#and his lips on the cigarette just look so pouty and kissable

[riverscuomohhh]

Credit: Julie Kramer / kramerstudios

[toomuchracket]

falling for you (flatmate!matty x reader)

promptober day 10, and there was nobody else i could have written this for. a fluffy but slightly angsty pining lovesick moment, before the two of you are actually flatmates and you're just babies on nights out in manc. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. yeah, i know the pic is the wrong era for this, lol. but it's alllll about the vibes <3

matty's trying his damnedest not to stare at you right now.

he's failing miserably, though. the copious amount of alcohol in his body is rinsing all the sense out of his brain - well, what little you hadn't already stolen from him when you met him earlier outside your halls of residence, all made-up and glowing - and he really cannot tear his eyes away from you, saying bye to your friends at the door of the nightclub.

matty blinks, and self-awareness hits him like a freight train. nah. he's being weird. he needs to get a grip.

but then you turn towards him, waiting on behalf of both of you in the cloakroom queue, and you smile, and all thoughts about stopping looking at you fly out of matty's head. how can he be expected to focus on anything but that face of yours? the vodka's made your beautiful eyes softer, and a combination of marlboros and mac lipstick have made your lips pouty and kissable. well, more so than usual, matty thinks.

he's so distracted by your beauty that he almost doesn't hear the cloakroom attendant shout him up to the window. stumbling slightly - he'd say over his own feet, you'd say due to drunkenness (and you'd be right) - matty exchanges his two tickets for the jackets you and him had been all but forced to wear to prevent the freezing october air getting to you, and wanders over to you. wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed routine, he slings his own jacket over his shoulder as he helps you into yours.

you murmur a thank you. "you hungry?"

for you, yes. for a kebab, no, matty wishes he could say. but he can't, so he just shakes his head.

"neither am i," you say, helping him zip up his leather jacket. your dexterity has been diminished by your drinking, and one of the fringes on the sleeve of your own coat gets stuck between the metal teeth of his. clearly, your brain has also been affected by the alcohol; you frown at the zip, unable to see why it won't move. "huh?"

matty smiles, moving to help you. "got caught on your coat. sorry, darlin'."

"oh, s'fine. thanks," you reply, as you're unstuck once again. with a smile, you hold a hand out to matty. "shall we?"

like he'd ever say no to you. "we shall."

and the walk back to your uni begins.

if it had been raining, matty would have done the gentlemanly thing and sprung for a taxi. but it isn't, for once; actually, he thinks, it's kind of a perfect night. the sky is inky-black, devoid of any clouds, and the two of you are just drunk enough that the streetlights look just as pretty as the stars you can't see from so far into the city like this. he's more thankful for the cold air now than he was before the two of you went out - after the close heat of the nightclub, and the internal glow of the however many shots you did, the coolness is welcome. that, and it forces you to secure matty's hand in your own for warmth, which is maybe the most perfect aspect of the night, in his opinion.

naturally, then, a pang of heartbreak hits him when you break the hold to rifle through your handbag. when you procure a half-empty pack of cigs, though, it dissipates.

"want one?" you ask, holding the open end of the packet towards matty.

"no thanks, sweetheart," he says. he isn't lying: the thought of anything clouding his vision of you, even cigarette smoke, is unbearable. but then a spark of an idea crackles somewhere in his brain - whether it's in spite of or because of his tipsy state, matty isn't sure, but either way it tells him he shouldn't be so quick to refuse. so, tentatively, he continues speaking. "i'll gladly share one with you, though."

you take your time answering, slowly pulling a cig from the pack and shoving the rest back in your bag, then digging around for your lighter. matty chews his cheeks during this performance, terror that he's overstepped a friendship boundary of some sort beginning to creep up his spine. but then you shrug, and say "alright", and he's fine.

well, he's not fine, actually - the next words that leave your mouth are "need your help to light it, though, matty". 

fuck. his hands so close to your jaw, close enough that he could take hold of it and kiss you before his brain could convince him that it was too much of a risk to your friendship? that's dangerous.

god, he's so drunk. and so definitely in love with you.

what matty is first and foremost, though, is a good friend. shoving down any and all romantic and/or sexual thoughts about you and your lips as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well), he turns to face you and takes the lighter from your hand. "c'mere then."

when you oblige, silently, and look up at him with your lips parted and those sparkly doe eyes of yours, matty bites the inside of his lip so hard he feels it bleed. christ. this was perhaps a bad idea.

but the cig is right there, waiting to be lit, so he takes a deep breath, cupping the lighter as he flicks the flame into existence and brings it to your mouth. the orange glow illuminates you quite beautifully, and suddenly matty's head is filled with thoughts of you across from him, like you are now, but sat at a candlelit, white-clothed table with a glass of wine and a fancy dinner before you. and, if he's being honest, also with thoughts of you underneath him, face blissful and softly lit by the candles dotted around the room as he fucks you slowly and tenderly.

for fuck's sake. you're his best friend. he can't be thinking of you like that. why can't he stop thinking about you like that tonight? maybe he's going insane. he has no idea. but whatever is compelling him seems to lessen as you step back and exhale the smoke. "thank you, babe."

babe? that's new. but not unwelcome, not at all. matty feels his heart flutter at the pet name.

"s'alright," he smiles. now it's his turn to hold out a hand. "shall we keep going?"

"mhmm," you quickly take another puff of the cig, before sliding it between matty's lips with a giggle and taking his hand; you have to tug him forward a few paces before he regains control of his brain, but he quickly manages it, and the walk home continues.

for the most part, it's uneventful, aside from the alien feeling of your hand constantly in matty's. that is, until he tries to be clever and inhale the cig mid-conversation, and ends up exhaling directly in your face when you turn to listen to him without him fully noticing.

you cough a little bit when the smoke hits you, and matty panics (and internally facepalms. what a fucking idiot he is) as he throws the cig on the ground and stamps it out. "shit! i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean that! you alright?"

"s'ok, i'm ok, don't worry," you assure him, waving away both his fretting and the lingering smoke. when it clears from in front of your face, matty's heartbeat increases as he takes in your amused smile and your even-more-sparkly-than-earlier eyes. you're beautiful. you're fucking glowing. and you're tucking yourself under his arm and cosying into his side as you walk. jesus christ. "this is a lot better for us, don't you think?"

matty's cheeks lift into a smile. "definitely."

it really is better, matty thinks, walking towards the front door of your halls with you snuggled into his chest. much like every other aspect of matty's life, you fit seamlessly into his side - you just feel so right there, so natural, as if the two of you were biologically designed to be together. maybe someday, he hopes, you will be; not two best friends traipsing into uni accommodation for a post-night out sleepover, but a pair of lovers heading home after a date.

he doubts that'll actually happen, given that he'd have to go through the impossible task of telling you how he feels first, but still. it's a nice distant daydream, one he's still giddily thinking about when you unlock the front door and pull him through several more until you reach your bedroom.

you groan when you flick the light on and see the state of your bed, makeup palettes and hair products and failed outfit options strewn across it. matty immediately jumps into problem-solving mode; anything to stop you being unhappy, after all. "where do you want all this stuff, darlin'?"

