man starved, groping and squeezing at anything he could but never going over that last jump to do something intimate with you, your lovesick mind too in it to care at the moment.

that was the next compromise he made.

if you both just— just stayed this way. no official title no matter how much it pained him just so that he could continue doing these lovely lovely things with you whenever you both wanted, his mind thinking that since you both weren’t technically together that he wasn’t burdening you for life just yet, wanting to keep it this way for as long as he possibly could because toge didn’t fucking know what he was going to do when the time came for making it official.

well yes— he did know. but what he wanted to do and what he should do were two completely different things.

“togeee!” you bounded into the shop one morning, thankful that it was empty as you quickly leaned over the counter and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, him smiling wide with a flush to his face in response.

‘hi mouse :) <3’ he wrote on his whiteboard. ‘have you had something to eat yet?’

“i’m good im good! wait i haven’t ate but im good!” you spoke excitedly. “i come with newwsss. really fun news!”

he hummed and nodded, motioning for you to continue as he moved around in the back to get and warm up a breakfast sandwich for you.

“one of my friends from sign language told me she’s throwing a party at her sorority house and invited meee!” you beamed, hearing a little oven ping and then following him to your usual table so the both of you could sit.

toge gently slid your sandwich over upon scooting his chair up, warm and yummy as it sat pretty on a little pastel green plate and him signing ‘eat please’ as you grinned.

“and i know you told me once that you’ve never been to a college party, so i was wondering if you wanted to maybe.. come with me?”

he smiled softly.

‘when?’ toge signed.

“tomorrow night!” you responded, taking a bite out of your breakfast sandwich.

he nodded, thinking a little in his head before sliding his whiteboard over to write.

‘of course ill go mouse but it might be better without me.’

you faltered, swallowing. “without you? why?”

he erased and wrote again.

‘because i can’t talk. your friends might think it’s a little odd.’

“no they won’t.” you countered. “and that’s totally okay, toge. just bring your whiteboard.”

he snorted, shaking his head.

‘i’m not bringing my whiteboard silly that’s even worse.’

“but you’ll be with me.” you reasoned. “and i don’t really talk to anyone at school either besides her so it’s literally just you and i hanging out.”

you wiggled your brows. “and drinkinggg ehh?”

he laughed and eventually nodded, reaching across the table and taking your hands in his as he agreed to go, caressing his fingers over your wrists.

the familiar scent of coffee beans and vanilla— a scent you’ve come to know for almost three years now wafted and swirled around through your nose comfortingly, it permanently reminding you of toge and the time that you’ve spent with him.

he let go of your wrists to write.

‘how was sign language yesterday? are you still good?’

you swallowed the bite you were chewing on and held back a grimace.

“oh i’m doing horrendously again… but it’s all good! ignorance is bliss and i’m choosing hardcore ignorance right now.”

toge’s jaw dropped before he laughed in disbelief and picked up his marker.

‘you’re sleeping over at my place again so i can help you no exceptions sorry about it :p’

you giggled and nodded— saluting him, a mannerism you picked up on from him as he smiled brightly.

“but i do know this!” you exclaimed excitedly as you pressed the bases of your palms together and rubbed, signing the word ‘cheese’— your favorite.

toge laughed cutely and signed the same word back, unable to do much else as the doors chimed to the shop then and a group of students came in, toge’s chair scraping against the floor as he stood before giving you a quick kiss and a ruffle to your hair, his whiteboard in hand as he started making his way to the back.

‘i love you.’ he signed and you bit your bottom lip in a smile, your heart swelling obnoxiously as you watched him shuffle on and tap a few things into the register, nodding along to the groups order as you soon after gathered your things for your afternoon class.

and that night after toge taught you a little more sign language and helped you work on the things you were struggling with, you fell asleep rather earlier than usual on his bed— him reaching for one of his fluffy blankets and draping it over your sleeping gorgeous self and staring, slowly leaning down and pressing the softest kiss ever to your little warm cheek— his chest twisting and contorting with the desire to just fucking give in and stop his stupid ridiculous suffering, to just be selfish one last time and ask you to be his.

and maybe he could.

maybe toge could allow himself this one tiny thing— the most important pretty thing of all, he felt.

just once.

“toge?” you murmured sleepily, eyes pinching a little as you lazily reached out for him.

but what if you grew tired of him? of the silence?

he delicately took your outstretched hand and hummed in question.

“come sleep.” you mumbled. “with me.”

his eyes softened, the corners of his mouth curving as he carefully tapped his index finger against your cheek repeatedly, you straining your eyes open.

‘look under your pillow.’ he signed.

your groggy eyes narrowed in confusion, barely making out what he was signing in the dark but catching key words.

“under my pillow?”

he nodded, pointing.

you breathed in and propped yourself up on your elbow, lifting the pillow you were laying on and suddenly snapping the fuck awake.

a ring.

you shot up, sitting up fully as you looked at him.

he stood and reached over for his whiteboard and marker, uncapping it and writing for a moment before flipping it around and showing you.

‘i got us matching bestest mestest friends but also in love at the same time rings :]’

you picked it up, a dainty thin silver banned ring with a milky white heart in the middle, iridescent as it glowed against the moonlight streaming through his open window.

“toge—” you breathed out. “you actually… you actually got me a ring?”

he wrote, a sly little grin on his face.

‘the tooth fairy did mouse.’

you giggled then, a vibrant pink glow to your cheeks and still a little shocked as he took the jewelry piece from you and gently grabbed your hand, sliding it over your ring finger smoothly, his ring finger already having his shiny silver band on.

he put your hand down and grabbed his whiteboard again.

‘that ring is me promising to help you and love you and kiss you until i die.’ he wrote. ‘okay?’

you quickly nodded, absolutely cheesed as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled toge in— feeling so so happy and fresh and loved, like everything was officially falling into place after nearly three years of semi crossing lines and stolen glances and unanswered questions about what exactly you both were for the longest.

your pretty pretty face had toge in a daze as you looked at him like he carried the world on his shoulders, his mouth slowly coming closer and closer to yours before softly pressing against them— slow and tender as you tugged him down to you by his shirt until he climbed in and was in between your thighs.

each kiss exchange was sensual and a mouthful as you helped toge tug his shirt off over his head, your palms running over his bare skinned chest and back as he deepened his kisses, your hands quickly pulling your shirt off and his eyes bulging at the sight of your puffy tits snug and pretty in your bra.

you were desperate for him and didn’t even have to think twice about something like this as you reached and tugged a little at his jeans, signaling him to take them the fuck off—

‘baby.’ he signed shakily, not even sure why he was asking since he doesn’t think at this point he could stop, but needing to check in with you first. ‘are you sure?’

“fuck yeah i’m sure.” you whispered quickly and unzipped his pants, toge smiling big as he kicked his pants and everything else off, carefully helping you do the same until you were bare and vulnerable in front of him.

toge moved to place a hand on your thigh and you squeaked, suddenly bashful as you shyly covered your arms over your chest and squeezed your thighs together.

he leaned down and placed gentle soft kisses on your cheeks, patting a comforting hand over your head.

‘it’s okay mouse. you’re okay.’ he signed.

you nodded, comfort washing over you as you slowly let your thighs spread and your arms reveal you, his spit catching in his throat at the sight of your gorgeous fucking body beneath him, his dick embarrassingly already leaking a little bit of cum as you watched him pump it a few times.

‘you’re beautiful.’ he signed, and you blushed.

he drooled some spit over his fingers and slid it gently in between your folds, your bottom lip coming in between your teeth as you tried to hold back your moans, his digits prepping you while slipping through your hole deeming it fucking hard as he was completely lost in it, unaware of the way he was riling you up and already building up that familiar sensation in the pit of your tummy.

“t—toge—” your pussy clenched at the way he was fucking you with his fingers, keeping your thighs apart with his other arm as he was completely drowned in the gushy sticky sounds of your hole.

“you’re gonna make me cum and i—” you panted, cute whines slipping from your lips as he looked up at you. “—i wanna cum when you’re inside—”

his cock spasmed and a drop of cum drooped out at your yummy plea, his breathing trembling as he quickly nodded and squeezed your thigh endearingly, slowly slipping his fingers out and stuffing them into his mouth to suck your juices as he pumped his cock while lining it up with your hole.

toge sunk in his dick then, the both of you groaning at the way he filled you up so fucking nice and stretched you, your pussy literally grabbing his cock and sucking him inside easily as you gripped his shoulders tight.

“mmm!—” you whimpered, toge now slowly pumping his cock inside of you as he leaned over and propped himself up by his arms, hips tenderly and deliciously rolling in as he panted and softly whined in your ear.

you were so god damn tight, his throat literally closing at the lock you had around him as he fucked you slow and breathless, one of his hands coming down to grip your waist to try and keep himself grounded and from snapping his hips into yours brutally— him wanting to make love to you and not do that just yet.

toge ducked his head down and licked over a perky tit, your breath hitching and subconsciously spreading your legs wider as he closed his lips around your nipple— suckling and laying a flat tattooed tongue over it as you moaned.

“faster—” pant! “faster please baby—”

with a mouthful of your tit he snapped his hips up, you choking as he started going a lot quicker than you anticipated as your hand flew to your mouth to keep your moans in, your tits bouncing with every fuck.

“oh my god oh my god—”

toge suddenly pulled out and threw you over, tummy to the bed as he hauled your ass up and lined himself at your entrance again, wasting no time in pushing in and screwing you in the same pace he had before.

but this new position was an absolute delicacy as you drooled over his sheets at the way he rammed his cock, the recoil of your ass sending a shiver up his spine and roughly gripping your hips and ass in anyway he could, you screaming and whining into his pillow as a series of slaps to your ass cheeks from him echoed through his little studio.

toge was about to dump the biggest fucking load in you that it was embarrassing.

you reached a hand behind you and he quickly grabbed it, his thumb running over your skin soothingly as he pistoned roughly into your cunt, him groaning and whimpering over the squelching and leaking of your hole as he felt his dick harden— his cum on the brink of release.

“fuck fuck fuck—” you hiccuped into his pillow. “baby i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum hah!—”

he gripped your hand harder and leaned down over you, rutting into your pussy as he heaved and pressed his lips up against your ear, choking out the word ‘cum’ so softly that it bypassed the confines of his situation, your eyes squeezing shut as the hardest fucking orgasm you had ever had in your life hit you like brick.

you felt toge’s hips snap up and still as his hot milky cum spilled through your walls with a grunt, gooey and slimy as it filled you up and left you squirming at the weight of it.

his breath fanned against your hair as he tried to calm it, his hand moving soothingly up and down your back as you weakly tried to gain back some consciousness, the both of you sweaty and spent with his softening dick sliding out slowly.

toge carefully nudged you back over and kissed you tenderly, his hands traveling from your back over to your tummy and smoothly caressing every part of you down to the sides of your thighs, eyes swelling in utter worship over you as he leaned back to look at you.

‘i love you baby.’ he signed, and you beamed.

and just as toge had finally decided to ask you to be his girlfriend then, to officially let go of the fears he had and let himself have you— there in your arms as you peppered sweet cute kisses all over his face and over his tattooed markings on the corners of his mouth, pulling him further in to rest and sleep?

toge had a horrendous day the following morning that threw it all away.

horrendous.

it started in the morning when he left your sleeping figure quietly with a kiss to your head for his shift at work that day, excited and in a never ending state of bliss from the night before as he drove to the shop.

except he had forgotten his whiteboard at home.

toge had realized when he was already fucking halfway into the drive, a full fledged twenty five minute one that he didn’t have time to go back and repeat as he pulled up to the parking lot— cursing himself for being such a dumbass and wondering how the fuck he was gonna answer specific questions from customers, especially since he was the only one really working today.

he figured he should be fine… right? usually the people that come in already know what to get and they just read it out to him.

but there’s always a few every single day without fail that ask questions toge needed his whiteboard for. and you didn’t have class that day— so the means of you coming down there were for nothing, at least not until the party later that night.

and he didn’t want to ask anything of you…

but he really needed it.

(toge :D): hi pretty mouseee i know you’re asleep i’m sorry but is there anyway you could come to the shop when you wake up and drop off my whiteboard please? i left it on the desk like a stupid fucking idiot EL OH EL

“inumaki.”

toge froze on his walk to open the shop and looked up from his phone, eyes blowing wide.

there his manager stood, who was also the owner of the coffee shop itself, a stern look on his face with crossed arms as they both stood in front of a shattered door and windows, shards of glass twinkling on the floor.

“did you lock up last night?”

toge nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the ground.

“everything?”

he went to nod again, but stopped.

he did… he did truly he did—

…oh.

he forgot to lock up and cash in the register.

toge quickly stepped over the glass and swung open the shattered door and over to the front counter, sure enough finding the register wide open and battered with not a single fucking penny left inside.

he groaned, his hands shooting up and digging the bases of his palms into his eyes as he leaned back, lips in a thin line at how utterly fucking stupid he was for forgetting to lock up the register and take in the money— the number one thing he was always supposed to do.

“what happened?” his manager asked, hands out. “have you been not locking it up?”

toge scrambled for his phone and pulled it from his back pocket, the thought of his job literally on the line because of this sending him for a fucking ride.

‘i always lock it up, honestly.’ he typed and showed his phone. ‘but i stupidly forgot last night and i can’t express enough to you how sorry i am.’

his manager sighed deeply and dropped his hands, looking over at the open register.

“you’ve consistently been one of my best.” he spoke. “but a mistake like this isn’t something small like forgetting to properly close and wipe down everything or put up the chairs.”

toge nodded understandingly, arms tightly crossed over his chest as he shamefully looked to the side, feeling like the biggest pathetic loser for doing something like this that could’ve been entirely avoided if he just did his damn job correctly.

“it’s alright.” his manager reached and patted a heavy hand to his shoulder. “it happens. it’s just unfortunate that we got broken into right when it did.”

toge looked at him.

“we can’t open today because there’s glass everywhere… so if you can stay and call up the insurance for the shop—” he pointed to the wall, their number amongst others typed and labeled. “—and file an insurance claim in any way you can for me that’d be great. i’m gonna go down to the police station and report.”

toge quickly nodded, typing again on his phone before showing him.

‘okay sounds good. i’m really really sorry and this won’t happen again.’

his manager waved him off with a smile. “don’t sweat, inumaki. i’m pretty sure i did this too when i was working except it was my works safe and not the register…”

softly chuckling, toge nodded once more and gave his manager a tiny wave as he patted his shoulder again before stepping around the glass, leaving.

regardless of being lucky enough to have such an understanding boss, toge still felt like complete and utter shit as he stood behind the counter slumped over after, on hold with the insurance company for thirty minutes now as he stared at the broken shards and the register.

you had gotten toge’s text the minute you woke up and quickly got up to get ready, not even bothering to change into anything different as you left with his pajamas on you and his little whiteboard, hopping into your car and speeding off knowing how much he needed it for work sometimes.

and when you pulled into the shops parking lot, confusedly already noticing scattered glass on the concrete walking up, you froze in front of the coffee shop upon seeing the windows and doors completely shattered— toge propping his forehead up with his palm on the counter solemnly.

“toge?”

he looked up.

“what happened?”

his shoulders dropped in relief and he slowly came around the counter, opening his arms a little and pulling you in as he buried his face into your hair, sighing.

you hugged him back. “are you okay? did this happen right now?”

he shook his head and stepped back, taking the whiteboard from you.

‘someone broke into the shop last night. but i forgot to lock up the register and cash in the money so they stole that too.’

“oh my god!” you gasped, hands flying over your mouth. “fuucckkkk was your manager mad? don’t tell me he fired you—”

toge erased and wrote before flipping the board over.

‘no just disappointed. but i still feel like such a fucking moron for forgetting and i hate that i did.’

“toge..” you sighed sadly, running your hands over his upper arms. “it’s okay you’re human baby. these things happen so don’t feel like that please..”

he nodded a little before ducking down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

you smiled and looked around.

“seeing the shop like this is nuts.”

he hummed in agreement.

toge stuck around for a little while, you next to him behind the counter still waiting on hold with the insurance company, feeling awfully bad for keeping you here when he knew you wanted to go shopping for a dress for the party, but him stupidly forgetting again that he couldn’t speak— too caught up in trying to make it up to his manager for his fuck up to think about how exactly he was going to talk to the insurance company on the other line, you demanding to help him.

sometime down the line when the insurance claim was filed, toge’s manager told him that if he wanted to open up the shop for the day he could, and to just sweep up the glass a little from the ground and fix up the place a little so it didn’t look like they just got robbed.

and because toge was still in his self dreaded state of guilt and shame over what happened, he immediately agreed to, trying to make up for his mistake and see if he could double the shop’s earnings for today.

“i could stay toge let me stay.” you pushed, but he only shook his head and sent you off to do the things he knew you needed to do with a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek, telling you he’d see you at his place to get ready for the party.

but maybe toge was better off telling his manager a bit fat no and going home with you, because it was like everybody that came into the shop following that had eaten a big bag of dicks and salvaged the biggest fucking attitudes out of it to spit back in his face.

no one was understanding him. no one. not a single soul. even when he used his whiteboard to explain everything that certain customers needed, for some reason the extra effort of them having to just read putting them off and yelling and making toge’s shift a living hell.

and it’s not like he’s never managed shifts on his own either— never having an issue and still putting in and preparing orders efficiently like he was supposed to, but he figured the debacle from this morning was setting him off since he couldn’t do anything right at the moment, the attitude he was getting from literally every single fucking customer leaving him wishing he at least had one more person on the floor with him.

but toge was still blaming himself.

why couldn’t anyone understand him? why couldn’t he just speak? his life would be so much easier if he could… and you would’ve been his a long time ago.

so as toge sat there tiredly after work with his eyes closed on a stool next to you in his bathroom, you applying the finishing touches to your hair and makeup— you could practically feel toge’s exhaustion, frustration, and sadness seeping into your skin and insides over the shift he told you he had, your eyebrows pinching anxiously.