"the fucking floor," you grumble.

"so… where i'm meant to sleep?"

your head snaps up, and you catch matty's eye in the mirror as you take your earrings out. "well," you turn to face him, your expression… nervous? "you could just, y'know, share the bed with me."

oh. matty can feel his heart pounding in his ears, diminishing the volume of your continuing (and frantic) monologue: "i mean, i know it'll be tight cos it's a single, and you've always insisted on sleeping on the floor even when i've offered to let you have the bed, but it's really cold tonight and i wouldn't mind the extra heat, and at least if we're sharing i know you won't be freezing and you'll be comfy, yeah?"

"ok," matty says, despite barely registering anything you said in his fugue state. he's drunk, and lovesick, but he's not an idiot. "yeah. we'll share."

your face breaks into a relieved smile. "ok. good. um, before that, would you…?"

"oh, of course," matty darts over to you as quickly as he can, while you turn to face the mirror again and lift your hair up. slowly, with fingers fumbling just as much from nerves as from alcohol consumption, he undoes the zip on the back of your dress. the perfume still lingering on the back of your neck clouds his brain with every breath he takes, and the organ threatens to completely shut down when matty pulls the zip down low enough to reveal a lack of bra clasps underneath your outfit. once he's finished undoing you, he steps back while he still has the ability to do so, turning away from you. "there you go."

"thank you," comes the reply from behind him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and drawers opening. matty busies himself with carefully clearing your bed, only turning back round when you tap his arm; he smiles when he sees you in a big t-shirt, hair shoved up messily and makeup half-removed, holding out a pair of sweatpants he recognises as his. "you left these here last time. i thought you might want them to sleep in. and i did wash them, before you ask."

you roll your eyes as matty presses the trousers to his nose anyway as a joke - when he registers that his clothes now smell like you and your washing powder, however, it stops being funny in favour of being lovelorn-inducing. but his smile quickly returns when he properly notices the design on the t-shirt you're wearing. "i cannot believe you're wearing a drive like i do shirt to bed. thought you were more proud of me, to be honest, darlin'."

"of course i am, but it's comfy," you protest, brow furrowing in the most adorable way as you frown. it softens wistfully as you continue. "and it reminds me of home."

weird, matty thinks. you're not from- oh. christ.

he's home, to you. 

what a fucking thought that is. matty's not quite sure how he's managing to stay sane, but he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug and stroking your back. "that's very lovely of you, sweetheart."

"s'just the truth," you reach up on tiptoe to pat matty on the head, before pulling away. he misses you immediately. "you wanna get ready for bed?"

does he ever. 

matty nods, kicking his shoes off and quickly undressing while you climb into bed. despite the fact you've seen him in shorts and nothing else before, he wonders if he should feel self-conscious as he strips to his underwear in front of you; something's definitely different with the two of you tonight, matty's sure of it, and he can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing. probably good, although that might be wishful thinking on his part, just like the way he's convinced your eyes linger on his torso with interest in the mirror when he takes his shirt off.

anyway. clad in his sweatpants and no more, matty climbs into your single bed. he tries to get as comfy as he can, facing away from and without touching you - whether that's to ensure your space and comfort or to stop himself from agonising over how much he likes you, matty has no idea. he isn't comfortable in the slightest, but he'll endure it.

you, on the other hand, have other ideas. with a sigh of "daft boy", you move forward so your body is against matty's back, slinging an arm and leg over his front and spooning him. "is this alright? i figured it was the best way to keep us warm."

"it's perfect, sweetheart," matty replies, and he isn't lying. despite how much it hurts being so close to you and repressing how he really feels about you, matty's surprisingly chill about the way you're clinging to him. cautiously, but feeling compelled to do so, he brings his hand up to stroke your thigh; when you hum contentedly, matty rests it there. "goodnight."

"mmm, night," you yawn out, the blanket of sleep falling on you fast. "love you."

matty smiles, half sadly, half dreamily. "love you too, darlin'."

the next day, he writes a new song.

[tasmpeter]

𓍢𓄹 ׅ۬ ˖ ࣪𖣠 VIGILANTE & MAN-EATER PRESENT: ROAD TRIP TO MURDERVILLE.

⛓🪩 ࣭⸰ 𓂋 ⁺ ⭒ ݁ . chapter four: disco tits

( i. skin | ii. pocketful of sunshine | iii. two of hearts )

— paring: adrian chase/vigilante x mercenary!reader

— summary: you and adrian go to collect your payment. dancing (and violence) ensures.

— warnings: smut, rough sex, biting, teasing, dirty dancing, semi dom!adrian, fingering, hand jobs, piv sex, unprotected sex, these two are whores, nasty ass dirty talk, mentions of murder, canon typical violence, jealous!adrian & jealous!reader, women on women violence, alcohol consumption, & cigarette usage. 18+ minors dni.

— authors note: lmaooo who even saw this coming???? i had no inspiration for this story for the longest time and suddenly it just… came to me. who knows when chapter five will come out. i’ll probably start writing it soon but don’t expect it soon. also, i changed the pov from third person to second person. i’m also going to go back and edit my other chapters to create a new format + edit the pov’s. so stay tuned for that!

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Normally, when collecting payment for your bounties, you would have to pick up the money from a seedy bar or beneath an overpass. Today, however, you had to go to some club that her contractor owned in Boise — which was another two hour drive. You were driving the Sebring this time, with another menthol cigarette dangling from your cherry red lips.

Adrian always clutched the door handle when you were driving. You drove fast and recklessly, which technically means Adrian should kill you for breaking the law — but he doesn't want to. He would never hurt you.

You shoved the cigarette in his general direction, eyes still directed onto the road, "Do you want a drag?"

You swerved a little and Adrian bumped into the passenger side door. He didn't want to have a drag of your menthol cigarette, but it had your red lipstick smeared around the base and he was dying to taste you again. He punched the cigarette between his fingers and hesitantly brought it up to his lips. He inhaled quickly, not wanting too much smoke to travel to his lungs, and quickly exhausted the excess smoke.

You peel your eyes from the road, which swerved the car a little, and giggled at Adrian's scrunched up nose. He was trying not to cough, but you could hear him quietly try to suppress his coughs. You grabbed the cigarette back out of Adrian's hand.

"You know, you don't have to smoke if you don't want to. I was only offering, t-to be nice" You whispered out the part about being nice, hoping Adrian's eager ears didn't latch on to it.