“we don’t have to go baby…” you murmured, looking down and playing with the rings on your fingers. “i would much rather stay here with you so you can relax for a little…”

he slowly peeled his eyes open, the sight of you standing there in front of him— so fucking beautiful in your dress and heels and dolled up in the way that you were, made his cheeks buzz pink as he slumped forward and mushed his cheek up against your tummy, wrapping his arms around you and shaking his head.

“are you sure?” you asked gently, running your fingers over his soft hair. “i don’t mind what we do toge… as long as with you i’m okay.”

his heart jumped as he looked up and gave you a cute smile, nodding.

you’d decided to meet in the middle and just go home early so toge could have enough rest for his shift tomorrow, him driving you both to the sorority house and parking a bit down the street amongst dozens of other cars, a little nervous and apprehensive and wondering what he was gonna do if any of your friends came up to talk to him— but the desire to make you happy and accompany you to something that you were so excited for far, far greater.

the night went smoothly for the most part, you in no time at all spotting your friend that initially invited you through the crowd along with some of your other friends that you had no idea were coming in the first place, introducing toge to each one and him giving a small smile and wave in response as he interlaced your fingers and gladly let you lead him to wherever you wanted through the dark and blue lit house, taking sips occasionally of the tequila orange liquor mix from his red solo cup and funnily from yours too— since you had gotten a different punch like flavor that he liked better.

“y/n? i didn’t know you were coming!”

your head snapped to the voice just as you were talking to toge, your eyes widening and a huge smile spreading across your face.

“oh hey! i didn’t know you were either!” you quickly turned to toge. “he’s in my sign language class the one i told you about that teaches us how to cuss—”

your friend laughed, “you talk about me y/n? interestinggg.”

toge quirked a brow.

“not like that—” you slapped his shoulder. “i talk about you so i can build up the stamina to rat you out.”

he gasped dramatically. “says the one who bothered me last class to teach her how to sign the word cunt.”

“no i didn’t— wait actually i did.”

your friend laughed again but diverted his attention momentarily to someone pulling on his arm a bit.

toge nudged you gently and you turned.

‘i’m gonna go get a drink mouse.’ he signed.

“okay!” you nodded. “i’ll wait for you here.”

he nodded, kissing your head before leaving— the kitchen not too far from where you both were originally at as he walked and threw away the drink he had initially and scanned the counter, looking for the fruity punch one you got before spotting it and picking one up from the rows of others, the smell of alcohol filling his nostrils.

“hey sorry to bother, which flavor is that?”

toge froze and looked over, a girl standing there and pointing at his cup.

oh shit.

toge pointed to his cup.

“yeah, which flavor is that one? i’ve tried the others but not that one yet.”

oh fuck.

why couldn’t he just talk?

the girl quirked a brow at his silence, and just when she was about to say something else, someone came through the kitchen.

“i think that one’s tutti frutti but i could be wrong.”

she turned to the other person and nodded, giving toge an awkward look before walking around him to get a cup for herself.

toge covered his eyes with a hand in complete fucking mortifying embarrassment, cheeks warm as he leaned against the kitchen sink in the lowest low he had ever lowed.

or so he thought.

because the sound of your loud pretty laughter had him slowly looking up and taking his hand away, you conversing so— so openly and freely with your friend from sign language triggering a hint of jealousy and bitterness in his chest. bitter as to why he was cursed to deal with something like this, bitter over the loser that was blatantly obviously flirting with you… but jealous of him that he was able to open his mouth and speak to you in whatever words and phrases he wanted, syllables flying out without any sort of pain or blood as a paying price like he had to.

that’s what you needed… that’s what you should have. not him.

not his inevitable silence and whiteboards and constant pauses, his lack of being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him whenever, wherever… without being tied down to a marker or a phone.

his mixup from this morning, his customers not understanding him, everybody else not understanding him, has led him to believe that someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t carry the burden of even trying to.

toge knew from the very first time you came into the coffee shop that you were going to unknowingly break his heart if he let you in because of his situation… and fuck did he let you in.

and now he had to break yours so you could find and be with what you deserved.

toge walked over to you then, head down with his jaw tight and mind fogged over as you doubled over in laughter over something your friend said.

“wait—” you gasped. “wait toge he just told me that—”

“is he your boyfriend?” you friend asked, pointing to him.

well, toge still hadn’t really asked you… but he gave you a promise ring, and you were both wearing them tonight so—

your eyes snapped to toge, who was shaking his head no.

…no?

your brows furrowed.

“oh! i thought you guys were together, my bad.”

toge twitched over the way your friend sounded relieved, but you didn’t notice a thing, still looking at him with the most gutting look that made him want to scream.

“yeah.. my bad too.” you mumbled, your friend not catching it as he then got pulled by the shoulder to a different crowd, him calling over that he would come find you later on in the night.

“no?” you repeated to him.

‘come with me outside.’ he signed before slowly walking and leading you back to the kitchen and through the backyard doors, the chilling cold night air a refreshing break from the stuffiness inside.

“if this is a joke it’s not that funny toge.” you mumbled, hugging yourself as you closed the door behind you.

he looked at you sadly.

‘you shouldn’t be with me mouse.’ he signed.

“what?” you breathed out. “what are you talking about?”

‘i can’t give you what you need.’

“what i need?”

he nodded. ‘it won’t work. you and me.’

“toge—” your chest picked up speed, tears prickling a bit at your eyes. “you’re telling me all of this yet no answers— why won’t we work.”

‘you should be with someone that can talk to you and tell you that they love you and say anything without all of this baggage—’

“wait wait slow down i can’t—” you put your hands out. “you’re signing too fast i can’t understand you—”

you couldn’t understand him.

and toge realized that the reasoning he had would be something that you would counter and fight for, and something he would more than one hundred percent give in to you winning just so he could have you again.

he needed to make you hate him so it would be easier for you to move on.

toge dropped his arms, a defeated look on his face as he shoved a hand in his pocket for his phone, typing out a message to you.

you received it on the other end, your phone illuminating your face as you opened it.

(toge :D): i realized after we confessed that this isn’t what i want anymore and im sorry

your jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him.

“what the fuck do you mean.”

his thumbs shook as he typed, his heart pulling and screaming at the muscles and nerves tied to them for him to stop.

(toge :D): we’re better off as just friends. i’m really sorry that i realized after the fact. you deserve someone better anyways and i just don’t think it’s with me.

you let out a sob that ripped him to shreds, hand coming over your mouth in disbelief as you stared at the blurry screen in your grasp.

he realized this after the fact? after messing around with you for almost three years? after confessing to you and saying he loves you? after being intimate?

you felt fucking used.

“you’re realizing this now?” you shook your head. “toge— you realize we’ve been flirting like this for as long as we’ve known each other and all of a sudden you’re pulling back? after you got your fucking fill? after kissing me and telling me that you love me, and— and after—”

you ran an exasperated trembling hand through your hair. “toge we had sex and you’re telling me this isn’t what you want?”

god this is everything he wants.

but toge bit his tongue, him strained all over with a locked painful jaw as you yelled at him, his eyes glossy over how much he was hurting you as he stiffly nodded.

you stepped closer, jabbing a finger to his chest. “look at me in the eyes right now and tell me if our entire fucking friendship before leading up to our bullshit confessions was all a lie. tell me right now if this—” you held your hand up, the promise ring he gave you shimmering under the fairy lights of the backyard. “—was a lie when you promised me that you would always help me and love me.”

toge breathed in and out shakily, swallowing thickly as he slowly nodded, his entire body in absolute detriment.

holy fucking shit.

how long had you been this stupid for you to not realize the kind of person he actually was?

but— but it didn’t make any sense. this wasn’t toge. this wasn’t toge at all you didn’t know who the fuck you were yelling at right now because toge would never do this to you.

“do you know why i’m learning sign language in the first place?”

toge blinked back tears, shaking his head no.

“i started taking sign language for you, asshole!” you sobbed. “when i was stupidly crushing on you at the shop before we talked for the first time, i noticed you knew sign language and i signed up for you so it’d be easier for you to communicate with me without always having to use your whiteboard.”

he felt a pang to his heart, harshly wiping his eyes.

“but even then i don’t fucking care toge! you could have absolutely nothing to talk to me with and i’d still love you and do anything for you because that’s how much i’m in love you!”

you sobbed as your shoulders shook violently, hands covering your eyes.

“glad to know the feelings not mutual.”

oh he takes it back.

he takes it all back.

toge reached for your hands and you pushed him away.