If he did, he didn't show it, "I-I just want you to think I'm cool."

Your lips turn into a pouty at Adrian's response. A deep need to feel included and loved, got that. Adrian just wished your lips would stop pouting, because you looked so fucking kissable and he will pull this car over and —

"I think you're cool, Adrian. I think you are— I wouldn't hang out with you if you weren't cool," You stopped yourself before you confessed you thought Adrian was the coolest person you've met. He was funny, quick with the trigger, and fucked you like you've never been fucked before.

Adrian's shoulders lifted at your statement and you slowly saw joy filling him again, "I... also think you are cool, too."

You giggled at Adrian's verbal vomit. Fuck, he loved you laugh. It was like hearing the stars twinkle in his ears, "You are also a dork."

"How can I be a dork and be cool?" Adrian questioned as he gripped the door handle tighter. You swerved again.

"I think you figured out a way, pretty boy."

In order to convince Adrian that they should rent out a nice hotel room in the city, you agreed to give him a blow job later that night. (He only agreed if he also got to eat your pussy. You gleefully accepted that deal).

You were changing into your club dress in the bathroom. Adrian saw a glimpse of your naked body in the mirror as he changed into his — nicer — clothes in the main room. There was no way he was making it through this fucking night.

The dress you wore wasn't much. Just a simple, skin tight black dress. (However, this dress costed you seven hundred dollars). You were coating another layer of lipstick on your lips as you waltzed out of the bathroom. Adrian was wearing a skin tight black shirt and some denim jeans, but you wanted to jump his bones the second you saw him. Black was his color.

"Y-You look good, Bee," Adrian gulped at the sight of you. He had to suppress his growing desire to throw you onto the mattress — and his growing erection.

"Bee? That's a new one," You said, tossing your Ruby Woo lipstick into your clutch and slipping on your red bottom shoes.

"You remind me more of a bee than a bunny," Adrian said, shoving his old clothes back into his duffel bag.

"Why's that?"

Adrian walked over to you and towered over you in front of the mattress. You could unzip his pants and just blow him — no. You were going to be good, and not fuck Adrian every moment you could. You're stronger than that.

"You are cute but also have a little stinger," Adrian said as his thumb grazed your jawline, anchoring up to your lips.

You giggle out and Adrian's thumb finds you lips, "That's a good one. I like it."

Adrian was about to slip his thumb in between your plump lips when a notification rang through your phone. You jumped at the sudden noise and reached down to grab your phone off the bed. Adrian's thumb retracted and he stepped back from in between your knees.

"It's the contractor. He's ready to meet us. Let's go," You said, pulling your thigh sheath up your leg.

Adrian Chase had only been to four night clubs in his life, and two of them were the same club. The only times he had the urge to enter a night club was with Peacemaker — or to murder men. The loud thumping bass rattled in his ears, and there were people, everywhere. If there was a time to feel claustrophobic, it was now. Your hand hadn't left Adrian's since arriving to the club. You clutched it as you weaved in and out of people to get to the roped off section of the club.

You had forced Adrian to not wear his costume. (It's a night club, for fucks sake. You have to blend in!) Adrian felt exposed, eyes darting around the room at any sudden attacks. All he had to protect himself was the pistol tucked inside of his waistband. (He prayed he didn't shoot himself in the asshole).

You whispered to the bouncer guarding the VIP section of the club and he slowly lifted the velvet rope up to let you through. He gave Adrian a hesitant eye, but ultimately let him through.

Tucked inside a little corner of the VIP section was the contractor, Isaac Skinner. There were a couple of pretty girls scattered along the near by sofas, along with a couple of men dressed in all black. (You counted four men possibly armed. No, definitely armed).

"Hello, doll," Isaac greeted you as you centered in on his location. You cringed at the pet name and dropped Adrian's hand.

"Hello, Isaac. How's your mother?" You spat back, taking a seat on the couch opposite of him. Adrian quickly followed suit.

Isaac gritted his teeth, "For the last time, please stop trying to fuck my mother."

You grabbed a shot that was sitting on the center of the table and poured it down your throat, "I can't help it, man. She's hot. You really gotta let me have her number."

Isaac finally took his eyes of your chest to notice Adrian squeezed next to you on the couch. Adrian was scowling at Isaac after noticing Isaac speak directly to your boobs the entire time.

"Who's this, doll?" Isaac asked, nodding to Adrian and taking a sip from his crystal tumbler.

You looked over at Adrian. You couldn't really tell Isaac the truth without exposing Adrian's identity. So, you decided to lie. You giggled and ran a hand down his chest, "He's my new boy toy. You like?"

Adrian looked at you funny, as you slowly began to sit in his lap. Your ran your fingers through his curly hair.

"Well, I'll let you have your fun in the club with — him in a second. Let's talk business," Isaac said as he set his crystal tumbler back into the glass table.

You reached up to take another tempting shot, "I figured you and your men took what was needed from the warehouse after I took care of your dirty work."

Isaac held his tumbler up as to raise a toast, "You are the best at taking care of my dirty work, doll."

"Tell that your mother, please," You mumbled out as you downed another shot.

Isaac rolled his eyes, "I swear — I will have the money transferred over to your account in a few minutes. Now, go enjoy the club with your boy toy."

You got up from your seat, pulling on Adrian's hands to follow. You walked over to Isaac and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "Thanks, Isaac. See you next time you need me to kill some people for you."

"Always, doll."

You led Adrian back into the main section of the club. He was still clutching your hand tightly. He was being uncharacteristically quiet, so you dragged him to the bar, which you could hear a bit more clearly at.

"You want anything, pretty boy?" You asked, batting your eyelashes as you leaned your back against the dimly lit bar.

"Something fruity," Adrian responded, shouting a little too loud over the blaring EDM music. You squeezed Adrian's hand in confirmation and flagged down the bartender.

Adrian immediately wrapped his arms around your waist to assert his claim over you. All the men in this fucking club were looking at you like you were the tastiest meal they had ever seen. He saw the desire in their eyes and watched as the bartender, yet again, spoke directly to your perky breasts. Adrian squeezed your hips harder, causing you to jolt back into him. You pressed your ass, deep, into Adrian's crotch. He gripped your hips again at the pressure on his growing erection.

"You gotta wait for the dance floor, pretty boy, if you want me to grind on you," You turned around and smiled at Adrian. He looked so pretty like this. You had only ever seen him in sweatpants or in his Vigilante uniform. You brushed a few loose strands out of Adrian's face and smiled.

The bartender returned the drinks to you, one shot of Vodka and a Cosmo. It was on the house, he told your breasts. Adrian quickly downed the Cosmo and you mimicked his movement with your shot.

"Y-You wanna dance?" Adrian asked as his fingers brushed the bruises he left on your hip.