“you’re so full of shit toge.” you sniffled. “if this is what you want then fine. take this fucking—”

you slipped the ring off from your finger and threw it at him, the feeling of it thudding against his chest and clinking to the ground beneath his feet close enough to a damn bullet.

he shook his head frantically, picking up your ring and following you up the steps of the porch, grabbing your hand and pulling you back, but you only shaking it off and trudging on forward.

“mouse—” he spoke. “please stop—”

the sound of his rare voice made you freeze in place, unmoving and feeling guilt pool in your stomach at the sound of him reeling over and coughing violently as a result.

he spoke to you… but his dreaded words from earlier still lingered in your mind, betrayal etched into your chest like a tattoo.

“don’t call me that.” you mumbled over your shoulder, swinging the door open to the kitchen and slamming it shut.

toge heard nothing from you for four weeks.

even through all of the calls and texts he sent you, he started to conclude that you actually blocked his number the moment you left him that night, unable to see his actual explanation through the masses of messages he sent you and still continued to even after confirming the thought that you had blocked him.

he couldn’t believe himself. he couldn’t believe he actually hurt you and drove you away like that.

and toge had never felt so much self hatred, missing you like fucking crazy throughout those weeks— it reminding him of that one time when you first started getting to know each other where you disappeared for a week, except far far worse now that you had both built so much together over the years.

his life felt empty now that you weren’t in it.

and funnily enough, his job— something he had gotten before you, now solely reminding him of you as he tried to work without throwing something over the random flashbacks he’d have of that night, blending and serving drinks and sliding them over the pickup counter all meaningless if you weren’t there at your usual table to give him a cheeky smile and sign the word ‘cheese’ to make him laugh on the other side.

his little mouse.

and toge silently cried almost every night at his desk, him clutching your ring.

you were basically the same way as him, if not fucking lower as you were the one that was practically presumably dumped and used, you unable to sleep for hours on end in your bed and your parents wondering what the hell happened between the two of you as they tried to console your tears through your restless nights, you half in denial that this was your reality and toge was out of your life.

after some time, you realized that you had left nearly half of your things in toge’s apartment, it settling into your mind how much time you actually spent with him and not at your own house as you constantly found yourself needing things but couldn’t have them because they were over there— one of those things unfortunately being your freaking sign language textbook.

there was absolutely no way you could get it, and you opted to borrowing your friends for the longest time… but by the time you reached the beginning of the fifth week without toge, you started feeling really bad for continuously bothering your friend for her book when you could just suck it up and get yours.

so you made your jumbled mind up and reached for your phone one day after your morning class, going to toge’s contact number and unblocking him before texting.

(you): hi. sorry to bother but i left some things in your apartment that i need. i was wondering if i could come by today to get them.

toge nearly jumped out of his skin at your pretty name flashing across his phone while he was lazily and depressingly laying in bed, scrambling to type back not even a minute later.

(toge): yes of course

(toge): i’m home right now if you want to come

(toge): and you’re never a bother

you pursed your lips, a lump building in your throat.

(you): okay. i’ll be there in a few minutes.

toge flung his scattered clothing inside his closet or literally anywhere that was out of eyesight, trying to turn his rut of a room back to how it looked like when you were always here, shaking out a big garbage bag and throwing all of his trash in there (along with all of the cake pop, cheese danish, and blueberry scone wrappers…), opening the blinds and straightening out his sheets.

you pulled into his apartment complex parking lot and parked not too long after, your hands drenched in sweat and your body rigid as you came up to his floor and over to his apartment number, knocking even though you had the key.

you almost turned back to leave once you heard his padded footsteps, but decided against is as he was already opening the door.

and my god, seeing him hurt a lot more than you thought it would.

his eyes were soft as they looked at you, and red like yours, him quickly stepping to the side to let you in and you doing so with your head down, not saying a single word.

“i think—” you shakily spoke, eyes already watering as he closed his door with a click. “i think i’m just gonna get my sign language textbook for now i’ll come back some other time for the rest—”

you felt a little tug at your hand, and you turned, his shoulders slumping at your teary eyes, stray droplets slipping down your cheeks already.

‘please don’t cry.’ he signed. ‘i’m so sorry for everything.’

you snorted, shaking your head as you reached behind you to get your textbook.

“sorry for stringing me along and using every part of me until you were bored? sure.”

he frantically shook his head no, panic rising in his chest as he watched you step around him and head for the door.

he couldn’t let you leave.

because he had a feeling if he did, he actually would never see you again.

toge quickly grabbed your wrist and tugged you back around.

“what toge—”

‘stay for a bit.’ he shakily signed. ‘please just stay and let me explain.’

you followed his signage, and your eyes narrowed. “explain what? there’s nothing to explain—”

toge swiped his phone from his bed and opened it, going to your contact to type out a message.

you hesitantly pulled yours out and waited, your phone vibrating against your hand once he sent it over.

(toge): i lied about absolutely everything i said that night. i don’t think any of those things at all. i’ve wanted you so fucking bad from the start y/n, i’ve been ready to be with you i don’t think for a second we’re better off as friends i want more with you always and for the rest of my life.

what?

he sent another message.

(toge): i said what i said because throughout our friendship i told myself like a fucking idiot that i couldn’t let you all the way in because i can’t talk. i kept thinking that you needed someone who you can talk to you whenever you want without having to always step back and read or write like you have to with me. i didn’t want you to carry that baggage and deal with me and i just felt like a burden, and i love you so fucking much that i wanted better for you.

you sniffled and wiped your cheeks, you rubbing away lonesome tears that landed on your phone screen.

(toge): but i’m selfish baby i’ve BEEN selfish. i said those horrible things to you so it’d be easier for you to move on and im so sorry. none of them are true. i don’t want you to move on from me. i didn’t use you i could never and that night we had sex was the most meaningful experience of my life. i love you more than anything in my life, and im gonna be selfish again and please ask you to come back to me. you’re my best friend and more, and i still believe that you need someone better and that can give you more than i can, but i just can’t let you go man i’ve been physically sick for four weeks without you.

you cried still and he typed again.

(toge): i’m selfish and i’m in love with you mouse. i’m sorry.

“toge!” you cried and chucked your phone to his bed, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling him in a tight embrace— the weight completely lifting off both of your shoulders at the feeling of your bodies pressed against each others like a perfect little key in a lock, toge hugging you back so so fucking tight with his face in your neck that he practically squeezed the air out of your lungs entirely.

“i love you.” he spoke, his words incredibly powerful in your ear even though it couldn’t have been more than a mere whisper, the sound and depth of his voice ringing through your head and one you wanted to remember forever and ever, feeling so incredibly loved over the fact that he’d use his voice for you even when it hurt him so much.

but he really didn’t need to. you just wanted him.

and you’ve never been so happy to hear someone tell you that they lied.

toge pulled back a bit and turned his head to the side, stuffing his mouth into the crook of his elbow and coughing.

you pressed your cheek against his once he was done, kissing it a few times beforehand and him closing his eyes at the feeling of your lips on his skin after so long.

“you okay?” you murmured softly, and he nodded.

“i love you too, toge.” you tightened your arms around his neck. “please don’t ever think that you’re a burden or giving me baggage to carry. i’ve never ever felt that way and neither should you.”

you stepped back and cupped his cheeks.

“i need you, baby. i don’t need anything or anyone else but you. someone that has the ability to talk can’t give me even ten percent of what you’ve been giving me. i’m happy with you. the happiest i’ve ever been is when i’m with you… okay?”

toge grinned, huge and shiny as he nodded and leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss— the both of you utterly deprived as your mouths smacked and moved in haste, his hands running and squeezing over your body with labored breathing between the two of you.

he pulled apart for a second and you stopped.

“what baby?” you breathed, watching as he raised his arms.

‘please be my girlfriend mouse.’ he signed. ‘or i’ll die.’

you giggled cutely and a blush rose on both of your sore cheeks from smiling so much, you happily nodding and roughly pulling him back in to continue.

and how lucky was toge to have such a sweet little mouse that cared for him this much? for someone who couldn’t even speak? who had the greatest level of patience and not once ever complained about the burden she had to carry?

you learned sign language for him. solely for him. the reasons he was thinking about how he’d be baggage to you, was amazingly the total opposite on your end, as you didn’t want to be baggage to him when it came down to communication with you— as if something like that were ever even possible.

and you learned sign language for him— a totally beautiful and different and complex language that was iterated through the feeling of arms and body, to be read across with purposeful moving hands and symbols and diligent fingers— somehow looking even more beautiful when it was you that was doing it.

silence was toge’s greatest form of love… one that you received with open arms and acceptance without a twinge of judgement in your heart, and one that toge only ever wanted you to receive.

you.

his little mouse.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @blu3-l0v3r @rose-tlnted-kalopsia

if you asked to be on my taglist but i missed you please let me know!! and also let me know if i accidentally tagged you but you didn’t ask GAHAHA LOVE YOUU

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luveline · 7 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair.

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please.

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type.

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?”

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers.

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?”

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mm-hm.”

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?”

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.”

“So you’re in need of company?”