"Let's go, pretty boy. Show me your moves," You responded, before dragging him to the dance floor.

A pop song you hadn't heard in a few years started thumping through the speakers. You found a good spot on the dance floor, not too crowded and enough space for Adrian not to feel claustrophobic. You quickly pressed your back against Adrian's chest and began to grind your body to the rhythm of the song. Adrian's hands found your waist and swayed to the best of the song with you. His hands were traveling up your body. Your hips, your thighs, your stomach, your breasts. He was leaving a burning trail in the wake of his fingers. Your ass dig deeper into Adrian's crotch. Adrian's head dipped to find space between your neck and shoulders. You could hear him whimper in your ear as you grind yourself against his body. Your breath hitches as Adrian's teeth scrap against your ear. A chill shot down your spine, feeling his hot breath in your ear.

You pressed yourself harder into his cock and slowly started to roll your hips. Adrian's teeth immediately bit down on your cartilage. Your back arched against the pain and Adrian took this opportunity to grab your throat with his free hand.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now, Bee," Adrian growled into your ear. You let out the softest moan. No one could hear it over the music blasting out of the speakers. But Adrian did.

"Yeah, Vig. You wanna fuck me in the middle of this club? Oh, I beat you want to slide your cock right in between my —,"

Adrian's grip around your throat tightened and you cut your teasing short, "Finish that sentence, Man-Eater. I dare you."

The song's bass slowly started to fade into another unfamiliar song and you took that as an opportunity to tease Adrian a bit more. You slowly lifted yourself from his grip and turned around to face him.

"Going to get something to drink. You want anything, Adri?" You asked, an innocent circle drawing circles on his pec. Adrian quickly shook his head and you placed a quick kiss on the cheek.

You ran to the bar to grab another shot, desperate for another. You left Adrian out on the dance floor. You looked back from your spot at the bar and saw him awkwardly standing on the outskirts of the dance floor. You couldn't help but giggle at his awkwardness. The bartender gave you two more shots, paid for by a man down at the end of the bar. You gave the man at the end of the bar a small smile and quickly downed the shots before waltzing back out to the dance floor.

When you returned, there was a blonde girl wrapping herself over Adrian. Her hands on his biceps and had a spray tanned finger drawing circles on his chest. You

"Hey, baby. Who's this?" You said, walking back up to Adrian. You gave Adrian a minor glance before shooting your attention to the fake blonde.

"Amber, I think. That's your name right?" Adrian asked the blonde girl. She was clearly annoyed at your presence and you saw her shoulders slump in defeat.

"Well, Amber, he's taken. You can leave now," You said, leaning closer into Adrian. Your eyes narrowed at Amber, filled with jealousy and fury.

"I was actually just talk—," Amber began to speak, but you did not have the patience to deal with this.

"Look, Ashley. I don't have the patience for this. Just walk away and go find another man to flirt with before I take you outside and beat your ass."

"It's Amber."

"Amber, you have three seconds to walk away before I drag you outside by your hair extensions," You said, your arm slowly leaving Adrian's and began walking closer to the blonde.

Amber, unfortunately, decided to take a swing at you. Rookie mistake for her. You quickly blocked the punch with your right hand, and with your left, you grabbed her blonde hair. Amber quickly dropped to floor as you began to drag her on the emergency exit in the corner of the club. Adrian was hot on your tail, following you and Amber out of the club.

You threw Amber to the cold concrete outside of the club. Adrian let the metal door slam behind him as he watched you pick up Amber again by her hair. Amber kicked you in the face with her stiletto. You felt the sharp crack of your nose and felt the blood start gushing immediately. You screamed out in pain, and promptly brought your fist down to her face.

After a while of wailing on the blonde girl, Adrian finally stepped in. He wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up from your spot on top of Amber. Amber quickly grabbed her stilettos that were next to her on the concrete and ran off down the alleyway.

Adrian set you back down on the concrete and you fished out your cigarettes from your bra, "You know, you didn't have to beat her up because she was flirting with me."

You lit your menthol cigarette and exhausted a cloud of smoke, "I know. It's just — when I saw her dangling all over you on the dance floor, I couldn't help it. I was so angry."

Adrian pinched your cheeks, "Aw, you were jealous."

"You were also jealous. I felt you grabbing me every time a guy even dared look in my direction," You retorted back. You spit some blood out onto the concrete that was pooling inside your mouth.

"Yeah, I was. Now, let's get your nose fixed, so I can fuck your brains out," Adrian responded as his hand found it's home on your waist. His hand fit so perfectly there. Like your body was made for him. Like you were made — No. You won't allow yourself to continue that thought. This was purely physical, whatever was happening between you. You wouldn't let it grow into more.

"I'm down for that," You replied as Adrian started to drag you down the alleyway.

Back at the hotel room, you found yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter. Adrian was pressing a cloth soaked in alcohol to your nose. You couldn't let him see that you were in pain, so you were clutching the countertop. You thought one of your acrylic nails were going to pop of with how tightly you grabbed the countertop.

The cloth brushed past your lips, picking up any of the blood that trickled down to your lips, "You don't have to pretend that this doesn't hurt. I-I can see you gripping the counter for dear life."

Your eyes met Adrian's green. He noticed so many things about you. He was always picking up on something you didn't want him to know. It infuriated you, "I'm just wishing you would hurry up, because my pussy is soaking wet."

Adrian's eyebrow cocked at your retort. He knew that this hurt you, but he would let you hold onto your ego for the night. One of your hands left the edge of the counter and ghosted above Adrian's denim jeans. He continued to clean your injuries, like your hand wasn't slowly pumping his cock. His hips would jerk on occasion, causing his steady fingers to slip. He was trying so hard not to focus on your hand jerking him off. You smirked as you saw him bite his lip and saw his eyes roll slightly back into his head as you rolled your hand down his cock.

"I-I have t-to put the butterfly bandage on your nose — oh fuck — now. So, please don't squeeze my dick that hard if it hurts," Adrian said as you spit into your hand to add more lubrication to his cock.

"I'll be a good girl," You responded, batting your eyelashes at the pretty boy standing in front you. Adrian slowly lifted the bandage to your nose.

"Good girl my fucking ass. You've been bad all night." Adrian mumbled under his breath as you braced yourself for the tension around your nose. You inhaled quickly as Adrian placed the bandage around. You hissed out at the stinging coming from your clearly broken nose.

"Are you going to punish me? For being a bad girl?" You asked as you cupped his balls into your small hands. Adrians hips jerked into your thick thighs once again.

"Oh, you are getting the punishment of your life tonight," Adrian mumbled out as he shoved the first aid off the counters and onto the floor. You smiled as you saw the lust spark in his green eyes and you started to pump his cock faster.

"Go on then, show me how bad I've been tonight, Vigilante."