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?”

“What are you drinking?”

“Cherry spritzer.”

“Can I buy you another one?”

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much.

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.”

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference.

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started.

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast.

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek.

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest.

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold.

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side.

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely.

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.”

“Yeah?”

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over.

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly.

“Just this.”

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.”

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything.

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows.

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear.

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone.

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back.

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee.

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are.

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?”

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?”

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.”

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.”

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder.

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed.

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone.

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can.

“Nowhere.”

“So where have you been?”

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose.

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek.

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders.

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs.

“You okay?” a voice asks.

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face.

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.”

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes.

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently.

“I’ll leave soon.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.”

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving.

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?”

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?”

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?”

“Just while I was waiting for you.”

“What do you do?”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror.

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.”

“Like, statistics?”

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly.

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.”

“And you’re good at it.”

“I’m good at math, yeah.”

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?”

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss.

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away.

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.”

“Me too.”

“And you’re okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing hurts?” he asks.

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.”

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb.

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day.

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.”

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes.

For a pause, you just sit.

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good.

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask.

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.”

”Really?”

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.”

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again.

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?”

“We might have to stand very close.”

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to.

—

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride.

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked.

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other.

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way.

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details.

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles.

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him.

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?”

“You wanna share?”

“Yes!”

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly.

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.”

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand.

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face.

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?”

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.”

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling.

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says.

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?”

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.”

“You know what shampoo I use?”

“I deduced it.”

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?”

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.”

“You distract me, too.”

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.”

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend.

“I like you too,” he laughs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Not just…”

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing.

“Should we go out, then?”

“We do.”

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.”

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight.

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly.

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.”

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.”

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.”

“And if I don’t?” he asks.

“Then we get married in Vegas.”

“You could meet my mom.”

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks.

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.”

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin.

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough.

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile.

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks.

“I can’t remember.”

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.”

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted.

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.”

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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mercvry-glow · 3 months ago

Text

All that glitters

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. jack isn't a materialistic man, and you try your best not to be spoiled—but when your man gets flirted with, maybe it's time to flaunt the rings?

warnings. typical pitt setting, hospital drama, age gap bc i make the rules in this house (Jack late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), secret marriage trope but the don't really try very hard to hide it, jack gets flirted with, sassy jack, reader that has hair long enough to be in a ponytail, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. love love love jack and younger reader who he loves to spoil—i'll make them my mark sloan/lexie grey dream. sorta follows the stereotype of nurses getting married young with a big phat rock on their finger and reader is living her best life fr, today she's giving health icon realness! like always feedback is very much appreciated and i love all of you!

wc. 1500+

all that gleams (18+)

There were very few perks to working night shift in the ER, but your coworkers were definitely one of them. The vibe was calmer, looser. You could play music low, crack jokes in between traumas, and snack on protein bars and green juice in peace without an intern hovering at your elbow asking if this was the “bad kind of blood.”

More importantly though? You didn’t have to deal with as many junior staff mispronouncing meds or asking you if “NPO” was a hospital in another state.

Not that you were that far off from their age. You were only a few years ahead of most of them, and honestly? You didn’t always look like someone who belonged in the ER. You were the compression jacket-wearing, Pilates-going, smoothie-before-shift, electrolyte-during kind of nurse. Hair always in a claw clip, nails always clean and glossy, scrubs perfectly tailored and paired with a cute fleece half-zip. Your badge reel had glitter. Your tumbler was filled with ice water. You had a favorite lip balm and two glosses.

And somehow, you were married to Jack Abbot.

Not that most people at PTMC knew that.

Jack—hardass, sarcasm-laced, gruff-charm Abbot—wasn't exactly wearing a “taken” sign on his back. And you weren’t shouting it from the rooftops either. You both liked the privacy, liked having something all to yourselves in a place where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business.

Still, the diamond on your finger didn’t exactly scream subtle. It was flashy. Big, clear, and set in a gold band that sparkled aggressively under the hospital’s harsh fluorescents. People noticed it. You’d caught more than one resident blinking at it mid-sentence.

Jack noticed it too, especially when you wandered over to where he stood, leaning casually against the wall near the trauma bay—arms crossed, mouth in a flat line, giving you that look he always did when you showed up a little too put together for the ER at 2 a.m.

You sipped your icy water and tapped your fingers against your cup. “Slow night.”

He didn’t even glance at you. “You trying to get us all booked?”

“Oh come on, I didn’t say the actual Q-word.”

“You said ‘slow night,’ which is the Q-word’s passive-aggressive cousin. We’re totally fucked now, hope you’re happy.”

You smiled sweetly, resting an elbow on the nearby table. “I brought chia pudding for later. Want one?”

He side-eyed you. “I don’t even know what the hell that is.”

“It’s gut healthy, Jack. There’s fruit in it too,”

“I don’t trust anything that you find on TikTok.”

You giggled, which only made him more suspicious. Jack’s gaze dipped to your hand as you fiddled with the straw in your drink, the ring practically glowing.

“You’re really wearing that thing tonight?”

You blinked innocently. “What, this old thing?”

He snorted. “You know it’s blinding under these lights, right? Someone’s gonna seize just from the glare.”

“Well then I’m technically doing my job,” you said, smiling. “Keeping you on your toes.”

“You’re gonna give the interns a complex. They think you’re single, you know.”

Your eyes widend in fake horror. “You don’t think I’m flirting with anyone, do you? Frank gets really chatty before he leaves for the night,”

He raised an eyebrow. “With how much you like to bug me, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“That’s rich coming from you, you like to hover too.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

Jack tilted his head. “Okay. A little. I’m just makin’ sure my girl’s all good.”

You gave him a light shove and took another sip of your water, just in time to hear the trauma pager start going off.

MVC. ETA six minutes.

Jack stood up straighter like someone flipped a switch, already reaching for gloves. You grabbed your own pair from your pocket, gently removing your ring and placing it onto the accompanying chain around your neck. It’s something you and Jack had agreed to when it came to your wedding rings, minimal gore around them—”up or off” he liked to call it. He had his own of course, though most of the time he just kept his ring on the necklace while at work.

You started bouncing lightly on your toes to get the blood flowing, not having had any action in the time since you had arrived.

“Try not to trip over your own sparkle out there,” he muttered.

You gave him your sweetest smile. “You love it.”

He looked at you for a beat longer than he needed to. “Unfortunately.”

Unfortunately, your ass—he picked that ring out himself.

As the trauma team assembled, you took your place beside him, the two of you syncing without needing to speak. He passed you a gown without asking. You tied the back of his before he even turned around.

If anyone noticed how in step you were, they didn’t say anything.

Jack’s hand brushed against yours as you moved into the trauma bay, just long enough for you to know he saw you. Always did.

After your first success of the night, the adrenaline had faded from the area like mist burning off in Pitsburgh morning light. You were perched back at the nurses' station, sipping from your oversized pink tumbler once again and tapping notes into the EMR system, your high ponytail somehow still intact after the trauma call. You’d already changed into your backup hoodie, the pale blue one that matched your compression socks.

A little style, a little lip gloss, and a whole lot of not here for nonsense.

Things had quieted enough for Jack to finally emerge from the trauma bay, only for him to be flagged almost immediately by a patient coming in from the waiting room. She was maybe late twenties, long hair, fresh manicure, a barely-there scrape above her brow. Her chart said “fall on concrete.” Her strappy heels said, fall caused by attention-seeking behavior.

You glanced up briefly, watching Jack walk her to a curtained bay. She was smiling too much. Laughing too loud. He was wearing that look—the one he got when he knew a situation would be annoying and had already mentally detached from it.

“I swear,” the patient was saying, voice high and sweet, “every time I wear these I end up in trouble. Guess that teaches me for wanting to be cute on a Wednesday night.”

Jack didn’t even blink. “Sounds like unfortunate planning.”

You tried not to smirk, eyes drifting back to your screen, but your ears stayed tuned.

Inside the curtain bay, the flirting only ramped up.

“You’ve got great hands,” she continued. “Like, really strong—Are you a surgeon or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered, clearly already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

A moment later, you stood, casually collecting a folder from the rack. You strolled over, your walk unbothered, the slight shimmer of your clear gloss catching in the overhead light. You didn’t need to announce anything. You just stepped in like you belonged there—because in reality you didn’t.

“Oh—sorry, just grabbing this,” you said lightly, nodding toward the folder tucked on the side cart.

Jack’s eyes flicked to you briefly, then away. But that flicker said a lot. You were his safety net, his distraction, his gentle way out.

The patient looked between you and Jack, then caught sight of his chain. His ring where it should be—resting loosely around his neck, the soft shine of the gold band catching the overhead lights like a quiet announcement.

She blinked. “Oh... You’re married?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “I am.”

You turned just slightly, giving a small, polite smile. “He’s got great hands, right? They open all my jars and everything." shifting your own necklaces ever so slightly to show off your own ring.

The patient made a noncommittal noise. You gave Jack a subtle tap on the arm—nothing big, nothing dramatic—and slipped out without another word.

Back at the nurses’ station, Dr. Shen had just walked up, sipping his Dunkin’ coffee and looking comfortable as ever. He glanced at you, then at Jack still behind the curtain.

“New patient?” He asked.

“Minor trauma,” you replied, eyes still on your chart. “Potential for eye strain, though. A lot of eyelash batting happening in there.”

Shen raised one brow. “You jealous?”

You gave a soft laugh, sliding your tumbler closer. “Nope. Just observational.”

Jack appeared a second later, walking past with his usual quiet swagger and that look of can everyone please just not say something dumb, but paused near Shen.

“Patient’s stable. Probably fine to discharge with wound care instructions and a lesson on appropriate footwear.”

Shen nodded. “Noted.”

As Jack passed you, he muttered, “You know that folder wasn’t yours, right?”

You didn’t look up. “You’re welcome.”

He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

You smiled, too sweet. “She was hitting on you.”

“I noticed.”

“She said you have surgeon hands.”

“I noticed.”

You leaned into him just enough for your perfume to tickle his nose. “You do, you know. Big, capable. Very sexy.”

“Don’t weaponize nice compliments.”

You grinned and rested your cheek on his arm for a beat. “You’re just mad you’re the one getting teased.”

He shook his head with a sigh, then mumbled under his breath, “Married a menace in $98 leggings, and I’m the one being told off.”

And you didn’t even argue—because you absolutely are… and you did buy the leggings in two colors.

mercvry-glow 2025

#the pitt #the pitt max #the pitt hbo #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbott #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott x you #dr. jack abbot #dr. jack abbot x reader #dr. jack abbot x you #dr. jack abbott #dr. jack abbott x reader #dr. jack abbott x you #❥ - Jack Abbot

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yanderenightmare · 1 year ago

Text

♡ TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

♡ FEM reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead.

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy…

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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loafysainz · 4 months ago

Text

🎥 HANDING MY BOYFRIEND MY PANTIES AT DINNER AND GET HIS REACTION

carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, lando norris, max verstappen, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, george russell × reader! warn: 18+, smut, minor dni insp by this trend

Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz was a patient man.

But not when it came to you.

He had spent the entire evening watching you, his dark brown eyes tracking your every move. The way your lips wrapped around the rim of your wine glass, the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs under the table, the way you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the barest hint of cleavage.

Carlos had been holding himself back. Barely.

And you? You were about to push him past his limit.

The restaurant was elegant—low lights, soft music, the hum of quiet conversations surrounding you. Carlos sat across from you, dressed in a perfectly tailored black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, veins prominent as he lazily toyed with his glass. He looked so effortlessly sexy, so unfairly attractive, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far you could push him.

You shifted in your seat, heart pounding, as you subtly reached under the table. You hooked your fingers into your panties, slowly, discreetly, slipping them down your legs, the cool air against your bare skin making you shiver.

Carlos was oblivious, swirling his wine, licking his lips as he studied the menu.

And then—casually, with a small smirk—you reached across the table and placed your panties in his hand.

Carlos froze.

His fingers curled around the fabric instinctively before he even realized what he was holding. He blinked, looking down at his palm.

A beat of silence.

Then another.

And then—oh, fuck.

His entire body tensed. His jaw clenched so hard you thought it might crack. His nostrils flared as he exhaled a sharp breath, his grip tightening around the delicate lace like he was resisting the urge to crush it in his fist.

Slowly—so slowly—Carlos lifted his eyes to meet yours.

Dark. Heavy. Predatory.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths.

And then—his voice, deep, low, almost a growl—

“Dime que no hiciste lo que creo que hiciste.” (Tell me you didn’t just do what I think you did.)

You tilted your head, pretending to be innocent. “What do you think I did, cariño?”

Carlos inhaled sharply, his fingers flexing around the lace before he shoved it into the pocket of his trousers. His knee bounced under the table, his entire body buzzing with tension. He dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head with a dark chuckle.

“You’re testing me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sipped your drink, biting back a smirk. “Maybe.”

Carlos exhaled a slow, measured breath. His fingers tapped against the table, his eyes flickering down to your lap, realization sinking in.

“No panties,” he murmured. His voice was rough, thick with something dangerously close to desperation. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat like he was physically struggling to stay put.

You crossed your legs slowly, watching the way his jaw ticked. “Mmm.”

Carlos let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Eres un problema, ¿lo sabes?” (You’re a fucking problem, you know that?)

He adjusted in his seat, exhaling harshly. “Now I have to sit here. In this restaurant. Acting normal. While I know you’re sitting there…” His voice dropped, dark, his accent thickening. “All wet. All needy.” He licked his lips, eyes burning with heat. “For me.”

Your breath hitched.

Carlos saw. And smirked.

His knee suddenly pressed against your thigh under the table, firm and possessive, making your pulse skyrocket.

“I should drag you to the bathroom right now,” he muttered, voice thick with frustration. “Make you sit on my lap. Make you ride me slow. Until you can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Your stomach dropped.

Your entire body burned.

Carlos chuckled darkly at your reaction. “Oh, you like that idea?” He tilted his head, his fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Would you like it, hmm? Biting your lip, trying not to moan? Knowing that if you make one sound, everyone in this restaurant will know what I’m doing to you?”

You clenched your thighs together instinctively, and Carlos noticed.

His smirk widened, his knee pressing even firmer against you.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“You started this game, amor.” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Your stomach flipped.

Carlos sat back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, looking like the picture of relaxation—except for the way

his hands curled into fists, like he was using every ounce of self-control to stop himself from grabbing you.

“You better eat fast,” he muttered, his leg still pressed against yours, his eyes still devouring you.

“Because the second we leave this restaurant?” His voice was gravelly, dripping with hunger.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

—

Lewis Hamilton

Dinner with Lewis was always an experience. He had impeccable taste—whether it was in fashion, cars, or five-star restaurants with private dining rooms that catered to the elite. Tonight was no different. The restaurant was dimly lit, with an intimate atmosphere and a view of the Monaco harbor glistening under the night sky.

Lewis sat across from you, wearing a tailored suit with no tie, the top few buttons of his crisp shirt undone to reveal just a hint of his tattoos. He looked like a damn dream—effortlessly cool, his jewelry catching the soft candlelight, his full lips curving into a smirk as he listened to you talk.

And you? You were about to make things very, very interesting.

The idea had been teasing you all night. The way Lewis had kept his hand on your thigh during the car ride here, the way his deep, smooth voice sent shivers down your spine, the way he knew he was irresistible and used it against you. It was time to turn the tables.

You shifted in your seat, pretending to adjust your dress while slipping your panties down your thighs, letting the lace pool at your ankles before discreetly stepping out of them. You balled them in your hand, heart racing with anticipation.

Lewis was mid-sentence, swirling his wine glass lazily, when you reached across the table and placed the delicate fabric in his palm.

His fingers closed around it instinctively before realization set in.

He blinked, lifting his hand slightly under the table, his expression unreadable at first. And then—oh, then—that signature smirk spread across his lips, slow and devastatingly sexy. His tongue flicked out to wet them, eyes dragging from the panties to your face, amusement flickering behind the heat in his gaze.

“You’re bold tonight, love.” His voice was low, almost a purr.

You took a sip of your champagne, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Lewis exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean.”

His fingers tightened around the lace before slipping them discreetly into the pocket of his blazer.

He leaned forward, his gaze dark and smoldering. “So, what’s the plan, then? You expect me to just sit here, act normal, knowing you’re sitting across from me with nothing underneath that little dress?”

Your lips curled. “That was the idea.”

Lewis chuckled, the deep sound sending a shiver down your spine. He adjusted in his seat, exhaling sharply. “You’re playin’ dangerous, babe.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” You batted your lashes at him, knowing full well you were poking the bear.

Lewis’s jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to your lips before flicking back up. He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of wine, his demeanor calm—too calm. That was the most dangerous sign of all.

The waiter arrived, placing your entrées in front of you, completely unaware of the silent war happening at this table.

Lewis picked up his fork, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts were running through his mind.

But then—oh, fuck.

You felt the softest brush against your thigh.

Your breath hitched.

Lewis smirked, casually cutting into his steak like he wasn’t dragging his fingers up the inside of your leg beneath the table, like he wasn’t making his way higher and higher with every passing second.

You shot him a glare, shifting in your seat, but that only made him chuckle. “Something wrong?” he asked, voice innocent.

Bastard.

His fingers brushed the apex of your thighs, barely teasing the sensitive skin, and you had to fight the urge to clamp your legs shut.

You inhaled sharply, gripping your fork a little tighter. “You’re really gonna do this here?”

Lewis tilted his head, lips curving. “You started it.”

His touch disappeared just as quickly as it came, leaving you throbbing, your skin hot, your body desperate for more.