Adrian immediately reached down to your damp thong and tugged at the last — shredding the underwear right off of your body. His teeth were in your neck as he slowly began to pump his fingers inside of you. Adrian’s other hand was gripping your thigh, pulling you closer to him. You were screaming. You were totally going to get a noise complaint, but you didn’t care. You felt your eyes watering as Adrian dragged his fingers down your g-stop.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?,” Adrian’s grabbed your chin to tilt your head back, “Answer.. me.”

“Yes! Oh, yes Adrian! Pl-Please fuck me. Please, I need your cock,” You screamed out, your hands clawing at Adrian’s bare neck.

Adrian nodded and began to sink myself inside of you. The stretch of his cock stung, but didn’t matter when it felt that good. You cry out again and you feel more tears dripping down your cheeks. Small black tears dropped onto Adrian’s shirt as he plowed into your tight cunt. It was animalistic. Raw aggression being served to your wet pussy. You felt your ass jerk with every deep thrust of his hips. You were yelling every name in the book. God, Jesus, Adrian, Vig, Adri. All being shouted from the top of your lungs in the large bathroom.

Adrian was whimpering into your ear. Whispering nasty little things. (“I want to rip you in fucking half”, “I am going to eat my cum out of your fucking pussy when I’m done abusing it”, “You’re mine. This cunt is mine”). Every filthy thing he growled into your ear made your cunt squeeze tighter and tighter around Adrian’s cock. You felt him start spasming a little inside your cunt and you swiftly bit down hard on Adrian’s neck. It sent him over the edge, and you both screamed each other’s names in ecstasy.

Adrian rested your head on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath from his rough climax. You stroked his damp curls as you exhaled sharply. He still had yet to pull himself out of you and your cunt still lightly tightened around his soft member.

“Give me another five minutes and I’ll be able to go again,” Adrian mumbled out into your bare breasts. You chuckled softly as it tickled the sensitive skin.

“But, I thought you said you were going to eat me out now, daddy,” You frowned at Adrian, pouting your lips ever so softly and batting your eyelashes.

Adrian was defenseless when it came to that pout. His hands reached around to grab your bare ass and picked you up into his arms, slowly carrying you back to bed. You giggled as he tossed you onto the king sized mattress and crawled onto the bed over you.

“You have to stop pouting. It’s my kryptonite,” Adrian mumbled as he kissed marks down your stomach.

You cupped his cheek and brushed your thumb over his cheekbone, “Make me.”

Adrian quickly pounced up to your lips and began attacking yours. You were laughing and pushing him away, trying to fight the kisses when he finally planted one on your lips. Your thumb brushed his cheekbone again and you felt yourself feeling like you could get used to this. You shoved that feeling deep down and pushed Adrian’s head down to your cunt.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Walk Away (Part 2 of Addicted)

There’s a certain kind of strength to walk away from a bad thing. Calum thought he had done that; but the past always comes back around. Female Reader Insert. No specific race of the reader. 

CW: Drug Use/Drug Mention (Tobacco/Cigarette). Alcohol Mention. 

Enjoy my masterlist | Part 1-Addicted

Support me on kofi. 

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well. All rights reserved. 

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Here of all places, of course. Here when he’s wearing old basketball shorts and a sweatshirt. Here when he’s just trying to tune up on his car. Here of all places, of all times. She approaches the front desk. “I really hate to do this. But my car’s making this really weird noise. I have a long drive tomorrow. It just started earlier today. Can you take a look at it?”

He hasn’t seen her in months. 

He’s worked hard not to run into her. He avoids the old bars that they used to frequent. Not together. Never together, but the ones that she would beg him to come too, just she wouldn’t have to drive to get her fix. He doesn’t visit her side of town, no matter how inconvenient to him. He made the occasional sacrifice for when the boys wanted to hit up a place near her, but he never broke the rule on avoiding those old bars. Never. It didn't matter how annoyed anyone was at it. He had to stick to that one. Because if he didn’t, with any amount of alcohol in him and her presence, he was sure to crumble. He was tired of her. 

But the sight of her in those light wash distressed jeans and snug cropped top make him almost forget all the trouble she’s caused. Calum forces his gaze back to floor as she and a worker leave the shop. He’s praying she didn't spot him. He’s praying that she will not come back into the shop. She disappeared on him after the last time he went over to her place. She hasn’t left a text, phone call, or voicemail. Calum told himself he wouldn’t send her one either. It was a part of her game. But she didn’t even tell him that she had found someone new, someone she wanted to pretend to be serious with. Normally she did and that made Calum suspicious; it worried him. So after about three weeks, he caved. He sent one message, What happened? 

He was met with silence. Three days worth. His fingers wanted to type more and they did. He drafted several paragraphs worth. How could she just drop him? How could she just walk away from him? What was he supposed to do now? Nothing replaced the feeling of her. He had tried that avenue before. What the hell was supposed to happen next? 

More days passed and his bleeding heart paragraphs sat unaddressed. The smoking which had died down, increased again. Calum drank something most often too, not a lot, not enough to be fucked over the next morning. But he wanted to shut down the part of his brain that craved her. The silence of her was deafening, but the buzz of alcohol gave his brain something else to focus on for the moment. He’s since slowed on both those habits thanks to time and this album they’re working on. Ashton’s helped too. But Calum tries to keep himself occupied as much as possible. Doing any and everything he can, just so his brain can’t wonder. 

The door chimes again. She sits along the wall to his left. He’s sitting so he can see directly back into the shop, directly across from the front desk. He has four rows of seat in his view. He can’t not see her. She plays at her phone. How can she act like this? The least she could do is say hi. The least she could is acknowledge his fucking existence as a human being. 

His gut twists, in that all too familiar flip of desire. She’s still got him wrapped around her fucking fingers. Those beautiful, slender fingers. He remembers the way the feel dragging down his bare chest. He knows the pinch of her fingers around his nipples. With a deep exhale, the ghost of her touch skirts down his chest down to his groin. Fuck, no, no don’t start imagining this. It’s been four months since those text messages. Four; he cannot slip up now. 

Pushing up from his chair, Calum walks to the bathroom. It’s thankful to Christ, that it’s close to his seat or that walk past her would be the end of his resolve. Splashing cold water onto his face, Calum grips the side of the sinks, staring at his reflection. He traces the line of a water droplet down from his forehead, around the curve of his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, and fall off the tip of his nose. 

He’s never been too fond of the chub around his cheek, everyone else has squeezed and squished them. He’s over it. But he remembers the way she used to pat his left cheek. Always the left one. It wasn’t hard, wasn’t condescending. She’d cup the flesh, lifting her fingers before gently bring them back down. Her hand would slide down his flesh then, sometimes she’s give his chin a squeeze. Most times she scurried out of the door. Water drips from his chin and onto his sweatshirt. Thankfully it’s black so the wet spot won’t show too badly. 

You cannot go back to her, Calum thinks to himself. You cannot go back. You cannot go back. She dropped you--she does not want you back. He drops his head. She doesn’t want him. She never did really. She was just using him. He thought he was just using her. He thought it was just sex. But god, his heart races even still just at the thought of her. His lungs ache occasionally to inhale her scent. She does not want him. He inhales. That’s okay. She doesn’t need to want him. He always envisioned him alone anyway. Calum dries his face and walks back out. 

She’s up at the small desk where stale coffee is sat out. He knows because he had a cup. It’s not his usual, but he needed something-anything to keep him from going insane while staring at pristine gray painted walls and too brightly waxed white floors. He admits it makes sitting in a car shop nice that it’s so clean, but it always threw him off. The smell of motor oil and greasy towel mixed with the stale coffee and whatever wax they used for the floor always made his head spin upon his initial entrance. 

Settled back into his seat, Calum flexes his fingers. He needs something to do, something to take his mind off her--how close she is, how good she looks. He did not miss the soft pink lipstick on her pouty lips. Fuck, those lips are so goddamn kissable too. Calum snatches the magazine next to him from the dark brown wooden table. He flips to a page and runs his eyes intently over the article on muscle cars. This means nothing to him, but he can’t keep thinking about her. She walks past him, shoes silent on the floors, the only thing that gives away any movement is her waft of perfume hitting Calum’s nostrils. 

He expels every ounce of air in his lungs. Do not inhale. Do not inhale her in. Do not break. “Mr. Hood,” his mechanic calls out. 

Calum snaps his head up from the magazine and tosses it back onto the table. Finally. He gives a tight lipped smile as he approaches the counter. “What’s the damage?” he asks with a soft chuckle. 

“None. You’re in good shape. She still runs smoothly. You did need an oil change, so we took care of that for you.”

Calum nods. He can feel her stare burning holes into the back of his head. Calum digs out his wallet, sliding his card across the counter.  Now she watches him, when he can’t see her gaze. Calum thanks the man once again for his work and places his wallet back into his pocket. As he turns, her head snaps back to the floor. He stares at her this time, lets her know that he knew she was watching. She won’t look up; she wouldn’t be so emboldened, he figures. It as his sneakers squeak right in front of the door that her gaze lifts. They lock eyes for two seconds. Neither one gives an ounce of recognition facially.. Just slow blinks between not even lover, but not quite strangers.  His heart booms in his chest, he can feel the thumping on his veins in his neck

Calum steps through the door and keeps his shoulders square. His car is parked right outside the door. Thank God. His head is starting to feel disconnected from him. Are his lungs even working anymore? Another mechanic hands him the keys. Calum gives him a nod in thanks. As the engine turns over, even through the door and the window of his front shield, he can still feel her gaze. He looks at her one last time. She doesn’t give a nod, a smile, a wink--nothing. She just stares. Did she expect him to grovel at her feet like before? Did she expect him to apologize? What the hell did she want from him? He wouldn’t give it to her, but it would be nice to know for once what was going on in her head. What her thoughts were, what kept her up at night.  

The air is still nice, so Calum rolls down the windows. Only when she sees the passenger side window rolling down does her face crack. She gives the faintest of smiles and start pushing up from the seat. Calum presses onto the gas and rolls down the pavement. He wasn’t giving in. But it makes him just a smidge happy to know that he might have toyed with her like she did to him. He can’t give into her. He’s doing alright by himself His body wants to cave. It’s been two months since he’s slept with anyone. Not the longest he’s gone. He hadn’t even thought about the last time until he saw her. Until he thought about the way she begged beneath him, face buried into the pillows, him pulling her arms back behind her, so her arch couldn’t falter. 

No, his stomach flips again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He doesn’t have a pack on him either. He stopped carrying one due to Ashton’s insistence. Now he needed some nicotine. Anything to take the edge off. There’s a gas station right next to the shop, but he doesn’t stop there. Calum drives through the streets; he’ll drive to a station a bit farther out. He’s still too close to her. Yeah, just keep driving. He winds through the streets, about twenty minutes longer than he anticipated. Settled in front of the station, he exhales. He blinks once and his vision clears for a second before it blurs. Tears. Fuck, he’s crying. 

Resting his head against the steering wheel, he lets out a shaky breath. Does he even want a cigarette or does he want to burn away the parts of him that still hold onto her? Does he really want alcohol or does he wish to drown the memories of her? He reaches for his phone situated in the cup holder. Unlocking, he pulls up Ashton’s U.S. number. It rings once in his ear. Twice. A third time. Right before Calum pulls the phone away, he hears the call connect. “Need a ride?” Ashton asks. 

“I don’t need a cigarette, right?” Calum hears the own distress in his voice. He can hear the strain as he tries to swallow a sob. 

“Mate, what happened?”

“Just tell me I don’t need to walk into this gas station. I don’t need a cigarette. I don’t need a drink. I can’t even drive if I drink.”

“Calum, you don’t need a cigarette. You don’t need to go into that gas station. You don’t need a pack. You don’t need a drink either. Where are you?”

Calum sits up, pressing his freshly cut hair into the leather of his headrest. He doesn’t want the nicotine. He wipes at his cheeks. “Not even sure. I just started driving.”

“Wanna come over?”

He wants to be over her. He wants to know why she walked away without warning. He wants to know if this is love, because if so, he wants nothing to do with it ever again. He never wants to be this broken, this easy to crack ever again by one person. He wants nothing to do with this scam called love. “Thanks for the offer.” 

Ashton knows it’s a no. But he presses on. “If you show up, I’ll have some movies waiting. Maybe grab a quick lunch. There’s a new sushi place. I’ve been eyeing for a while. Heard it’s good.”

Calum just wants a way to forget her. He wants a way out, he’s been trying to escape, run away. Maybe he needs a way through. Ashton’s offering that. Calum feels like Ashton should be telling him to just get over it, to forget her. He has to know why Calum called anyway. Ashton takes the silence as Calum’s resistance. 

Ashton presses on again. “Or a hike. You said you wanted to take Duke up through the trails again. We probably won’t be able to go too far with him and the heat, but it’s something.”

He needs to walk away from her. He needs a way through. Calum exhales. “A hike sounds good.” 

Ashton sighs in relief. Calum’s not going to say what triggered this. Though Ashton figures it something to do with her again. “I’ll meet you at your place then.”

“Okay,” Calum’s voice is soft a little rough with the tears that are choking him still. The call ends and Calum throws an arm over his face for a moment. His phone chimes from the cup holder. He thinks it’s Ashton texting and doesn’t lift a finger. It chimes again, then a third time. A call. Looking down her number lights up his screen. Now she can call. Now she can remember he fucking exists. 