And that’s when you knew you were in trouble.

Lewis sat back, stretching out his legs, the picture of relaxed confidence. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned in slightly.

“When we get back to the hotel…” His voice was a dark promise, smooth as silk. “You better be ready for me, baby.”

Your stomach flipped, heat coiling low in your belly.

Oh, you were so screwed.

Dinner suddenly felt like a countdown to something far more delicious. And by the way Lewis kept stealing glances at you—like he was barely holding himself back—you had a feeling he wouldn’t be ordering dessert.

At least, not at the restaurant.

—

Lando Norris

Dinner with Lando was never boring.

He had a way of making everything fun—whether it was cracking jokes, teasing you, or finding little ways to touch you every chance he got. Tonight was no different. You were at a high-end restaurant in Monaco, overlooking the water, Lando sipping on his cocktail as he playfully nudged your foot under the table.

He looked good—hair slightly tousled, wearing a fitted black suit with no tie, the crisp white of his shirt accentuating his tan skin. The top two buttons were undone, just enough to tease you with a glimpse of his collarbone.

And right now? He had no idea what was coming.

So, you decided it was time to turn the tables.

The restaurant was buzzing with quiet conversations, the candlelight casting a soft glow over the table, and Lando? He was completely oblivious, sipping his drink, scrolling through the menu, looking criminally good in his tailored black suit.

You took a slow breath, pretending to shift in your seat, your hands disappearing beneath the table. Your pulse thrummed as you hooked your fingers into your panties, dragging them down your legs, over your heels, and slipping them into your palm.

And then—casually, innocently—you reached across the table and pressed them into his hand.

Lando took them instinctively, still half-distracted, his thumb brushing over the fabric—soft, lacy, unmistakably not something that belonged in a restaurant.

He froze.

His blue eyes flicked down at his hand, then up at you.

His breath hitched. “No.” His voice was a strangled whisper. He blinked, like his brain couldn’t quite process what just happened. He looked back down at the lace, gripping it between his fingers, and then back at you—eyes wide, pupils blown.

“No fucking way.”

You just took a sip of your drink, acting

completely unfazed. “Something wrong?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his curls. “Are you—” He exhaled sharply. “You didn’t just—” His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. “Tell me you’re fucking with me right now.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head.

Lando’s jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. His grip on the panties tightened before he hastily shoved them into the pocket of his blazer, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every single urge running through his body.

His leg bounced under the table. He dragged his hands down his face. “You—” He let out a low, breathy laugh, but it was strained, like he was hanging on by a thread.

“You little—” His voice cut off, his head tilting back slightly as he inhaled through his nose.

You could see it. The shift. The way his entire demeanor darkened. The way his hands clenched into fists like he didn’t trust himself to keep them to himself.

And then, he leaned forward, eyes locked onto you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

The waiter arrived at that exact moment, asking if you needed more wine, completely oblivious to the absolute meltdown Lando was having in real-time.

Lando barely glanced at him, his jaw clenched so tight his words were almost clipped. “No. We’re good.”

The moment the waiter left, Lando shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I hope you realize,” he muttered, “that I now have to sit through this entire dinner with a fucking hard-on.”

You smirked. “Poor baby.”

His eye twitched.

His knee suddenly pressed against the inside of your thigh under the table, firm, possessive, making you inhale sharply.

Lando smirked at your reaction, his fingers twitching as if debating whether or not to reach for you. “No panties. Just sitting there. All pretty. Knowing what you just did to me.” His voice was dark. Husky. “You’re playing a dangerous fucking game.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly, pressing your thighs together, and Lando noticed. His smirk widened.

“Ohhh,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You think you’re in control here?”

He leaned in, voice dropping even lower, lips barely an inch from your ear.

“Just wait till we get back to the hotel, baby,” he whispered. “I’m gonna make sure you feel what you just did to me.”

Heat coiled in your stomach.

Lando sat back, stretching his legs out, exhaling slowly. His fingers drummed against the table, his eyes flickering over your body, taking his time, like he was memorizing you.

“Eat your dinner, baby.” he muttered, shifting in his seat again, adjusting himself. “After we done this. You’re mine.”

Your entire body burned.

And suddenly, dinner felt like the longest fucking event of your life.

—

Charles Leclerc

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Charles Leclerc was the perfect mix of sweet and sinful—soft when he loved you, but intense when he wanted you. He could melt you with just a smile, but when he needed you? When you pushed him too far? That was when he became dangerous.

Tonight, you were playing with fire.

The restaurant was romantic—low lights, soft music, a flickering candle between you. Charles looked breathtaking across the table, his white button-down slightly unbuttoned, his hair tousled in that effortless way that made your fingers itch to run through it. His green eyes sparkled in the dim light, his lips curling in a small, amused smile as he sipped his wine.

You wanted to see how far you could push him.

So, while Charles was distracted, you reached under the table. Your fingers brushed the hem of your dress, heart racing as you slowly—so slowly—slid your panties down your legs. The soft lace glided over your thighs, your knees, pooling at your ankles before you kicked them off.

Charles was still flipping through the menu, completely oblivious.

You swallowed a smirk, reached across the table, and—without a word—placed the fabric in his open palm.

Charles didn’t react at first.

Then—

His fingers froze.

His eyes flickered down, scanning the lace in his palm, his lips parting slightly.

Then—very slowly—he lifted his gaze to yours.

His breath hitched.

His jaw tensed.

His entire body went rigid.

“Mon amour…” His voice was a whisper, but there was something different about it. Something deep, something dark.

You tilted your head innocently. “Yes, baby?”

Charles exhaled sharply, his hand disappearing under the table as he shoved the panties into his pocket. His fingers twitched against the fabric, his entire body suddenly filled with nervous energy.

“No.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, you—” His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat, leaning forward.

“You are telling me…” His accent was thicker now, deeper, as he swallowed hard. “That you are sitting here. With nothing under your dress.”

You nodded, biting back a smirk.

Charles groaned. His head fell back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as he muttered something very fast in French under his breath.

Then he looked back at you—his pupils blown, his breath uneven.

“Baby,” he whispered. His voice was soft, but there was a raw edge to it. His hand found your knee under the table, his thumb brushing slow circles against your skin. The touch was gentle, but his grip was firm.

Possessive.

His fingers inched higher.

You gasped softly.

Charles inhaled sharply, his hand freezing before it could go any higher. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white.

“No,” he muttered. “No, I can’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling harshly.

His eyes were burning.

“You’re making this very difficult for me, mon amour.”

You smirked. “That’s the idea.”

Charles let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Incroyable.” (Unbelievable.)

Then—so suddenly—he grabbed his napkin and dropped it on the floor.

“Oh,” he muttered, completely unconvincing. “How clumsy of me.”

Your eyes widened. “Charles, don’t—”

Too late.

He dipped under the table.

Your heart stopped.

“Charles—” Your breath hitched as you felt the ghost of his lips brush against the inside of your knee.

Then higher.

And higher.

Your entire body tensed.

His hands rested on your thighs, warm and steady, his breath hot against your bare skin.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

“Charles,” you whispered, barely breathing.

His voice came from under the table, low and teasing. “What is it, chérie?”

Your hands gripped the tablecloth, panic and desire swirling together in your chest. “You need to come up.”

He hummed. “Do I?”

His lips skimmed the inside of your thigh.

Your breathing stuttered. “Charles—”

Then—

A loud noise from the kitchen made him jolt.

His head smacked against the underside of the table.

“Merde!” (Fuck!)

He shot up so fast he nearly knocked over his wine glass, his cheeks flushed, his hair messy, his lips red.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Charles groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “I hate you.”

You giggled. “You love me.”

His eyes darkened.

“Oh, mon amour,” he murmured, leaning forward, his voice dripping with promise.

“You will regret this when we get home.”

Your stomach flipped.

Charles smirked.

Then he picked up his menu, casually flipping through it like he hadn’t just been under the table.

Like he wasn’t still rock hard.

Like he wasn’t about to absolutely destroy you the second you were alone.

You swallowed hard.

You were so screwed.

—

Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen was competitive in everything.

On the track, he was ruthless. In life, he always wanted to win. But in the bedroom?

He didn’t just compete—he owned.

And tonight, you were playing with fire.

The restaurant was high-end, filled with soft chatter and the occasional clink of wine glasses. Max sat across from you, looking effortlessly sexy in a black dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, his strong forearms resting on the table. His blue eyes flickered up from his menu, locking onto yours with that signature intensity.

“Why are you smirking?” he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached under the table, heart pounding as you hooked your fingers into the sides of your panties. Slowly—so slowly—you slid them down, feeling the lace brush against your bare skin.

Max had no idea what was coming.

Once the fabric was off, you balled it up in your hand and reached across the table. “Here,” you said casually, dropping the delicate lace into his palm.

Max’s brows furrowed. His fingers curled around the fabric, and then—

His entire body went still.

His grip tightened.

His jaw locked.

You saw the exact moment realization hit. His ocean-blue eyes darkened, flickering between the panties in his hand and you, sitting there, completely bare under your dress.

Max inhaled sharply. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was low—dangerously low.

You leaned forward, eyes playful. “Something wrong, baby?”

Max’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers disappearing under the table. He shoved the panties into his pocket so fast you almost laughed. His

other hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

“Tell me,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Are you sitting here, at this table, with nothing under that dress?”

You nodded.

His nostrils flared.

“Jesus Christ.”

You smirked. “Cat got your tongue, Max?”

His gaze snapped to yours, and suddenly, the air between you changed.

The playful energy shifted into something heavier.

Something dangerous.

Max leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. “You think this is funny?”

You shrugged, enjoying the way his grip tightened on the table, his breath growing uneven. “A little.”

He exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching so tight it looked painful.

Then—so suddenly—he sat back, a slow, wicked smirk curling his lips.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Game on, liefje.” (Sweetheart.)

Your stomach flipped.

Max shifted in his seat, stretching his legs

out under the table—until his knee pressed firmly between your thighs. Your breath hitched, your body going rigid as he applied the lightest pressure.

Your eyes widened. “Max—”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “What? Something wrong?”

His knee pressed harder.

You swallowed hard, your breath stuttering as heat flooded your body. “You’re evil.”

He grinned, completely unbothered. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’m letting you get away with this.”

His fingers drummed casually against the table as he continued, voice slow and taunting. “You know, I was going to take my time with you tonight.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “But now?”

His voice dropped even lower.

“Now, I have no choice but to ruin you.”

Your entire body shivered.

Max smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing.

His knee pressed higher, his strong thigh now between your legs, keeping you right where he wanted you. “Look at you,” he mused, his accent thick, teasing. “So quiet all of a sudden. Where’s that bratty attitude now, huh?”

You glared at him, but the effect was lost

when your breath hitched at the way he was touching you.

Max chuckled darkly. “Oh, baby,” he murmured. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

Your mouth went dry.

Max picked up his menu, pretending to study it, but his knee stayed right where it was.

The worst part?

He acted like nothing was happening.

Like he wasn’t pressing you against the chair.

Like he wasn’t completely hard under the table.

Like he wasn’t planning a thousand ways to make you pay for this

the second you were alone.

You shifted in your seat, desperate for some relief.

Max caught it immediately. His grip on the table tightened, his breathing sharp.

Then—so quietly only you could hear—he whispered, “Do that again, and I swear to God, I’ll drag you into the bathroom right now.”

You froze.

Max’s smirk was lazy, but his eyes?

His eyes were pure fire.

—

Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri was a problem.

No, Oscar was a problem because he was impossible to read.

When he was mad, he didn’t explode—he got quiet. When he was turned on, he didn’t stumble over his words or blush—he became dangerous.

And tonight?

You had just challenged him.

The restaurant was sleek and modern, the

kind of place that matched Oscar’s cool, composed energy. He sat across from you, dressed simply in a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the veins on his forearms. His fingers tapped against the table absentmindedly as he scrolled through the wine menu, completely unaware of what was coming.

You shifted in your seat, heart pounding as you reached beneath the table. With slow, deliberate movements, you slid your panties down, feeling the soft lace brush over your thighs, your knees—until they were off completely.

Then, with a calm smile, you reached across the table.

“Here,” you murmured, dropping the delicate fabric into his open palm.

Oscar didn’t react immediately.

His fingers curled around the lace, his grip firm but unreadable. His eyes flickered down, scanning the fabric like it was nothing more than a business card someone had handed him.

Then, finally, he looked at you.

And fuck.

His brown eyes were steady, calculating—sharp.

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t smirk, didn’t blush, didn’t flinch.

He just… stared.

Long enough that you shifted in your seat, suddenly less sure about what you’d just done.

Then—slowly—he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

His voice was quiet. Calm.

“You’re not wearing anything under that dress.”

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. “No.”

He hummed, nodding slightly as he tucked the panties into his pocket like they were nothing. Then he picked up his menu, flipping through it as if this was just another casual dinner.

Your stomach flipped.

That was it? No teasing? No reaction?

Oscar glanced up, catching your slight frown. His lips curled into the smallest smirk.

“You expected me to crack, didn’t you?”

You hesitated. “Maybe.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

You blinked. “I—”

Oscar shut his menu, setting it aside. Then—so suddenly—he reached across the

table, gripping your wrist. Not rough. Not forceful.

But firm.

His thumb brushed against your pulse.

You knew he could feel how fast it was racing.

His voice dropped, calm and cold.

“You think you can just hand me your panties and expect me to lose control?”

You swallowed.

His grip tightened.

“No, baby.” His voice was deadly soft. “That’s not how this works.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oscar exhaled through his nose, sitting back like he wasn’t currently ruining your entire life with just his voice.

Then—just to be cruel—he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice so only you could hear.

“I’m going to finish my drink.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Then we’re going to leave.”

Your thighs clenched together.

Oscar smirked. He noticed.

“And when we get home,” he murmured, “you’re going to get on your knees and apologize.”

Your breath hitched.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered, picking up his glass and taking a slow sip.

Then, just for fun, he tilted his head and smirked.

“Still think this was a good idea?”

You were so screwed.

—

George Russell

George Russell was a gentleman.

Polite. Well-mannered. The kind of man who held doors open, pulled out your chair, and kissed the back of your hand just to see you blush.

But there was a danger in that charm.

Because underneath all that posh, British elegance?

George was ruthless.

And tonight?

You were about to learn just how much.

The restaurant was candlelit, expensive, and filled with the quiet hum of conversation. George sat across from you, impossibly handsome in a tailored navy

suit, the top two buttons of his shirt undone just enough to tease. His Rolex gleamed under the soft light as he picked up his wine glass, fingers wrapping around the stem with effortless grace.

You watched him, heart pounding, as you slowly—deliberately—slid your hands under the table.

George didn’t notice at first. He was reading the menu, his brows slightly furrowed, completely unaware that you were currently slipping off your panties in the middle of a five-star restaurant.

Your breath hitched as you finally pulled them free, the delicate lace pooling in your hand.

“George.”

Then, with a coy smile, you reached across the table.

He looked up, eyes warm. “Yes, darling?”

You placed your panties in his open palm.

George blinked.

His fingers curled around the lace, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely unreadable.

Then—so slowly—his lips parted, his tongue briefly darting out to wet them.

His jaw ticked.

You smirked. “Something wrong?”

You saw the exact second realization hit—the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his grip tightening just slightly around the fabric.

George exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You are unbelievable.”

You leaned in, tilting your head. “Why? Is Mr. Russell flustered?”

His eyes darkened.

“No,” he murmured, voice low. “I’m just debating whether I should take you home right now or make you suffer first.”

Your stomach dropped.

You watched him, heart pounding.

George sighed dramatically, slipping the lace into his suit pocket like it was just another accessory. Then, as if nothing happened, he picked up his wine glass and took a slow, deliberate sip.

The way his jaw clenched as he swallowed. The way his fingers tapped against the table—controlled, measured. The way he refused to break eye contact.

Then—so suddenly you almost gasped—he leaned forward, his voice silky smooth.

“Tell me something, darling,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Are you currently sitting there, at this table, with nothing under that pretty little dress?”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

George grinned.

Not his usual, charming smile.

This was something else.

Something dangerous.

“Good girl.”

Your breath hitched.

George hummed, pleased with your reaction. He reached for his drink again, bringing it to his lips before pausing—his smirk deepening.

Then—so casually it ruined you—he whispered, “Spread your legs.”

Your eyes widened. “George—”

“Shh.” He took a slow sip of wine, eyes twinkling with pure amusement. “You wanted to play, love. Now be a good girl and listen.”

Heat flooded your body.

You hesitated for half a second too long.

George raised a brow. “I’m waiting.”

Your breath came in short, uneven bursts as you obeyed, shifting slightly in your seat, thighs parting under the table.

George’s smirk turned positively wicked.

“Such a good girl.”

Your entire body shuddered.

He leaned back, completely unbothered, pretending to scan the menu.

Meanwhile, you were a mess. Your skin burned. Your pulse raced. Your thighs trembled because holy shit—he wasn’t even touching you, and yet, you were completely at his mercy.

Then—just to ruin you—George tilted his head, voice smooth as silk.

“You know,” he mused, “I was planning on taking my time with you tonight.”

You clenched your fists in your lap.

He grinned. “But now?”

He placed his menu down.

“Now, I think I’ll take you home and remind you exactly who’s in charge.”

Your breath hitched.

George chuckled, reaching for his drink once more.

Then, with a wink, he murmured,

“Finish your wine, darling. You’re going to need it.”

END

hshshshsh idk why but my drafts keep posting themselves?? Like, I’m literally just editing them then it suddenly posted?!? And if not that, sometimes my drafts just disappear :( like wtf?? hshshshs its soooo annoying.

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