Calum wonders if her latest boy toy dropped her. He wonders why she has the nerve to call him now, but not speak to him thirty minutes ago. He doesn’t answer. He watches the call ring and ring and ring before it finally stops. He waits, barely breathing. She’ll call again. She always does. He waits, staring at his black screen. A notification pops up. New Voicemail. Voicemail? She’s never left a message. Calum stares his phone. What did she say? Was it an apology? Biting his lip, he unlocks it and another notification comes in. This one is from Ashton. 

I’ll be to your place in another 20 minutes. Had to run and take care of some errands first. 

His hike. Duke needs to be let out. Calum drops his phone back into the cup holder. His little man. That’s what he focuses on. Duke is waiting for him. The drive back home is strangely quiet besides the sounds of wind rushing and cars zooming past. Calum normally puts on the radio, even if it’s down low. But now right now he’s afraid songs will remind him of her. It’s not like the drive isn’t already doing that, but he can drown out those thoughts. He can listen to the whirring of tires over asphalt. He can think about Duke. He can listen to his mind’s replay of Duke’s whines this morning, needing to go out to the backyard. 

Calum can think about what he needs to grab for his hike. He’ll need to bring water. Bags just in case Duke has to go while they’re out. Maybe a couple protein bars. He needs to change shoes. His vans won’t cut it for the walk. He’ll have to put Duke in his harness. Calum needs to remember the dog treats too. As Calum pulls into his driveway, he spots Ashton already parked to the side. 

Ashton climbs out of his car after seeing Calum park. “Took you long enough,” he jokes, watching closely. He’s watching to see if Calum grabs anything else. He doesn’t see anything but his phone and keys. 

“Sorry about that. It should only take me a few to get ready.” The two men shuffle into the house. Ashton notes the slight puffiness to Calum’s eyes and cheeks. The slight pink tint to his nose, the fading pink to his eyes. Duke happily greets Calum at the door, jumping onto the man’s calves. “Hey, sorry that took longer than anticipated, bud.”

He moves to greet Ashton next. Calum walks to the backyard, finding his workout shoes next to the hall closet. As Duke rushes to his corner, Calum switches shoes. “Wanna talk about it?” Ashton asks, settling down on the ledge the back porch and the inside of the house. He watches Calum, squinting at the sun. 

Calum shakes his head, cleaning up after Duke. Back inside, Calum fills his two biggest water bottles, throws in some protein bars, and finds Duke’s leash. It hits him as he clips on the harness he still needs the bags, treat, and his portable bowl. Spinning around he spies, Ashton placing the portable bowl into his backpack. “Thanks, mate.”

Ashton nods. “I put treats inside too. Some bags were already inside. Not sure if they’re enough.”

Calum wishes he had more words than thank you. But all he can do is nod and take the backpack. Back outside, Calum locks up. Ashton drives. Calum can feel his phone burning a hole in his pocket. But Duke’s resting in his lap. He can’t reach for it now. It’ll have to wait. It will have to continue to light his skin with a fire. He hopes it burns him, so it proves how much she hurt him. How much pain she’s put them through. It’s so much easier to treat a wound when it’s physical. 

As they past the cities and head for the mountains, Duke pops up from his curled position, front paws resting on the door, hind legs stretched as far as his tiny body can go. Calum smiles, scratching at his head. “Yeah, bud, we’re going to the mountains again.”

“You didn’t buy a pack, right?” Ashton asks after a minute or two of silence. 

“I didn’t.”

“You’ve been doing good. I’m proud.”

“Thanks,” Calum whispers. He knows the compliment is genuine, but he feels terrible for almost breaking it today. He feels like shit for breaking this far down that he considered a drink. Cigarettes are one thing, but a drink. The drinking is scaring him. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, Calum’s chest starts to hurt. He keeps thinking about that voicemail. What the hell could she have possibly had to say to him? Why did he care so fucking much? He’s going to burst inside his car. They pull up to the foot of the trail and Calum opens the door before Ashton fully brakes. All the air pushes out of his lungs. He heaves, tears biting at his eyes. Ashton hurriedly brakes and climbs out. Calum clutches Duke to his chest for a second.

“Calum, what’s happening?”

Inhaling deeply, Calum squats down next to the car. Duke turns in his hold, licking at Calum’s cheek. “I saw her today,” he huffs, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I fucking saw her. And I swear to God, I thought I was over her. I thought I had walked away, but all I had done was hide from her.”

“It’s okay.” He places a sturdy and firm grip on Calum’s shoulder. “You’ll find a way through this. It’s okay to hurt. It fucking sucks. But it’s okay.”

“She called. Left a voicemail. I haven’t listened to it.”

“Do you want to?”

Calum swallows, still heaving for a good breathe. “I have no idea.”

“Let’s walk. Walk and we’ll figure it out. Talk to me, mate. I know it’s not your cup of tea. But for fuck sake, I am right here.”

Calum nods, running his hand over Duke’s head. Ashton helps him up and Duke stares up from the ground to Calum. “I’m sorry, I’m okay,” Cal reassures the dog. But Duke knows something is very wrong. He walks over and settles right on top of Calum’s foot, fur brushing softly over his calf. Calum finds a treat for Duke. He holds it for a moment before Duke moves to take it. “Thanks for caring, love,” Calum says softly. 

The three start up the trails. They’re about a fourth way up before the silence is broken. Calum continues to stare up at the windy and rocky path in front of them. The trees waft off their scent in the breeze. Duke sniffs everything, so they have to move a little slow. “I texted twice,” he states. 

“Today?”

“No, when she first disappeared. She didn’t respond and I didn’t text again. I just wanted to forget her. So I dodged all the places I knew she’d be.”

Ashton hums though it turns up into a grunt as he lifts his weight up to stand on a rock. He holds his arms out to steady himself. He watches the way Calum gazes at him. Part in concern, partly still lost in his own world. “And you tried to bury her, you didn’t try to get through it,” Ashton continues. Calum nods. “The question remains. Do you want to actually walk away from her? Do you really want to be done with her?”

Calum slides off his bag and pours some water for Duke. The small dog happily laps at the cool drink. Calum settles onto a small rock. It’s scratchy and a little sharp against his skin. “I don’t think I can answer answer that until I figure out what’s on that voicemail. But I can’t listen to it. I can’t hear her voice right now. I’ll crack. She might as well cut my heart out, just split me open and stolen the fucking organ because clearly my brain’s not winning this battle.”

Ashton jumps down from the rock and holds out his hand. “How about I give it a listen and relay the important stuff to you?”

Before the question can fully leave Ashton’s lip, Calum digs in his pocket for phone. By the time Ash finishes, he’s holding Calum’s unlocked phone. It’s killing Calum not to know what’s happening, but he can’t listen to it himself. Ashton taps the only voicemail not viewed and holds the phone to his ear. 

“It was nice to see you today, Calum,” her voice starts in Ashton’s ear. Her pitch purposefully low, he notes as he turns around. He doesn’t want to give anything way. “It was rude of me not to say hi. But even ruder that you took off without at least waving goodbye. Let me make it up to you being so ill-mannered this last few weeks. You know the time and place.”

The voicemail ends and Ashton turns back around, but not before deleting the message. “She basically wants to apologize for being an ass by having you fuck her again. She’s no good for you.”

Calum drops his head, taking the phone. “And I’m no good at letting go.”

“I deleted the message. Walk away, Calum. She’s only going to drag you down. Even more than she already has.”

Calum knows Ashton is right. Duke settles down in front of Calum. “Should I walk away, bud? Should I cut ties with some ounce of dignity?”

Duke pants up at him. The little dog is just happy to be outside. Calum scratches at his fur. “If you love this, then I gotta take you to the midwest. You’ll love it there. Or even Oregon or Washington. Nothing but trees and nature trails.”

That’s what he’ll do. He’ll plan a mini getaway, maybe it’s just a weekend. He can write, he can get away from her, he can get her out of his system. That’s the problem. She’s still in his system. When he walks into the studio, when he journals at night, he tries so hard to forget her. He tries so hard to pretend like she didn’t hurt him that it only hurts him more. You can’t forget a person if they’re all you’re thinking about. 

Calum never really mattered to her anyway. He was only a fuck. He was only a toy that would always be there when her newest one broke. He finds the missed call, clicks on the tiny i icon and then scrolls to the bottom. Block this Caller stares back up at him. He taps it, no shaking this time. It pops up again, Block Contact or Cancel. Calum presses Block Contact with an exhale. She won’t give up. Not even if he starts ignoring her. But this is a start, he can start working though all the shit she did. 

“Ready to head back?” Ashton questions. 

Calum collects his things, shaking his head. “Let’s go to the top. Little man here deserves the sight.”

With a soft smile, Ashton starts up to the top. Their pace is still slow due to Duke’s exploration. Halfway up up they stop again, and Calum slips Duke into his arms. “I should've bought a second bag and let you just sit in it,” Calum teases at Duke. Ashton offers his bag, they could consolidate all into Calum’s, put Duke in Ashton’s bag, or vice versa. 

“He’ll sit for all of like three minutes before wanting out.” 

It’s sometime later maybe an hour or so, Calum’s lost track of how long, when they reach the top. The sun’s just starting to dip down. They settle in a small spot off to the side and Calum sits with Duke between his legs, staring out at the blue ocean of the sky in front of him. Part of him wants to dive into it, wash himself of her, wash himself of the heartache. But it’s not that easy. He wishes he had heard what she said exactly just so he had the satisfaction of saying no to her directly. Not through word of a friend, not through someone else’s interpretation. But at least he knows now that she wouldn’t ever care. He could pretend when he had no clue before. He could pretend that she was just busy. He could pretend and make all the excuses he wanted. 

But not now. Now he knew. It hurt. It fucking hurt. Getting through this wouldn’t be flicking off a switch. It would be pain and tears and time. But maybe he could walk here, he could sit here and watch out over the sky and think about the heavens washing over him. He could think about a hand reaching down from through the clouds and comfortable. He could get through it. He could walk away here to the heavens. 

[livylove151]

Dallas Winston x Reader

Request: Dallas and the reader have a secret sort of friend with benefits thing going on and Dallas gets jealous over a guy who is flirting with the reader. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” 

“I don’t care what people think.”

Your P.O.V

You threw your head back and laughed at something the hot boy who was standing in front of you stood. He was cute, in a kind of nerdy way. He wasn’t a greaser but he definitely wasn’t a soc either. You would say more of a middle-class kid, nice jeans, a polo shirt, nice shoes. 

You were at the drive-in on a Friday night and you were looking for someone who could make you forget about all the shit that was going on in your life. And it could have been this guy but he wouldn’t shut the hell up. 

The place was pretty packed tonight, but it was Friday night. Seeing the couples making out against a car or inside of the car, the greasers and the socs either completely ignoring each other or picking fights with each other. 

You were apart of the greaser crowd. Not Tim Shepard and his gang, but the Curtis’ brothers “gang” if you considered us a gang. Darry Curtis (the oldest of the gang), Sodapop Curtis the dreamy one that every girl turned to look his way when he walked by, Steve Randle his best friend, Two-Bit Matthews the jokester and not-so-serious one who is for some reason obsessed with Mickey Mouse, Johnny Cade the timid and jumpy, Ponyboy Curtis the youngest of the gang but somehow the smartest. Then, Dallas Winston, the cold-hearted, mean-spirited, and the most troublesome guy in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He also is the one you are closest with. 

No one knew him like you did, he did have feelings, he did care about some things. But this isn’t one of those stupid ass love stories where the bad boy changes for the girl and all that shit. He ain’t gonna change for some girl, especially if that girl was you. No, you guys weren’t a couple. You guys just fooled around since the beginning of last year, and sometimes you stayed the night and it ended up to be a not-so-one-night-stand. 

You're eyes landed on Dallas Winston, leaning up against his car, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he stared at you and the guy you were talking to. He looked like he was about to strangle the guy. He looked pissed. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked over to him. 

His eyes traveled up and down your body and you felt glad at the outfit you chose. High waisted shorts, a red tank top and a denim button up shirt that was left unbuttoned. You were wearing your worn out red converse and red lipstick that made your lips pouty and kissable. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” you asked hands shoved in the back pockets of your shorts. He laughed at your greeting as he handed you his cigarette and you gladly took a long drag.

“Who was the prick?” Dallas asked referring to the guy you were talking to. You shrugged and handed back the cigarette.  

“Just some guy who wanted to go home with me.” You sat on the hood of Dallas’ car. 

“You weren’t going to let him take you home, right?” Dallas asked his voice softer then it’s usual rough voice. He turned to you and rested his elbows on your thighs. 

“Nah, he wasn’t the type of a guy I usually go home with,” You whispered leaning a little bit down so you were leaning your forehead against his. 

“And who is the type of guy you go home with?” He said his voice low and husky. 

“Hmmm... someone like you,” you said and he then leaned forward roughly crashing his lips to yours. You would of kept the kiss going but he has never kissed you in public before 

“Dallas, what are you doing? What are people going to think?” you said. 

“I don’t care what people think.” You smiled and he crashed his lips back on yours this time you laid back on the hood of the car, your hands on his biceps as his tongue swiped across your lower lip asking for entrance and you immediately granted him access. Your lips moved in sync as your tongues fought for dominance. He squeezed your hips causing you to giggle into the kiss. 

“My place or yours?” Dallas whispered into your ear before giving your ear a slight nibble.